#Meaning I can't think for him to say something or do something he just does what he wants

[seewetter]

"ofc we’re stupid and illiterate our schools suck!!!"

The whole framing is wrong.

Why are people talking about "stupid" Americans? Because they're discussing why America so often is plagued by decisions with foresee-ably terrible outcomes.

But America is an oligarchy, it's participatory elements are minimal and often pure aesthetic. How much control do people exercise in a first-past-the-post electoral system with massive corporate bribes (Superpacs) that also influence media reporting, which is also a surveillance and police state?

Rhetorical question, right? So if Americans barely exercise control, what are we criticizing? Are we criticizing the >70% of Americans who don't even own a firearm? Or the majority of Texans that vote Democrat...even though it's a "red state" due to how their laws work? Are we criticizing the American majority that shows sympathies for Bernie Sanders, support abortion, queer rights, trans rights, realizes climate change is real and is the reason why "woke" (diverse) Hollywood movies make such money?

Why criticize Americans for watching Marvel, when Marvel viewership numbers have collapsed over the years?

Why criticize Americans for not knowing who James Baldwin is, when James Baldwin is in many ways not someone who affected the course of history or someone who Americans -- who I am CERTAIN use the public library all the time -- would necessarily stumble upon when reading in a public library. What, did you learn about Baldwin from watching Nosferatu? Or maybe a Cronenberg movie? Would Americans borrowing books on history naturally stumble on Baldwin? If they borrow the collected speeches of Martin Luther King Jr. or the Autobiography of Malcolm X, will these reference James Baldwin?

People know who James Baldwin is because he is an excellent writer and certain white Jewish intellectuals in the 1970s stumbled across his prose and made him famous and later Baldwin would burn those ties and became famous within progressive activist circles. This does not mean that a visit to a public library will make people aware that he exists. You have to know what to look for.

Also progressives often know who he is but not what he said. How many progressives do you know who don't care that James Baldwin talked about the "myth of race", that James Baldwin considered post-racial thinking to be more progressive than identity politics? Most progessives who know Baldwin quote him second-hand or third-hand, why are you not mad at them? Why some nebulous idea of "Americans"?

"because you assholes have had FREE ACCESS to THOUSANDS of books and audiobooks and classic films this ENTIRE TIME you’ve been blaming your schools for your elected ignorance!!!"

In 19th century anarchist literature, a distinction was often made between the freedom to do something and the capacity to do something. The freedom and legal right to buy a yacht is nice...but if you can't actually buy a yacht, you have the freedom but not the capacity.

Like how many holidays and free weekends does the average American have? There has to be a better way to educate people with a busy schedule than shaming them about their ignorance, especially when ignorance is tied to class. DON'T misread me. I'm not saying working class people are ignorant. I'm saying some people can afford a very nice education for their kids and other people can't. "Oh, it's on the internet, which is free" is not how people spontaneously become enlightened.

Like: just have a chat with a Joe Rogan listener. They're mostly Trump supporters, but all of the ones I've met are achingly sincere. They really do have the wool over their eyes, they're usually not malicious. And they're really really ...like they don't have a good research strategy. They don't even know what that looks like. They think they're "studying" when they listen to podcasts. That's a thing they think. Do you think free access to libraries and internet has given these people all they need to free themselves from their shackles and the risks they pose to others? Do you think people just spontaneously sit down and every week for a year devote all available time to researching academic literature on a hot button topic? Many of these people don't even know where to find appropriate academic literature ("It's too expensive" thought one Rogan listener I know) and many of them associate these resources with academic agendas.

Look up "hermeneutics of suspicion". It's when people approach a topic looking for ways to confirm their suspicious feelings. That's what's going on there. People read some academic article and they suspect it's all BS. If they don't understand a concept, they assume someone is trying to manipulate them. And why shouldn't they, the media is blatantly dishonest, academia has a number of crises and universities have certain conflicts of interest. Why shouldn't these people spontaneously start from such a place? It's not your job to shame them, because if you do, they assume you are doing so from a place of ideological fanaticism, rather than from a place of informed frustration. You know the meme where trans people talking about gender is represented as Plato and Aristotle in the agora, having a debate, while trans people talking to cis people about gender is represented as a mom helping her toddler assemble building blocks? That analogy applies to any topic. There are a lot of adult "toddlers" out there and if you call them toddlers to their face, they will rightfully be ashamed and upset. They put a lot of work into forming their beliefs, they just don't have a good starting point. Or decent tools. Or non-judgmental 24/7 help. And they exist in a quagmire of bullshit claims. And they relate to misinformation in a vibes-based way if the information otherwise seems to be applicable and more useful in their life.

If someone lives in a media environment that reassures them that they are currently studying the (alternate) facts and informing themselves, or that they are currently getting the gist of the facts from experts, then people won't necessarily use the library or grasp its value. Also you have to use the library correctly.

"and if you expect me to you’re classist and 18 year old Americans are too stupid to know bombing foreign countries kills people so it’s okay if they choose to do that rather than work at McDonald’s and of course I have no idea what stocks are or what colonialism is and MCU is the height of cinema and it’s feminist to wear makeup like."

I find teens accusing every intellectual impulse of being classist and ableist unbearable too, but not so long ago, this website popularized the idea that the only valid criticism of feminism was an anti-racist, anti-classist, anti-ableist, anti-transmisogynist, anti-perisexist etc. criticism.

In other words "I refuse to course correct unless you show me how my current course hurts a minority."

So yes, people will defend American complacency using ridiculous "anti-classist" rhetoric. Because it's the only defense they've seen modelled and maybe even the only defense that's socially permitted in their circle of friends.

Defenses of war crimes are horrible. Period. If people think Americans don't have a partial responsibility just because they were ignorant, they're wrong. But partial responsibility isn't full blame and more importantly: are real Tumblr users actually saying that exact thing in good faith? Are people out there defending ignorant Americans who never talked to a soldiers about what a bomb is and does or who never watched a bomb dropped in a movie?

I agree Disney adults can be irritating, but I think that most Americans aren't Disney adults and those that are... are from all walks of life and varying degrees of ignorance. Are Disney adults, Marvel fans, the ones who don't grasp that bombs kill people? Or is this a weird mishmash of stereotypes that don't capture why America, as a state institution, is such a horror? To me it's also sad that Americans get overly emotional about Mickey Mouse and that Marvel movies got so successful, but I think this is not really connected to America. Marvel movies and Disney parks aren't uniquely American, America is just -- at gunpoint -- the largest economy in the world, so a lot of junk that people worldwide consume comes from there. Disney Parks in Japan or France do quite well and also involve Disney Adults, we just don't hear about them so much and the money is ultimately made by America, a country with military bases in almost every other country. Is this the fault of Disney Adults in Orlando, Florida? I don't think so.

Also makeup is an "unfeminist choice", but feminists should, in fact, fight for people's freedom to make unfeminist choices. Kate Harding had an entire essay on that.

As for the reply:

When trying to convince someone that their reasons for believing something are faulty, always make sure to point out what they may have missed and try not to miss anything yourself.

Let me provide a few examples:

"Did you know that to get to a library here, you have to travel?"

The person you are responding to wrote (and you acknowledged it with "I'm glad you found a way to access our libraries") that to read the contents of a library, all that is needed is digital access.

So then "did you know you have to travel" doesn't make sense as the next sentence. It's on its face unconvincing.

"Since you know so much about us, you must know that our public transportation system is all but non-functional, and a lot of people can't even afford bus fare, let alone their own vehicle, and most of our cities are not walkable. The closest library in the town where my half-siblings grew up was a 30-minute drive away. But there are digital libraries, of course!"

Of course! And their existence invalidates all the detailed descriptions you just provided for the inaccessibility of American libraries. Americans that don't use the libraries don't use them because (A) they forget these exist (B) they don't want to use them (sometimes out of shame, sometimes out of misguided conviction).

"Did you know that not every single one of us stupid Americans has access to a home computer and internet?"

The OP you are responding to was concrete about being frustrated by kids (18 19 20 year olds) on Tumblr. If they're on Tumblr, they must have internet and must be able to access an internet library.

"Did you know that exceptionally strict conservative parents monitor their childrens' internet usage and restrict what they can see?"

Yes and.

Yes, and this influences blindspots that some Americans have.

See, on its own "do you know some parents monitor internet" creates a strawman example, where the people OP was attacking (people who freely use tumblr.com, "the queerest site on the internet") are somehow being treated as if they have parents that monitor their internet usage and censor all content that might burst their conservative bubble. I hope we can agree that these are two different groups of Americans.

"Did you know that school library media centers (computer labs) restrict access to a lot of websites and information that do not pertain to curriculum? Of course you did."

But if the people are goofing around on Tumblr calling others "classist" for expecting them to know stuff, how is the computer lab not restricting their Tumblr access? How does Tumblr pertain to their curriculum?

It's possible that this is a censorship oversight or something, but again, the real counterargument against OPs nonsense isn't "Americans aren't free to know new information" and rather "Americans often lack the capacity to even know what they're looking for". I don't think OP name-dropping James Baldwin and stocks will have given people any real idea of what they need to look for, especially if they need comprehensive education on everything from ecology to statecraft and civics to economics, to history, geography, moral philosophy, epistemology, foreign policy, marginalized perspectives and activism, statistics, organizing, protesting safety, IT security and data protection, narrative structure, narrative experimentation, artistic craft, avant-garde sensibilities (I'm being entirely unironic about that.), reading comprehension, project management, culinary skill, survival skills, networking skills, the list goes on.

This also isn't merely an "American" problem. I know plenty of Australians, Kiwis, Canadians, Europeans who use gmail accounts, don't understand imperialism and need a crash course in epistemology every time a hot button issue comes into discussion because they just keep shouting at each other without treating the other party as a human being with their own heuristic for gathering, evaluating and processing information.

"Did you know that lobbyists are trying very hard to defund and even actively shut down our libraries. Partially because they don't want us to have access to free recources, but also because ignorance works in their favor? Did you know book bans are being placed in libraries across the country, based on what conservatives deem inappropriate?"

Most of those points seem a little off topic (lobbyists trying to defund libraries may affect future ignorance but doesn't account for ignorance today), but I grant that the book bans really might have some kind of impact that prevents people from having heard of James Baldwin. It's a decent reply to the OP, who seems to think all libraries serve up the same information to all Americans. But you should be fair enough to recognize that it still is a bit weird when the people who show up ignorant are ...Tumblr users smart enough to be making accusations of classism.

"Since you know all about how we are educated, you must know that American curriculum is designed to discourage curiosity and create the illusion that we are far and above all other nations and that everything we are taught in our classes about others is simply all there is to know."

What I've heard is that many public school teachers in America are extremely dedicated well-meaning people. I've met a few American teachers and their German counterparts, for example, earn about 20 times what they earn. So American teachers often really are in it to help kids learn.

I'm not sure that the American curriculum really exists to "discourage curiosity", that sounds a bit weird to me. I do know the Texas board of education tried to ban critical thinking and I know American schools have some weird national anthem singing and I bet they teach American exceptionalism. But I would say perhaps the only reason any of that sticks is because Americans often can't afford to visit other countries.

