#they don't care when i cut myself in the bathroom and then go to class drunk

[floortile34]

the malignant ichor of bureaucracy seeping in through my open wounds

[diaperedamberthe2ndcumming]

Ambers Accidents pt 2

I woke up with a start, the sunlight streaming through my window, and a strange sensation between my legs. My heart sank as I realized the familiar warmth and wetness—I had wet myself again, this time in my sleep. The pull-up I was wearing, a humiliating reminder of my punishment, had done its job, but the feeling of lying in my own urine was mortifying.

As I lay there, frozen in embarrassment, my bedroom door creaked open, and my mother walked in. Her eyes immediately went to the large wet spot on my bed and the pull-up that had failed to contain my accident.

"Oh, Amber, what have we here?" she said, her voice stern. "Looks like you've had another accident. Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

I felt my face burning with shame as I sat up, my pull-up sagging under the weight of the urine. My mother helped me out of bed, her hands gently guiding me to the bathroom. She removed the wet garment, cleaning me thoroughly, her touch both comforting and humiliating at the same time.

"There, all clean," she said, her tone softening slightly. "Now, let's get you dressed for school. You don't want to be late."

I nodded meekly, feeling like a little child as she dressed me in a cute pink dress, complete with frilly socks and Mary Jane shoes. My long blonde hair was brushed and tied into pigtails, making me look even younger than my already youthful appearance.

"There, my little princess," she cooed, adjusting my hair. "You look adorable. Now, remember to be a good girl at school, and no more accidents."

I nodded again, feeling a strange mix of emotions. On one hand, I was embarrassed and ashamed, but there was also a small part of me that enjoyed the attention and the way my mother was taking care of me.

At school, I tried my best to act normal, but the pull-up beneath my dress was a constant reminder of my humiliation. I felt self-conscious as I walked into Mr. Johnson's class, my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. The day seemed to drag on forever, and I held my breath every time I felt the urge to use the bathroom, terrified of having another accident.

During lunch, I sat alone, picking at my food, when suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my stomach. Before I could even process what was happening, I soiled myself, the warm mess filling my underwear. Panic-stricken, I jumped up, knocking my chair over, and ran out of the cafeteria.

I sprinted home, my eyes stinging with tears of humiliation. I tried to sneak into the house, but my mother was waiting for me in the hallway.

"Amber, what's the rush? And why are you home so early?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

I stood there, frozen, unable to speak. She grabbed my arm and pulled me towards her, her eyes fixing on the back of my dress. With a swift motion, she lifted the back of my skirt, revealing the soiled underwear.

"Oh, Amber, not again," she sighed, shaking her head. "I thought I told you to be a good girl. Come with me."

She marched me upstairs to my room, where she undressed me, her movements efficient and matter-of-fact. She pulled down my soiled underwear, and the smell hit me, making my face burn even hotter. She cleaned me, the rough cloth wiping between my cheeks, and then dressed me in a fresh pull-up.

"You're going to wear these from now on, young lady," she said firmly. "And we'll see if that helps with your little problem."

The rest of the day was a blur of infantilizing care. She cut my food into small pieces at dinner, making sure I ate like a well-behaved toddler. After dinner, she took me to the bathroom, sitting me on the toilet and waiting until I peed, praising me like a child. I was then bathed and put to bed early, the soft teddy bears surrounding me in my crib-like bed.

The next morning, I woke up to my mother's gentle touch, helping me out of my pull-up and into the shower. She washed my body, her hands lingering on my breasts and between my legs, causing a strange tingling sensation. After the shower, she dressed me in a frilly, baby-doll dress, complete with a pair of white lacy pull-ups.

"You look so cute, my little baby girl," she cooed, adjusting the frilly socks on my legs. "Now, let's get you off to school."

I felt even more embarrassed than the day before as I walked into Mr. Johnson's class, the lacy pull-ups rustling under my dress. I could sense the other students' curious glances, but I kept my head down, focusing on the desk in front of me.

As the day progressed, I felt Mr. Johnson's eyes on me more and more. I could sense his desire, the way he looked at me when he thought no one was watching. My heart raced as I wondered what he might do.

Finally, the bell rang, signaling the end of the day. I gathered my things, eager to escape the stares and my own growing arousal. Just as I was about to leave, Mr. Johnson called out.

"Miss Amber, a word please," he said, his voice deep and commanding.

My heart skipped a beat as I turned to face him. His eyes were intense, burning with a mixture of desire and authority.

"Yes, Mr. Johnson?" I managed to squeak out, my voice barely audible.

"I've been noticing your… struggles lately," he said, stepping closer to me. "And I think it's time we address the root of the problem."

I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. Mr. Johnson's hand reached out and gently lifted my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.

"You've been a very naughty girl, Amber," he whispered, his hot breath caressing my face. "And naughty girls need to be taught a lesson."

Before I could respond, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards the closed door of the classroom. My heart was pounding as he locked the door, ensuring our privacy.

"Now, let's see what we have under here," he said, his fingers deftly unbuttoning the back of my dress. He slid the straps off my shoulders, letting the dress fall to the floor, leaving me standing in just my lacy pull-up.

"Such a naughty outfit for a naughty girl," he murmured, his eyes raking over my body. "But I think we can do better."

With that, he reached down and ripped the pull-up from my body, leaving me completely exposed. I stood there, trembling, my nipples hardening in the cool air.

"That's better," he said, his voice hoarse. "Now, bend over my desk."

I did as I was told, my heart racing with anticipation and fear. I felt his hands on my bare skin, caressing my ass cheeks, and then the sharp smack of his hand against my flesh.

"You've been a very bad girl, Amber," he growled, delivering another smack. "And I'm going to teach you a lesson you won't forget."

Each smack of his hand sent a jolt of pain and pleasure through my body. I bit my lip to stifle the moans that threatened to escape. Mr. Johnson's hand left red marks on my skin, and I could feel my pussy getting wetter with each strike.

"Oh, you like this, don't you, you little slut?" he hissed, his hand moving between my legs. He slid a finger into my wetness, making me gasp. "You've been a very naughty girl, and now you're going to be punished."

He pushed me onto my back on the desk, my legs hanging over the edge. In one swift motion, he unzipped his pants and pulled out his throbbing cock.

"Please, Mr. Johnson, I…" I started to protest, but my words were cut off as he pushed his thick member into my mouth.

He held my head in place, thrusting his cock deep into my throat. I gagged, my eyes watering, but he showed no mercy, using my mouth for his pleasure. His hands gripped my hair, controlling my movements as he fucked my face.

After a few minutes of this, he pulled out, his cock glistening with my saliva. "Now, it's time for your real punishment," he said, his voice thick with desire.

He positioned himself at my entrance, his cock pressing against my pussy lips. With one hard thrust, he buried himself inside me, claiming my body with his own. I cried out, my back arching off the desk as I felt him fill me completely.

Mr. Johnson began to move, his hips slamming against mine, driving his cock deep within me. The desk creaked with each powerful thrust, and I felt my orgasm building, the pleasure mixing with the pain from the earlier spanking.

"That's it, you dirty girl," he grunted, his hands gripping my thighs. "Cum for me, Amber. Show me how much you love being punished."

His words sent me over the edge, and I cried out as my orgasm ripped through my body. My pussy clenched around his cock, milking him as waves of pleasure washed over me.

Mr. Johnson continued to pound into me, his own release building. With a final, powerful thrust, he came, filling my pussy with his hot cum. He collapsed onto me, his weight pressing me into the desk, our sweaty bodies sticking together.

As we lay there, catching our breath, I realized this was just the beginning. Mr. Johnson had finally given in to his desires, and I knew that my submission to his discipline was far from over.

[he-calls-me-kitten]

Random brainrot: my guilty pleasure is the concept of Solomon with vampire!mc :(. He gives me the vibes of someone who gets off on toying with danger and likes a little pain in the right circumstances so I can't help but imagine him getting so turned on when mc bites his neck. Especially when mc is normally cold, apathetic but for some reason, Solomon just seems to press their buttons with seemingly no effort. It's frustrates them, annoys them beyond measure how they've spent decades with the perfect self control but this little sorcerer fuck just waltz in their life and makes them want to pounce on him. I could be bias bc I like vampires and I also like the idea of Solomon having someone he wouldn't have to worry about losing to mortality.

"Say, you're looking a little extra pale over there MC, when was the last time you fed yourself properly?" He grins, walking next to you in the corridor.

Almost 2 months now. But you wouldn't tell him that. You were disgruntled he even remembered.

"I'm fine, thank you, Solomon."

"Come on now, non-human blood supplements hardly work as good as the real thing." Solomon clicked his tongue. "You know I'm always a willing volunteer-"

You stopped in your heels and faced him. "Listen, last time was a one time thing, you just caught me at a bad time, okay? It's never going to happen again."

"What a pity. I've been filling myself up with pomogrenate juice to replenish more of blood for you." He dares to stroke your cheek with the back of his fingers.

"Like I said. No thank you." You swiftly rushed off to potions class. The tantalizing smell of his skin and the rich, magical blood underneath it was driving you crazy.

It didn't help that he was paired up with you during the class anyway. You groaned as he stifled a laugh at your annoyance, while cutting poison apples and dark berries.

"All that effort to walk away from me only to end up with me." He chuckled, playfully waving the little knife he was using for the fruit.

"3000 years old and still don't know not to play with knives so carelessly-" You retorted and paused. You smelt it again. Overwhelming and inviting.

"Oh trust me I was extra careful with it." He smirked, turning sideways, a little cut on his neck bleeding into his collar, driving you insane.

You clenched your fists and looked the other way. Solomon leaned in closer. "You don't need to try so hard to hold back."

Fucking hell. He always made it so hard to resist him.

Now you were back in the bathroom stall again. Him undoing his collar for you, sitting on the comode, leaning back, inviting you with open arms.

"Come on, MC. Let go of that stubborn pride, won't you?"

He pulled your hand, sending you stumbling onto him. His lucious neck inches away. You felt his hand grab the back of your head and push, your lips were on his skin.

"Don't blame for your dizziness later." You warned before sinking your teeth into him, lapping up the stream of blood from the previous wound.

He let out an erotic groan, his hands grabbing your waist, hips bucking into yours. This was the only time he could embrace you like this and he was going to take full advantage of it.

[bbyvrtx]

This is where we part 2/2

Part 3 of Vance Hopper X Reader | Friends to Enemies | Warnings: (slight mention) Not eating, self-neglecting, Cursing, ANGSTY ANGST, A/N: I've made this a lot longer cause- yeah.

Vance Hopper POV It has been 3 weeks since I had last spoken to them. I fucked up.. I really did. I see them walk past the Grab N' Go everyday, sometimes they even come in and get a snack or something to drink.

Their face looked so numb, so hurt. And knowing that it was ME who made them like that, made me angry with myself.

I usually don't care that I hurt others feelings, but with Y/n it was different. Something about them screams "I care" or "It's okay Vance". Now all i hear is "Fuck you", "I wish I never met you", "You hurt me, now I will forget you exist"

Did they actually forget I exist?...

Late that day in the school hallway, I saw Y/n walking my direction.

Did they just.. wave?

I go to wave back, that's when two kids with brown hair wave back. Shit

That was fucking embarrassing...

