Protection Squad!

like father like daughter. ( ￣∀￣ )

JOE KEERY via Christian Coppola

"Steve is a Labrador" "Steve's a golden retriever 🥺" Steve's a chow. Chows have great big fluffy coats that need a lot of maintenance. They're intensely loyal and bond very closely with their families. They're traditionally guard dogs and have a reputation for it. Can see very aloof and above it all until it's cuddle time. Hella cute. I mean c'mon.

Also they're kinda a rich people dog

double deku!!

+a bonus comic (manga spoilers)

— My, what a lovely family you are.

Hello🤗❤️

I hope you are well🌹

Can you help me get my voice heard

and share my family's story?🙏🏻

Can you Reblog my pinned post from my blog or donate 10$?

By helping to reblog my story, you could

save a family from death and war.🌹

Thank you very much🌸

🕊️❤️🌹🙏🏻

hi!! i'll reblog your post, unfortunately i don't have money in the moment, but i'm really hoping that you and your family are gonna be safe and sound from death and war!

sending you all my love and support!! ♥️

pov: your camera roll if you were dating steve harrington (and if smartphones existed in the 80's) - part 2!!

Im going to fucking cry

Get Him Outta Here

Smau: in which the jjk men are your roommates in a modern au and you have a male guest over Warnings: cursing, fem!reader, possessiveness, territorial men Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna

— work hard! . chishiya x reader

synopsis . he was content with the neutral comfort and safe distance your relationship had (with the rare affectionate moments), but seeing you now in a position where he is responsible for your survival makes him wish he had done a little better.

warnings . heavy angst, rdr is has a severe illness, descriptions of overstimulation, chishiya getting Emotional™️, chishiya + rdr trying to lie to themselves, not proofread

notes . part 2 [bad ending] [good ending (coming soon)]

the need to puke was a sensation chishiya never thought he would come to face with. unfortunately, as he stood in the desolate and insanely blank hallway, it came towards him with full force. bone crushingly so.

the job of a surgeon is, undeniably, a difficult one. lives are at stake. countless bodies are either sacrificed or saved. all because of a pair of hands and a small metal knife.

he took on this career well-aware of that fact — his consideration for the constant teeter over the line between life and death was close to none, disturbingly so. his lack of care made him both the worst and perfect candidate for the role.

so why was it now that his own job was making him disgustingly anxious?

overstimulation slowly took over the blond as he stood in the center of the hall. the atrocious scent of bleach was far too heavy, the squeak of shoes against a floor cleaned way too often bit at his eardrums, the hands of time clicking above him mocked his current stasis. his calloused fingertips picked at his own skin, as if getting ready to pull the flesh apart at the seams. chishiya couldn’t stand this, this vulnerability he was facing against at the moment.

“sir?”

he wanted to scream, for once. to curl into a ball just like a child would, and explode into a world-consuming black hole at the same time.

“i’m on my way. give me a moment.”

the shift in his voice made him grimace. he absolutely loathed the weakness he was going through. despised it with all his heart. what he hated more was the room awaiting him.

with heavy footsteps, chishiya made his way to his next potential murder scene. the chances of death or survival were within his grasp, his hands responsible for the strings. if this were any other patient, he would’ve paid no mind. it was just work. he would get paid regardless.

it was just work.

but now that he stood in the doorway, facing you, he wanted to quit.

all of his life ambitions came crumbling down before him at the sight of you in a bed many others occupied before. he hated it. you were just any other patient. this was just work.

you smiled and waved at him, feigning ignorance to the thin gown you wore and the thin mattress you sat on and the thin air that engulfed the room. “long time no see,” you spoke so softly, as if your voice would snap apart with another syllable.

that’s right. he saw you just this morning. you were kissing him on the cheek, giving him his hand-crafted bento box for the day, sending him off to work with that childish grin on your face. work hard! were always your final words before he’d shut the door and head down to the hospital. “because ‘have a good day’ is too optimistic for someone like you,” you’d joke.

the nurse beside him coughed before reading off the information to him. the monotony of their voice irked him, for reasons he could not explain to them without sounding crazy. “. . .the nearby tissues, as well as the innermost layer of the membrane. we’ve identified them as a stage 3A lung cancer patient. survival rate is already decreasing, so. . . they’ve requested to have the surgery done.”

within the depths of his coat pocket, chishiya gripped his pen with a force that could potentially cause it to explode. which could potentially stain his coat beyond saving. which you would potentially scold him for. that is, if you potentially got out of that hospital bed.

he wished he wasn’t the type to play around with fate.

“understood,” he spoke curtly, sending the nurse off. the room fell silent.

chishiya dragged a metal stool next to the bed, for he immediately understood that the conversation you were about to share was not one where he should stand. “what are your symptoms?”

“chishiya.”

“you need to cooperate with me if you want this process to go thoroughly.”

“chishiya,” you held a stern voice, albeit hoarse in some spots. the ache throbbing in your head would get to you if you raised your voice anymore.

“look, i have many other patients who need just as much saving as you. so, if you just-“

“chishiya!” you raised your voice anyways.

his gaze noticeably faltered. “what?” he muttered under his breath, suddenly not so confident in his plans to confront the situation as if it were just work. “you want the surgery, don’t you? so what’s the hold up?”

you sucked in a breath and coughed consequently after, reaching for your boyfriend’s hands. his palms were nearly cherry red from how hard he was squeezing them. “can we talk? like, as us? not doctor to patient?” regardless of his silence, you continued. “i- i don’t know how this happened, honestly. i’ve never lit a cigarette or anything of the sort in my life, so it’s probably a hereditary thing or whatever,” you paused to cough again. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry i didn’t think to tell you when i started feeling the symptoms. i didn’t really think it was that bad, i thought- i mean, everyone has trouble breathing sometimes, right?” silence, again. “chishiya, please forgive me. i’ll do anything. i’ll buy you that strawberry cake you keep talking about, the one that’s a block away from our apartment. we can have a day at home, just the two of us, with no work to worry about, and i’ll cook everything you want. i’ll book a fucking flight overseas, if that’ll make you feel relaxed.” your hands trembled against his, in sync with the wobble in your words as you spoke. you told yourself you wouldn’t get too emotional over it — after all, chishiya wasn’t too fond of overdramatic people. but really, what were you supposed to do? what were you supposed to say? or think? stage three? the number was practically poking fun at you, for not noticing the signs sooner. “chishiya. work hard, okay?” you smiled at him, with the same sincerity and warmth and youth you always did.