#... kind of why i have a problem with starting things i feel the need to do it all the way if i ever do start it. and i KNOW that

[writeriguess]

Hey hun! Welcome back 😘

So, i have a kind of slow burn idea for a Bakugo x fem!reader fic. They both like each other and when she tries to ask him out or talk to him about it, he's kind of an ass 😅

He thinks she'll be in the way or a distraction to his goal, so he pushes her away. He can't get her out of his head though and their friends tell him he's being an idiot. Eventually, he cracks and tells her (in his very 'katsuki' way) that he does want to be with her.

Angst ending with lots of fluff, confessions, and a kiss please!

author's note: Thank you so much! <3 I just wanted to say that your idea was incredible, and I had such a great time writing it. It turned out to be much longer than I expected, but it was definitely worth it!

Heart of Dynamite

It started with stolen glances. You weren’t sure when you first noticed, but something about the way Bakugo Katsuki acted around you was different. He wasn’t nice, not by any stretch of the imagination, but there was something else buried beneath the rough edges and sharp remarks. A fleeting glance when he thought you weren’t looking. The way he always seemed to hover nearby during group exercises, subtly ensuring you didn’t get caught off guard.

You weren’t blind. You saw the way his crimson eyes would flick to you during lunch, only for him to look away just as quickly if you caught him. You noticed how his explosions during sparring would seem almost… controlled when directed your way—less destructive, more calculated. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make you wonder. Enough to make you hope.

The problem was, Bakugo being Bakugo, he’d never admit to something as human as feelings. If he did like you, he was keeping it buried under a mountain of anger, pride, and whatever complicated emotions made up Katsuki Bakugo.

But still, the moments added up. And with each passing day, your crush grew stronger. You hated the way your heart fluttered when he called you by name instead of his usual nicknames for everyone else. You hated how you’d secretly look forward to his biting remarks because, in some twisted way, it was his version of paying attention to you.

And most of all, you hated how much courage it took to even consider confessing to him.

After weeks of agonizing over it, you finally decided you couldn’t live with the "what if." No matter what, you needed to know.

The opportunity came on a rare quiet evening at the dorms. Everyone else had gone out for karaoke, leaving you and Bakugo alone. He was sprawled on the couch in the common area, his arms crossed, staring at some mindless action movie playing on the TV.

You hovered at the doorway, your heart racing. You almost turned back, but then his gruff voice interrupted your thoughts.

"What the hell are you standing there for? You look like a damn idiot."

You flinched, but quickly steeled yourself. "I just… needed to ask you something."

His gaze flicked to you, crimson eyes narrowing slightly. "Then spit it out already. Don’t waste my time."

Your hands were clammy as you stepped closer, each word feeling heavier than the last. "Do you… want to go out with me? Like, on a date?"

For a moment, Bakugo just stared at you. His usual scowl didn’t shift, but you could see the flicker of surprise in his eyes—so quick you almost missed it. His jaw tensed, his hands clenching into fists on his lap.

Then, he scoffed. Loudly.

"You serious?" he said, leaning back against the couch like your question was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. "Why the hell would I want to go out with you?"

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your throat tightened, and your chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself.

"I mean, come on," he continued, his tone sharp and cutting. "What makes you think I’d waste my time on something dumb like that?"

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, but not from embarrassment—from the sting of his rejection. You struggled to keep your voice steady. "I just thought… maybe—"

"Well, you thought wrong," he cut you off, his voice cold and unrelenting. "So stop acting like some lovesick idiot and get over it."

The silence that followed was unbearable. You felt like the floor had been ripped out from under you, like you were standing on the edge of a cliff with no way to step back.

"Got it," you said finally, your voice small and strained. You turned on your heel before he could see the tears pooling in your eyes.

Bakugo didn’t move. He stayed on the couch, staring at the TV that he wasn’t really watching. His nails dug into his palms, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

"Idiot," he muttered under his breath, though he wasn’t sure if he was talking about you—or himself.

Hours passed, but Bakugo didn’t leave the couch. He replayed the scene over and over in his mind: the look on your face, the way your voice had cracked when he tore you down.

He hated himself for it. Hated the way he’d lashed out, even though he knew it was because he was terrified. Of what? He didn’t know. Maybe of admitting to himself that he cared. Maybe of the fact that you could make him feel so out of control with just one stupid question.

But now it was too late. He’d pushed you away.

You, on the other hand, locked yourself in your room, curled up on your bed, and let the tears flow. You couldn’t believe you’d been so stupid, so naive. Of course Bakugo didn’t like you. Of course he didn’t care. You’d just been projecting your feelings onto him, imagining things that weren’t really there.

Still, the hurt lingered. You tried to convince yourself it didn’t matter, that you’d move on, but the ache in your chest said otherwise.

Little did you know, Bakugo was sitting downstairs, fists clenched, consumed by his own turmoil. Because for all his bluster, he’d never wanted to hurt you. He just didn’t know how to deal with the truth: that he did like you, more than he was willing to admit.

Bakugo tried to convince himself that what he’d said to you was necessary. He had goals—real, tangible goals—and nothing, no one, was going to distract him. Becoming the Number One Hero wasn’t just a dream for him; it was a mission, an obligation, a destiny he was determined to carve out with his own blood, sweat, and tears. He didn’t need complications. He didn’t need feelings. He didn’t need you. That’s what he told himself over and over as he sat alone in his dorm room, glaring at the wall like it had personally offended him. His fists were clenched tightly in his lap, the tendons in his hands straining from the pressure.

But no matter how hard he tried to justify it, he couldn’t shake the image of your face from his mind. The way your expression had crumbled when he snapped at you, the hurt in your eyes as you turned and walked away—it all replayed in his head on an endless, agonizing loop. He could still hear your voice trembling when you’d asked him out, soft and vulnerable in a way he wasn’t used to hearing from you. You weren’t the kind of person who let your guard down easily, and he’d taken that rare moment of courage and crushed it underfoot.

“Tch,” he growled under his breath, running a hand through his hair and gripping the strands in frustration. “Stupid.”

He thought that pushing you away would make things easier, but it didn’t. If anything, it made everything worse. You were everywhere. Every time he walked into a room, his eyes automatically searched for you, even when he told himself they wouldn’t. When you laughed with your friends, the sound sent an irritating warmth through his chest, only to be followed by a sharp pang of regret when he remembered the look on your face that night. During training, he found himself tracking your every move without even meaning to, his instincts on high alert every time you dodged an attack or threw a punch. He hated it. Hated how you’d wormed your way into his head and refused to leave. Hated how much he wanted to be near you, even after he’d made it clear that he didn’t want anything to do with you.

It didn’t help that everyone else seemed to notice his turmoil. His friends had started giving him strange looks during meals, their eyes darting between him and you as if they were waiting for something to happen. Kirishima, in particular, had been annoyingly persistent, watching him with that infuriatingly knowing expression he always wore when he thought Bakugo was being an idiot. Bakugo did his best to ignore it, but the tension was impossible to escape.

One evening, when the others were hanging out in the common area, Kirishima finally confronted him. Bakugo had been sitting on the couch, staring at his phone without really looking at it, when Kirishima plopped down beside him with a heavy sigh. Mina and Kaminari weren’t far behind, hovering nearby like vultures waiting for a meal.

“Alright, spill it,” Kirishima said, his voice casual but firm. Bakugo barely spared him a glance.