I have not heard that Americans learn that school teaches them all there is to know, but when I think of ignorant Americans, they often give me the opposite impression: that of a "do your own research type" who doesn't think "I know everything from school" and instead just never bothered to buy a book about Atmospheric Phenomena (or grab a illegal free .pdf copy) and therefore thinks some glittering orb in the sky is a alien spacecraft. Genuinely, ignorant people are often really nice people who try to learn about the world, have a real desire to learn new things... and then they watch Graham Hancock or some other well-designed nonsense and they mis-educate themselves and get very defensive if anyone tries to correct them, however gently, in part because they lack even the basic skills to know whether the correction is plausible.

"So, with all of this information that you clearly already had at your disposal, do you genuinely believe these children are cognizant or at all concerned with how much they know about other countries and cultures?"

I think the better question to ask is "Do you really think only Americans would fail at "Are you smarter than a 5th grader?""

Because let's face it, I've seen European versions of that premise, where they go out into the street, ask a basic question ("What's the equator?") and get embarrassing answers ("A line that floats in the sky above the center of our planet").

OPs gripe with "Americans" is that they know other countries exist but just don't care. But hey, are Europeans that much better? In Europe, people know European countries...because countries are small and these are almost like American "states" in a way, especially since the EU is in many ways a country in all but name (and lack of military). How many Europeans know how many African countries there are, what their names are, what their capitals are, what their history is, what colonial powers kept which country under control when and for how long? How many Europeans know anything about Laos or Cambodia? Do Europeans even know which continent Cambodia is on?

And I've talked to Japanese people and found incredible ignorance. And do we imagine that the education system in, say, Burkina Faso or Brazil produces much more worldly individuals?

If you want to criticize specifically American ignorance you need to things: you need lots of real-life examples AND you need to prove these examples are unique to America.

Like India recently managed to get a lot of kids into school long enough to learn how to read, which is awesome! But if someone from India (like OP) is attacking American ignorance, OP is likely doing so from a certain degree of "wealth in the family". That's not a criticism, just a (hopefully humbling) observation. Countries around the world can blame their widespread ignorance on colonialism...and then get upset at ignorant colonizers. But maybe no place on Earth really produces a completely sufficiently informed citizenship.

"Adults who are groomed through adulthood to believe that "bombing foreign countries" and selling their body to their government is one of the only accessible options to receive further education."

Isn't the American military facing historically low recruitment numbers and worried about morphing into a "warrior caste" (their words, not mine) because their recruits mostly come from old military families where everyone's in the military? Not to say the poor person going to the army doesn't exist, but aren't most Americans pretty anti-military, especially these days?

"You believe these people are simply bumbling idiots too self-absorbed to want to learn about the history and inner workings of every other nation around them?"

Why emphasize that public schools brainwash the kids with American exceptionalism and then turn around to argue that the people leaving public school AREN'T self-absorbed about their own country? That comes off as overly defensive, not as a reflective response. I doubt OP found that argument very convincing.

"Like, you understand that not knowing what you don't know is a thing, yes?"

But OP must at least be partially correct. Like -- I would blame maybe feelings of overwhelm at all the information, and maybe mistrust of information sources -- but it does often come across, at least at first glance, that a lot of Americans can't be bothered to understand basic geography. Like they know countries outside of America exist, but aren't bothered enough to find out what they are.

Again, this is probably not a purely American problem, but one does sometimes get the impression that many Americans approach conversations without making sure they have a bit of an overview of the topic. They often just seem to research the talking points of their side in a debate (i.e. they know the history of colonialism better than they know which countries have Spanish as an official language, so it's easy to make them look stupid or they have to ask what tariffs are but they already think tariffs are great since Trump is doing them...like why aren't they reading the "tariffs" page on Wikipedia or whatever, to get at least a general idea? What's going on?)

"I would go as far as to point out the hypocrisy of all of your shaming when the beginning of your post clearly states that you were ignorant of a resource available to you before it was pointed out to you."

Now that's a sick burn. But don't get cozy.

"Your time spent belligerently accusing a whole society of people which you deem unintelligent of being willfully uneducated and unwilling to reach beyond their own privilege would be better spent sharing resources you've found and encouraging others to broaden their own horizons. But hatred of the American public as a whole is a lot easier when you can paint us all as intentionally dumb and heels-dug-in fascists."

It is hard for people to grasp how little control Americans have over their society. When America always advertises itself as "land of the free" it seems like they freely choose to be giant assholes on the world stage.

And it's only with a lot of reflection and/or research that people realize just how much the game is rigged. But still...the people who just flat out support tariffs, for example, without wasting a single braincell on experimenting on how they can find information on it that doesn't come from a possibly biased pro-Trump source...like it feels like willful ignorance. Part of me can't believe it isn't.

ever since i got access to american library cards thanks to tumblr user anneemay (pbuh) 2 weeks ago ive lost even the 3% sympathy i had for americans crying ofc we’re stupid and illiterate our schools suck!!! because you assholes have had FREE ACCESS to THOUSANDS of books and audiobooks and classic films this ENTIRE TIME you’ve been blaming your schools for your elected ignorance!!! from my home in India I’ve listened to eight audiobooks and watched half of cronenberg’s oevre and I’m watching nosferatu (1922) today and I can’t even go to a library in person and you people have had these things your entire life yet you come on tumblr at 18 19 20 and say you don’t know who james baldwin is and if you expect me to you’re classist and 18 year old Americans are too stupid to know bombing foreign countries kills people so it’s okay if they choose to do that rather than work at McDonald’s and of course I have no idea what stocks are or what colonialism is and MCU is the height of cinema and it’s feminist to wear makeup like. my god. you people are going to go through the rest of your life being incoherently stupid and it’s not because you’re poor and it’s not because your schools suck but its because you’re so ensconced in your American privilege that you will never be forced to confront the realities of life and you can go on living your Disney adult fantasies because you’ve destroyed your innate human curiosity and potential at the altar of hyper consumption.

[gamorahww]

𝐅𝐈𝐘𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐀 𝐅𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐘 ━ 𝑑𝑎𝑦 2. 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑟 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔

Today I'm holding space for the idea that in the context of the movie, dancing is a coping mechanism for Fiyero. While caring is a cure and a solution and an answer. I mean it is nothing new, but it needs to be said.

There will be a separate post on Dancing Through Life later today, but for now, we're starting from later. At history class, Fiyero voluntarily steps up to help the lion cub, and they make it all the way to the forest. Shortly after they are safe, and start talking, Elphaba says, "I know my life would be much easier if I didn't care, but—" and Fiyero cuts her off at exactly this point in her sentence. And I think that moment is crucial. Up until now, he’s never interrupted her before—but now he does and not because he’s frustrated with how much she talks, but because of what she’s saying. He doesn’t want to hear her talk about caring. That’s a pain point for him.

Because he knows it’s easier not to care. That’s the story he tells himself.

The lyrics in Dancing Through Life go: "Why think too hard when it's so soothing?" Soothing what? You don’t need to soothe something that doesn’t hurt. Soothing is only necessary when there’s an ache. To me this means he has cared before, and he has been hurt by caring before, and now he's coping with that by dancing through life. He is soothing his pain from secretly caring just too much, by dancing. Not because he doesn't care anymore about anything, but because he can't stop doing it, so he has to keep dancing. Dancing is loud, and visible. If he dances, people don't ask questions about his personality about what he thinks or how he feels. Maybe they haven't been doing it anyway, so he distracts them by doing his little dance, and as soon as they get too close, he pushes them away. But what he believes to be true for now is that caring = painful and dancing = a way to cope with that pain

But Elphaba just saw him care—deeply. She knows he’s capable of it. And she knows how unbearably sad it must be to choose to pretend otherwise. At the same time, she also understands how painful caring can be, she just highlighted is. In that moment, they find common ground.

But Fiyero’s façade—his carefree persona—is what he assumes people value in him most. So the second he realizes Elphaba doesn’t see him that way, he panics. He thinks that if she can see through him, it means she doesn’t want him there. No one has ever appreciated him for anything beyond the image he projects. So if that mask is gone… what’s left? Why would she still want him around, if he's not fun and happy and carefree? So he starts to leave.

And then she proves him wrong.

Not only does she say "she does (want his help)," but she physically holds onto him, keeping him there. The shock on his face (second gif from the bottom) says everything—he never expected someone to want him without the act. And later, when she touches his face so gently, you can see him struggling to process it. This is the most vulnerable he’s ever been, and it terrifies him. Not only that, but Elphaba sees a scar on his face, and sees that he has been hurt, without him noticing it. She reaches out and touches him gently, not really wanting anything, and he just can't bear it.

Her caring for him is not painful, it's soothing.

His Freudian slip a few beats later—"I better get to safety."—isn’t just about physical danger. This doesn’t feel safe. Being seen, being wanted for real, is the opposite of what he’s used to. Caring and being cared for are equally scary, but only the latter seems like a completely new experience for him. However, after feeling it, he finds something so real that he just yearns for it from now on. Yearns to be seen and touched and to be needed for something he did instinctively, without a thought, something he did because it felt right.

That’s why the later scene with Glinda is so important. When she holds his hand, the shot mirrors the moment with Elphaba—but with one key difference. Glinda is pulling him away, back into the world of pretense. But he can’t go back, not after this, and you can see him looking back at where he came from, back to the forest, back to Elphaba, back to being seen. For once, caring was not painful, and someone cared for him as well.

[mickeys-been-staying-at-ians]

So Dean is fucked up after Cas is taken into the Empty obviously, all melancholy, no sleep, drinking too much, you know his gist. Sam probably tries to get him to talk about it, but he would never tell him everything Cas said, you know. So Dean is miserable, and Sam is miserable, but THEY DON'T STOP trying to get Cas back.

And they do, somehow. So Cas appears somewhere in the library or wherever they were Doing What Brought Him Back and there's a second of confused, vulnerable silence because this can't be real don't believe it's real he's gonna disappear and it's gonna suck all over again but he stays, and looks at Dean, and then Dean is hugging him, clutching him like... well, like everything that happened, happened, and they're breathing each other in. Cas hasn't had the chance to think about what it all means, yet, so he's not overthinking it. Then they break apart, and Dean has tears in his eyes and his lower lip is shaking, and while Sam hugs Cas, too, Dean's body is like, shutting down, months of exhaustion (physical and emotional) catching up to him, and he feels it coming, so when Sam gets Cas to sit down, making him drink some water, Dean's like "I'm just gonna-" and he's running into his room and he doesn't even make it inside before he starts sobbing. He's sitting against his bed, his face in his hands, all wet now, when Sam comes in. Maybe he knocked, maybe not, Dean couldn't hear him. And he tries to cover himself a little, but Sam sees anyway, and he's so tired, so he just. Doesn't care.

And Sam says, "Dean, don't hide from him" and Dean isn't sobbing anymore but he's still crying into his palms, saying "I'm so tired, Sammy" and Sam knows. He doesn't know what happened between Dean and Cas but Cas said he did something and now Dean wouldn't feel comfortable around him. So, you know. Sam can guess, a little.

So he says, "He thinks you don't want anything to do with him anymore" and "you should go talk to him" and Dean is like "I can't" and he doesn't know why, maybe because he's exhausted, or because he doesn't know what to say to him , or because Cas sacrifised himself for him again, or because he told him he loved him and turned Dean's world upside down and disappeared, or maybe because he's scared.