When Y/n walked past me, they didn't even acknowledge me. As if I wasn't there- even bumped into my shoulder.. and didn't apologize. If it was anyone else, I would have bashed their head into the locker repeatedly. But it was Y/n... The only person I- kinda liked being around. And MY dumbass had to go fuck it up. No..

They had to be in the wrong too!.. Right? getting in my face. asking that question.

I like them.. but do I... Like- Like them?

Fuck Vance.. Get yourself together..

Y/N POV

Pfft- he thinks i waved at him??. After what he did? Really? Jeez-

"Hey, Finney. Hey Gwen!" I shout to them, walking their direction. As I do that, I bump into Vance. Shit.

I tense up slight, thinking he's gonna do something. I accepted my fate.

I was going to die if he called me out on it. I didn't want to speak to him. I didn't want to acknowledge him. But when he just huffed then walked away. It made me feel a little bad..

No. pull your fucking self together Y/n.

He said shit to you, that he knew would hurt you. He didn't care... Did he?

Random POV

Y/n and the Blake siblings walked to class together. Gwen parted off to go to her class, and you walked with Finney to ya'lls class. Y/n knew about Finney's bullies. They knew that they picked on Finney in the boys bathroom. Finney asked Y/n how they knew, Y/n simply said that Robin told them.

"Jeez.." FInney mumbled. "Hey.. look on the bright side, Finn. As long as me and Robin are here, they wont fuck with you. And if Robin isn't here, I'm sure I will be. We got your back, Finney." Y/n told him, It made him feel a little better.. considering he didn't really know how to fight, on the other hand. Y/n and Robin try teaching him when they can.

"Thanks Y/n/n" Finney gives them a half smile as he parts off to his seat in the classroom and y/n does the same.

Moose was sitting behind Y/n in the classroom. He'd kick the back of their chair every now and then. He even had the guts to grab a pair of scissors and cut a piece of Y/n's hair. Y/n felt their hair being touched so they turned around and saw Moose with a shit eating grin with both the scissors and a piece of their hair.

Y/n saw black, then the next thing they knew, the teacher was pulling them off Moose's unconscious body with tears running down their face. "Fuck you, you goddamn cocksucker!"

(time skip to lunch/detention)

Y/n huffed as they sat down in one of the chairs in the classroom. That's where they saw Robin. "What you in for?" Robin asked, sitting down next to them.

"Y'know.. the usual." Y/n said with a nod which made Robin laugh softly. After a good long silence, Robin speaks up. "I hear about what happened with you and Vance." Y/n's eyes cut at him, the glare sharp enough to cut paper. A warning; "Don't go there right now"

Robin caught the hint and nodded.

"Did you bring anything for lunch?" Robin asked. Y/n shook their head. "I'll grab something on the way home." Robin nodded. He thought about giving y/n some of his food, but he knew how they get when people ask them if they want something. Usually y/n would be all on it. But today- y/n just didn't feel hungry.

"I'm okay Robin. Really" Y/n had noticed then Robin was in deep thought.

They talked some more, then they hear the door open, great..

it was the one and only, Vance Hopper.

The teacher told Vance to take a seat, he did... in the back of the class.

Through-out detention, the two of them would be caught looking at each other.

(bell rings/time skip)

Y/n is walking home, today they decided to take the long way to their house, and saw there we're two cars in the driveway. "Fuck.. he's not supposed to be home yet." Y/n thought to themself...

[luxexhomines]

Welcome back!!! It’s great to see you again, I hope you’ve been doing well 💕 Could I request a Kokichi/Reader (romantic) for the dialogue prompt “You're so persistent”? Either fluff or silly, whichever you prefer! Thanks and have fun!!

Thank you so much for the heart-warming welcome back and for the request!! I'm happy to see you again too, and I hope you've been doing well, too, ehe~ ♡ ♡

I took a little while to think about this prompt and to reacquaint myself with Kokichi as a character, ahaha. I realized then that I...don't even know how to write Kokichi, even though I love him so much?! But nevertheless, I tried to write something fun. Honestly, it feels kind of awkward/mechanical, but maybe it can't be helped because it's been so long since I last wrote for Kokichi?

Anyway, here we go! It's almost 3k words (oops) so there's a cut. Icon credit to dreamcrush!

“You’re so persistent.” Kokichi x Ultimate! Celebrity Reader

“You’re so persistent.” You slammed the metal locker door close and glared at Kokichi. “And annoying.” 

Kokichi simply shrugged with that same shit-eating grin on his face that he always had. 

“Well, maybe you wouldn’t have to deal with the annoying me if you’d just say yes,” he says in that sing-songy voice. 

You resist the urge to box his ears and instead turn away, speed-walking toward the classroom. To your dismay, he quickly follows behind you, matching your pace easily and practically skipping. You supposed someone like him burned a lot of energy annoying people and pulling tricks everyday, so this was probably nothing to him. 

“Don’t you ever get tired of being rejected?” you glanced at him, genuinely curious. 

“Nope!” He folds his arms behind his head leisurely and grins at you. “But I bet you’re getting tired of rejecting me, huh? You really want to say yes, don’t you? Huh?”

“I’m not even going to answer that,” you sighed. 

Kokichi made a face of shock, mouth and deep purple eyes wide in a way that could only be described as overexaggerated and purely for dramatic effect. 

“But you just did!” 

You suppressed an exasperated sigh and looked away from Kokichi, who was strolling next to you without a care in the world. He’d even started to whistle some annoying little tune that sounded suspiciously like the tune that had recently gone viral for being one of the worst earworms ever. 

Kokichi had been asking for your autograph for the past month since the fall semester of Hope’s Peak Academy had formally started and the two of you had met in-class for the first time. 

“Ultimate Celebrity, huh?!” he’d exclaimed, eyes comically wide and sparkly. “Does that mean you get to be an Ultimate for just existing? Do you even have to do anything? How is that even a talent, huh?” 

Kaede interjected with her hands on her hips. 

“Hey, don’t make fun! You know, they’re an Ultimate for a reason,” she huffed. “Look at that face! That style! The stuff that they use gets sold out within minutes, and the places they go get so popular they only take reservations for months after!” 

To be fair, you tried to stop Kaede. Tried and failed. 

“It’s okay, Kaede-” you put a hand on her shoulder gently, only for her to not even notice. 

“Do you even know how much one of their autographs goes for? It can go for a million yen!” she burst. 

It was then that a chill ran down your spine as you watched Kokichi’s face flash from that of a naive and playful prankster to a calculative one worthy of being called the Ultimate Supreme Leader–whatever that bogus-sounding talent was. Actually, how dare he question your talent when he had a suspicious talent like that? 

“Oho, is that so?” he smiled and tapped a finger to his lips, seemingly in thought. You didn’t know what he was thinking, but you did know that whatever it was, you didn’t like it at all. 

You gave the door to the classroom a furtive look. 

“Okay, well, if that’s all, I’m going to go to the bathroom now- Eek!” 

Kokichi had made his way to the door before you and was somehow effectively blocking your exit route with both palms pressed on either side of the door frame, even with his slight frame. Not only that, but he was currently making one of the most horrifying faces you’d ever seen on anyone, and you’d seen a lot of terrible things in the entertainment industry. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he smirked. Whatever that black pit of a face was, his eyes were two black holes in that pit. And, his mouth was stretched unnaturally wide in what could only be called an evil smile. “Hand it over.” He held out a hand, and you stared at his empty hand, simply appalled. 

You’d faced plenty of terrors and challenges as the Ultimate Celebrity, from surprise paparazzis at night to stalker-fans trying to break into your apartment, but you had to say that this was your first time being extorted for an autograph–not even asked, but threatened. 

You crossed your arms and gave him a dirty look. 

“No. Now step aside.” 

You couldn’t imagine that he’d keep blocking the doorway forever, especially since from the corner of your eye, you could see Kaito walking toward the classroom from the hallway. 

He slinked to the side surprisingly easily, making a disappointed puppy-dog face. 

“Aww, you’re no fun. It’s just an autograph, you know?”

You slid past him and made a beeline to the bathroom, which he thankfully did not follow you to–but you did feel his eyes on you until you disappeared from his line of sight. You’d think you’d have gotten used to being watched, being the Ultimate Celebrity, but somehow, this felt different. 

Fast-forward to today, about a month into the semester, and he hadn’t failed to pester you for an autograph every single day, although he luckily spent some of his time playing with (irritating?) your other classmates, too. 

“Keeboi, robots don’t have nipples, do they?” Some clanking noises came from the other side of the classroom, which you desperately hoped wasn’t Kokichi touching Kiibo.

“This is harassment! I must ask that you cease and desist at once–no, seriously, stop, Kokichi!” 

You winced but opted to remain a bystander. Getting involved ultimately meant offering yourself as the sacrificial target for Kokichi’s tricks and attention. ‘Sorry, Kiibo,’ you thought sympathetically. 

But unfortunately for you, Kokichi must have quickly gotten bored with Kiibo, because not even ten minutes later, he was at your side again. To be exact, he was sitting across from you at the desk in front of yours, hands holding onto the backrest of the chair.

“Come on, just one little autograph,” he begged with those big, gleaming eyes. Man, since when did being an Ultimate Supreme Leader involve having incredible acting abilities? Because otherwise, how could he look so pitiful and sad? Like a cat left in the pouring rain, sitting in a rotting cardboard box, waiting for a kind owner–

You averted your eyes. It would be fine if you didn’t look at him, you desperately thought to yourself. 

“I’m not giving an autograph to any classmates,” you state. “We’re all Ultimates and more or less equal, so I’m not going to give a fellow Ultimate an autograph. Plus, you think I don’t know you’re just going to go and auction it off?”  You turned and stared him down with the last sentence. 

“Nishishi, you got me there!” he laughed, but he didn’t seem surprised or offended. “Why don’t you do your classmate a little favor, then? You gave one to Nagito!” 

You huffed and pursed your lips. 

“I said no, Kokichi! And it’s different if it’s a fan,” you argued. “Nagito was already a fan because he loves Ultimates. Plus, he’s our upperclassman!” 

Kokichi put a hand to his chin in thought. 

“So it’s different if it’s a fan, huh? Okay, got it! I’ll be your fan, so give me an autograph!” he cheers. 

“No, Kokichi! Were you even listening to me?” 

He didn’t reply immediately for once, just watched you in an unsettling way. He even started twirling a strand of hair around his finger as he looked at you, and you started to feel self-conscious. You thought you’d gotten used to being watched, but yet again, it felt different coming from him. 

“Hmm, I guess I wasn’t… Well, if you won’t give me your autograph, then I want something else!” 

“What is it, now?” 

You sighed and rested your cheek on your hand, propping your elbow up on the desk and preparing yourself for whatever other ridiculous demand he’d come out with next.

“Give me your heart!” 

You almost fall out of your chair and scramble to hold onto the desk for dear life before incredulously staring at him. You could feel your face heating up, but you were sure it was just because he’d said something so unbelievably absurd.

“What did you say?” 

“I said, give me your heart,” Kokichi enunciated with a smile. “Do you need hearing aids? How come you didn’t hear it the first time?” His eyes reflected obsequious concern, and you frowned. 

“I heard you the first time! I just thought I heard wrong because you said something so– so weird. You know, your habit of lying and playing around with other people is going to get you in serious trouble someday.” 

Kokichi held up a hand and started examining his nails, shrugging. 