“Spill what?” he snapped, his tone as sharp as ever.

“Don’t play dumb,” Mina chimed in, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at him. “You’ve been acting weird for days, and we all know why.”

“I’m not in the mood for this crap,” Bakugo growled, standing up to leave, but Kirishima quickly stepped in front of him, blocking his path. Bakugo glared at him, his crimson eyes blazing. “Move.”

“Not until you admit what’s going on,” Kirishima said, his voice steady despite the obvious tension in the air. “You pushed her away, didn’t you?”

Bakugo froze, his scowl deepening. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Kirishima said, his tone unusually serious. “Come on, man. It’s so obvious you like her. Everyone can see it.”

“I don’t—”

“Save it,” Mina interrupted, stepping closer with a look that could cut through steel. “We’ve seen the way you look at her. And don’t even get me started on the way you lose your mind whenever she partners up with someone else during training. You care about her, and instead of doing something about it, you’re being a total dumbass.”

Bakugo’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. “I don’t have time for this crap,” he muttered, shoving past Kirishima and heading for the door. But before he could leave, Kirishima’s voice rang out behind him, stopping him in his tracks.

“You think pushing her away will make you stronger,” Kirishima said, his voice softer now, almost sad. “But all you’re doing is proving how scared you are.”

Bakugo’s shoulders tensed, his hand gripping the doorknob so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“You’re scared because you like her so much it freaks you out,” Kirishima continued, his tone unwavering. “But running from it won’t make it go away.”

For a moment, Bakugo didn’t move. The room was silent, the air heavy with unspoken tension. Finally, he yanked the door open and walked out, slamming it shut behind him without another word.

That night, Bakugo lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling with an intensity that could have set it on fire. Kirishima’s words echoed in his head, mingling with the memory of your voice and the image of your face. He hated how much it all got to him, how much he couldn’t stop thinking about you no matter how hard he tried. He hated the way his chest ached every time he thought about the hurt in your eyes and the way you’d walked away from him, your shoulders slumped in defeat. But most of all, he hated how much he wanted to see you again, to fix things, to say something—anything—that could make up for what he’d done.

Meanwhile, you were doing your best to move on. You’d been avoiding Bakugo as much as possible, throwing yourself into training and schoolwork to keep your mind occupied. It wasn’t easy, though. Every time you saw him, whether it was in class or during meals, you felt a sharp pang of hurt that refused to go away. You hated how much he still affected you, even after he’d made it painfully clear that he didn’t feel the same way.

But no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that it didn’t matter, that you’d be fine without him, the ache in your chest lingered. You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d been wrong to hope, if you’d been foolish to believe that he might have cared about you even a little.

Little did you know, Bakugo was sitting in his room, wrestling with his own feelings and cursing himself for the way he’d handled things. Because for all his bravado and pride, the truth was unavoidable: he couldn’t stop thinking about you. And the more he tried to push you out of his mind, the more you consumed his every thought.

The days following your rejection from Bakugo had been a haze of hurt and confusion. You tried to keep yourself busy—extra training, study sessions, anything to keep your mind from replaying the harsh way he’d dismissed you. But no matter how much you told yourself to let it go, it lingered. You still felt the sting of his words, the way he’d looked at you like you were an obstacle instead of someone he cared about. That wound didn’t heal easily.

You avoided him as much as you could. You’d shift to a different group during training, sit at the far end of the cafeteria during meals, and leave the common area whenever he showed up. It wasn’t as subtle as you hoped; your friends noticed, and you were pretty sure Bakugo did too. Still, you couldn’t face him—not after everything he’d said.

What you didn’t know was that your absence weighed on him far more than he let on.

Bakugo was not a man who easily admitted to mistakes. Pride had been ingrained in him from an early age, and he carried it like armor. But lately, that armor felt suffocating, like it was pressing in on him from all sides. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, couldn’t stop replaying the hurt in your eyes when he’d lashed out. Every time he saw you purposely turning away from him or laughing with someone else, he felt a sharp pang of regret that he didn’t know how to fix.

Kirishima’s words lingered too. “You’re scared because you like her so much it freaks you out. But running from it won’t make it go away.” As much as Bakugo wanted to punch him for saying it, he knew it was true. He’d been running from his feelings because they terrified him. You terrified him—not because you were weak, but because of how much power you had over him without even realizing it. And that was what scared him most of all.

Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore. Watching you avoid him, knowing he’d been the one to hurt you—it was eating him alive. If he didn’t do something soon, he was going to explode.

That’s what led him here, standing awkwardly a few feet away from where you sat on the bench outside. You hadn’t noticed him yet, too focused on the notebook in your lap. For a moment, he hesitated, his chest tightening with something unfamiliar. Was this… nerves? He growled under his breath, frustrated with himself. He was Bakugo Katsuki, for crying out loud. He didn’t get nervous.

“Oi.” His voice came out rougher than he intended, and you jumped slightly, startled by his sudden presence.

You looked up, your eyes widening for a split second before your expression hardened. “What do you want?”

Bakugo flinched at the coldness in your tone, though he tried to hide it. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” you asked, already sounding exasperated. “If this is about training or some stupid lecture—”

“It’s not about training,” he cut in, stepping closer. His jaw tightened as he tried to find the right words. He wasn’t good at this, but he had to try. “It’s about what I said to you before.”

Your eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping into your expression. “Why are you bringing that up now? You already made your feelings perfectly clear, Bakugo. I don’t need to hear it again.”

He winced at the way you said his name—so formal, so distant. You used to call him Katsuki, back when things were simpler. Back when he hadn’t ruined everything.

“Just shut up and listen for a second, will you?” he snapped, though there was no real heat in his voice. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “I… I screwed up, alright? I said some shit I didn’t mean, and I hurt you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Your expression softened slightly, but your arms remained crossed, a barrier he knew he’d have to break through. “Then why did you do it? Why push me away if you didn’t mean it?”

“Because I’m a goddamn idiot,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. His gaze dropped to the ground, his fists clenched at his sides. “I thought… I thought if I let myself like you, I’d lose focus. That you’d get in the way of my goals.”

“And now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Now I know that’s total bullshit,” he said, finally looking up to meet your eyes. “You don’t make me weaker. You make me want to be better. And no matter how much I tried to ignore it, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You’re in my head all the damn time, and it’s driving me insane.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession, but you still hesitated. “You really hurt me, Katsuki,” you said softly, the pain evident in your voice. “I don’t know if I can just forget that.”

He stepped closer, his gaze intense and unwavering. “I’m not asking you to forget it. I’m asking for a chance to fix it. I was a dumbass, and I don’t deserve it, but… I want to try. With you.”

The vulnerability in his voice was so raw, so uncharacteristic, that it left you speechless. You searched his face for any sign of insincerity, but all you saw was regret and determination.

“Katsuki…” you began, your voice trembling slightly.

“Look, I know I’m not good at this,” he interrupted, his hands twitching at his sides as if he didn’t know what to do with them. “I’m not some smooth-talking idiot like Kaminari, and I’m probably gonna screw up a hundred more times. But I’ll do whatever it takes to prove I’m not gonna hurt you again.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as his words sank in. This was Bakugo Katsuki—the same boy who never admitted when he was wrong, who bulldozed his way through life without looking back. And here he was, laying his pride at your feet, just for a chance to make things right.