And Sam knows this is all happening in Dean's head and he knows some of it is whispered to him in their dad's voice, so he says, "you know nothing in the world would ever change how I think of you," and Dean's head snaps towards him, wet with bloodshot eyes, confused and terrified, but he doesn't say anything, so Sam asks, "what really happened down there?" and Dean knows Sam knows. There's a hand squeezing his heart and lungs and he can't breathe, and Sam knows, and Dean wishes he could go back to when it wasn't even an option.

"He's your best friend," Sam says, and he is, he is, he's Dean's best friend, above all else, it's not just sacrifises and battles and blood and desperate confessions, it's also movies and music and inside jokes, so Dean asks Sam to get Cas. He does, and leaves them in Dean's room alone. And Dean says "don't ever die for me again" and "you think you saved me but i was barely alive" and "next time we die together" which is maybe a little fucked up, but he's feeling so raw. He says, "you're my best friend" and looks at Cas, hoping Cas hears everything he isn't saying, how Cas is the most important person in all the universes to Dean. He's family, but he doesn't say that, doesn't want Cas to think he's family like anyone else, because Cas is more. To Dean, Cas is- something Dean won't say yet, but he is.

And they have a quiet dinner with Sam because they're all tired, and Cas showers while they turn on the TV and bring out a couple of beers, and they act like it's a normal day in their life. Dean's head keeps falling and his eyes keep closing, his temples aching, but he stays, and at some point Sam goes to sleep, and when they're alone Cas tries to get Dean to go, too, but he keeps coming up with lame excuses to stay and Cas doesn't know what to make of it until he thinks maybe Dean doesn't want to be alone, or even - maybe Dean doesn't want to leave Cas alone, maybe he's scared something will happen to him again, or maybe he wants to just - be with Cas longer. And Cas is completely out of his element, because why would Dean- But it doesn't matter. His priority has always been Dean's well-being, so if there's any chance Dean is pushing himself because of - some of that, Cas will step up.

So he asks Dean if he can sleep in Dean's room tonight because he doesn't want to be alone. And there's a blaring red light going off in Dean head, screaming he knows he knows he knows Dean wants him to... what? Dean doesn't even know. Cas is asking as if for himself, for Dean's benefit, and Dean. God. Dean loves him, doesn't he? He's always loved him, but he loves him like... like... but he doesn't think it, still. He feels too open, now, and he wants to lock himself in his room and sleep it off and drink and stop feeling so vulnerable, he thinks he must be an open book to everyone, to Cas especially, and god, could people always tell? Can Cas tell, now? But why does it matter? Cas told him- he told him-

But none of it matters, because Cas is here, and he's offereing Dean an easy way out, and Dean is a weak, weak man, and he's exhausted and all he wants is to breathe Cas' air and know he's here, and not going anywhere.

So Dean puts on an old T-shirt and gets out of his jeans like he always does before realizing Cas is here. He flushes all over, sits down on his bed because he didn't think about how this was gonna go. Cas glances at the desk as if he was gonna sit in his chair the whole night, and Dean doesn't actually know if Cas sleeps now or doesn't, which he maybe should've thought of before, but before he can say anything, Cas says, "Dean, I don't want to make you uncomfortable" and Dean, completely lost, says the first thing that comes to his mind, which is, "can you lie down with me?" which is not exactly how he was gonna tell Cas he's the opposite of uncomfortable with him, but it does the trick. He makes Cas get out of his dress pants and gives him a T-shirt to sleep in, too, and flushes even more when he realizes what Cas is wearing. Dean lies down when Cas steps towards the bed, faces the wall because he doesn't know what to do with himself. They lie in silence for an awkward moment before Cas says, "are we okay?" and Dean says, "of course we are" and Dean knows Cas is still overthinking it, and he is, too, but... Cas took the leap, and he must feel so uncertain about them, and Dean thinks he owes him something, at least. Cas told him he loved him. Nothing felt right since then, because Cas died and because Cas thought he could never have what he wanted and because Cas thought he wasn't the most important person in Dean's life with Sammy, whatever that meant, and because Dean had to come to terms with that reality, a reality where Cas loves him, has loved him, him, Dean, broken and all. A man. A man Cas thought beautiful, and loving, and- and Dean has many issues, but Cas was never one of them, and Cas deserves to feel certain about his place in Dean's life.

So Dean asks Cas to come closer, and there's a still moment before Cas does, still too far away from Dean, and Dean can't see him, can't make himself turn because his heart is beating so loud he thinks if he looks at Cas, it's gonna beat out of his chest. So he reaches behind himself, finds Cas' hand and brings it forward, keeps it between his hands and brings them to his face. Breathes Cas in. "Please don't leave again" he says, in that tone he used when he prayed to Cas. He feels Cas shift, finally, as if he lost some of the tension from his body, feels the bed dip behind him, and he doesn't know how Cas moves but then Dean's back is pressed against Cas' front, and despite his beating heart, Dean is feeling the exhaustion start to take him. "Cas, I..." he tries, but he can't think anymore, can't make sense of anything.

"You can fall asleep, Dean," Cas says, his words warm in Dean's hair and the last thing he hears before sleep takes him is "I will be here when you wake up."

So when Dean wakes up, it's to a heavy arm around his chest and slow breaths against the back of his head. There's no moment of confusion about who he's with, or why. He doesn't even get a second to consider if it was real before Cas says "good morning, Dean" and Dean wonders if Cas slept at all. If he needs to sleep, now. There's so much they need to talk about, all three of them.

"Cas," he tries again, remembereing his attempt from last night. He needs Cas to know, for sure. "Cas, I - what you said. You know I. I've never..." and Cas is like "I know, Dean" but he sounds a little confused, so Dean doensn't know what Cas thinks he knows. So he turns, takes a second to notice how close they are now, and he thinks about Cas' eyes, his lips. Thinks, soon.

"You have to know," he says, as if Cas didn't say anything. "You have to know how I - what I" and he can't get the words out, not sure if it would be easier if there were no words to get out or if there were no voices in his head screaming over them. So he breathes in, Cas' scent overtaking his senses, brings his palm to Cas' face. Closes his eyes. Thinks, soon. Thinks, now, and meets Cas halfway.

[yapperblog]

Tags: smut, fingering, unprotected piv, kinda mean Joost.

Explicit RPF below, don't interact if you are not comfortable with that; +18

You walk down a busy street, the path is familiar to you – it leads to the Internet Cafe, where you go to do your personal admin tasks and unwind playing games after a stressful day at work. It is already dark outside, but the sound of rain splattering onto your umbrella and lights of the nearby shops shining from the windows as you walk past are keeping you company.

As you reach your destination, you notice a printed note on the door "Today we are closing for maintenance at 10pm. Come back tomorrow for usual working hours." You sigh, as you usually prefer to stay for longer, the whole point of it being open 24/7.

Familiar clacking of the keyboard, murmur of conversations and laughter of groups of people engaged in a computer game greets you as you walk in. You put away your umbrella and head to the administrator's desk. Your heart starts pounding faster, as it does every time you see him. Joost, who works at the cafe, is sitting at his desk, a usual scowl on his face and a cigarette hanging from his lips, even though there is a No smoking sign. He is the sole reason this place is running as smoothly as it does, he keeps every customer at check. From the first time you came here, you could tell everyone is scared of him due to his mean attitude, but it thrills you – the smudged eyeliner look he has, his style, how he towers over everyone, it all excites you. You haven't talked to him much, he keeps it pretty short with everyone, an uninterested look on his face, so getting a few words from him always seems like a win.

You unbutton your jacket and fix your skirt, which you wore just for him – today it is even shorter than usual. He doesn't talk much, but you can feel his eyes on you, when you wear those skirts. How he rolls his eyes, when you bat your eyes at him asking for help on the computer, even though you know how to fix it yourself, he is annoyed, but never denies your ask for help. It excites you knowing you have some effect on him.

"Hi, 2 hours please." you say as you reach his desk, sliding the exact amount of cash for 2 hours on the computer and internet.

"We close at 10 today." he doesn't look up, takes your money.

"I saw the note." you say and before he can point at what computer is free, you chime in. "I was thinking...do you need any help?"

He stops typing, stares at the screen and then looks up at you. You smile cheerily, "I can help with the maintenance, whatever that is, or I can vacuum. It will be faster together." yet his facial expression doesn't change from the usual bored scowl.

"We are fine." he says and turns back to the computer.

"5th computer is yours for 2 hours" he points at the direction of the desk.

You turn around to walk towards it, not entirely surprised by his answer, but it was worth a try. You say hi to other usual customers you've become friends with. As you take a seat, you look behind your shoulder, catching Joost staring at the exposed skin provided by your short skirt. You can't help but clench your thighs together, hoping he notices how a simple glance from him arouses you, wishing it was him touching you directly.

2 hours go by fast. You throw your head back laughing at something a guy next to you said. He is funny, and has been a good company, you put your hand on his thigh, not meaning anything by it, other than trying to catch yourself as you laugh again leaning forward. On accident your eyes meet Joost, who is watching your hand on the guy's thigh – his scowl angrier than usual, the cigarette letting out smoke as it hangs from his lips.

"It's 10pm. Everyone – out." Joost stands up to announce and walks towards the desks with a trash bag to collect any junk left by the customers.

You start to pack your things, when you feel a hand on your upper arm. It's a guy you met earlier, "I was thinking, maybe you want to grab a drink with me? There is a good bar nearby. If you are not busy."

You are about to reply, when you hear a familiar deep voice coming from behind you. "She is helping here today."

You turn to face Joost. "I thought you said-"

"Yeah. Change of plans. Are you staying or no?"

You look at the guy, who is still waiting for your answer. "Sorry, I can't today."

The last customer leaves – it's just you and Joost now. You stand awkwardly, not really having expected your evening to turn out this way.

"Grab the trash bag, throw out anything that's not supposed to be on the desks. And wipe them down later, cleaning wipes are next to the printer. I will vacuum. The guys should come soon to update the computers." you just stare at him, this must be the most you've heard him talk.

"What?" he asks with raised eyebrows after you don't reply.

"Nothing." you giggle and grab the trash bag. This should be fun.

It is not a big space, so you keep bumping into each other, as he vacuums under the desks, you mutter little sorries, but he keeps at task, seemingly in his own world. His presence in the same room feels electric, now that everyone else is gone, you want his attention more than ever. You bend down and reach forward on the desk as if to pick up the trash at the back of it, your skirt revealing bunching up higher revealing even more skin. You know he notices it, you don't even have to look back to feel his eyes on you. Even a little brush of his arm next to you makes your breath hitch, you wonder if he can tell. Was it jealousy that made him change his mind and let you stay? You want to talk to him, but the constant noise of the vacuum cleaner makes it impossible.

The next time, you intentionally pick a desk to clean right where he is vacuuming. You lean against it and your ass brushes against his hip. He doesn't move away, you wiggle your hips slightly. The noise suddenly stops.

"What are you doing?" he asks. Only the buzz of computers running and your both heavy breathing can be heard in the room. You haven't noticed how worked up he has gotten you just by being close, but seeing how his own chest is rising and falling you can guess it had the same effect on him.

"What do you mean?" you are still in the same position, and he also hasn't moved. He looks down at where your ass meets his hip. The cool metal clasp of his pants feels nice on your skin. You play coy and it thrills you what he will do about it. "I am cleaning the desks as you told me to, am I not?"