“I was being serious, though? This time, at least.”

You stared at him, unable to discern his true intentions or motives. 

“Kokichi, I–you’re just pulling my leg, right? Because if so, it’s not funny…” you trailed off, not sure what to even make of the current situation. On the off chance that he was being serious, you didn’t want to be dismissive, but after the past month of being teased and watching him trick and lie to other people like it was nothing, you couldn’t just take his words at face value. Especially when he said it so offhandedly. 

Kokichi clenched his fists and pouted, puffing up his pale cheeks. 

“Hey, don’t make me repeat myself! I tell the truth once in a while, you know! Don’t tell me you don’t believe me after I told you I was telling the truth already!” 

You blinked slowly, feeling your cheeks reddening. 

“Uh, then… What do you even mean by, ‘give me your heart?’ You want to date?” 

“No, silly,” he stuck his tongue out at you and rolled his eyes. “I want you to fall in love with me, duh! Come on, are you really so boring that you can’t even understand a figure of speech?” 

“I just didn’t expect it from you,” you quietly muttered. 

How did you feel about him, anyway? The past month suddenly felt like a blur–what had you even done the past month? You couldn’t quite remember, but whatever it was, it definitely felt like it was all memories filled with Kokichi’s presence, as infuriating as he could be sometimes. 

Then again, you knew he never truly meant any harm, and overall, you considered him–a classmate? No, that felt wrong after all the time you’d spent together for such a short span of a month. 

A friend. That felt so much more right, suited your relationships so much better.

You paused. 

“Wait a minute! You never even said that you liked me or anything. You just told me to fall in love with you!” you said, affronted by the realization. 

“Oops, you got me!” Kokichi snickered. “Well, if you insist, though I’m sure you get plenty of proclamations of love everyday as the Ultimate Celebrity.” 

He pulled out a flower from behind his back and thrusted it toward you with a big, innocent smile on his face. “I like you!” 

You facepalmed but plucked the flower from his hand begrudgingly.

“Somehow, that felt so disingenuous,” you complained. “Like it was just an afterthought. And you wondered why I didn’t believe you.” 

Kokichi poked your cheek, which had puffed a little without you even realizing. 

“Hey, don’t be so pessimistic after I told you I liked you! How can you have so many complaints about the Ultimate Supreme Leader liking you, huh? It should be your honor! A snap of my fingers, and I can have my thousands of underlings kneeling before you in seconds,” he boasted.

You gave him a look–you could just about see his nose growing longer for every lie coming out of his mouth.

“I doubt you have thousands of underlings,” you sighed. “Plus, this was so anticlimactic. I’m still pretty sure you just want to get my autograph.” 

Kokichi put a finger to his chin, thinking hard–or hardly thinking, it was always hard to tell with someone like him. 

“Well, do you need me to prove it? I’ll say I like you a thousand times! Here, why don’t I start now?” He opened his mouth wide and started chanting, “I like you, I like you, I like you, I like you, I like-” 

You hastily slapped a hand over his mouth and fearfully glanced around the classroom. Luckily, everyone else was busy with their own conversations during lunchtime. 

“Stop that, you’re going to get everyone’s attention!” you grumbled. 

“Oh?” he chuckled as he pulled your hand from his mouth, and a look of delighted mischief sparkled in his eyes–a look, you now realize, of trouble. “You know what an even better way to get everyone’s attention is? Watch this!” 

And then, he leaned in and pressed his soft, pale lips to yours–but they were gone so soon, no sooner than you had realized they’d even touched you at all, too soon, in fact. You sat there in shock, face rapidly heating up; you were melting like butter in a hot pan, like ice under the summer sun, and you had no idea how to cope. 

Slowly, you brought your fingers to your lips, still staring at Kokichi, who had the smuggest little smile on his face. 

“You-!” 

“Did you like it? Should I kiss you again?” he licked his lips, smirking. “Here, hold still-” 

But before he could do anything else, he was interrupted by Kaito, who had grabbed onto his shoulders firmly with an uncontrollable blush on his face. Kaito could barely even look at you, instead fiercely glaring at Kokichi.

“What are you doing to them?! You didn’t even ask, and you’re in the damn classroom, Kokichi! Our entire class just saw that!” 

Kokichi stuck his tongue out at Kaito, struggling against Kaito’s hold on him.

“Yeah, and who cares? They didn’t say they didn’t like it. Right, [Name]?” He paused and waved his hand in front of your dazed face. “Hellooooo, Earth to [Name]?” 

You shook your head rapidly, trying to come back to your senses. Of all the things to happen today, you hadn’t expected to be kissed by Kokichi Ouma. Maybe just another plea for an autograph, and maybe a prank or two, but a kiss? And not only that, but you hadn’t expected yourself to like it so much. Or like him so much.

“No, I…” Still thoroughly startled, you glanced away, still blushing, only to notice that the entire class was practically staring at the two of you (and Kaito, now that he’d tried to intervene). Tenko had put her hands up over her eyes, except she’d parted her fingers, so she wasn’t actually blocking anything from sight as she blushed furiously. Meanwhile, Shuichi had dropped his egg roll onto his desk, and Gonta was trying to ask Miu what kissing was and what it meant. Angie was watching with fervent interest, and Maki seemed shocked you’d let him kiss you to begin with, judging by the murderous expression on her face. 

To hell with it, you decided. Let them watch. Most of your life as the Ultimate Celebrity was already watched, anyway. What was one more thing? 

“It’s my turn now,” you grinned. Kaito let go of him, seeming to notice the tension in the air. “Don’t move.” 

You leaned over the desk and with a finger, tilted his chin up toward you, watching the Adam’s apple of his slender neck bob nervously. 

You leaned in and pressed your lips to his, not just once, not just twice, but three times. When you finally let go of him, you had the pleasure of seeing a thoroughly and truly bewildered look on his face for once; his eyes were blank, as if trying to process what had just happened, and a generous amount of pink had painted itself over his usually pale cheeks.

Kaito gave a wolf whistle and clapped, while the others started murmuring to each other.

“Nyeh… Is this the power of the Ultimate Celebrity?” Himiko uttered in surprise. “Truly magic to be wary of…” 

“It’s not m-magic,” Tenko stuttered and flusteredly pointed at you. “It’s, it’s sorcery! They made Kokichi shut up for once in his life!” 

“No, no, this surely must be a divine act bestowed by Atua,” Angie crowed. 

“Did we want Kokichi to shut up that badly…?” Shuichi asks tentatively. 

“Yes.” Maki stabbed her pickled plum with scary precision. “Yes, we did.” 

Kaede tried to assuage everyone’s complaints.

 “Now, he’s not that bad…” 

“Well, I’m glad that pipsqueak shut up for once!” Miu exclaimed. 

“Yes, he’s an absolute menace,” Korekiyo agreed.

But the quiet Kokichi didn’t last for long–or at least, not as long as some of them hoped it would. He swiftly leapt up from his seat and pulled you up, too, before hug-attacking you. 

“Wow, I didn’t know you had it in you! From now on, you have to kiss me everyday,” he declared proudly. “And if you skimp, you have to give me an autograph!”

You pat him on the head, chuckling–his hair was so soft, you absent-mindedly thought to yourself. 

“Again with the autograph. You really are persistent,” you laughed. 

He pulled back for a moment and sweetly stared into your eyes. 

“But that’s what you like about me so much, right? Nishishi!” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you shrugged, but you could feel your cheeks warming up again. 

Kokichi leaned in close, the breath from his mouth tickling your ear.

“Just between you and me, though, I’d take your kisses over your autograph any day, so don’t forget~”

[ssslytherinsworldx]

Goodbye || Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Tw: angst, sharp objects, blood, death, swearing.

(Y/n) Malfoy pov:

I just finished Transfigurations with Professor McGonagall. As I was going to head out of her classroom, she called me to her desk.

"Hello Professor." I formally said and smiled.

"Ms. Malfoy, please, take a seat." She said as I sat infront of her.

"You were once my star student, what is happening to you? Is everything alright?" She asked.

"Do my parents know about this?" When I mentioned parents I whispered the last few parts. I remembered I was bruised and scarred when they knew.

I was always abused when summerbreak came. That's why I wanted to stay in Hogwarts. But with everyone coming home, i decided to come too. Draco is always there for me sure, but when I get hurt, he just watches, afraid, he too will get hurt because of me.

"I'm afraid so, they keep asking us Professors how you and your brother are doing." She replied.

"Thank you professor." I said and left the classroom alone.

As I was walking, I began hearing what those Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were talking about. It was about me, and my relationship with Matt.

I can hear their whispers like,

"She is never good enough for him."

"The Malfoys are probably paying for her to become a star student in every class."

"I think she is just plainly stupid."

"If she truly is a Malfoy, why isn't she blonde like the rest of her family."

Well... I just wanted my hair Auburn since I don't want to be considered as a Malfoy anymore.

When some of them noticed, they just stood there silent knowing my family's power. But what they don't know is that I have always been hurt at home. Every new school year approaches Hogwarts, I try to hide my face with my hair down. I always wear sweaters to hide the scars I made and what my father made.

Once I reached the Slytherin Common Room, I headed to my dorm I shared with my best friend Pansy Parkinson. She wasn't around so I headed to our shared bathroom.

As I looked at myself in the mirror took heavy breathes and asked myself, "Am I good enough?"

Then, I checked my emergency stash (sweets, refills of medicines etc), without hesitation, I grabbed a small blade and without thinking made a cut against my skin. I watched as blood came oozing out of the cut, I washed the blade and stored it for another time, I suppose.

I couldn't help but cry so hard, I felt like I was screaming already.

"(Y/n)?? Where are you?" I heard Pansy ask.

Seems like she had this instinct and knew I was in the bathroom, as she opened the door she found the mess I made, our things are scattered on the floor as  I tried getting my anger out on objects. Then she found me crying. Followed by her spotting my blood flowing everywhere.

"What have you done to yourself?" She questioned. She helped me up and walked with me to my bed.

"I don't want to live anymore, but... I couldn't stop about thinking of what you, Draco, or Matt could've felt when I'm now gone." I shrugged.

"Is it because of those bitchy Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws?" She asked and rubbed my back to comfort me.

"Yea." I replied and just layed on my bed. I currently don't care that the blood will stain it. I didn't want to tell her about my parent issues.

I wore his sweater, so he would not notice the wound. I hissed in pain as the fabric touched the cut.

I went down and found him with my brother and the others.

"Hey..." I awkwardly said and sat in the far corner.

"Hey sis." Draco smiled, then frowned again when he saw me with a negative expression on my face.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"Did Professor McGonagall tell you? No? Alright, then my best alright? And then as I was walking back to the Common Room so could study, you know... to catch up, I heard Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws talking about me." I ranted, and tears began streaming down my face all over again.

"It's alright love. You know I am always here for you." Matt and grabbed my wounded arm as he tried to pull me into a hug. My expression changed as he held the wound.

He turned to me, about to smile, but noticed the look on my face.

"Everything alright?" He asked.

"Yes, of course." I lied, faking a smile.

Obviously, he did not take it and lifted the sleeve of the sweater and he saw the dried blood and deep cut on my arm.

"Why... (y/n)..." Matt tried speaking but he just pulled me closer to him and hugged me tightly.

"I don't want to loose you... please..." He whispered and kissed my forehead.