“You’re really bad at this, you know,” you said finally, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

He huffed, his cheeks turning pink. “Yeah, well, it’s not exactly my strong suit.”

You laughed softly, the sound making his chest tighten in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. For the first time in weeks, you felt the tension between you start to dissolve.

“So, what now?” you asked, taking a tentative step closer.

“Now I do this,” he said, his voice low as he reached out to cup your face in his hands. His touch was surprisingly gentle, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he leaned in. His crimson eyes searched yours for a moment, and when you didn’t pull away, he closed the distance and kissed you.

The kiss was tentative at first, almost shy, but it quickly deepened as you responded, your hands reaching up to grab the front of his shirt and pull him closer. He kissed you like he was trying to make up for every moment he’d wasted, pouring all the unspoken feelings he couldn’t put into words into that one act.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads resting together, you were both breathless. He smirked, his usual cocky confidence creeping back in. “Told you I’d make it up to you.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “You’ve got a long way to go, Katsuki.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but the warmth in his gaze betrayed the gruffness of his tone. “Guess I’ll just have to stick around and prove it.”

And for the first time in weeks, everything felt right.

Feel free to request <3

[theocddiaries]

Amy: What you two need to do to smooth things over is talk. With an impartial third party guiding you with a little bit of psychology. So come on, let's start. Sonic, say something you like about Shadow. Sonic: He's kind. Very level-headed. Trustworthy. He brings calm wherever he goes. Shadow: …Thank you, Sonic. Amy: Good. Shadow? Shadow: Hm… Well, he's… Good-hearted, even at his own detriment. He’s funny. He always tries to include everyone. He makes people feel comfortable. Sonic: Thanks, Shads. Amy: See? Saying those things is important. Just like accepting criticism. Why don't you start this time, Shadow? What's something about Sonic that you don't like? Shadow: Well… when I ask him if he wants something to eat and he says no, but then he starts picking at my plate… Sonic: It's true, I do that. I say I don’t feel like eating, but then I see the food and I can’t resist. Sorry. Shadow: It’s fine. I’m starting to remember to grab you a separate plate with a little bit of everything. Sonic: Okay, my turn. Hmm… I don’t like when you move my things around. I can never find anything. Shadow: Well, that’s not really moving things around, it’s called organizing, but okay, I accept the criticism. Amy: See? That’s healthy communication and-- Sonic: Since you’re accepting criticism so well, what about never admitting you're wrong? Like now. Amy: Sonic, wait, we’ve-- Shadow: I was actually being gracious because I don’t want to start a fight. Amy: Shadow, I was talking-- Sonic: I've got another one, you keep everything to yourself and then people have to guess what’s wrong with you. Shadow: You surely aren't talking about yourself in that scenario, considering you spend all day with your head in the clouds. Maybe that’s why you’re confused, saying I move your things when all I do is put them in a drawer instead of leaving them on the floor. Amy: Guys, we’re drifting off-topic a little-- Sonic: Look, if you need to micro-manage everything because you’ve got a trauma the size of Greenland, it’s not my fault, okay? Shadow: I do not micro-manage. Sonic: Come on, everything has to be as you wish. Shadow: If that were true, the trash wouldn't still be there. When are you going to take it out? Sonic: When I feel like it because this is my house. If I want to leave it there until it grows legs and throws itself out, I will! Shadow: Now you can afford the luxury call this a house; before I got here, this place was a mess! Sonic: No. Before you got here, this place was a peaceful haven! Shadow: A peaceful haven full of crap. You’ve got the closets as decoration, you big lazy! Amy: Okay guys, let’s breathe-- Sonic: Maybe I'm just tired of coming home and seeing you with that damn scowl all day, bitter idiot! Shadow: Maybe I’m pissed off all day because you don’t do anything! Sonic: I don't do anything because according to you I do everything wrong, Mr I-don't-micromanage! Just tell me what you want and I'll do it! Shadow: Right now, what I want is for you to leave! Sonic: No, you leave, you’re the one who’s a problem wherever you go! Shadow: Gladly! [stands up and walks toward the door] Sonic: Oh no no! I’m leaving, so you can't act like a martyr! [leaves the house too] [Amy pinches the bridge of her nose while they’re still heard arguing in the hallway.] Shadow: Stop following me, idiot! Sonic: I’m not following you, you paranoid, I’m going in the elevator! Shadow: Of course you’re taking the elevator! Lazy! Sonic: Go ahead and take the whole staircase, you selfish! Knuckles [comes out of the kitchen with a sandwich, having heard everything]: Damn, is this therapy? Making things worse? People spend money on such things… or maybe you're just really bad at this. Amy [throws a pillow at him] Knuckles: Ow! [sarcastically]: Amy, accepting criticism is important, Amy.

This could be like the prologue of this and this tbh

[gears-twisting-and-turning]

Stex x reader request if you don’t mind! How would greaseball react if you were “his” coach and after a fight you were instead racing with Electra, and vice versa (Electra’s component racing with GB after you argue?) thank you I love your imagines!! 🚂 🩷

I may or may not have gone a bit to far with this request- It was so juicy I just had to kind of go wild. I really hope you like it :]

She/they/him pronouns for Electra by the way

Also assumed it was like old GB + Electra :]

Cw - yelling, cursing, people not communicating omg just say something, but also don't it makes it juicier <3

---

Greaseball would be pissed to say the least. Yes he knows he kind of messed up, but you fucking went with the walking talking Dutch?… American?…. French??? Whatever walking talking flag he is!

Finding out later that it was technically his own fault, since you were trying to get back at him for the argument that had happened earlier would kind of send his entire world spirling. 

Hey hasn’t he seen this song and dance before? That’s crazy- 

Voices were getting louder and louder by the second. You have had enough of Greaseball’s constant cheating and you didn’t want to race with him anymore if he continued to do so. Don’t get it twisted, you were fine on the race track, you even could throw in a punch yourself, you loved doing it.

It was the fact it was getting tiring, you loved the thrill of racing, but you wished it would for once come out without dents in your body because he had uncoupled you too hard while standing off with someone in the middle of the track. Or have the other engines pull on you to make the champion slower.

When you had told Greaseball this, things didn’t go that well. It turned into a screaming match between the two, currently you had tuned him out, used to his loud yelling. That was until certain words hit your ear.

“Well if it’s such a problem, then why don’t you find a ‘better engine’ to race with?!” He didn’t give you a moment to process as he turned around and skated away. You knew you had been uncoupled, yet instead of sadness and regret that he expected you to feel, you only felt your blood boil hotter. 

You weren’t going to stand for this, this loud, abrasive asshole wasn’t going to treat you like a child and put you in the corner for a time out unless you knew how to behave. You skated up to the electric’s dock building, marching right in without a second thought.

Soon enough Krupp had rolled up to you, making you stop right in your tracks as the stocky armaments truck stood in your path. “Halt!” He said in a firm tone, making you realize just how crazy you probably looked. With a sigh you held up your hands. “Sorry if I came off as aggressive, I just need to talk to Electra.” “Electra isn’t taking any visitors currently.” Krupp answered, not asking why you were here as it wasn’t his business and he didn’t seem particularly interested in your reason. You felt your anger return for a moment, but you held back. You took a deep breath. “It’s important, I promise you that he’ll want to know.”