He groans and the sound of it makes you grin.

"Well, I think you missed a spot." his voice is lower than usual.

"Huh? Where?"

"Right there." he points at the suspicious stain at the back of the desk. You lean in to reach it, when you feel him move behind you. A pair of warm hands holding your waist, it makes you stop in your tracks, suddenly hot all over.

"Why did you stop? Should I help you?" his crotch is pressed behind you.

"I don't think I see it. I do need some help."

His palm slides from your waist up to your shoulder, down your arm, as he reaches your hand, holding it gently, his chest now pressed against your back. Your heart is threatening to jump out of your throat. The weight of his body on you, the smell of his cologne and cigarettes he smokes makes your head spin. You can't help but arch your back, a quiet moan slipping past your lips.

You hear him huff next to your ear. "Such a pretty girl. Coming here flaunting in your tiny skirts." he speaks quietly and a chill runs down your spine.

"Always the loudest laugh in the room." he continues and moves your hand to wipe down the stain, holding it firmly in his own. "But I can't even bring myself to say anything, because I love the sound of it." he admits. "Don't think I don't notice you."

"Oh, I know you notice." you try to calm your breathing, but fail miserably, it comes out more as a pathetic whimper. He chuckles at how fast he has gotten you wrapped around his finger.

"So you wear it just for me?" he continues moving your hand, his lips ghosting over your neck. "Not these other guys?"

"Only you. I don't need anyone else." you try to turn your head to look at him, but he straightens up and holds the back of your neck.

"Fuck." he groans, you can feel he is getting hard, the rough material of his jeans still pressed against you. You want him to know how wet he got you. "What should I do with you?"

His hand starts trailing from waist down to your thigh, when you hear the door open. He quickly takes a step back from you, turning away. You also stand up from the desk, fixing your hair.

"Hi. We are here for the computer updates?" one of the men says.

Joost goes up to greet them and show around. "Continue cleaning." he calls out to you, when walking past.

After awhile you start to get bored, now that you are not alone, Joost has gone back to ignoring you. The lack of his hands on you makes you feel so lonely, you can still remember the weight and warmth of him pressing you onto the desk, and it is still not enough. He is sitting at his desk, lighting up another cigarette, you watch him flick a lighter, taking a few deep drags filling his lungs with smoke.

You walk towards him. "Is there anything else I can help with?"

He looks around the room, "Honestly.. no. You can go home, you know." there is a hint in his voice that shows he feels bad for keeping you here waiting around for whatever reason. You must have better ways of spending the night rather than this dirty old place.

"I can stay." you reassure him. "I want to help you finish your shift." you trace a nail down his bicep. He looks at your hand, then back up at your face. After his confession of loving the sound of your laugh and calling you a pretty girl you became bolder. His eyes shift to the men still working on the computers, "How long will this take?" he calls out to them.

They shrug, looking at each other. "Like another.. hour or so." one of them replies. Your head drops in defeat, why is it taking so long.

"Sure you don't want to go home?" Joost asks you again.

"I'm sure."

"To help me finish the shift you said?" he laughs. And it makes you stop in your tracks. This is the first time you heard him laugh, what a beautiful sound. You need more of it.

"You are doing it again." he says, his attention back to the computer.

"Doing what?"

"Staring at me silently."

"I am fascinated by you." you want to smooth down the messy strands of hair sticking out in the back of his head. But restrict yourself not to push your luck too much.

"You are so weird." he says putting out his cigarette in an ashtray. "If you need something to do, here take the pencils, sharpen them." You sigh and take the pencils and the sharpener.

You are sitting at the opposite side of where the two men are busy working on computers, their chatter can be heard in the room. You have the perfect vision of Joost, from where you sit facing him, conveniently hidden from anyone else's eyes. He keeps checking on you, humming a melody while sharpening the pencils, as if it is the most interesting task in the world. He seems to have gotten back to his previous uninterested demeanour or just tries to act this way around others. You wave your fingers at him and shoot a smile. He shakes his head at you and is about to turn back to the computer, when you uncross your legs, slowly pushing them apart just for his viewing pleasure, you trace a pencil from your upper thigh closer to your skirt, raising it higher and higher, revealing the side of your panties. You look into his eyes, the bright blue irises almost invisible at this point, how aroused he is.

"We are done." the man stands up and starts to pack up their bags. Joost all but jumps out of his seat. "Thank you guys." and starts to walk them out of the door.

The door closes, the silence surrounding you both again. The anticipation is killing you, you tentatively stand up and head in his direction.

"I sharpened the pencils." you say showing him the sharp ends.

"Good." he takes the pencils, placing them on a nearby desk.

His back is turned to you, you take an opportunity to glide your hands along his back muscles. He doesn't scold you, or move away, so you continue working your hands up to his shoulders, down his arms. "You seem so tense."

You don't have time to react, he moves so quick pinning you to a desk behind you. The backs of your legs pressed against it, he is mere inches away from you, holding both your wrists in one hand. Joost leans his face down toward yours, his hand sliding down to your neck as he rests it there. His eyes dart between your soft lips and eyes.

"You really wanna get fucked here? Want me to pause my work for a needy slut?" He growls lowly, keeping a firm grip on your neck as he brings his face close to yours, his other hand holding your waist. The sudden change makes your head spin as you smile and look up at him through your lashes. You are finally getting exactly what you wanted. "Yes, please." your smile grows with your arousal as you keep your lidded eyes on his handsome face, plastered with frustration.

You wait for his next move, smiling innocently at him, even though there is not a single innocent thought in your head right now. "I want you, Joost." you say into his ear. He leans into your neck, his lips and moustache ghosting over the sensitive skin. You think he might kiss you, but he licks a stripe on your neck, it makes you moan louder than you anticipated and suddenly he turns you around. His hand pressing down on the back of your neck pushing you into the desk.

"I can give you what you want." he presses his crotch against you. It makes you gasp, you can feel he is big, it excites you to no end, just like the sound of the metal clacking, in the peripheral of your position you can see him undoing his belt and pushing his pants down just enough to free his erection. You were right, he is big – it will be a stretch, but so pleasurable, you are ready for anything he will give you. He wraps his hand around his dick, the tip already dripping pre-cum.

"You want this as bad as I do, don't you?" you ask, wiggling your ass at him.

He just groans in response, still working on his dick, looking down at you. In a swift motion, he flips your skirt up, exposing your panties to him.

"If you wanna pretend you're all angry with me you can, I always liked watching you get angry at other customers." you tease, feeling a new wave of arousal wash over you when you feel his eyes on you.

"Hurry up." you press yourself further into him.

He takes a hold of your hips, taking off your panties in a swift motion and slides his thumb down to your clit, rubbing slow teasing circles over it, effectively shutting you up. The hand he has on the back of your neck tightens against you as he watches your mouth open in a small o, your eyes rolling back in your head. "So fucking easy, I touch you a little and you behave," Joost says, his cock dripping pre-cum against your ass as he throbs watching your face contort from pleasure.

"I am not easy." you try to argue.

"No?" he speeds up his movements on your clit, the wet sound filling the room. "Look at you. I have barely touched you and you are already dripping wet." his fingers move to your hole, he dips one finger in, soon after the second finger follows.

You try to press your thighs together as he continues sliding his fingers in and out of you, but Joost is having none of that. His large thigh knocks your knees apart, keeping you spread open for him so he has full access to your pussy.

"M-mmmm" You moan, your ass wiggling back against him as you try to escape the intense pleasure he was giving you – or were you trying to get more? You are so lost in pleasure. "I want you inside. Put it in." you try to meet his eyes from your position. "Please."

He looks down at you, slowing down his movements, but not completely. "I don't have any condoms on me, sweetheart."

"That's okay. You can do it raw. I don't mind." you plead. "I am on the pill."

He grew even harder than before, your teary eyes and needy voice fogging his judgement. He spends a few more moments stretching you out on his fingers, listening to your moans, what makes you louder, making sure you are ready for him.

You whined at the loss of his fingers, but the feeling was soon replaced by the fat head of his cock. You reach your hand behind you, wrapping your hand around his cock. "Fuck." he exhales loudly as you move your hand from his head along the shaft. You rub the head up and down your folds, mixing his precum with your juices, making sure his cock was nice and wet before he fucked you. But also to hear more of his sounds, you could get drunk on every sound that leaves his mouth.

"Enough, baby. Or the fun will end far too soon for my liking." he moves your hand away.

"I am glad you are having fun, baby." you tease him at the use of a petname already. You wiggle your hips and hear a groan from him. "And you say I'm easy."

The smile from your lips changes into a moan, as you feel him catching his head against your entrance and pressing against it teasingly before he pulles back, making you whine. "Please."

"Please what?" he asks. You didn't miss the teasing tone in his voice, it was his turn to play with you now. "I need you inside. Please" you begged, pouting against his desk as you tried to look back at him, even though it is hard from your position. Joost releases the back of your neck to grab both of your wrists in one large hand, keeping them restrained against your lower back, as he slides his dick slowly into you. The stretch is there, but it is quickly replaced by pleasure when he starts to move dragging against your walls, there is no resistance at how wet you are.

He speeds up the pace of his hips against you, the slapping echoing louder in the room as he abuses your g-spot with his dick. "What's wrong? Too much?" Joost asks, faux sympathy laced in his voice. You can only moan in response. "That's too bad. You wanted this, so you're going to fucking take it." He groans.

He reaches down to rub your clit, feeling you clench around him. Your legs are shaking from the intense pleasure flooding your body. Joost's balls slapping harshly against your clit, making your brain turn to mush as he fucks you so deep.

He is getting embarrassingly close to his release, he hasn't gotten laid in awhile and you are making it so hard for him to last. He leans forward, his chest flush against your back as he crushes you with his weight, his hand restraining your wrists being crushed between your bodies, his mouth right against your ear as he says, "So fucking good for me."

Your eyes roll back in your head each time his fat tip brushes against your sweet spot deep inside you. "Would you have said yes to that guy asking you out?" He whispers, his deep voice in your ear sending goosebumps down your spine. His possessiveness makes you feel hot all over.

"Yes." you lie to see his reaction. "I wanted to agree."

"Oh yeah?" his thrusts get harder, both of his hand gripping your hips, moving you to meet his thrusts. "Would you let him fuck you like this?"

Your pussy squeezes tightly around his cock as he fucks you open for him. He keeps his weight against you, his balls slapping against your thighs making lewd noises to echo around the cafe. "Answer me."

"No." you confess. "I would have never gone with him. I already said I only want you."

"Good." he says and your moans increase in frequency, you are squeezing him impossibly tight. "I'm so close" you moan feeling the familiar pleasure spread in your lower stomach. His weight on you, the fact that it is a public place, empty but public nonetheless, his smell all around you, his sharp thrusts inside you make you closer to your peak by the second. "Do it. Cum all over my cock, pretty girl, c'mon." He coos into your ear, his own dick twitching inside you with his impending release as he keeps the same pace up, working you higher and higher to your orgasm.

Your eyes screw shut and your mouth falls open in a loud moan. "Yeah, that's it- oh fuck" Joost groans as he fucks you through your orgasm. Your moans sound shaky as the rest of your body jolts as it was wracked with your high.