"I tried Matt. But... you don't even know what I have been through. You are too popular to be hated. Heck, every girl in Hogwarts likes you just because of your looks. They don't know who your father is. They don't know you like I do. Well, what about me? Guess what? I am probably the hated daughter of the Malfoy family."

"That is so not true (y/n)." Draco defended.

"Really? Then why the fuck am I always bruised and hurt when we get back to Hogwarts? Why do you think I hide away in mine and Pansy's dorm? Why do you think I always have cuts and wounds everytime you see me? Because I fucking deserve it. No one deserves to see me live anymore

" I screamed, angry tears had me. I cannot take it anymore.

"Sorry (y/n), I don't even know. Please..... talk to me anytime, okay?" Draco said as he stood up and hugged me.

"It's fine Dray. I'm fine." I faked a smile.

"It's getting pretty late, I should be heading back to my dorm for another day. Love you all." I said and kissed Matt on the cheek and hugged my brother.

I went back to my dorm and saw Pansy fast asleep on her bed. I layed down on mine and just read a book.

As I was dozing off, I have been hearing knocks on the door. I got up and opened it. To my surprise it wad Matt.

"Matt... what are you doing here." I asked.

"I thought that maybe you needed some company. And here I am." He said and placed an arm around my shoulder. We sat on the floor using the foot of my bed as a rest.

"Seriously, (y/n), I never ever want to loose you. I promised that one day, I will mary you. And I forever and always will vow to never break that promise. If anything goes wrong, let me know. I love you and it forever will be you." He told me and never let me go the whole night.

It was the following day when I woke up, Matt was there cuddling me close. It somehow made me smile after what happened last night. I gently pushed his arm away and got up.

"I love you Mattheo Riddle." I whispered and went to the great hall for breakfast.

"Good morning guys." I greeted and sat down on one of the benches. Yet again, I found the same group of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws whispering about me.

"Don't mind them (y/n)." Draco reminded.

"Yea. They aren't as worth it." Pansy told.

"If only they knew I am the son of the Dark Lord. They might as well shut up. Or I will do it for them." I turned around to see Matt holding me close.

"You better let them know." I smirked jokingly and continued to eat breakfast.

"(Y/n), are you seriously alright?" Blaise asked. "I heard about what happened. You shouldn't listen to them. It is way better for you to not listen. You are the best than what you think you are." He comforted.

"Never better." I shrugged. It was a new day to begin again.

✨️fast forward to Christmas Break✨️

"I'll probably see you again in the manor." I reassured Matt.

"Father will obviously be there, scheming Harry's demise again. Like he does every year." Matt joked and rolled his eyes after.

I got my trunk and went downstairs to the Commom Room where I was awaited by my older brother Draco and my godfather Severus.

"I heard about what happened (y/n), please, if anything's wrong. Even if it's about Lucius, send me a letter. I will try to sort this out." Uncle Sev said.

"Thank you." I smiled a small teear formed.

"Of course. Now, both of you run along or you'll miss the train." Uncle Sev said and joined me and Draco towards Hogwarts express.

"See you next year Uncle Sev. Have a Merry Christmas." I said and hopped in the train.

As I sat down in the Slytherin's compartment, I went with the gang.

"Ready to go home (y/n)?" Draco asked.

"Not really." I shrugged.

The thought of home sounded nice, but being at home isn't. I still feel traumatized about everything that has ever happened.

I bid farewell to all my friends including Matt and Draco and I were greeted by mother.

"Hi mom." I awkwardly said and plastered a fake smile on my face.

"(Y/n).... wait up...." I heard Matt say and he wrapped his arm around my waist.

"Hello mrs. Malfoy."

"Hello Mattheo." Mother smiled at him.

"Father isn't around so I will be spending winterbreak with you all. Is that alright?" Matt asked and to my relief, mother agreed.

"Of course."

"Oh, and (y/n), your father would like to talk to you."

"Mom by talk, honestly, it's not talking. He will probably slap me until I'm bruised. Or maybe punch me in the face. Oh and the obvious thought, he will lock me in my room and if I try to get food or something he will you know...." I ranted, maybe almost so loud so Matt could hear.

"The what now is happening?" He asked.

"Nothing." I lied. "But please make sure to get the keys to my room if ever any of this happens. Please visit me." I said as I kissed him.

Before we could reach the Malfoy Manor, I contemplated whether I like the idea of going back home. This doesn't feel like home anymore.

I shuddered at the thought of father and what he is capable of.

We reached the Manor and we were greeted by Dobby.

"Miss (y/n), mr. Malfoy is looking for you." This was the first thing Dobby said as he opened the door for us.

"Merlin, please take me away." I whispered as I closed my eyes imagining all the horrid things that could happen.

"Hey, everything is going to be alright." Matt reassured. He kept holding my hand until father just wanted me alone. He made mother, Draco and Matt leave.

"(Y/n), what is this that Minerva sent me? A failing grade, not just in Transfigurations but all of your classes." Father stood from his study and went straight to me.

"You really are a dissapointment in the Malfoy name. Also, a dissapointment of the Sacred 28." He insulted.

"I tried my best father, it's just...." I tried explaining but was cut off by a brutal slap.

"You aren't suppose to speak unless I say so."

And there I received another hit.

My face and body felt numb from all the pain. Tears falling down my face.

"W-why was I born in the first place then? If you never wanted me." I asked. My knees were shaking and I just stayed there. My hair all messed up.

"I wanted a daughter, but never someone like you. An embarassment to the bloodline. An embarassment to the name." Father said through gritted teeth.

"Do you want to know why I'm like this? Yes, I maybe Slytherin, but what the Hufflepuff Girls and Ravenclaw Girls say hurt so bad." I explained.

"Maybe, that's why my grades are bad."

Father pulled my hair too hard and made me face him. "That is an unacceptable reason." He angrily said and carelessly pushed me and left slamming the door shut.

When he left, all the tears I wanted to shed left my body like a river. I stayed there on the floor curled up.

I didn't care if anyone saw me like that. All I wanted to do is give up.

"Oh my, (y/n)." Mother gasped.

"See what i mean, mother? Why can't you at least talk to father about this." I wanted to get mad but whispers escaped my lips.

"I'll be going to my room." I plainly said, fixed myself, and left his study.

I wiped all the tears away and pretended nothing happened.

I reached my room when I saw Matt there.

"Why are you in my room?" I asked a light chuckle leaving my mouth.

"You look bruised. What happened?" He asked all concerned but I stayed there silently.

"Father....." I replied.

I could not take it anymore, I cried onto his shoulder.

"Why would he treat you like that?" He asked me.

"He called me an embarassment to the bloodline and to the sacred 28." I told.

"I know he is your father, but please don't listen to him. I mean, about being an embarassment. I know you are trying your best. And the best you give is already enough. You know I am proud of you no matter what." He said as he played with my hair.

Night came and I stayed in my room not wanting to come out. Every now and then Draco or Matt would come visit me. On the other hand, mother tried apologizing but I never responded.

I layed there awake overthinking everything that has happened to me this year.

I think it's over. I don't want to suffer anymore. Heck, I don't want Matt or Draco worrying about me. Once, I am gone, they will stop.

For the last time I wrote two letters, saying goodbye to the both of them.

To my dearest brother.

Hey Draco, it's currently 11:00 in the evening of December 19, I have wrote this letter to say goodbye. Even if I am physically gone. Spiritially, I'll be there. I have been through enough pain. So, if you regret loosing me, please.... don't. I love you so much brother. I may not be with you when we get old. I remember promising you we would grow up together and would be godparents for our children, but sad to say, I wouldnt be fulfilling this promise.

If ever mother or father asked what happened to me, tell them I have come to a better place.

I will be watching over you over the heavens.

If you need to talk to me, I will just be a ghost for you. Or... look up in the sky and pretend that I am listening (yes I am)

~ Your Dearest Sister (Y/n) Malfoy

Once I finished the letter, I folded the parchment and began crying all over again. I don't want to leave my friends whom I consider my family but I could not take it anymore. I folded it and went to Draco's room and slid it under his door.

I went back to my room to write another one for Matt. The thought of him crying over my loss felt devastating. But at least I am happier. It feels selfish that I am happy and he is not but I am sick and tired.

My love,

My deepest apologies for what I am going to say, but.... I am tired of life. Firstly, do not overthink about why I am about to do this. I am ready to welcome the other side. Secondly, it is not your fault. You did your best to protect me and you did it.

No matter what happens to you in life I always will be proud of you.

Please do not regret having me. Please do not regret loosing me.

I love you so much Matt. In another life, I promise you this. It is you and me against the world. But for now, I need to be at peace.

Goodbye my Love, I am deeply sorry

~~ (Y/n) Malfoy "Riddle"

It pains to see the letter. I left my room and slipped it under the door of the room where he was staying. "I love you so so much. Please never forget me." I whispered until more tears started to fall.

And once I came back to my room, with no hesitation I stabbed myself with the hidden dagger I had.

The last thing I saw was crimson blood and finally white light.

✨️19 years Later (2nd Generation Era)✨️

Mattheo Riddle pov:

It has been 22 years since her death. I haven't moved on and I am still grieving. Everyday, I would visit her grave and talk to her. I never fell in love with anyone after her.

Today was a special day for Draco's son Scorpius, it was his first year in Hogwarts. I am going to be there as his godfather and for (y/n).

I know she is happy about Scorpius.

"This is it, love." I smiled looking up at the sky.

(An imagine I wrote for Wattpad @anjwrites_)

(I write the same fanfictions/imagines for both Wattpad, Tumblr and Neobook)

[candiedspit]

hi ! we haven’t talked in forever, but i’ve always seen you as an amazing genius/role model/very intelligent woman who has so much figured out and i think about you lots. im turning 20 soon and don’t know how to deal with it. it feels like it’s so much older and so different than 19 :( i loved being 19, innocent and still a kid. i don’t wanna be 20. how did you deal with it?

hello!! i wonder who you are...thank you so much. so, i don't have much advice because as i'm about to turn 25, i feel the same. but i wrote a letter to my brother's girlfriend when she was about to turn 20 and maybe some of that will resonate with you. i wrote:

I recall twenty as the burn victim summons the scent of gasoline as she lays in the white, stale hospital bed; caught in her cot. There she was, naked in the driveway—half drunk on monk chants, lit by the green blinking fireflies of desire which seemed to feed on her running blood, all those hands—as the brutish sun began to descend like a bomb on the horizon. All of a sudden, an ambush of light. How the heat numbed her down to only her elements; rendered her translucent.

I turned twenty in the bathroom of a poetry club downtown—slashes of graffiti on the walls, and a dirty toilet. I was still a virgin, then. I knew as much about the world as an infant is capable of registering noise. But twenty was a glittering mirage in my eye. I had plans. I was going to rule the world, inch by disgusting inch.

But as February—that pink month in which I still found Valentine’s Cards on the street discarded like banana peels even days after the holiday—came to a shut, I began to expand.

I walked on rooftops; drank when I could. I sat in class engrossed by what I perceived to be a shifting painting of snakes.

I panted in the streets. I had many visions. I went to my aunt’s house—afraid of what I might do, afraid of the animal I was sharing a cage with—and stole my uncle’s pills from the plastic container on the counter, not caring what they were or what they could do to me. I was hospitalized the next morning, convinced the nurse had x-ray vision. I lost my mind. I was not afraid.