Krupp raised an eyebrow, no doubt confused under those sunglasses of his, before looking back. He opened his mouth to respond, until you quickly added. “It’s about the race and Greaseball.” The truck looked at you for a moment, before looking over at Purse who happened to be lingering near.

“Purse, get Electra. Tell them Greaseball’s coach has something to talk to her about.” 

Soon enough the red, white and blue electric engine stood in front of you. “You better have a good reason why I have been called.” They started, looking down at you from their freakishly tall height with a glare. 

You just wanted this over with, but you had to persist. There was only one thing that Greaseball couldn’t stand, something that was easy to get underneath his skin. “I want to race with you.” 

Electra faltered only for a moment, you didn’t know if it was because of your surprising authoritative tone, or if it was because of the contents of the sentence you just spoke to him. You could physically see the several questions that bounced in her head, before she shook her head. “Why?”

“Because after I brought up a valid concern he uncoupled me and left me in the dust ‘to think about what I’ve done’. I’m not letting him walk over me…” You trailed off, if this was going to work you’d have to put in a bit of… persuasion to get Electra to agree. “And what would piss him off more, than me going for the handsome, speedy electric that would leave him in the dust?” You said skating around her, softly touching their arm back and other arm as you circled her. 

For a moment Electra glared down at you, yet it was clear he was thinking about it. “Deal.” He said after a bit and you knew it was going to be perfect. 

It was time, you stood ready for control to announce your new race partner with you behind him. You couldn’t wait to see Greaseball’s face when he realized he had messed up and you weren’t going to take this back unless he started growling on his knees for you.

You heard control call out Electra’s name and soon you felt yourself being pulled forwards by the electric engine, the crowd cheering as you two came out of the docks and underneath the beautiful light that illuminated the both of you perfectly. 

After taking in the beautiful scenery with the crowd’s excited cheering in for a bit, you turned your head towards Greaseball who seemed to shake off the look of surprise on his face and then gave you a look that was perfectly between the emotions of anger and hurt.

You could only give him a mean smirk, before letting your face fall and let him see how pissed you were at him. Further than that the race was a blur, all you knew is that you won with Electra in front of you.

After the race was over the consequences came in full force. Although you had tuned out the way, Greaseball came up to Electra and the both of them got into a verbal fighting match, until Electra decided to stomp away in a childish fit of rage. Luckily you were already uncoupled, but that left you and Greaseball alone.

“You dared to go to that damn electric just to humiliate me?!” He roared in anger, turning towards you. You gave him a harsh glare and held up your hand. “I will not be yelled at Greaseball. If you have a problem, talk like a fucking adult.” 

Greaseball faltered, almost as if he forgot you wouldn’t let yourself get walked all over. He stepped back, anger still visible in his eyes, but clearly didn’t have a proper way to express that other than yelling. 

You took a deep breath. “Okay I’ll admit that was petty of me, but can you really blame me after you left me in the dust like that? One argument was all it took for you to leave me.” You said, the hurt finally seeping into your tone as all of your own anger finally disappeared and made way for the sadness you felt. 

“I-... Fuck, I'm sorry.” Greaseball said, practically forcing the words out of his throat as if they were foreign to him. “I’m too.” You simply responded, it was exhausting enough to keep all that anger up. You kind of wished to already be back in his arms and forget about the stupid race.

Luckily you got your wish as the diesel engine skated closer towards you and put his strong arms around you. For a moment you let your guard down, leaning into the embrace of him as the two of you stood there in silence.

“Was he better than me?”

“I never want to be behind an electric again.” You responded matter of factly. “I like the purr your engine gives.”

---

Electra would not be off any better than Greaseball. Although their anger is a lot more stomping their feet with a chance of getting a zap sent towards you. You’re just lucky he would never hurt you like that.

Not only did you not race with them, but it’s with that loud, toxic masculine, diesel??? She cannot even fathom why the hell in your right mind you would race with a filthy, greasy engine like Greaseball. 

They wouldn’t even know what to do with herself. You might just send him absolutely spirling or fainting in his compartment’s arms like when Pearl decided to go with Greaseball…. hey are you getting deja vu or is that just me? 

That’s it, you were done being side lined. You understood Electra racing with Volta, she was by far the best choice out of all of you as she was composed, knew how to handle herself and was positively elegant on the racing track. 

Not to mention she was part of your group and yet there you were, standing and staring at this new observation car that suddenly showed up. Apparently Volta had a headache (What an amazing lie, Purse) and couldn’t race with Electra anymore, so apparently she was the next best option and was chosen to race with them.

You knew that it wasn’t Purse’s fault as he was just following orders, but you couldn’t help but feel a little salty here. Not only were you the next best person to race with them, he was your fucking partner. So now you were cast aside like some toy just because Electra found this newer, prettier thing to race with.

You had tried to bring it up to Electa, but you only got met with. “Do not question me, baby.” With a sharp tone that made you almost want to cry. Being so harshly rejected by your own partner and you were supposed to just… take it lying down?! You didn’t think so.

With newfound determination you managed to sneak away from the electric engines and the rest of the components to find the diesel you were looking for. It wasn’t hard as he was loud and currently was with his rolling stock and the rest of the international trains, doing their usual engine thing.

“Greaseball.” You called out, causing the world champion to whirl around to face you. He looked you up and down with a cautious look, before raising his chin to try and seem bigger. “What do you want, electric?” He asked, slightly puffing up his chest.

“Calm down, I don’t want trouble. I have… I guess a favor to ask.” You said while skating a bit closer to him. Two of his rolling stock buddies seemed to want to lunge out, but he stopped them by holding his arms out to the side. “I’m listening.” Greaseball said as he skated closer to you in turn.

“I want to race with you.” You swear you could see his eyes bugging out of his eye sockets as he fully straightened himself out. “I’m sorry I don’t think I heard you.” He said putting his finger towards your face.

You simply slapped his hand away. “I want to race with you. I’ve been side lined one too many times. I don’t mind if it’s by my fellow compartments, but some random new girl isn’t going to cut it. I’m going to show him what I’m made of on the racing track and I need your help to do that.”

A wicked smile suddenly crossed Greaseball’s face. “Sounds good, I’m in.” He said as he looked back at the rolling stock. “I’ll be back, I think me and this one have some training to do.” He said, putting a hand around your waist as he led you over to the training tracks.

With the blink of an eye it was racing day and you knew exactly what to do. You had shined your outfit and you looked your absolute best. You were gunning for surprise, a jaw drop and a childish stomp on the floor like a bunny that was mad. 

Control suddenly said Greaseball’s name and you were pulled forwards into the wonderful sound of a cheering crowd, big bright lights and the wind in your hair as he put on a show of how he was going to win.

Your eyes immediately found Electra who’s neck snapped towards you and Greaseball the moment she heard your name called out by control after Greaseball’s. For a moment you thought they pulled some wires with how their eyes twitched, but it was exactly the reaction you were looking for.

They didn’t seem to realize the race was about to start, until Pearl had touched their shoulder and looked at him in concern. You just looked forward with a smirk as you made sure you were ready for the race yourself.

The race was like a whirlwind, but it was far from done even though it was over now. You had won with Greaseball and you knew Electra wasn’t going to be happy. You stood alone having already said your goodbyes to Greaseball after the race, waiting for Electra.