Joost's hips still against your ass as his cock twitches inside you with every rope of cum he shoots deep inside. His balls clench with his cock as he releases inside you, groaning loudly against your ear. You whine back, keeping your thighs pressed together as he rolls his hips against you, letting your walls milk him entirely before he stops moving. "So good." Joost huffs as he comes down from his high, his body crushing yours even more as he relaxed against you from such intense orgasm.

He was still deep inside you and he could already feel how his cum was spilling out around his dick from how much he came. "It is getting hard to breathe..." you whisper against the desk, your cheek being squished into the wood by his body on you. Joost quickly stands up. "Sorry." he groans as he slowly pulls his spent cock out of you.

You hiss as he slides out of you. Your walls clenching around him in instinct, making him wince as your pussy hugs his tip before he slid it fully out of you. He reaches over your body to grab the tissues on the side of his desk, grabbing a couple as he wipes gently against your thighs. He cleans up himself and tucks back into his pants.

He helps you to your feet, you stand on shaky legs, reaching around his shoulders for support. He pulls your panties back up and fixes your skirt.

You can feel his arms wrap around your waist, helping you stand and come back to Earth. You realise you are hugging, he just came inside you, but you are melting at the simple hug.

"Thank you." you say quietly looking up at him from where your head lays on his shoulder.

"Thanking me? For what? Did I fuck you so well?" he asks, looking down at you, tucking a strand behind your ear. Something has changed in him, you can tell, he seems softer.

"For letting me stay." you say. "And yes, you did fuck well. I can still barely stand." you laugh.

He smiles at that, your words boasting his ego. "You can stay any time."

"Any time?" your voice comes out almost a squeak how excited you are.

"We are literally open 24/7." he says after a pause and laughs, you slap his chest lightly and laugh too.

[shadowmaat]

This is all good information to consider, and the perspective of fostering as opposed to adopting would be a good one to explore more in depth.

While I agree that Din's role was "take care of the kid til I find the right people to raise him," and that this shares a lot in common with fostering, it obviously isn't a traditional set-up. There's no Agency to act as a middleman. No Agency to keep track of records and information. There's just Din.

And that's why I think the handover scene fell apart. Sure, from a cinematic perspective it's all cool and mysterious and brief. Luke swoops in, saves the day, and takes the kid.

But from a realism perspective I think exchanging names and comm codes would be the very least they could do. Even if Din fully plans on never seeing Grogu again. Even if Luke intends to raise and train Grogu in the ways of the Jedi. There are still likely to be questions Luke might need to ask. Does Grogu have any allergies? What's his vaccination status? He's telling me you let him eat five frogs for dessert, and he's so convinced of this I can't tell if he's lying. Is he?

Sure, Luke can get some information direct from Grogu, but he's limited both by what Grogu knows and what Grogu believes. Having another perspective would be useful.

Also, just because a kid gets adopted or goes back to their "real" family doesn't mean the foster parent has to sever all contact forever. That's something that usually gets worked out between the parties. By talking.

It was blatantly obvious that Din and Grogu shared a bond. The least Luke could have done was toss out a breadcrumb. Or explain why he didn't want to maintain contact. Telling Din (and Grogu) that Grogu needs to concentrate on his studies and can't afford any distractions would be a good one. Warning them that their bond is in danger of becoming a threat to them both and everyone around them (as evidenced by Grogu's misguided attempt to strangle Cara) would be great, too, and would emphasize the need for a permanent separation.

Otherwise I don't see the point of implying they'll never be allowed to see each other again. I could get behind a moratorium of, say, a year, to allow Luke to work with Grogu to strengthen his shielding and skills and so forth so that he'll know how to control himself, his emotions, and his bond with Din so that there won't be any danger in a visit/return. But permanent? Why? Canon Jedi lore is a bit of a nightmare to try and parse, but given that Jedi were allowed to go "home" to learn more of their culture, I think there's at least some wiggle room. It could also vary from person to person, rather than being a Temple-wide mandate. Not that it should matter since Luke is doing his own thing and isn't bound by whatever came before.

Anyway! I don't believe Luke "stole" Grogu. That's Sith propaganda right there. I do, however, think things could have been handled better. Even if TPTB hadn't handled it in the moment (and thus ruined all the dramatic tension), there could have been a filler scene showing Din and Luke (or more likely Din and Ahsoka) setting up some ground rules and going over some of the basics of the Care and Feeding of a Tiny Chaos Gremlin.

Favreau really said that Luke Fucking Skywalker is a baby snatcher. The ONE GUY who has never given a single blessed fuck about the jedi attachment rules. He would STEAL A BABY without bothering to leave a name or number to keep in touch with the baby’s dad.

[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

[bucksangel]

no feelin' in the firelight

pairing: chubby!alpha!bucky barnes x omega!reader

word count: 1.9k

summary: A normal Friday night turns into something so much more when Bucky asks if you remember the night you met.

warnings: the end is suggestive so 18+ only PLEASE and THANK YOU, omegaverse, true mates, love at first sight, proposals, this is just a whole lot of fluff, like there’s nothing but cavities here, some teasing but it’s out of love

masterlist | tip jar | ao3

a/n: this is one of the shortest things i’ve ever written but i’m in a bit of a funk with writing so i wanted to do something short and sweet, so here y’all go!

"Do you remember the night we met?" The deep timbre of Bucky's voice washes over you, blanketing you in its richness and warming you almost as much as the bonfire only a few feet away. A smile breaks across your face, and you can't help the quiet giggle that escapes your lips at the memory.

It was nearing seven, and the sky was shrouded in dark clouds, fat droplets of water pouring down from the heavens and soaking all of Brooklyn, forcing all its occupants to seek shelter. You'd been sitting at a table in the back corner of Irene's Diner for a few hours before the rain started and decided to wait out the storm while reading your newest find from the used bookstore nearby.

You were content to read in the silence of the empty shop with your food long since eaten and your second cup of coffee already halfway gone, but then the front door was nearly ripped off its hinges and the bell above it dinged wildly as someone entered. It was a man, an Alpha, who stood well over six feet tall. His biceps bulged against his sweater that was now soaked to his skin, his thighs looked to be suffocating in those jeans, and his belly, oh god his belly. So soft and round, and you could immediately envision yourself coming home from a long day at work to rest your head on the man's chest and feel his body pressing against yours to ease your worries.

He's the type of Alpha to make any Omega swoon, and you swooned. Oh, did you swoon. You swooned internally and, horrifyingly, externally as well. The high-pitched squeak you let out when his eyes met yours made you wish for the ground to open and swallow you whole. But, come on, one could arguably say that the Alpha was having a bad day, and yet he still looked and smelled like that. His scent - fresh cedar wood with a hint of floral - wasn't overpowered by the smell of the rain mixed with the grass that was freshly cut only hours before, like it should have been. Given the environment, you'd have been surprised that you could smell anything resembling his true scent if you didn't instinctively know why you could -

He's your mate. You know it. Just by smell alone, you know that he is your one true love.

And, judging by the look of shock and awe on the Alpha's face, you would assume he's thinking something similar about you.

"I do," You whisper back, fiddling with Bucky's fingers that rest on your stomach. It's a standard Friday night and you're laying in the hammock you have set up in your backyard, your back to Bucky's chest as you stare up at the stars, and a mischievous glint forms in your eyes. "I remember thinking you looked like a drowned kitten - hey!" You're cut off by your Alpha poking you in the side, breaking off into giggles as he tickles you some more until you're squirming enough to rock the hammock.

"Are you sorry now, 'mega?" Bucky asks cockily, and you can't see his face, but you know he's smiling - probably that dopey one he always wears when he looks at you. "Are you sorry for making fun of your Alpha?"

"No." It's true; he knows you're not sorry, and he knows you'll tease him again. Does he mind, though? Not one bit. He'll let you get away with saying just about anything if it means you keep talking to him with that soft tone and that sparkle in your eyes you reserve only for him.

"Here I was about to go on about how I knew you were my mate from the moment our eyes locked and you're teasing me," Bucky huffs, and you don't even try to stop your eyes from rolling. God, he's so dramatic.

"I'm teasing you because I love you." Immediately, Bucky deflates, and you can feel the unwavering love he has for you flowing through the bond at your declaration, which makes you settle in place as well.

"And I love you, my mate," Bucky says, nuzzling your temple with a soft smile.

Growing up hearing about bonds and mates had prepared you for meeting yours; you'd daydreamed about the perfect partner and planned out your futures by thirteen years old. Your parents had instilled in you that while you may be an Omega, you were no less deserving of love and respect than an Alpha, and that you should never settle for less than that. And while dating was a little difficult due to quite a bit of Alphas having more traditional views of relationships and designations, your parents never let you fall into their traps. You understand you're extremely lucky to have the parents you do, but after a while it seemed like you'd never meet an Alpha that would treat you the way they said you should be treated.

But then July 21st of 2022 came around, and the Alpha you and your parents always wanted for you came walking into your life, turning it upside down and going so far beyond what you expected out of a relationship that even after two years together, you're still not quite sure if Bucky is just a dream.

It hits you right then, the feeling of being loved and being in love with someone who has made a five-hour round-trip to get your parents and bring them to his house after theirs was damaged in a storm, letting them stay with you two until their place could get fixed.

You're in love with someone who volunteers at the local library, reading to the kids, even watching over them for a short time so their parents can get some shopping done in peace.

You're in love with a caring and selfless Alpha, who gives you anything you could ever want, and all he asks for in return is you.

You've always known you wanted to marry Bucky, so you're not sure why it feels like a revelation when it crosses your mind just now, but it does. It feels like new information, as though you haven't known you were going to spend the rest of your life with him from the moment he came up to your table, soaked and sheepish, letting you know that he doesn't mean to be a stereotypical Alpha but he has to let you know that you're beautiful and he also really loves the author whose book you're reading.

"Omega?" Bucky's gentle voice breaks you out of your thoughts, and you crane your neck to smile back at him.

"You know I'm going to marry you, right?" You don't know why you say it; it's just the first thing that comes to mind. But your Alpha's reaction to your sudden declaration doesn't disappoint.

"Well, currently, my only life plan involves being with you forever, so I can only hope you want to marry me too," Bucky chuckles, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. It's only brief, though, because you pull back and turn as much as you can so you can look into your Alpha's eyes.

"No, like..." You trail off, chewing on your bottom lip as you think over what to say. You're not sure what you want to say exactly, but when your mate is Bucky Barnes, it's a little hard to think of any words in any language that can properly convey how you feel. "I know we've talked about it a little, and that it's kind of a given since we're true mates. But, whether we're mates or not, I'd still choose to marry you. I'd still choose to love you even if fate tried to lie to me and say that you're not meant for me. I have our whole wedding planned out, too. What food we're going to have, the color schemes, I'm even thinking you can train Alpine to be the flower girl and carry a basket of roses down the aisle. Like, I've planned everything. I'm going to marry you, Bucky Barnes. I'm serious."

"And you think I'm not?" He asks, and even though there's a hint of playfulness in his tone, the look in his eyes brings tears to yours. He just looks so damn happy, and that's all you want for him; all you want is to make him feel as happy and loved as he makes you feel.

Bucky shuffles a little, removing one of his arms from around your body so he can dig into the pocket of his jeans. He has a determined look on his face; your brows furrow in confusion when he takes whatever he had in his pocket out of it, and his hand is large enough that it completely encompasses whatever it is.