I did my time on the psycho wing—meddled with the characters—a girl sporting a large bruise beneath her eyes—sent out enchanted emails—watched Molly at the piano—ate spaghetti with spoons made out of paper—a nurse at the end of my bed as I slept— the quiet room—I took the pills.

A lifetime can be spent chasing. And even then, you are never promised the catch.

After funeral, I spent the summer wading in and out of insanity—carrying my black trenchcoat of grief—daring the world to fuck with me—swimming in the muddied waters of Galveston, drunk on gin and breath and salt—thrashing in front of the mirror—having epiphanies as one has meals—cutting my hair again and again—I could never lose myself—I always followed—being wheeled around in the theme park—a thousand red lights—watching the ceiling breathe—words chasing their tails in my head—a halo of bleach.

And then, the crazy fluorescence stuck. For eight weeks, I moved through the world like a knife on fire. A cowboy coated in oil slick and magic.

Daniel Johnston died; I kept moving. Almost yanking the blunt out of a kid’s mouth simply because I could. Magical walks at night; the moon like a blooming anus above my exploding head. Going up and down the stairs between classes; blonde pig on amphetamine; Jesus in the Dunkin’ Donuts; whispers of legacy.

All this to say — there is a way to live.

Some people live through imagination; in fantasies, protected by spirits and smoke and powders. Others get through the days naked. How you decide to cross the ocean is up to you. But, some advice.

Life is a Holocaust as much as it is a fairground. Have fun while you can. Let the light melt into your skin and your hair. Ride the carousel. Ride it twice. Hold the music, stench, magic, and knowledge, between your teeth like a bullet. Take note of everything you see. All of it matters. The man holding a cake in the line at the grocery store. The newspapers on the cart. Neon lights! How the skies dissolve each night and bleed out each morning. Cry if you have to. Do what makes you uncomfortable. Hold nothing against anyone. Brace. Being a teenager is nice but it is not real. This is the hard part. Life will come like a black stallion free from the gate and how you decide to wrangle it will become apparent very fast. Be scared. Be grateful. Be immune. You are going to make it. Brace.

[invincible-selfxmade-punk]

I have not had an honest to God panic attack quite a while. I've had some blood sugar drops, and I've had some anxiety, but nothing that felt like a full-blown panic attack. I probably haven't had one of those in 8 years

I thought it was really bad 3 years ago when my 8th period class made me cry. However, 7th period makes me feel that way every single day. While I haven't broken down, I've come really close, and today was the closest, and I think if I had had to continue talking, I would have just lost it.

I am just done. I have tried everything with them. Every time I tried to speak, they would talk over me, or laugh, or whistle or make a rude noise.

It was the first 10 minutes of class and all I was trying to do was establish who was not there because we've had so many kids absent. When the kids are absent I have to do all their work for them they literally do nothing and so I had to make a list of everyone who knows I had to glue into their books. But every single time I open my mouth before I could even get an entire name out someone was talking over me. And this happens every single day. And has been happening every day for the last 3 months. I spend 15 to 20 minutes of a 45 minute class just trying to be able to talk.

That class coincides with a lunch period so I have a no backup every available person or administrator is at the fifth grade lunch

I was already Furious about having to replace the name tag all the tables. I have spent $10 just on tape because everyday I taped down a list of names of who sets at each table and every day someone gets a knife or a pair of scissors or something else and cuts it right back off again.

After five different times attempting to talk and five times being rolled right over. I

got so mad I had an honest to God panic attack.

I wasn't sure if I was going to cry, vomit, or pass out. I went back and sat down at my desk for at least 7 minutes.

I did not say a word because I do if I did, I would start crying. When I finally ot myself under control I went back up to the podium and started to read out the notes, and the instant I did, someone interrupted me and demanded to go to the bathroom.

I got so angry I really thought I was going to pass out right then and there.

I called our AP and asked her to send the nurse, but she said the nurse was all at lunch. Nobody came to check on me, so I sat at my desk and tried not to cry and just sat there until class was over.

And the kids just ran around and did whatever they wanted to do.

At the exact same thing will happen tomorrow and the next day and the next because no one cares.. then on a chance conversation with a parent I found out that her son was strangled and beaten at a crosswalk by the two kids that get away with everything else at the school. The parent happens to work at the sheriff's department and still nothing was done to the two perpetrators who run the school like it is their personal gangland.

I don't know what it is about these two students if the administration is scared of their parents or if they just hold the parents in such high esteem that the safety of the other 400 students and 50 Educators aren't worth s*** in comparison.

I have both of many thugs in my classes and one of them has certain to kill kids in my first period class twice but nothing is ever been done about it

I am just so fed up.

[circular-bircular]

hello! im currently questioning whether I am disordered or not. I was wondering if you would be willing to share your experiences if you're comfortable or maybe share some good resources about what its like being disordered because im really lost rn. this blog is great btw! take care of yourself <3

Hey there! Glad you enjoy my blog, sorry it took a bit to get to this. This is the first night in like a month that I have any free time whatsoever (and that's cause I'm putting off grades, lol...)

I hope you don't mind a bulletpointer on this one!

Disordered experiences...

Firstly, I cannot overstate how fucking everything about me is impacted by trauma. Physical health? I get sick more often because my body has fought as hard as it has to survive -- it's an actual thing that traumatized people get physically sick more often. Mental health? Shit. Depression's comorbid, anxiety is comorbid, and I've even seen discussions about the connections between autism and DID, and those two do not mix well in me. All of my everything is constantly fucked.

I cannot goddamn sleep. Sleep is a goddamn hellscape. I run from somewhere between 2 to 6 hours of sleep most nights, and have to take plenty of naps just to survive. That makes it next to impossible some days to get the energy I need, or if I did get enough nappies, to get the free-time I need.

In terms of my actual DID... Amnesia is the biggest one. I constantly have gaps. I have to write every single thing down. I have plenty of accomodations, sure! But even those fail from time to time, and then it's just a spiral. Like, today at work, I had a surprise meeting I did not write down, because I just forgot to. I forgot about the meeting until 10 minutes prior, when I got an alert in my email about it. This meant I skipped lunch, and had to try and focus without having eaten since 9am. This made my day harder, which led to...

Dissociation!!! God fuck. It's so hard to focus sometimes. I am so spaced out. Today was one of those days where I had to cling to my phone for survival and grounding. Not the healthiest coping mechanism, but it's better to be writing posts on tumblr during class than forgetting I'm in class at all. And none of the kids snitch on me -- just get a little pissy if I don't call on them quickly enough.

Trauma flashbacks. Ough. If I get stuck in one, goodbye ability to think for awhile. It's been happening more and more frequently at work lately, so there goes my 30 minute lunch spent in the bathroom forgetting I exist because I feel like I'm going to my parents house after school.

That ties into paranoia. I have to convince myself more often than not that, when I get home, my abusers won't be there. I'm 26 and haven't directly lived with them in 3 years, and I cut them off close to a year ago. I still wake up thinking they're breaking in.

That's about all I can think off quick, off the top of my head. Basically... owie owie my brain is a big ol bruise.

[kathysturniolo]

Understand you.

description: a teenage girl, February Martin, struggling with mental health and addiction who hates talking about her feelings. she likes the fact that nobody notices. however, her best friend, Matt, starts to realize more and more that she's losing herself.

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

"Feb.."

"Feb, wake up."

"February.."

"Feb! "

   My eyes flickered open. I heard Sarah's voice. I looked at her. The light burned into my pupils.

"Ms. Tilson just asked you a question."

"I-I'm sorr- what? " I lifted myself up. My arms were numb.

"I asked you to identify this triangle. February. "

My eyes fixated on the board. It was blurry. I looked around and everyone's eyes were plastered to me.

"I- um- I don't know." My nails dug into my arm. I heard whispers and people were giving me looks, almost like they wanted to yell 'boo' at me.

"Miss Martin, you've been sleeping in my class almost this entire semester. "She sighed.

I didn't say anything. I wanted to. I just stared at my legs. She pinched the bridge of her nose and picked up a marker.

"Does anybody else want to try to identify the triangle? "

Hands rose like fucking springs. You idiot.

After that class, I left early. Like, 'asking to go to bathroom and then walking out of the door' early. I'm surprised I've never been caught before, after doing it at least 20 times this year. I found a gas station and sat outside on a piece of side walk and pulled out my my phone.

feb:

heyy

matt:

dude did u leave class again?

feb:

yeah lol sorry

matt:

yk your gonna get caught one day for just leaving.

feb:

it hasn't happened yet so 🤷‍♀️

matt:

ok lol. where are you?

feb:

Dan's gas station

matt:

come by my house after i get out, k?

I sighed and sat down my phone. i was going to go to a bar tonight. Get 'today' off my mind.

feb:

alright

I headed home after sitting down for about 15 minutes. If I was being honest, I didn't want to explain to my dad why I was home early, but I just wanted to go home for a little bit.

I opened the door. The creak made my body twitch. I hated this damn door.

"Dad, " I shook him.

Yep, he was knocked out.

Thank God.

His beer can spilled a little on the floor, leading me to accidently stepping in the puddle of liquid.

"Shit."

Well, that was another reason why my day sucked. I took off my now soaked converses and threw them over in the living room, rushing to my room.

My room was a mess. I didn't remember leaving it like this. I just threw myself on my bed, opening the sandwhich bag of meth I had in the corner of my bed, hidden under some covers. When Matt finds out I didn't stop using he'll be so pissed at me. His voice rang inside my head.

6:51

matt:

u still coming over?

My phone buzzes beside me. I woke up as my body was leaned off the bed.

I was definitely high. .

feb:

ya

I cut my phone off and tried to get up. My head got dizzy and my vision went black.

It's okay, maybe he won't notice.

I put on a dark blue sweatshirt, put on a pair of sneakers, and walked out of my room, down the stairs.

Dad was still fast asleep. Part of me didn't really care and wanted to let him sleep but the other part of me wanted to wake him up and make sure he didn't die in his sleep. I was almost out the door when I sighed and turned back around and made my way to my dad and put my finger under his nose to make sure he was breathing.

He was, thank God.

I walked back to the door and walked out. I forgot to lock it but, it's a small neighborhood, I think it'll be okay.

I must've not been too high, I could still function. I was kinda dizzy still. Hopefully, I don't get hit by a car as I'm walking to Matt's.

feb:

im on my way

I slid my phone in the pocket of my sweats. and speed-walked down the street and curved a couple corners until I made it to his house. He had a better house then me, it was bigger and cleaner. He loves to clean, so that makes sense.

feb:

here

A couple seconds later, Matt's blue eye met mine. He greets me with a big smile.

"Hey, kid," He said, poking out his hand, gesturing to do our handshake.

I smiled and grabbed his hand, "Bro I said stop calling me kid, you're literally younger then me," I laughed.

"By what? 4 months?" He said furrowing his eyebrows and smiling.

We both laughed and I walked into his house fully.

"Parents are at work, so we're definitely using the kitchen." He said, chuckling.

"Aww, mann, but Marylou and Jimmy are the only reason I even come here," I teased.

He laughed and we walked up the stairs to him room. He had an awesome room. His LED lights were always on green, he had a huge bed, and a big blue bean bag chair. He had a huge gaming set up, and a walk in closet with band posters stuck to it from top to bottom.