Soon enough you hear him stomping up from behind you. “What was that about?” They demanded in an eerily cold and sharp tone which made you flinch and almost prepare for a zap. “That was me wanting to race, Electra.” You responded as you turned around to face her with a frown.

“With that diesel? How could you betray me like that?!” He raised their voice as they towered over you with their blue eyes staring holes inside of you. “Oh so I have to just be okay with you getting a new play toy?!” You asked, tears in your eyes as you got choked up on your own emotions.

“Fuck! I didn’t want to cry!” You yelled out in frustration, you had tried to promise yourself you’d be brave when confronting Electra and yet all you could do was think about the hurt that you felt when they chose Pearl.

Yet when you looked back up at Electra, all of their anger had vanished. “I’m… so sorry.” They said almost defeated and you felt like you had to get your ears checked out by Wrench, did he just say he was sorry?

“I didn’t want to make you feel that way. I- There’s no real excuse for this.” Electra said clearly, opting out of explaining as well. “Just don’t go back to that diesel.” She said, trying to keep her composure of the confidence they normally possessed. 

You couldn’t keep back any longer, you just skated forwards and into their arms. “I’m sorry too, for going to Greaseball. I just wanted to prove myself.” You murmured into their chest as he leaned down and kissed the top of your head.

“I know and you did.”

[psychemochanight]

More HC because I forgot many :D

Part 1 :D

Again, a little disclaimer:

These are just my favorite HCs, whether made by me or by the fandom, if you don't like any of them, that's completely respectable and you obviously don't have to agree with all or any of them. If you don't like them, just ignore them please, it's not worth arguing over HC about a fictional character.

That said, here are more HC (not all of them yet, but yeah, I'll add them as I remember them):

Dick is the kind of person who is always smiling, even when there is danger. If he's not smiling and cracking jokes, he's completely serious. No one has any problem admitting that they don't want to see that Dick, because he's scary.

Dick hates hospitals, and he hates being sedated even more, even in the batcave.

Years being kidnapped, yep.

His first instinct after waking up and analyzing his situation with his senses without giving any signs of waking up, is to run immediately. If they can avoid it, they never sedate him completely, the times he jumped up from the stretcher without taking into account his injuries were enough to know better.

He sits in the weirdest positions ever.

If he pays more than five minutes of attention to his hair, it's actually wavy, almost curly, if he doesn't, it's almost straight.

He grows his hair long when he is depressed and doesn't feel like taking care of it.

He rarely gives any other signs of being depressed now, so almost no one notices it these days.

He associates aromas with different people.

Sometimes, because of the perfumes worn by his family and friends, he knows that they have been in his apartment.

Yes, he sometimes lives on cereal, but it's definitely not the only thing he knows how to prepare, he just is so tired to cook.

Canonically, in several runs cereal is, in fact, his favorite food, so- besides having a sweet tooth, it helps him stay active (sugar rush 24/7).

He canonically prefers simple, comforting foods, so, another trait of his undiagnosed AUDHD :D

Alfred and Bruce say that Dick has a child's palate, he insists that the problem is not the taste, but the texture... It doesn't help his case.

Obviously he eats healthy food, but it always has to be something simple, he finds very elaborate dishes difficult to eat.

He had a pretty hard time at galas with the fancy food the first few times, until Bruce noticed that Dick wasn't eating and started including simpler dishes on the menu.

This is also why people sometimes think he doesn't know how to cook, because he only makes simple dishes, but it's not because he doesn't know how, it's because it's the only kind of food he likes.

In fact, despite preferring sweet over salty, or even his taste for junk food, Dick is very conscious of what he eats, and always has his head counting protein, calories, sugars and other nutritional values; this way, he keeps his diet stable even if he allows himself these "whims"... when he remembers to eat.

He actually likes stuffed animals, he just doesn't have any. (DC, what are you waiting for to give this man his stuffed elephant?)

Dick is an ambivert.

I would even say that he is more introverted. Not the incorrect definition of people, who confuse introversion with being reserved, shy or not liking to socialize. but the one who needs his time alone to recharge his energy. .

When Dick met Superman, it was despite Batman's "no meta-humans" rule, and his argument when Batman was going to scold him was "he's not a meta-human, he's an alien."

Bruce had to concede the point to the kid for the loophole, and update his rule.

This depends on the run to be canon or not, but I prefer to think that Dick never actually went to school before Bruce, and it was exclusively his charisma that helped him blend in with the other children, as if he had always attended educational institutions.

Although Bruce knew Dick was intelligent, even he was surprised that he was so able to not only catch up, but excel in the educational field, considering he never attended school. More than because of Robin, it was one of his teachers the first one to call him Golden Boy, since he considered him a prodigy.

At Gotham Academy you had to take at least one language class to graduate, and it couldn't be one you already knew, but Dick already knew all the ones in the program, so he had to pretend to learn french.

One of my favorite HCs in the fandom is Dick helping out with the Watchtower's computer system, especially considering it could very well be canon (if only today's writers wouldn't forget that Dick is also an amazing hacker and not just a social skills specialist 🙄).

This mentioned, my personal HC to justify all the things that the writers leave out of the character that were once regular in him (and that now belong to his siblings), is that he himself stops making an effort in these things. When he was Robin, he was alone with Batman, so he had the obligation to not only be on par, but to fill all the spaces that Batman left, so he specialized in everything. Now that he has a full team, he no longer has the obligation to cover everything himself, so he allows himself to just continue filling the remaining spaces, mostly related to the social part (when he's not working alone, of course).

This does not mean that he no longer continues to instruct himself in those skills that his siblings have, he does, he is always learning, but he no longer has the need to demonstrate it in any way, so he just lets people even think that he is incompetent in those areas, even if it is the opposite (it helps a lot when you are underestimated on the field after all).

He invented a few insults during his time as Robin, which somehow became a real vocabulary when other heroes and later civilians started using them.

His puppy eyes are too powerful, even as an adult.

Although everyone jokes that he is old because of all his years of experience in the hero thing, Dick actually looks so young.

On a good or bad day (depending on who you ask), it even happens that people ask for his ID to confirm that he is of legal age (usually for drinking). He never knows whether to feel flattered or offended.

I decided to pretend the suit wasn't a bare-legged leotard, mostly because I like to think that the suit was actually his acrobat suit, just with the red vest on top, and since they always draw the suit with the legs part... U know.

It also depends, considering the current continuity, Dick was now born in more modern times, and the tights now usually have covered legs; but if we still place it in the 40s, then it makes more sense that the suit is like the original.

For comfort, I'll pretend that his legs are covered, also I'll pretend that he has some protection and isn't just walking around with exposed skin to get hurt, even if hitting him with a bullet must be damn difficult because he jumps as a flea.

Toe point and tiptoes, like, A LOT.

He starts babbling random facts about history or math formulas at the most random moments.

He's the kind of person who always knows the answers to people's questions about facts he doesn't really need to know.

"I wonder where the word "'macaroni' originated from"... And he just starts telling you the whole story.

(My father is like that, and I always wonder where he learned all that, my God).

He likes action series. He also likes police and mystery series, but it's a pain to watch this kind of series with him because he keeps guessing the ending and always gets it right.

He also loves black and white movies.

He likes classic rock and jazz music, but has no problem listening to other genres. He also likes pop music, although more bc he likes to annoy his brothers with it.