"What is it, Buck?" You ask, bringing up your hands to cover his closed one. When he nods to your joined hands, he uncurls his fingers to reveal what he was holding - a small black box.

A small black box.

All of the air leaves your lungs, and you know what it holds without even having to look at it. That doesn't stop a few tears from running down your cheeks and a small squeak from leaving your lips when you see the gorgeous gold band nestled inside.

"Wha -"

"I told you I was serious," Bucky murmurs, using his free hand to take out the ring and set the box aside so he can also hold your left hand. "I didn't exactly have a plan on when I was going to propose; I figured I would just know when the time is right. I didn't have any intentions of it being tonight, but now I know that I have to do it now."

There's a lump in your throat, your head is spinning, and you have to pinch yourself because if this is a dream, then you want to wake up now before he asks, and then it all goes away.

But it doesn't go away; the dream doesn't fizzle out when you feel that sharp pain. You'll ask Bucky later to tell you again what he said leading up to his question because all you can hear right now is your own heartbeat pounding away with each new word that his lips form. It's all a haze until -

"Will you marry me?"

You barely let him get the question out before you're practically screaming "yes!" into the air, then dive down to capture his lips with yours. The kiss is frantic and a little messy, and it's never been more perfect because it's a kiss with Bucky, your mate, your Alpha, your soon-to-be-husband. And the kiss goes on and on, your tongues tangling with each other as you explore old territory as though it's for the first time until the need to breathe outweighs your desperation to show your Alpha how much he means to you.

"Yes," You breathe against his lips when you pull back. It takes a few moments of laughing and sniffling for both of you to settle back into your original positions, but when you do, you stare up at the stars with a newfound appreciation.

"So," Bucky says, wrapping his arms around you even tighter now as he plays with your fingers, "tell me, what's our wedding going to be like?"

You end up falling asleep outside that night, talking about the plans for the ceremony and the possible honeymoon destinations until your voice gets scratchy and you can barely keep your eyes open.

And if there are tears of happiness in Bucky's eyes the whole time, then, well, it's not like your eyes are dry either.

-

taglist: @lilyalone @crazyunsexycool @goldylions @yeehawbrothers @buckysprettybaby @buckyssweetheart @heytheredelulu @somnorvos @ozwriterchick @pxgeturner @gentlelimerence @myfavbuckyfics @justsebstan @brookeleclerc @fandoms-writings @pocolottie

[tinfoil-jones]

Jerk Ford AU: Silliness V

If you mean Watchdog Ford by @nowimjustastranger, whom is sometimes called "Guard Dog Ford" Those two aren't friends. They just happen to run into each other a statistically impossible amount of times in the multiverse.

Any and all reports that they've saved each other skin at least once, and hang out sometimes are just rumours spread by their mutual ally (ALLY not friend) the Anti-Ford.

If you mean Guard Ford from the AU by @skeptiql... it's their AU, I'm not imposing on it.

If there is a cosmic security guard out there monitoring the Fordverse, considering that all Jerk Ford does in the multiverse is be a total jerk to everyone and cause trouble (and then get banned from dimensions for the two aforementioned reasons), I imagine reactions to him are typically going to be:

He's not heinous, malicious, or evil, he's just a really big jerk for no good reason.

---

Me and @nowimjustastranger are in the process of proper crossover, don't worry.

In the meantime...

Pre-Weirdmageddon:

Jerk Ford: Watch, this is Stanley. Stanley, this is Watchdog Ford and Lee.

Watchdog Ford: ...

Lee: ...

Stan: Well heya pal. It's nice to see Stanford's made more friends! I knew he had it in him to be nice and compassionate.

Jerk Ford: Stanley, I swear to God.

Watchdog Ford:...You're-

Lee: You're tall.

Stan: *looks between Watchdog Ford and Jerk Ford in an exaggerated up-and-down to annoy his brother*

Stan: *to Watchdog Ford* So are you.

Lee: *grinning* Oh, we're going to get along just fine. Let's chat.

---

Watchdog Ford: You... You aren't suffering?

Stan: If you don't call grading two hundred student assignments without assistance suffering, then sure.

Lee: ...nothings wrong?

Stan: Right now, no. I did miss my brother for the thirty years he was gone. It wasn't easy... the townsfolk truly believed I murdered him, and thought that was a good thing. And then acted like I was wrong for missing him.

Lee: So everything went okay for you?

Stan: I don't know what to tell you, pal- excluding not having Stanford in my life for thirty years and the issues that comes with that, things are going fine. If I'm having trouble I can just ask someone for help, and if I have problems emotionally I have friends and family that would lend me an ear or two. Also, I am medicated and seeing a therapist for stuff.

Lee: ...

Meanwhile Jerk Ford is in the corner sipping from his #1 Big Brother mug, and Watchdog Ford gets suspiciously misty eyed.

[Dialogue primarily by @tearosepedall]

---

It's a misconception at that Jerk Ford does not experience empathy (or at least not any for anyone besides his twin brother). This misconception is one of the reasons why The Ford Hate Club is always tripped up by him - they don't understand him. They think he's unfeeling with little to no emotional intelligence.

He has a surprising amount of empathy, you can see in this post he even says that most other Fords do not hate their Stanley, what they really have is resentment.

Jerk Ford just uses that empathy to know how to get under peoples skin and really hurt their feelings. Can't hurt feelings very well if you don't know what they are or how they work!

What he does lack is compassion, as in he doesn't help, support, or uplift people. That's a Stanley thing.

---

Jerk Ford: Your attack misses.

Dipper: Misses?! With my bonuses I had a total of twenty-three to hit!

Jerk Ford: That doesn't even touch the monsters THAC0.

Dipper: THAC0? Great Uncle Ford, 3.5 Edition is over! It's armour class now!

Jerk Ford: I'm the DM, and I rule your attack misses.

Dipper: *flips the battlemap, forgetting that the infinity dice is there*

---

Jerk Ford had such a bad habit of getting engrossed into his research and study that he would overlook things like finances (and showering). Stanley managed the finances between himself and and his brother, and he did send money back to the family, not millions but it was something.

Jerk Ford also had most of the money because he had his grant, and also a few patents, but Jerk Ford only cared about anamolies and terrorizing humanity so money wasn't something he thought about very much as long as their basic needs were being met.

When he lived back in Glass Shard Beach with his family, however...

"We should go graffiti Pines Pawns."

"Hell no, dude."

"What, you scared of Old Man Pines?"

"Forget Old Man Pines, don't know know what his son did to Crampelter? We don't need to be on his sh*t list."

[rekino2114]

How about 3 with fem kaiser and male reader

I imagine she'd give you a blue rose bouquet

Fem!kaiser giving you a bouquet and chocolate

Valentine's prompt #3

Prompts list

Pairing:fem!Michael kaiser x male reader

A/n:my first Valentine's Day post, and it's with one of my favorite characters to write for

"I-i'm sorry ma'am but we don't carry-"

"Tch"

Kaiser didn't even let the florist finish her sentence, a sentence that she had heard way too many times in a day. She hated when people repeated things to her, especially if it was something she didn't want to hear

"I should have expected that, this place is so trashy anyway"

The woman she was speaking to wanted to say something, but she knew better than to talk back to one of germany's most famous and important football players and people in general which was currently looking at her like she could buy this entire store 5 times and still have enough money to afford the incredibly expensive box of chocolates she was holding, which was actually very true

Kaiser sighed and simply walked outside of the store, not saying anything else. She sat on a bench inside of the mall she was in and ran a hand through her hair sighing even more heavily, she knew she fucked up and this was all just her fault.

She knew she shouldn't have waited until the last day to try to get the bouquet, but she was overconfident just like she was in football except that there her skills backed her confidence up but in this occasion there was no skill she could make use of, just the unpredictable mechanism of luck.

Unlike most holidays (Christmas especially), Michelle actually likes Valentine's day, sure it's cheesy and corny, but she can't deny that ever since she started dating you, she has become a bit cheesy and corny herself, giving you a blue rose bouquet every month with a note entitled to "my emperor💙" constantly showering you in praise and compliments and still using pick up lines even after years of dating but that's what feeling love for the first time ever does to a person. Kaiser loved you, and you deserved nothing short of perfection....which was exactly why she was disappointed that she couldn't give it to you today.

Her usual blue rose supplier had gotten sick and couldn't do his job. She was about to tell him to get up and do it anyway since she would still play a match while sick, but she didn't want to be that mean on a day about love so she just hung up without saying anything and went to look for blue roses in basically all of Munich's flower shops.

Of course, she knew that blue roses were very rare and literally unobtainable in nature. That's the whole reason why she got the tattoo in the first place, but what else could she have done? Give you normal roses? As if! She was the blue rose empress, that was literally her symbol. She wanted to get you blue roses so that every time you looked at them, you would think of her.

Her thoughts were interrupted by her phone ringing. When she took it out of her pocket, she was relieved to see it was you calling her and not someone else to bother her even more.

"Hello, what is it schatz?"

"Hi Michelle, noa wanted me to ask you why you didn't come at practice today"

"Oh, I'm just shopping"

".....really, for what? You usually just send ness to do it or go with me"

".......well-"

"Speaking of ness, where is he? He didn't come either"

"Yeah......i sent him to buy something too"

"So.....you two are trying to buy the same thing but you're not together?"

"......yeah"

"....it must be important"

"It is"

"I see well I'll just tell noa you're busy and not bother you anymore, love you bye"

"Thanks, love you too"

The conversation kaiser had just finished made her feel even more guilty. You were just so sweet and perfect. The roses and chocolates you had given her this morning had already proven it to her among the mountains of other things you did for her.

You knew she didn't like receiving gifts, that she genuinely wouldn't have known how to react, but you still did it, simply telling her that it was just because of tradition and she didn't have to get you anything, but she wanted to, she wanted to get those damn blue roses.

She gritted her teeth as her anger rose. Why today of all days? Somehow, not being able to give you what you deserved felt even worse than getting a goal blocked by isagi

*ring ring*

"What is it?"

This time kaiser didn't even try to hide her frustration at however was on the other side of the phone

"K-kaiser, I found the roses"

"Finally! Where are they?"

"I-it's just-"

"Listen ness, I don't care what's happening there, I'll get the roses even if I have to kill someone to have them"

"But it's 800 euros for a bouquet"

"......ok and?"

"Isn't that......super expensive?"

"Yes and wildly overpriced. Like i told you, I'm getting those roses no matter what ,plus it's not actually that much for me, I can make that back in a match if I play well, and I always do"

"........o-ok"

After going to get the roses, kaiser and Ness went back to the bastard münchen building and were greeted by noa scolding them for not attending practice which Michelle mostly ignored as she told the magician to tell you to come to her room later.

"Hey babe, what-"

You gasped as the first thing you saw when you opened the door was kaiser holding a blue rose bouquet, smiling at you

"Happy valentine's day schatz"

"You didn't have to do this you know?"

"Yes, but I wanted to. You do so much for me. I would have felt terrible not giving you anything back"

She kissed you, wrapping her arms around you and guiding you to her large bed, where she placed the bouquet and opened the chocolate box

"Want some?"

The chocolates all looked amazing....and expensive, some of them had golden wrappers or phrases like I love you written on the chocolates themselves

"How much did this cost?"