I plopped on his bed and kicked off my shoes. He climbed beside me.

"Dude, I saw this movie on TikTok, it's about some psyco killer clown. It seems pretty badass. "

I was zoned out, my head in the clouds, I almost didn't hear what Matt said.

"Alright, " I said with an unconvincing laugh.

I could tell he was confused on my lack of excitement because I saw him look at me from the corner of my eye.

He cut of the tv, and put it to the movie. My head was killing me. I clenched my eyes shut and winced a little. He tapped on my shoulder.

"Are you good bro?' He said, with a little bit of a laugh.

"Yeah, duh" I said sarcastically.

The movie played for at least 10 minutes before my vision went black again and I got dizzy. I started to lean back a little bit.

"Feb." He said, seriously. So seriously, it kind of scared me.

"What?" I said innocently, as I looked him.

He looked at me, squinting his eyes a bit. He parted his lips and frowned at me.

'You're using again. " he sighed.

"What? Matt. I'm not. I'm no- not."

I looked at him. I could see his eyes start to water.

"Feb, you promised me you'd stop. You promised me." He looked at me, with glossy eyes.

"Matt, I- I'm n-" My voice cracked. My eyes swelled with tears. "I can't, Matt."

Matt wiped his hand over his mouth. I could see a tear, screaming to come out of his eye.

I covered my mouth with my hand. I tried not to cry. I closed my eyes to try to keep the tears in.

He leaned over me, putting his hands on my arms. He looked at me, he didn't say anything. It was almost like he was waiting for the whole world to disappear and it just be us.

"February," He spoke, "It's okay."

He took his thumb and wiped his thumb across my face.

"You're my best friend Feb. You told me you were getting better. You told me that you stopped."

"Matt, I- I'm sorry." I sighed.

"What's going on? You first started using when your grandma died. That was your worst breaking point. That was 3 years ago. What's going on now? " He whispered.

"Nothing, Matt. Nothing, I promise."

"February, talk to me."

"You won't understand."

"You're my best friend, I understand you, Kid"

"My dad." I whispered.

"Your dad? What's wrong with your dad?" Matt asked concerned.

"He misses Mom, Matt. Last month was her birthday. He's been isolating since." My voice cracked.

Fuck, don't cry again February.

Matt pulled me into a hug. I put my face into the crook of his neck, trying not to cry.

"I'm so sorry. " He whispered as he rested his chin on my head. "Can you stay tonight? I just want to make sure you're okay."

I breathed out and wiped the tears off my eyes and nodded."

"I'm here for you, February. For fucking ever."

I chuckled, and we laid back and continued watching the movie.

[despair-to-future-arcs]

Kids are impulsive and can be jerks.

MIAYA: They can be sadly, but Mikan - given how the teacher was towards Ami, did she speak with the girl that cut your hair?

Ye-Yes, she did - she got mad at her and scolded her then she try to fix my hair but it was already mess and apologize at least...

MIAYA: Okay then...

——————————————————————–

MIKAN’S EVENTS OF TRAUMA:

Home:

Splashed with water: Date - March 20th, 2000 Description - After trying to find clothes, a women walk by noticing me and ask what I was doing; after explaining the situation - she walk me over to her home and gave me her son’s clothes to use which were bigger then me. When I got home, mom was with a costumer but when she saw me - she drag me back into my room and told me to stay, after I ask to wash myself off, she dumped cold water on me and told me to stay; she even say to use the bucket for the bathroom which after that I try to warm myself up.

Smeared with mud: Date - March 20th, 2000 Description - I ask my mom who is a prostitute to get some clothes but she refuse to pay, she drag me outside while it was raining and threw me out which lead to me getting mud on myself. She told me to go dumpster diving or steal it then close the door.

Getting burned with cigarettes: Date - April 30th, 2003 Description - I was in the infirmary and learn how to deal with burnt marks from the nurse who was treating a boy, after I got home mom was dealing with a drunk costumer who smoked. As I was leaving the room, the man confused my arm for an ash tray and I scream as I rush to take care of my arm, seems the man felt bad for it but my focus was on the arm and my mom blame me for it.

Stripped: Date - May 12th, 2007 Description - When I turn 13 years old, I got home from school and my mom wanted to me to help with 2 costumers looking for a 4 way, I didn’t have any experience with sex and was scared but went along with it as soon as my mom force me into it; we were about to start but then the couple realize that I was a minor and refuse to have sex. Mom blame me for ruining it, but I knew that I wanted to leave.

Elementary School:

Cut my hair: Date - April 25th, 2000 Description - I was late for class and a girl named Ami was advise by the teacher to throw the gum away, which then she stuck gum in my hair - after the teacher found out; she took Ami out and as student mutter to themselves, a girl who wanted to get talent in being a hairstylist decided to cut my hair and it ended up cut really bad despite me wanting to wait for the teacher.

Draw on me: Date - Description -

Eat bugs: Date - Description -

Imitate animal noises: Date - Description -

Middle School:

Dart games: Date - Description -

Debts: Date - Description -

Beaten up: Date - Description -

——————————————————————–

MIAYA: Okay then, now how about drawing on you? Any reason for that...?

We-Well, I remember when it happen, this happen when I was in 4th grade, I had fallen asleep when it was a break.

Th-Then I woke up, the teacher was yelling at them which I was given a mirror and they put markers on me and wrote me-mean things about me...!

...

...

...

Date: July 4th, 2004

MIKAN: zzz...

TEACHER: Wh-What in the world did you 4 do...?!

BOY 1: We saw her drawing and thought it be funny if we prank her!

GIRL: Yeah plus she be freak out.

TEACHER: Well even then you shouldn't have drawn on her!

BOY 2: Yeah guys, I told you to stop you shouldn't have done that!

BOY 1: Shut up you snitch, it was just a prank!

MIKAN: Wh-What's going on...?

TEACHER: Oh dear, Mikan I'm sorry but I just came here when I saw the 2 draw on you!

MIKAN: Draw on me...? *Mikan looks around then saw her reflection and sees marker on her*

BOY 2: Sorry, I try to stop them but they didn't so I told the teacher...

MIKAN: KYAAAAAAAH!!! WAAAAAH, wh-why do I have marker on me?!

TEACHER: Don't worry, let's get to the bathroom to clean up.

MIKAN: O-Okay... *her and teacher go to the bathroom*

'Luckily it wasn't permeant marker but even then, seeing me drawn on was really cruel and mean...'

[futurebird]

1 Truancy

Part One - Part Two

At that private girl's school the teachers were not very aware. Or maybe, because the students were, generally, such goodie-two-shoes, it never occurred to them that a 5th grader might cut class. To my credit, the first time that I cut class? That was by accident. Things had not gone well at recess. I don't remember what exactly happened, but I was crying and angry didn't want to stay outside anymore. I went inside as if just going to the bathroom, but when I got to the bathroom I kept walking. It was a sunny spring day, nearly everyone in the school was outside. I could hear the noise from the playground, squeals, shouts, laughter and also the strange spidery echo the red bouncing balls made in the narrow alleyway in back. It was like the sound that The Bionic Man made when he jumped. But, inside? It was quiet. I peered into empty classrooms. Everything was still. Papers on the desks, coats and bags in the cubbies. The teacher's slim leather bag and next to it: a ring of keys. On an angry impulse I grabbed them.

When we'd prepared for the Christmas play we'd gone up to the attic to find costumes and supplies. Mrs. Nevens had even given me the keys once by myself so I could fetch an extra halo. The keys felt heavy and important. Going to the attic again sounded like a lovely idea. I made my way quickly to the 3rd floor by the "servant's stairs" (There weren't any "servants" at the school, but everyone called the smaller, more hidden staircase that for some reason. It always felt a little pretentious. The school was in an old red-brick building, like an overgrown house. ) I made my way past the music room. And the hallway lined with photos of each Senior class in white dresses for graduation. I unlocked the door to the attic stairs-- and then, still thinking fast, I ran all the way back to the 5th grade classroom and replaced the keys on Mrs. Neven's desk. As I ran back to the attic, I wondered if Mrs. Nevens would notice that the keys weren't in the same position. I imagined an investigation. Detectives would photograph the keys after placing a little numbered marker next to them. Evidence. I imagined a search party looking for me! The discrepancy in the placement of the keys would be their only clue. But, still wrestling with tears as I ran up the "servant's" stairs, I didn't care. There were so many keys on the ring, how could they guess which one I'd used? (It didn't occur to me that no one would notice that the keys were moved-- or that no one might notice that I was even gone at all!) I reached the attic and the darkness of the attic stairs! The door I'd unlocked closed behind me. Sudden panic. It had locked! (Later I would learn to use gum, and tape, and at long last key copying to make the attic less of a prison.) But, on that first time I was locked in. Part One - Part Two

[keisrandomvlog124]

a woman and her youth

I am 7, sitting in front of my pink and gold nightstand, mom is yelling at me to go back to sleep, I read a little bit and go to bed late. 

i am 8, sitting at my kitchen table. My mother just spent the evening yelling at me because the kids in my class are stealing my pens and colors. I don't enjoy school anymore. 

i am 9, spending my summer alone in my home cause i have no friends, i try to read but i fall asleep as soon as my hand touches the paper

I am 10, crying myself to sleep because the boys in my class started comparing my underdeveloped  body to a 17 year old and demanding it will never be good enough.

I am 10, being groped by my closest boy friends because “relax it's just a joke”. I develop insomnia.

I am 10, I get punished for beating up one of my friends cause he touched my ass. 

I am 10, my boy friends only talk about porn and how disgusting girls our age look because we don't have breasts nor ass just like the supermodels they see in the playboy online. I stopped reading.

I am 11, i get called a slut and a pussy because i'm not entertaining the males in my classroom, i start hating myself. 

I am 11, my classmates masturbate in class while

I am forced to sit next to them. I have no interest in school anymore. 

I am 11, I get body shamed once again, since my preeteen body will never be good enough. 

I am 11, I have my period, I am a woman now. but still not even a teenager.

I am 12, starting highschool alongside my friends. I try to read but i can't. 

I am 12, being berated by my teachers and classmates because I will never be good enough.

I am 12, lockdown starts, I become closer with my male friends thinking they have finally matured. I don't have a care in the world.

I am 12, I gain weight and hide my body in hopes that no one will notice, I start feeling bad about it.

I am 12, mom thinks i look like a slut because my old pants don't fit me as loose as they used to. I try reading but I can't. 

I am 12, hiding myself in baggy clothes and internet media to distract myself from the humiliating thoughts I have about myself. 

I am 13, I cut my hair short, like really short. Boys dont like me anymore. 

I am 13, drinking and smoking starts becoming a recurrent hobbie. I haven't read a book in months.

I am 13, my male friends start hating my appearance. I start hating myself again.

I am 13,  my classmates begin making fun of me again. I will never understand why. 

i am 13, i am quiet in class, i don't make noise, even when i go cry in the bathrooms. I start hurting myself. 

I am 13, ending my life stops being a recurrent thought in my mind until my friends begs me to do it. I don't want to go to school anymore. 

I am 13, my obese friend calls me a whale, a slut, an emo, a bitch and an ugly whore. I stop going out. 

I am 13, getting teared down while attempting to play videogames. I stop playing them. 