He is a bit obsessive compulsive, not all the time, and he doesn't have the disorder as such; but sometimes he really needs to be in control of things and follow routines (part of his AUDHD and PTSD speaking for him).

As I said before, I don't think Dick has anger issues, he's just overstimulated, but this doesn't mean he doesn't feel angry or frustrated on many occasions.

When this happens, he has two main ways to let go of his anger... The healthy way is to exercise, train or simply unload his mind while his body is in motion, he also tends to meditate on occasion.

Sometimes it's not so healthy, as he actually lets himself get hurt while training.

The unhealthy way, is to go beat up the thugs.

Sometimes he doesn't let his anger out voluntarily, and ends up exploding against those who don't deserve it. When this happens, it is almost always in verbal form.

Dick doesn't insult directly, but with the eloquence he has, he doesn't need insults to seriously hurt someone.

He can't say that he has never self-harmed, but he doesn't do it in the form of cutting himself, but rather by letting himself get hit or failing to stop particularly painful falls.

Actually, even though he doesn't have the highest self-esteem, he doesn't really have an identity crisis. It doesn't matter that he's a good actor, he never doubts who he is. He doesn't really invent personas in front of anyone, he just shows facets of his personality as appropriate (the only moments where he acts like someone he is not, there is always something of his person even in those roles).

During a certain infamous arc the identity crisis was a little more real, but he recovered from it.

Although he is an acrobat first, he still knows a lot about gymnastics, both men's and also women's actually. More for fun than for training.

Even if he miraculously has free time, instead of resting, he is probably practicing something new.

His friends swear that Dick only stays still when he's dissociating.

And that's all (for now) ✨

I've repeated some of them on purpose to make the explanation more explicit- but I hope most of them still make sense.

[postsforposting]

Had his hand been splayed nobody would be calling it a nazi gesture. Same as people don't call other such gestures a salute, even though there's been lots of "this angle makes you a nazi" type graphs. I have seen tons of people hail taxis with the "tight" as opposed to splayed hand, though, and no one in the USA gets huffy about it. I'm inclined to agree he did it to be a jackass, so he could mock everyone in the aftermath.

About two decades ago there was a "have you seen Kyle, he's about this tall" meme. It was a nazi gesture, not out of sincere belief but because people found the dark humor funny. Not particularly something you'd do in open public where people will reflexively insist it's nothing but criminal.

A gesture can be a heil, and the heil can be a joke. Whether anyone in particular finds that funny is their own business, but "it's not funny" doesn't make it anything other than a joke you don't like. Same as any other topic used for humor that people don't like. Doing it in public where you know you're going to offend people is not a nice thing to do, but again, that kind of behavior isn't diagnostic of nazism.

Musk strikes me as the kind who would do it in public. Which he did.

I was surprised to see people projecting the video on Tesla buildings in Germany, of all places, where it's highly illegal to do anything akin to the heil. If we're upset Musk did this in public, then surely the projectors are just as evilly Nazi? Regardless of if they wanted to "prove he's a bigot"? There's plenty of AfD people who would love him to come out as a full nazi, and there's plenty of people who would be disgusted by it. So who was behind the projector, and why? Does it matter what their intentions were, who's side they're on, when that's the same argument we're having here about Musk doing it?

I don't particularly care what Musk's intentions were. He's well aware of people's "determination to make everything Trump-related out to be Nazi-ish", and he's the kind of Edgy to deliberately set those people off. He's right that people are freakishly obsessed with symbology; doesn't make it acceptable for a quasi-government official to deliberately act like this though. We really gotta move away from trying to enshrine what's effectively linguistic astrology, valuing the euphemistic treadmill over actual meaning. "Tranny fags got the same freedoms you do, Earl" is a lot better than "We need to be careful about allowing non gender conforming people access to anything beyond the mental institutionalization they clearly need for self hatred and self harming uwu".

The other thing is that I haven't really seen any agreement about what a "nazi" is, other than "he did the signal". Does it mean ONLY hatred of Jewish people? How so, when the OG nazis started with queer and disabled people, and the west itself forced those people to continue their nazi-assigned sentences long after the war was over? When those policies are still present in many countries, if not all, to this day? Antisemitism is pretty prevalent worldwide, does that mean everyone globally is a nazi too? What about the other economic and cultural beliefs?

Laypeople use facism, nazism, and authoritarianism interchangeably, but they're really not. I don't think many people can actually articulate the differences at all, let alone to the satisfaction of basic academics. I think expanding people's vocabulary about what exactly these things entail would go a long way to being able to say what's actually wrong and why. Though given that people also generally dismiss anything that isn't Le Srs Enough To Matter, I think that's the real problem. Musk MUST be a nazi, or nothing he does matters, because only that matters enough to require concern, let alone action. Things that are only "slightly bad" should get fixed too. Even good things, if they can be improved, should get fixed. The limbo bar should not need to be set at The Worst Ever. Frankly it feels nice to improve things, even if only a little bit. But we teach people that "cleaning up", literally and metaphorically, is a shameful punishment because you are a Bad Person Responsible For This Mess, instead of the self and community care it actually is.

I wish people more easily were able to separate "this is horrifyingly insensitive/offensive/inappropriate and nobody should do it and I have a right to be angry that someone did/said the thing" from "this is a confirmation of the offender actually having the worst-case belief whose existence is the reason for the thing being considered so offensive, and so I should feel unsafe because they did/said the thing".

[petrow1tch]

They weren't lying, this psychological recovery journey got hands

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

hate when i see a youtube video that's like 'analyzing why [thing] is bad!' and you watch the video and they just say nothing for twenty minutes

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

My roommate and I had a conversation last night and I keep rotating it in my brain and I Don’t Like It

[phagodyke]

aouuugh my uterus......

[orcelito]

Honestly sooooooo fucked up that I thought my overwhelming daily fatigue and debilitating body pain was a product of the awful working conditions I was under for years and years... and yet, despite being out of work for half a year now, I'm still so fatigued and in pain all the time??? Like come on man that's not fair

Oh well maybe I have liver disease and they'll treat it and then I am magically so much more energized like I was as a kid. We can only hope !!!!

[sunlightfeeling]

gonna maybe be away for a lil bit (I say maybe because it really depends on my brain’s temperment)

currently fighting some darkness atm that won’t fucking stop (I’m okay, though, I swear, but its been all fucking day and I need to sleep and I can’t because thoughts)

leave a message after the beep

[scarletiswailing347]

thought of some really cool backstory for killer!zam for the dbl au but i Cannot tell if it clashes with the canon lore or not cause i havent looked into it enough yet

[justjwab]

Top 10 posts customer service workers hate reading

very controversial opinion here, but sometimes customer service workers are the problem 😶

[inbabylontheywept]

bad dating stories time: the shoe incident

so in highschool, my best friend wasnt allowed to go on dates unless there was another couple there to keep an eye on him. part of this was his parents being insane, but also, part of it was him being insane. in a problem with no reasonable parties, there are no reasonable solutions.

at some point in my junior year, my sorta-gf broke up with me, and i just wasnt feeling dating, which was bad for my friend, because he had a good thing going with a girl he met in court.

he kind of hounded me about it. kept pushing me to just put me feet back in the dating pool and i wasnt real thrilled about it, because i knew he was pushing me for his own benefit, not mine, so i kept telling him to fuck off, and after a few weeks of being told that i would date when i was damn well ready, he eventually said: okay. what if i paid for the date AND found you a blind date AND all you had to do was show up?

and i shouldve said no, i know, but i let him wear me down, and i will own my fault in that. a date starting on such a stupid premise could never have gone well.

but he still managed to find a way to make it worse.

i dont know how long he tried to set a blind date up. it couldve been multiple attempts. he couldve stooped to this immediately. but what happened in the end was that he called a girl from the ward he attended - a girl that he knew had a giant, mushy crush on him - and he said: hey! how would you feel about going on a date this weekend?