"Please schatz don't worry about that"

She grabbed one of the chocolates with her fingers and held it out to you

"Do you need me to feed it to you~"

"I certainly wouldn't complain about that"

You opened your mouth as kaiser fed you the chocolates, you swallowed it, and your eyes lit up at how tasty it was

"So good!"

"Of course, I made sure they were all your favorite flavors. My emperor only deserves the best"

"What did i do to deserve you?"

"Just.....loving me"

Kaiser got close to you once again and hugged you. You hugged back as you let yourself fall on the bed with her on top of you. She kissed you passionately another time and continued kissing your face, leaving blue lipstick marks on it

"I love you so much schatz"

"Me too, I love you so so much"

Kaiser's smile widened as she moved to your right, hugging you even tighter. You were now fully cuddling on the bed

"Should I add the bouquet to the ones you always give me"

"If you want, I'd say this one is special, though. It cost me a lot, both in money and effort"

"Awww and you still brought it for me, you're so sweet"

"It's nothing, I'd do anything for you"

With those final words, kaiser kissed your forehead as you two continued to cuddle in silence. Her love warmed you up as you felt her heartbeat, which you knew was beating for you, the only person who showed kaiser love, her boyfriend, teammate, emperor, soulmate and now her valentine.

[erinwantstowrite]

you reposted a video of trump saying “you want me to go swimming”

and i just want to take a moment to recognize how actually insane that is.

like that’s how our president responds to tragedy? with no empathy?

the presidents role is to be the face and voice of america and her people, and for every loss of life, for every tragedy, and for all the pain her people must go through, the president must feel it. that is a heavy burden, but it is one our president must carry. our president represents us. there should be a level of class, of respect, and dignity in a president, that our current president does not fulfill

he is a sorry excuse for a leader, a role model, a human being, he is above all, a pathetic man who should not have the privilege of speaking for america and her people.

and even if you agree with his harmful policy’s, how dare you let our voice be so callous about lost lives? about children? it is disgusting. a president should have a level of poise when they speak, strong encouraging words instead of unintelligible insults

and the tiniest bit of hope i had, the smallest shred that this wasn’t all bad, has been ruined and tarnished, because excuse me for thinking that perhaps our leader would respond with even the smallest bit of empathy instead of placing blame everywhere else

he makes me sick.

THIS!!! EXACTLY!!!

(i promise this anecdote below is relevant to this bear with me)

when i was in high school, i was part of a very very good band program. there were a lot of talented people and we managed to take up a huge chunk of the school population. it was guaranteed to have at least two band kids in a class, and this was a AAA school. this is important because our reputation as band kids... was that we were always going to be the best students you had. not because of grades, but because of character. the same went for the many programs that we went to. if we were at a district competition, we were quiet when we had to be, we cheered for other bands, we would lend our equipment, etc etc. i can't think of any instances not only in my time there but before or after where people would groan when they thought about us coming to their event. because there were no incidences that made people think twice about inviting us

how we got that kind of reputation? my band directors built an environment in the band where we wanted to do great. "character, commitment, competence, capacity" were the 4 C's that were put on the wall. this is the best example that I could find, where I think communication and commitment are the same:

every student took up a leadership role even if you weren't handed a title like "drum major" or "section leader". we learned about how to represent ourselves and the people in our community, and we were proud of that. like yeah we might have sounded like a bunch of fucking nerds, but it was a good place to be.

often we heard adults wondering how the hell our band directors managed such a feat. it was such a large band that there should have been at least one group of teenagers that acted out or something. but that was incredibly (and i mean incredibly) rare, and were never so bad that it couldn't be immediately fixed.

it was possible because we had good role models!!

our band directors worked with every teacher on campus, brought us to community events, they had food drives and toy drives, etc etc. they were funny but they knew when to get work done, they created a space where we felt comfortable with them and wanted to make them proud.

i don't see anything like that when i see Trump, nor do i see it in people that voted for him. his Character is not just rude but nasty. his attitude towards the people he's supposed to be representing and caring about was absolutely intolerable. when asked if he cared about the lives of these people (WHO BY THE WAY, DIED MINUTES AWAY FROM WHERE HE IS RESIDING), he was a snarky fucking brat. he was childish and replied with THAT? "You want me to go swimming?"

I'M SORRY??

that was the most WILD, out of line shit i have heard him say in a minute. that was blatant disrespect on the lives of the people that were lost, their families that have to live with the grief for the rest of their lives, and to the American people that were hoping something would be said to comfort and ease our minds.

his statement was read off of a paper that someone else 100000% wrote for him. and then he went out of his way to say that DEI is responsible for it?????? THE DEI??????

you know why he said that shit? because it was his fault! he is directly responsible for air traffic control not having enough people that night. he fired 100 FAA senior officials, there was the hiring freeze that HE demanded, the Aviation Safety committee was disbanded, demanded for existing employees to leave, offered the buy it out. and then that plane went down- the worse air collision in the US in 16 years.

he can't take responsibility. he won't do that, because he would have to admit that it was his fault. that's a pretty trick that narcissists love to do. they come up with excuse after excuse for why something couldn't be their fault, it always has to lie with someone else. and he chose to blame... diversity?

the thing that really gets me about this DEI shit is that most of these people will argue that we need to get rid of it because people should be hired for their merit and not because of the color of their skin or gender. THAT'S WHY THE DEI EXISTS. because if it DIDN'T, only white men would be hired- for the color of their skin, because of their gender, and NOT because of their merit. diversity in our workplaces is how we end up being able to see different perspectives. the US is a melting pot of cultures and that's supposed to be a beautiful thing. the fact that we are still having arguments about it is because there are still people in power who do not want us being unified as a nation. they directly benefit from us believing that "the black man/ the latino man/ the white man" are the enemy. the enemy isn't the person who looks or acts different to you, the enemy are the people who are supposed to be representing us that are only acting out of their best interests.

Trump will never admit that he was wrong about something. It's not in his character. He is not a giving, caring man, who wants the best for the people. He is a lying, cheating, scum of the earth that sits on a "throne" built on the backs of people that do the work for him and who he has divided using hate and envy, then he props his feet up on a footstool made of his ugly pride, and he sticks his big fat thumb in his mouth, taking up all the room for that silver spoon.

He has no commitment to us as the people (even the ones that voted for him) nor to the people also in power that are loyal to him. I believe that in no time at all, he's going to get greedy and they're going to eat him alive, because Trump isn't even smart enough for any of this, there's someone else pulling the strings. He is an incompetent man child with no accountability for his actions, he has failed nearly every business that he touched and only has his money because of what his family had built before him. And he has no capacity for greatness nor does he have critical thinking skills. He props his words up with fluffy decorations and lies right through his teeth, and the people that voted for him are lapping it up like dogs starved. People are about to find out real fucking quick that Trump has been playing it easy and using the benefits of other people's work before him to make himself look good.

And they're not even going to get their eggs.

[breadvidence]

Why each Jean Valjean can't fuck. And yet...

The Brick: The first time you come on to the man, he smiles. The next time, he gives you money (hey, you're not too proud). Then? He ghosts you. So much for physical prowess; the two of you never made it to first base. Whether out of choice, trauma, or authorial fetish, the man's a committed virgin. And yet... you have to admit, the sweet memories of how those muscles looked during the whole cart debacle have done more for your alone-time than some in-person performances.

'34: The strength, the money, the air of dignity—he's got the same appeal as the original, and if he embodies his sadness with the aesthetic of a melting candle, well, that's a phallic-adjacent image, ain't it? Awful shame he's just as caught up in his penance and his duty, too. With a sorrowful (if somewhat aggrieved) shrug, he's off to the sewers, and that's not any kind of euphemism. And yet... you've seen how he can balance a guy on his back and not bat an eyelash. A person has got to wonder about natural talent.

'35: You think you can get between him and that young woman he raised, do you? And yet... if you did, that's a lot of built-up frustration, isn't it? And he's mediocre handsome; maybe it's all a matter of how lonely the night is.

'48: You hear he's into this identity play, right? Well, you appreciate a man who can play a role. From all you've heard, it'll be as explosive as an inexplicable outbreak of violence in a foundry. He takes out a cane—hell, yeah. Then a pair of sunglasses—well, maybe—no—is he pretending to be blind?—is this ableist—?—you're pretty sure—good grief, this hasn't gone in a direction you expected. And yet... you know he got another guy to enter a hole despite there being zero sense to the thing; maybe the same will happen to you.

'52: There are men who could fuck if they could learn to appreciate what they've got, and this one can't; multiple boyfriends in the wings and what's he got eyes on? That young woman he raised. And yet... something makes Robert come home every night, doesn't it?

'58: What's he look like? what's he say, or do? You can't quite remember. You keep forgetting to add him to your body count. And yet... you can't actually say he can't fuck, with the memory so vague.

'67: This fuckin' party time rolls down the tracks until it drinks too heavy and falls right off. You can't even call it bad so much as absurd, but you can only go so far off-script before it's certainly not good. And yet... how many friends have you told about it, eh?

'72: Fucking a glacier would be a less chilly experience. And yet... he'll give you the silent disappointed daddy look the whole time, if that's your kind of thing.

'78: This fella's wearing a promise ring for someone else. Or, a sacred vow ring? In any case, he's pretty sure all that sweating and grimacing would be bad for his skin. And yet... there's a clueless virgin trope in a certain kind of fiction for a reason, right?

'98: His belief in worker ownership of the means of production and strong ACAB stance might get you in the mood, but this Valjean hasn't gotten to the point in his politics where he's unpacked the impact of heterosexism on his ability to express vulnerability, by which I mean he's absolutely not going down on you. And yet... he survives the story and still has time to learn and grow, and it's hard to beat a sugar daddy who hands out company shares.

'00: No. And yet... no.

'07: The impediment of being a cartoon aside, makes it real hard to be skilled when his mustache mostly stands in for his mouth. And yet... the potential of cartoon physics, am I right?

'12: With that little fluid in his body the only flag this babe's raising is at low tide in a dry-dock. And yet... your nostalgia does a lot to shine a positive light on the performance he can muster.

'18: I've seen what it looks like when he roars into a mattress and can tell you not to bother; nobody's that frustrated who's been having a good time, and he'll pass the energy along. And yet... maybe I would have a different opinion if I'd been viewing him from behind?

[darkfictionjude]

OH BY GODS THAT ENDING FUCK ME I WAS THINKING ABOUT COMING HERE TO COMPLAIN ABOUT HOW BROKE UP MY HEART WAS AFTER LORCAN DISMISSED CROWNY AND ASK YOU WHAT IS THE KINDEST ROMANCE ROUTE BECAUSE I CAN'T TAKE LORCANS ANGST ANYMORE (not without some fluffy in between) BUT THAT ENDING GOD DAMMIT JUDE WHAT A WAY TO END WITH A B A N G!