I am 13, I get cheated on. I start finding comfort in  being sad.

I am 14, my insomnia gets worse, I start getting picked on again. now by my female friends. I start noticing my unattractive features. 

I am 14, everyone makes sure I notice how big and dark my eyebags are. I know, I couldn't sleep for days.

I am 14, I lose interest in everything, I don't wanna go to class, I don't want to sleep, I don't want to eat.

I am 14, I start losing weight, I still don't feel good about myself. My teachers start noticing my insomnia. 

I am 14, i get called anorexic, i'm not even underweight. I still have the desire to eat less. 

I am 14, everyone still makes fun of my insecurities. i start wearing more makeup. 

I am 14, i stop trying to be a natural makeup girl. I can't leave the house without makeup.

I am 14. I start hating every ounce of my body. I am unable to feel comfortable.

I am 15, I start getting better, I accept everything. I still hate myself. 

I am 15, I convince everyone I'm better. I still have insomnia. 

I am 15, i keep hurting myself, i convince everyone i don't. 

I am 15, I start drinking more and more. My teacher begs me to read. I can't. 

I am 15, I keep getting skinnier and “prettier”. it will never be enough. 

I am 15, my eyebags and sick face are still the only matter of conversation with me. I have slept for hours. 

I am 15, my friend picks apart the defects of my face like she’s playing operation. 

I am 15, i have several suicide attempts. i don't think about it as much as i used to.

I am 15, i don't know anything anymore. i don't care. 

I am 10.

I am 11.

I am 12.

I am 13.

I am 14.

I am 15. 

I will never be good enough. 

I am a woman.

[candleshopmenace]

don't say a word. | chapter two

SUMMARY

He’s tried being good, has tried pretending that being alone doesn’t bother him, has tried being the best in class all the time so that his mother would say, Good job, but nothing works.

Nothing ever works.

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

[ao3 link]

[discord server]

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The first thing that Present Mic does when they get back to the dorms is find a pair of nail clippers. He gets them from the bathroom connected to the room that Katsuki has been staying in, searching through the drawer beneath the sink for several long moments before he holds them up, triumphant. “Here they are!” he says, clicking off the light and pulling the door shut behind him as he steps out into the bedroom, walking over to where Katsuki is watching him from the bed. “How are you feeling, bud?”

Katsuki shrugs, looking away. White flashes out of the corner of his eye but he ignores it, not wanting to look at the bandages wrapped around his arm, which at least doesn’t hurt anymore but still feels kinda numb, heavy and tingly all over from whatever was in the shot that Recovery Girl gave him before she stitched up the biggest cut.

If Present Mic is bothered by the lack of response, he doesn’t show it, just gives Katsuki a smile as he settles across the bed from him. “Yeah, I bet you’re tired, aren’t you?” he asks, reaching out to take one of Katsuki’s hands, and the only reason Katsuki doesn’t jerk away is because Present Mic is so obvious about what he’s doing. “You should get some sleep after this.”

“I’m not tired,” Katsuki says, but he has to look away because that’s a lie and he thinks they both know it. He’s really tired, but he also doesn’t think that sleep is going to help at all, not unless he doesn’t ever have to wake up. “I’m just…”

Present Mic hums, giving his hand a gentle pat before he starts to clip his nails. “That’s fine,” he says. “You don’t have to sleep if you don’t want to. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. You could read or draw or watch something, if you’d like, and I took the rest of the day off, so you won’t be alone.”

Katsuki feels sick with a mixture of relief and guilt. “You didn’t have to do that,” he mutters. Then, because he doesn’t want to sound like he’s ungrateful, he adds, “But, thanks.”

“It's no problem,” Present Mic says, and sounds like he really means it. “You shouldn’t have to be alone.”

Katsuki feels a bit angry at that, but not a lot, because everything feels muffled, like that one time his mother was yelling at his father instead of him and so he put a pillow over his ears so that he didn’t have to listen and he could still hear his parents’ voices but not as much. It feels like that, like everything is being smothered, and he can’t even make himself sound upset when he says, “I can take care of myself.”

… But can he? Really? After what he just did today?

If he had been alone while he was throwing that fit, what would’ve happened? He hurt himself so badly that he had to get stitches, and people who know how to take care of themselves didn’t do that. He could’ve died, maybe. Maybe one day he’ll hurt himself so badly that he does die, and what’ll happen then? 

Would anyone even care?

“I know that,” Present Mic says, but his voice is quiet and Katsuki’s pretty sure that he’s only saying it to make him feel better. “But if you don’t want to be alone, I’m not going to leave you alone, okay?” He pauses, Katsuki’s hand still held gently in his, and looks at him. Very seriously, he asks, “Do you want to be alone?”

Katsuki gives a frantic shake of his head, throat tight. “No!” he says, but is painfully aware of the fact that Present Mic could leave him by himself at any time and Katsuki would be able to do nothing to stop it, he doesn’t even know if the door locks from the inside or the outside, he doesn’t know anything. “No, no, no no no no, please -”

“Alright,” Present Mic says, and Katsuki falls silent, breathing hard. Everything is so far away and way too close, all at once, and it makes his chest hurt, makes him feel like he’s going to start crying at any moment. “Katsuki, I’m not going to do anything that you don’t want. I promise.”

And promises mean something, they have to mean something, and so Katsuki nods, scrubbing at his eyes with his free hand and taking shaky breaths as he tries to calm himself down. “Okay,” he mumbles, feeling embarrassed that he’s acting this way and scared by the fact that he isn’t able to stop. What would his friends think if they saw him like this, crying like a baby over shit that wasn’t really a big deal? What would his parents think? 

Never should’ve trusted you alone for a second, his mother would say, and his father would give him that disappointed look, the one that said, I thought that you could handle this, but I guess I was wrong, and then everything would go wrong and it would be all his fault.

He winces, shutting his eyes so that he doesn’t have to see Present Mic’s expression and also because he can feel the hot press of tears building behind them, and actually crying would be way more embarrassing than almost crying, and he’s cried way too much today, anyways.

“Maybe we can go to the park again after you get some rest,” Present Mic says. “You had fun the last time we went, right?”

“Mhm,” Katsuki says, thinking about how he went to the park with Present Mic a couple days ago. It took a while to get there - personally, Katsuki is pretty sure that Present Mic just got lost a few times - but the park was really big, even bigger than the one he plays at with his friends. He spent the night there, once, huddled in one of the slides because it was raining and his mother had said, Just go, Katsuki, get the fuck out of my house, and it was cold and wet and he’s hated thunderstorms ever since then.

“Katsuki,” Present Mic says, and sounds a bit worried, like he’s been repeating his name for a while, and Katsuki realizes that the hero has been talking this entire time. 

“Sorry,” Katsuki mumbles, tugging his hand out of Present Mic’s grip and replacing it with his other one without being asked, inspecting his newly-trimmed nails and wondering if he’ll still be able to see blood under them if he looks hard enough. “I didn’t hear you, what did you say?”

“I asked if you were feeling alright,” Present Mic says, frowning slightly. “I really do think that you need to get something to eat after this, okay?”

And he words it like it's a question but Katsuki is pretty sure that there’s only one right answer, but it doesn’t feel right to say, and so he just shrugs and says nothing at all, watching as Present Mic sighs and starts clipping the nails of his other hand.

“We should paint these,” Present Mic muses, and Katsuki blinks at him, uncomprehending. Present Mic feels him watching and looks up, smiling so kindly that it hurts somewhere deep in Katsuki’s chest. “You know, just for fun. Your favorite color is orange, right?”

Katsuki nods, fighting the automatic urge to deny it, to deny that he had things that he liked. It was stupid to do that about a color, because it's not as if a color could be taken away from him. It was just a color. It didn’t mean anything.

“I’m sure we have some orange nail polish somewhere,” Present Mic says, and gently turns Katsuki’s hand from side to side, inspecting his work. “Eri loves painting her nails, I can hardly get her to wait for one color to dry before she’s trying to wipe it off to do another.” He smiles as he says it, undeniably fond, and Katsuki feels rotten, somehow, because he’s sure that his own parents don’t talk about him like this to other people. “What kinds of things do you like, Katsuki?”

And now Katsuki shuts himself up, yanking his hand away and snapping, “None of your business,” before he realizes exactly how close Present Mic is to him, how easy it would be for him to reach out and hurt him, and he swallows as he feels his heart pick up, pounding against his ribs. “I - I mean -” He takes a shaky breath, dropping his eyes down to the sheets so that Present Mic doesn’t think he’s being even more rude and also so that he can watch his hands. Quietly, he says, “Sorry.”

“It's alright,” Present Mic says, and Katsuki shrinks back further, every bone in his body screaming that this must be a trick, that Present Mic is just waiting to catch him off-guard, and he doesn’t think that Present Mic would do that - he is a hero, after all - but he wants to be prepared on the off chance that he does. “You don’t have to answer me if you don’t want to.”

Katsuki’s head spins with all the confusing emotions that swirl through it at the words. Present Mic is being so nice to him and he doesn’t know why, it's not as if he’s done anything to deserve it. All he’s been lately is a nuisance, and some horrible part of him wants to keep pushing, to see how far he can go before the hero’s patience dries up, just so that he’ll at least be in a situation that he’s used to. 

Everything’s so different.

Present Mic clears his throat. “Alright!” he says, back to being cheerful as he straightens up. He swings his legs over the side of the bed, standing up and offering Katsuki a hand to help him do the same. “So, what do you want to do now, kiddo?”

“Dunno,” Katsuki says, looking around the room in search of an answer. There are a bunch of shelves lining the walls, and they’re all filled with a mixture of books and toys, bright colors that scream out at him as he scans his eyes over them. He bites at his lip, hesitating, then says, “Your daughter has a lot of stuff.”

Present Mic shrugs. “We love her,” he says simply. “I, for one, want to give her everything that I can.”

“Oh,” Katsuki says, then falls silent. Present Mic still hasn’t let go of his hand, and he stares at the point of contact, wondering whether it's intentional or not. 

Present Mic seems to be waiting for him to speak, but Katsuki can’t think of anything to say, and so he says nothing. After a few moments, Present Mic seems to realize that Katsuki isn’t willing to talk, and he sighs just slightly before looking down at him with a bright smile. “Well,” he says, “why don’t we go to the 1-A dorms, then? That’s where Eri is, and she’s around your age, so you guys probably have a lot in common!”

Katsuki nods in response, and Present Mic looks relieved, tugging him towards the door and into the hall. He lets Katsuki push the buttons on the elevator, launching into a story about how Eri once pressed all of the buttons and forced them to stop on every single floor before they could get out. 

“I think that Deku did that once,” Katsuki offers up, wanting to contribute something to the conversation. “I was super pissed because he lives on the top floor and so it took forever to get to the bottom, but Auntie Inko didn’t even get mad at him!” Frowning at the unfairness of it all, he says, “My mom would get really mad if I did something like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Katsuki confirms, nodding his head. “She hates having her time wasted.” He pauses, considering, then adds, “There was this one time when one of the picture-takers for a photo shoot was running late, and we ended up having to stay at the studio until, like, midnight! Mom was super mad, and so was my dad, I think. And I couldn’t even sleep because it was too loud, and it smelled weird.” He wrinkles his nose. “It smelled like a bunch of plastic.”