(you know, implying it was with him, but never actually saying it.)

and she said YES WOW I WOULD LOVE TO and he said great! and then he called me up and said he found me a date.

i did not learn about his crimes until several weeks later. i will die swearing before god almighty that i would never have allowed this travesty to happen if i had known.

that was on a monday. the date of the date rolled around that friday evening, and im sorry to confess, i really phoned the whole thing in. i showed up in my favorite comfy outfit, which was also a fashion crime: basketball shorts and flipflops and a baja hoodie. it was super comfy but it made me look kind of crazy. i picked him up first, and then i picked up his date next, and then we went to pick up my date, and thats where you're gonna get the play by play.

i arrived, walked across the yard, and knocked on the front door. she opened it almost immediately, like shed been waiting right by it, and i could see her expression go from OMG IM SO EXCITED to super disappointed, then disgusted and finally pissed. and because i didn't know about my friends sins, i thought it was from my outfit. which seemed... harsh. like, hey, im allowed to be quirky, fuck you. also its a blind date, i thought the deal was that we were both going to be sad broken sacks of mortality.

anyway, we looked at each other for several seconds before she slammed the door in my face.

i looked back at my friend. he was sweating bullets. i dont know what he expected from this, but there was this big long pause where we both tried to figure out what to do, and then the door opened up, and her dad invited me in, and he said she was gonna need a few minutes to finish getting ready, and that in the meantime we could sit and talk.

we did not talk. we did sit. i sat down on the couch, and he sat down in a chair across the couch, and then instead of talking he cleaned his pistol on the coffee table. i wasnt actually sure if it was a threat, or if it was just a fidget thing for 40+ year old republican men, but when i tried to help he got snappy so i just watched him put a pistol back together.

he was okay at it.

eventually my date came downstairs, still mad as hell for reasons beyond my ken, and i felt pretty guilty for being such a mess because i thought that was why she was so angry. i tried to make up for by walking her to the car and getting the door for her, just generally trying to be extra polite, but before i could make it back to the drivers side, her dad called me back to the door. so i flipped around, went to the door, and immediately regreted my decision.

soon as i was within range, her dad got waaaay too close to me, leaned in, and said "whatever you do to her, i will do to you," and my brain went into overdrive making three consecutive realizations.

realization one was, damn, the pistol thing was a threat. that sucks. what an asshole. realization two was, wait, im autistic and even i know theres a 0% chance me and my date even hold hands, least of all boink. does this guy actually think there's even a 1% chance of anyone in that car getting laid tonight? is he an idiot? and then realization three went through, which was wait, is this guy threatening to fuck me? and unfortunately, with my brain doing so much processing, my mouth was left to run amok, so somewhere between realization 2 and 3, i said:

"i can't get pregnant"

which, i swear, wasn't actually me trying to be a smartass, it was just me pointing out that he couldn't actually follow up on that threat. it just wasn't possible. we do not live in the omegaverse and im not scared of you.

still, it was an insanely catastrophic thing to say, and the moment we both heard it, we bluescreened. that single sentence obliterated both of our momentary streams of consciousness like a saltine in front of a sand blaster. problem was, he'd probably gone his whole life not even realizing someone could say something that stupid, and making that realization was going to cost him a lot of thinking time. me though? i had been saying shit like that for 17 years, i didnt have to rewrite my expectations of human nature, i just had to plan an exit and start striding. so i was already halfway back to the car before i heard "hey. hey come back. Hey. Hey. HEY. HEY WAIT. HEY GET BACK HERE. HEY-"

and then i was in my car, and i drove away.

if this happened today, he'd have called her, and the whole thing wouldve imploded then and there, but back then, there were still a decent number of teenagers without cell phones. especially the teenagers of insane, gun toting parents. so she just said: whoa what was that all about? and i said: dont worry about it, he'll tell you about it when you get home.

and she said: ok and went back to staring daggers at me and my friend.

WHICH SURPRISINGLY isnt even how the story ends.

we went to an improv comedy show, and it was a disaster. it shouldve been like, 7/10 tops, but between my date being mad, and my friend having a good time, and me having the existential terror of knowing that a guy with a pistol was probably waiting outside his house for me to come back, it was easily 11/10. i laughed way too hard at everything. especially the jokes that flopped. id sit there in this mostly silent room and laugh until i dry heaved a little, and my date was absolutely disgusted, and even my friend was a little embarrassed, which would just make me laugh harder. i laughed so hard that night i could barely talk the next day. and then the show ended, and my friend said, you know, that was a good time, but i think we should maybe do something a little chiller? who wants to walk around the park? and his date said yeah, and my date said no, and i finally had mercy on the poor woman so i said, look, im gonna drop you off. and i am so, so sorry about this, but im dropping you off like a block away. super duper sorry.

do talk to your dad about the pistols thing if you dont want this happening more in the future tho.

and she said: okay. so i dropped her off, and she walked a block down, and that was that.

then i drove my friend and his date to a park that was good for wandering. i figured they wanted something more private, so instead of following them around point blank, i chose a park with this 30 foot rope tower, and i climbed to the top and i said: hey i can see you anywhere from up here, you are officially chaperoned from a distance. get panopticoned idiot. except my friend really is an idiot, and he didnt really get the whole 'now i dont have to third wheel so insanely hard with you guys' thing so he climbed up the tower too, and then his date followed behind him, so there are three people basically sitting together on top of a telephone pole.

and then they started making out.

i was close enough to hear it.

i didnt really know what to do so i was just kind of sitting there, dissociating, when some college kids came around and started shaking the tower. my friend's date went aaaaaaaaaa im afraid of heights :( and my friend went oh, dont worry, ill hold you tight ;) and i went hey, im gonna climb down and ask them to stop.

so i did climb down, and i did ask them to stop, and they flipped me off, which i wasnt even mad about. at that point i was i was like yeah, it would be weirder if this wasnt a mess. gods plan has been to fly this day like a 747 into my metaphorical twin towers and brother he is close enough for me to see him grinning through the cockpit window. still, eventually the college students got bored, so they climbed up the tower, which gave my friend and his date a window to climb down, and together we walked back to my car.

now, i cant explain why this is, but sitting back in the drivers seat was my carriage-back-into-a-pumpkin moment. i'd been chill about all the chaos, just rolling with the punches, but sitting down made me realize how much of a shitshow the day had been, and while i couldnt go back and fix all of it, i could go back and fix one thing.

so i told my friend and his date, hey, you two, stay here and don't do anything weird. don't. then i walked back to the rope tower, and i started picking up the shoes the college students had left at the base in order to climb.

about halfway through this, i realized that if i took all their shoes, they might think i was in it for the money, and i actually wanted them to know i was in it specifically to spite them. fuck those guys. so i put all the right shoes back, gave myself a 100 foot headstart, yelled "nice shoes, assholes", did a little jig, and started running.

my advice to everyone is that college students are faster than you think. even with the headstart, and the whole climb down the tower thing, i was still only fivish seconds ahead of them by the time i got to my car. i flung the door open, looked in the backseat, didnt see anyone, flung the stolen shoes in the backseat, heard two "ow"s, took that as proof of presence, jumped in and pealed out of the lot.

my friend and his date popped up a few seconds later. they were, uh, doing something weird in the back seat. my one request - obliterated.

they climbed up to ask where the hell all the shoes had come from, and i was like yeah i stole them from the college students, and they were like oh. cool. hope you had fun. and i was like, i did. i did. but speaking of fun, what were you doing back there?

and for the first time in my buddies life, i think he was actually embarassed.

[skipppppy]

No offence but I feel like some people got a little too comfortable with telling people to touch grass and swung all the way round to just straight up shaming anyone who might have a less active social life than them to feel better about themselves. “She should be at the club” was a really funny meme until people started acting like fucking middle school bullies towards people who don’t go out with their friends a lot. All those drinking/drugs/sex milestone polls were fun to engage with until it became a wierd circlejerk making fun of people who haven’t done those things before. People on twitter are once again dogpiling someone for wanting queer social spaces that don’t revolve around alcohol or loud music and telling them it’s their own fault for not having friends.

Like I get that nightclubs and sex have strong ties to queer culture and are often the first targets in the hellscape of respectability politics. It’s important we remember our roots and protect these spaces from conservative scrutiny. I mean that. They are important. But just on a surface level it seems like people are starting to see having an inactive social life as some kind of moral failing which…it’s not. I feel like an insane person for feeling like I have to say this on the fucking queer autism website but like. You aren’t inherently a bad person if you don’t have friends. You aren’t “falling behind” if you haven’t had your first kiss in your 20s or never done drugs. The real world isn’t a movie. And if you see someone who doesn’t go out much and instinctually think “wow what a terminally online loser. I bet their social life sucks because they’re a sheltered creep and not because of systemic barriers beyond their control” you need to have a long hard look at why you feel that way.

There are very real barriers that prevent isolated people from finding community and connection. Do you think you’re superior for being able to breach them? Time, money, sobriety, accessibility, none of those factors were a problem for you, so it shouldn’t be for them, right? Right?

[chososrightnipple]

❝𝐣𝐣𝐤 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 + 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨)❞

a/n: almost four hundred followers omg.. i love all you freaks mwah!! here is part two as promised. included some requests for characters. aged up! megumi and yuji of course. might do a part three maybeeee? afab body w/no gendered language as usual.

part one.

── დ ──

. *. ⋆ TOJI FUSHIGURO

▸ panty stealing. he thinks of it as memorabilia. snatching your panties from the floor before you have the chance to put them back on- just something he keeps to remember you bye.

▸ daddy kink. we all saw this coming, right? you call him daddy once and it's all he needs to fuck you into the bed for the rest of the night.

▸ thigh riding. seeing you frotting against his large thigh, desperate to cum, pussy practically drooling for it... his favorite foreplay 100%.

▸ cum play. this man will cum anywhere and everywhere and he'll love it. let him cum on your face, your ass, your chest, your back, down your throat, etc etc.

▸ hatefucking. angry sex after an argument where he takes out all of the stress you caused him on your poor holes :(

▸ breeding. you can give him another baby, can't you? you can make him a daddy all over again, right? just let him cum inside of you as much as he wants, he'll make it happen, he swears.

▸ exhibitionism. you grind against him once on the bar floor and next thing you know he's dragging out to the empty alleyway and pressing you against the nearest wall.

▸ size difference. he's so large, so big, every single part of him practically overtaking you. and he gets off on that fact so fucking hard!!

. *. ⋆ NANAMI KENTO

▸ cockwarming. seating himself inside your warm pussy while he's stuck doing all kinds of boring paperwork. he'll fuck you, he swears, you just gotta sit pretty on his lap for a little bit, okay?

▸face fucking. he loves taking out all of his stress on you. gripping your hair as he uses your mouth mercilessly, bullying his cock down the back of your tight throat.

▸blindfolding. silk ribbons in a variety of colors that he matches to the underwear you're modeling for him. only the best for his lover <3

▸ thigh riding. there's no better way to put him in the mood than pathetically grinding yourself against his thigh, using his body selfishly for your own pleasure.

▸ hair pulling. y'all know that one scene... he pulls at your hair exactly like that. fingers going white with how tight he's tugging at you, manipulating your position until you're face to face with his scowl.

▸ spanking. makes you count for every slap and if you miscount, he's starting all over again. pay better attention to him next time, yeah?

▸ semi-public. yes, he will bend you right over his desk, no he doesn't care there's a meeting going on next door. or better yet, against the window of the fourth floor, overlooking the busy street below it.

▸ phone sex. it really isn't any problem that he's across the country on a mission. even just the sound of your whines over the phone is enough to get him off.

. *. ⋆ MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

▸ panty stealing. he would say he feels bad about it, but he doesn't. you looked so good in the lacey little things, he can't help but want to keep them for later. even has his own little drawer for them.

▸ masochism. the stinging pain of your nails running down his back is utterly euphoric. and don't get him started on how harshly you tug at his hair when he's eating you out- he can cum in his boxers just from that alone.

▸ breast play. massaging at the skin, feeling the plumpness under his fingertips. sucking at your nipples and leaving a trail of kisses down the valley of your breasts. he's obsessed.

▸ edging. leaving you just on the brink of release over and over again, until tears are streaming down your face. he'll let you cum eventually, you just look so pretty this worked up for him.

▸ marking. oh my goddd do not get megumi started on this. he doesn't know why it gets him so worked up- seeing you covered in the hickeys and bite marks that he's left on you- but it does.

▸ cunnilingus. eats you out like a man starved, like he'll never eat you out again. pulling him away from your poor pussy is next to impossible if he's not yet done with his meal.

▸ mutual masturbation. sometimes you both just need to relaxation of release and nothing more. sitting across from each other on the bed, or maybe side by side, listening to the moans of the other as you both touch yourselves.

▸ dacryphilia. like adoptive father like adopted son. seeing your eyes brim with tears from how good he's fucking you drives him crazy.

. *. ⋆ YUJI ITADORI

▸ ass play. we all know he's an ass man i mean come on?! doggy style is his favorite position just because of it. seeing how the fat of your ass moves with every slap of his hips is fucking addicting.

▸ praise kink. tell him how good he's fucking you and how much of a good boy he is pleaseeee!!!!

▸ toys. he didn't realize how much he would love bringing toys into the bedroom until he sees how hard you can cum around him while he holds a vibrator to your clit.

▸ raw sex. he knows it's stupid, fucking you with no protection. you're pussy just feels so good, so warm, he needs to fuck you raw.

▸ face riding. please sit on his face, suffocate him, he doesn't care. it's his favorite position to eat you out.

▸ overstimulation. poor baby doesn't even mean to overstimulate you half of the time- he just has so much stamina, you understand that, right? and seeing you so flushed and fucked out under him has him so horny. just one more round, yeah? you can do that for him, right?

▸ dirty talk. yuji is a yapper and that doesn't stop when he's fucking you. the filth that comes out of his mouth has you wet just thinking about it.

▸ dry humping. the tension, the intimacy, the panting, the friction?? all of it, it's like a drug to him.