“That’s… interesting,” Present Mic says. “Why didn’t - what do you call her? - Auntie Inko pick you up? You and Izuku are friends, aren’t you? Haven’t you ever had sleepovers?”

“No, not really,” Katsuki responds, and sighs. “Not anymore, at least. We used to have them all the time, but then Auntie Inko stopped letting Deku come over to my house.” He glances up just in time to see Present Mic frown, and hurriedly adds, “But that’s okay! Deku’s kinda annoying, anyways.”

But Present Mic’s frown just deepens, and his eyebrows furrow like he’s thinking hard about something. “Why did Auntie Inko stop letting Izuku go over to your house, Katsuki?”

Katsuki hesitates, then gives a small shrug. “I don’t know,” he says, even though he does. “I can’t remember.”

The elevator dings!, and the doors slide open. They make it all the way outside of the dorm building, but Present Mic still doesn’t respond, and they’re halfway to the 1-A dorms - with Katsuki wondering what he’s doing wrong the entire time - before he speaks. He asks, “How old were you when he stopped going over?”

Katsuki considers saying I don’t know again, but then he looks once more at where his hand is being held in Present Mic’s and finds himself saying the exact truth, because it’d be so easy to bend his arm back, or drag him around, or hurt his wrist. “Four,” he says quietly, staring down at the concrete of the sidewalk as they head toward the 1-A dorms. “Auntie Inko doesn’t like it when my mom yells at me, and Deku said that she said that moms aren’t supposed to hit, and…”

“They aren’t,” Present Mic says, and he’s staring straight ahead when Katsuki glances up at him, startled. “They’re supposed to take care of you, not hurt you.”

Katsuki shakes his head, frustrated. “She only does it when I’m bad,” he protests, and he doesn’t know why he feels upset about this, because it's not as if he likes being hurt, but he is. He is, and everything is so confusing. He clarifies, “I’m bad a lot,” and then freezes, because why did he just say that? He’s managed to trick Present Mic into thinking that he’s not a bad kid, but now he just ruined it, just like he ruins everything else.

Present Mic sighs, “Well.” He looks down at Katsuki, and he doesn’t look angry, which is what Katsuki had been expecting. He just looks a bit sad, like he’s heard something he doesn’t like and is trying to put on a brave face for it. “For what it's worth, I don’t think that you’re a bad kid.”

“That’s not true,” Katsuki says, and the part of him that is still thinking rationally wonders, briefly, as to why he’s being so insistent that Present Mic sees the truth about him. He’s enjoyed these last few days, spending time with real-life Pro Heroes and not getting yelled at even when he’s being irritating, and he doesn’t know why he’s trying so hard to ruin it. “Even my dad said it. He thought that I couldn’t hear him, but I could, and if he said it, it’s got to be true. My dad never lies, ever.”

Present Mic stops walking, then, and drops Katsuki’s hand. The loss makes his chest ache, for some reason, but the feeling is swallowed up by the fear that freezes Katsuki in place, and he thinks, This is it. This is the part where I get what I deserve.

But then Present Mic doesn’t hit him at all, just kneels down in front of him so that they’re eye-to-eye and holds him by the shoulders, grip tight but not painful, and says, “Bakugou Katsuki, you are not a bad kid.”

“I am,” Katsuki says, because his father has never lied to him. “I am.”

“You’re not,” Present Mic says, and the insistence should make Katsuki feel better but all he feels is scared, and guilty, and a million other things that he doesn’t know the names of. “You’re the kindest little boy that I have ever met. You bake things for your friends even though you can’t eat them, you always try to be brave about everything, and you’re not a bad kid, Katsuki. I know that your parents say that you are, but they’re wrong.”

“You’re lying to me,” Katsuki says, and his eyes are getting watery again and his breaths are shaky and he’s not going to cry, not where everyone can see him. Not where anyone can see him. “Stop lying to me. You don’t have to lie to me.”

Present Mic starts, “Katsuki,” but then his hands shift on Katsuki’s shoulders and Katsuki’s mind just goes completely blank, thoughts sizzling out as his heartbeat roars in his ears. 

And then he’s running, wrenching out of Present Mic’s grip before he can stop himself, and he shouldn’t run away, he’s just making things worse, he doesn’t have a bedroom here, not one that belongs to him, but that doesn’t make a difference. Maybe Present Mic will just lock him in his daughter’s room instead, since she had so many sleepovers at the 1-A dorms and she probably wouldn’t miss it, anyways, and he can’t do this. He’s not strong enough. He’s not strong at all, he’s small and weak and stupid, and he’s so tired of pretending that he’s not.

He bursts through the doors of the school building and doesn’t stop running. 

He has no idea where he’s going, and he thinks, What am I doing?, but can’t make himself stop. It's better this way, better that he leaves before anyone can hurt him. It doesn’t fucking matter that nobody has hurt him here, not yet, it was bound to happen at some point because there’s something so bad about him that it made everyone get upset at him, and then they hurt him, or they left, and he doesn’t know how to change that. He’s tried being good, has tried pretending that it doesn’t bother him, has tried being the best in class all the time so that his mother would say, Good job, but nothing works.

Nothing ever works.

He sobs, stumbling to a stop in the middle of the empty hallway, allowing himself to cry freely now that there’s not anybody around to watch him. He used to do this back when his parents left him alone for all those months. He would come home from school and the house would be so cold and empty and he would feel so lonely that he’d just crawl into his bed and cry until he ran out of tears.

But that’s what he deserves. He’s a bad kid, he’s always been a bad kid, he’s so horrible that his own parents don’t want to see him. Sooner or later, Present Mic will see that, and then he’ll be just like everybody else. 

It's only a matter of time.

[chocolattefeverdreams]

The urge to cut my parents out of my life is so strong rn but I also don't wanna do that bc my parents brought me to this world and raised me and gave me good food and shelter. And they make sure that I know that because they raised me I'll have to take care of them back once I get the money and I'd be a horrible kid if I didn't.

I have never felt more at peace with myself when my parents are out or I'm in a locked bathroom bc my room doesn't have any locks. I feel like I'm walking on eggshells whenever I'm around my parents. I want them to see I'm doing good on the surface, because the surface I put up in front of me is all they ever talk about. And grades are the surface I'm talking about. And so I try my hardest to get good grades and I have a fucking breakdown when the grades weren't what I expected, because this gives my parents more of an excuse to talk more about how I could improve more and threaten to take me out of my school. I hate making mistakes in front of them.

My mom tells me the future she envisions for me so whenever I get an average grade I feel like a failure in my life and to my parents. My mom keeps telling me how she never had fun in her highschool years bc she was busy studying and getting the top grades and how it would be good and I would be successful later if I could stop having a lot of fun as well, by leaving things I enjoy doing.

I hate getting reminded of how expensive my school and my extra classes are. I feel like a useless purchase/expense. I feel like quitting all my classes so that it helps with my parents savings. I want my sister to get out of my room. I want my father to stop scolding me for going upstairs when all I wanted was personal space, bc I don't feel comfortable doing anything I like around my family.

I wish my family took my feelings seriously and didn't call me sensitive when I was a child, so now I wouldn't have to lock up my feelings around them and tell them what they want to hear. If my family took my feelings seriously, maybe I wouldn't smile with my mouth closed the way I do now. Or maybe I would be able to speak my mother tongue fluently if my family didn't make fun of me when I was learning English.

The worst thing is I can't tell them this, or anything about me really, they would tell me that there are bigger problems in the world. And there are, and my friends all have problems of their own, and I don't want to burden them with my own, I'd rather help them solve their problems or just be there for them when they need it. I'd feel selfish and silly for talking about my problems. It feels really lonely but I feel better if I know I was able to help other people. All I really want to do with my life is just run from the expectations, or sleep forever, or pull my soul out from my body.

[sagesariadnd]

My retail job didn't train me for the things I actually needed to know to do my job right. They expected me to be there in the mornings before the buses were even running, then didn't even give me a phone number to call to let me in because the doors were still locked. And when I DID have a number I could call, nobody answered. They told me to call the answering machine if I was gonna call out sick, but my manager never checked the machine so she'd mark me as a no call, no show if I didn't also call her, but I didn't have her personal number so if it was too early for the call to go through to my department, I was screwed. Should I have asked for her number? Sure. But you'd think that would have been step one on orientation day. They didn't even give me the number of the INTERCOM and yelled at me for never using it for several months. They didn't even pay me enough for their health insurance to be worth it.

My retail job's manager was constantly abusive to me. She'd tell me to do something with zero instruction, then yell at me for not doing it right. She'd huff if I asked a simple clarifying question to be sure I was doing something right, and snapping "*I'll* do it then, go clean." She'd scold me for the floor being a mess because I was busy helping customers on a busy Saturday afternoon. She'd scold me for missing that a customer needed help because I was focused on the thing she wanted me to get done faster. She was CONSTANTLY nagging me to work faster. She made me cry a few times from yelling at me, and said "I don't care that you're crying" as if I was doing it to manipulate her.

She constantly got my schedule wrong when I told her what days I was unavailable because of classes. She asked me EVERY WEEK to write it down, then EVERY WEEK she got it wrong, and she told me *I* was the one being inconsistent. She would acknowledge that I was going out of town one weekend, then call me demanding to know where I was that Saturday. She almost wrote up my coworker for being absent on his SON'S WEDDING. She threatened to write ME up when I tried to call out after slipping on the ice in my driveway and hitting my head, basically bullying me to come in. She screamed at me about calling out on Easter Sunday when I was up all night crying in pain from a COMPLETELY VERTICAL IMPACTED WISDOM TOOTH. I'd've loved to know a dentist that was open that day to give me a doctor's note.

The one time I actually reported her for screaming at me for using the bathroom and leaving the floor unattended (I TOLD my coworker where I was going and HE was the one who left the floor unattended to solve a problem at the register), the HR manager sighed and stared at the ceiling when I mentioned her name.

After she got transferred and someone else took over, my new manager was barely more tolerable because he was more passive-aggressive than abusive. He'd never confront me if he had a problem, just cut my hours to next to nothing. He never seemed to listen when I had to call out. He expected me to come into work the day after I called out indefinitely because I had been HIT BY A CAR. And when I did come back after months of recovery, I couldn't keep up anymore from pain and physical exhaustion. And the reason I'd already called out of work so much as it was was because being on my feet that much was literally destroying my ability to walk at all. My knees still have problems to this day from trying to kneel down to do lower shelf work to give myself some relief from my feet. And every time I tried to explain why I couldn't go any faster than I was he brushed me off. I literally quit that year, right before Christmas.

Someone who worked at a notoriously toxic retail store heard the name of the one I worked at and felt sorry for me.

I am never going back to retail.

People always gloss over how mentally damaging it can be to work in retail. I fucking hate that whenever I say “I could never work in retail again” someone has to reply “You snowflake millennials can’t take a starter job because you have to INTERACT with other people” No. Fuck you. I’ve worked as a planetarium host. I’ve worked as a public speaker. I’ve worked as a tutor and as a student teacher. I can work with people. I can work with crowds. Retail was fucking different. Retail was being treated as a subhuman. Retail was being treated so poorly that you have anxiety attacks before work. Having to work retail was a factor in my last suicide attempt. If I hear you say one fucking word about retail workers playing the victim I will personally break every bone in your body. Fuck You.