Perfection, just 🤌

... but without screaming this time, could you please kindly rank the kindest to roughest (?) romance routes - separating kind/antagonize? I really need a break from Lorcan abandoning us at the dance floor 😭 (when I saw the "me and you" line I knew Crowny was COOKED, BWAH)

Also, I don't think I realized how fucked up everyone was until now. Yeah I know, sHoCkInG, but when Irme admitted he knew about James stunt and did nothing? Not nice man, not nice. No one coming after them to see if they were okay after? Can't blame Lorcan, he hates our guts, but Nia is/was Crowny's BFF... should mean something right? And everyone calling debts on each other in the library? Also fantastic, I love fights (I don't, but do). I don't know how friendship points make that interactions different (do they?) cause every opportunity I have I go to that sweet little red heart in Lorcan's scenes (and he still hates me 😭😂)

Hmmmm so let me see. Kindest is Nia friendly, then Lorcan friendly, then Imre friendly. Then it’s Nia antagonistic, Lorcan and Imre

What’s interesting about you saying you didn’t realize it is that another reader kind of said the same thing too on the itchio comment section. It was surprising to me to see the surprise hahah cause I thought it was obvious this was coming since every time these four are together they fight. The first time they don’t is in this episode when they’re costume shopping. I feel like they didn’t go after crowny because they don’t know how to comfort them all of them are kind of bad at it 😭 they probably thought it was best to leave crowny alone as a way to not make it worse? Not the best method ofc

I’ll give you some hope. Lorcan doesn’t really hate crowny any more. I don’t think he’s realized it yet but his actions (when you don’t mention his parents, orla) show he doesn’t dislike crowny’s presence

So yeah their way of showing the have crowny’s back is either killing James and/or helping crowny not go to prison cause they willing got involved in something that could fuck up their lives too. I think it counts a lot that none of them hesitated to get rid of the evidence there was no “crowny killed him it’s not my business” or “we should call the police” they were ride or die. If that doesn’t show loyalty I don’t know what does

[utstarscream]

An analysis and comparison of a specific scene from the episode "Rebellion":

ML Megatron: Get up, Starscream. We just got started. I will not let this end here... So try and defeat me, Starscream! Do you realize what this is about? It's not just about the Star Saber -- if you beat me, you become the Supreme Commander of the Destrons. All the Destron armies of the universe will be yours! That's the prize you're reaching for right now. So don't think we can just end it like this. [throws Starscream to the ground] Hadn't thought about it? No, you don't get to say that. Is that as far as your ambition will go? Is this ambition of yours nothing but overconfidence?!

Armada Megatron: At least fight like a Cybertronian, because what you're doing is pathetic. This time it's a fight to the finish and I won't accept any of your lame excuses. Do you understand me, you worthless grunt? I hope you understand what's at stake here; the Star Saber and Supreme Command of the Decepticons go to the winner. Why, you could rule the universe if you're victorious. There is no greater prize and this is your one chance to attain it. So don't blow it, dolt. [throws Starscream to the ground] But just remember this, Starscream -- I won't show you mercy. You will be an example to my men, to prevent any further insubordination!

The biggest differences between Micron Legend and Armada here are the insults ("worthless grunt," "dolt") that were added in Armada; and also that Armada Megatron says he will make Starscream an example to prevent anyone else from rebelling, which doesn't seem to be something that ML Megatron is concerned about.

Starscream rises up in rage and manages to land a few good blows on Megatron. The other Decepticons start wondering why Megatron isn't using the Star Saber, and Double Face suddenly remembers what Megatron said earlier when they were alone in the throne room:

"But he is an important subordinate to me."

Double Face then realizes that Megatron never intended to use the Star Saber on Starscream to begin with, because Megatron doesn't want to kill him.

This line was one the biggest, biggest failings of the Armada translation, because in Armada, Megatron had said:

"Starscream has forced me to make an example of him."

Which is then followed by Sideways' realization (somehow) about Megatron never planning to use the Star Saber against Starscream. But this realization does not flow naturally from Megatron's earlier comment, unlike in ML. The scene simply... doesn't make sense, not without busting out the pretzel logic again.

Megatron gains the upper hand again and Starscream is pummeled to the ground, again. The young challenger acknowledges defeat and asks for a quick death as Megatron picks up the Star Saber and shoves its gleaming point into his face.

ML Megatron: Is that all? Why are you giving up? Plead for your life; beg for my forgiveness! But you can't bring yourself to do so, can you, because of your pathetic pride. That's your weakness! Use any dirty means possible to win -- think only of victory! Do so, and an opportunity will eventually present itself. Ambition that takes a back seat to pride is nothing I need fear. If I'm your true objective, you may challenge me at any time. One day, you just might defeat me.

Armada Megatron: You're giving up. I expected more of you -- at least beg me to spare your worthless life. Or is your foolish pride getting in the way of even that, Starscream? Well, is it? Your problem is you have a conscience -- you don't have the stomach to finish the fight because you play by the rules. Well then, you'll never come out on top, Starscream. I understand your weaknesses and that's why I'm the victor and you lay there like a whimpering dog. I'm always open to a challenge, soldier. And one day, you might defeat me.

In both dubs, Megatron encourage Starscream to act like a sniveling coward so that he might surpass him one day, but Armada Megatron is so unnecessarily rude. Also, Sideways' realization makes ZERO sense in Armada, but hey, this is a rushed dub, so...

[temporary-joyride]

Thoughts I am Thinking about after Bridon finale

In love with the frame of unimpressed LG and distressed CXS after the latter thinks his friend signed him up for sex work

Episode name fits. A perplexing one indeed.

"Why is it every time you look at me you have this murderous intent in your eyes?" is such a killer line I love it

The whiplash I got from Vein speaking perfectly normal Chinese only to bust out "what a pity!' in the most British accent ever

No way it means literally anything but I just found it interesting how Vein and LX say the same phrase in this ep. Different circumstances, same conclusion. What a pity.

"They say she can see right through someone in just 5 minutes" really great psychologist? Ranpo-level detective? Got some sort of other supernatural shenanigans running amuck? Only time will tell

THINKING SO HARD ABOUT "I know I can't stop you. But I can make you stay a little longer" SHAKING LINK CLICK BY ITS SHOULDERS- WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT? WHAT EXACTLY DOES HE MEAN BY THAT???

The FUCK do you know, LG? It's ok you can tell me

So much to talk about but I'm 100% caught up on this. "But I can make you stay a little longer" I'm gonna leave the Xia Fei and CXS mom stuff to you guys, I'll take care of this one and think about it every waking second for the next two weeks dw

Allowing CXS an extra few moments to connect with his mom? Mmmmm sure. It's not like CXS promised to drop it all and not get anyone else involved, not like LG would have any way of knowing mother and son were talking unless son broke that promise

Genuinely not even joking I thought LG was trying to delay Vein by a few moments to get him hit by a bus or something

What exactly happened is even crazier. What was that, man. What was that. My guy's doing voodoo over here when did he learn that.

"I don't want to change the past. I just want to lead us all to a new future.." not entirely sure those statements are all that different but go off

LG screwed as hell Xia Fei was so serious about finding his boss's killer.

Or... non-killer? How long do you think until he learns Vein is still alive?? Imagine Xia Fei killing CXS in their photo studio in Vein's stead. Picture it. I'm having a vision here.

Pretty fun season but maybe a little awkward? Perhaps just because of the fandom on tumblr but I feel like I was so freaking immersed s1&2 but Bridon felt so silly at times I couldn't take it seriously

hrnngh one timeline, he says. over and over. what does it all mean. how does fate play out. if we're looping only one timeline multiple times then why does it feel like it's slipping through my fingers. the clock is melting right here in my palm. ripples in the stream at my feet. im not sure where the present even is anymore-

time's up!

[a-not-so-clean-blog]

Nu carnival markings ♦️

Yakumo

You'll have to ask a few times before you'll do anything. The only stipulation is no biting. He's so afraid his teeth will be too sharp. That he'll hurt you. That you'll hate him for it. So he leaves soft hisses until you give him those big puppy eyes he's weak to. Then he'll give you hickeys. Tiny ones that last maybe 3 days, and peppers them all over. He makes them easy to hide if you want, but he blushes every time he sees one.

Edmond

You have to BEG him to mark you. Eventually he will give in. You don't even have to be in the bedroom when your nagging finally makes him snap. He grabs your forearm tight, and brings your wrists up. Chomping down to leave a mean looking mark right on your pulse point. He sounds angry, scolding you for harassing a knight on duty, but you can see the slight pink on his ears as he suppresses a blush.

Olivine

Any marks he leaves on you are completely accidental. Mostly bruises from his fingertips. He's so strong that sometimes in the heat of the moment he can't help but grab a little too hard. If he sees the marks while you're still fucking he'll mumble dumbly about how beautiful they look on you. His voice reverent. Though if he notices them after, his post nut clarity will make him feel so guilty. He will kiss each one to make them feel better.

Quincy

He doesn't usually let himself get carried away enough to mark you. However, on the rare occasion that he does, you're going to have a massive bite mark on your throat. Not the meaty parts. I mean throat. One set of teeth on either jugular, with your windpipe in between. He loves it. You look so good bearing his mark. Like it fulfills something so primal and pure inside him. He'll leave bites in other places too. Convenient places where he doesn't get a chance to think before chomping down. Your shoulder, maybe your leg as it's hooked over his shoulder, your hand that was resting on his shoulder a moment ago…

Kuya

He will be that jerk who leaves a hickey right under your jawline. Super visible and impossible to hide. He does it to annoy you mostly. Now, if somehow he gives in to that urge to mark an actual claim on you, you won't notice him bite the base of your nape, but you'll feel it every time you move your head. A constant reminder, subtle as it is. He'll deny it means anything. Unfortunately the only ones who will know what it really means are Quincy and Karu, so he's a little cautious when they come around. Not that you notice the slight edge he gets because he hides it so well. He can't have you knowing just how much you mean to him.

Blade

He read in a book that people bite the crux of the neck and shoulder. So he does. Not hard, but with shark teeth like his it really doesn't take much to leave a deep mark. He likes watching hickeys turn colors on your skin. Says it's so pretty! And that the sounds you make are so cute! Of course he thinks it's cute. This is still Blade we're talking about.

Garu

Scratches all down your back. His teeth ache to sink into you, but he's so scared to hurt you. Instead leaving thin red marks like rivers on the landscape of your back. Maybe some on your chest. Or really anywhere that he grabs for purchase.

Karu

Anywhere he can. Seriously. It's part of his wolf nature to want to mark and claim his mate. Lots of bites of varying depth and location. Some are even hard enough to draw blood. He'll lick the wounds clean later, or at least Garu will. He's so proud when you walk around with his bites visible, and gets mad when you try to cover them up. Seriously, don't try to cover all of them unless you want him jealous and giving you more in spots you can't hide.

Dante

He won't leave any marks on you until he is smitten, but of course he will never admit it. So one day when he's sucking your fingers so he can watch you prep yourself, he just gives a little nibble. Okay, maybe not little. Hard enough to leave a deep imprint of his teeth around the base of your ring finger. He claims it means nothing, but every time he looks at it his stomach twists with the words he wishes he could say.

Rei

He doesn't really have a preference where he marks you. So for a while he'll mark multiple spots. See where you like it best. Eventually he does enjoy it. The way it makes you gasp and squirm. The way your fingers ghost over the marks for days after. Who would have thought something so small could get so many interesting reactions.

Eiden

Can't go wrong with a classic hickey on the collar bone! He's respectful enough to ask before leaving anything in a visible location, but once he gets permission he gets that fucking smirk on his face. He's so teasing with it. Licking and asking if this is where you want the next one. Going so agonizingly slow. Afterwards he massages the areas so it doesn't hurt as much. He likes the action of marking rather than the marks themselves.

Aster

Bites on the neck? I mean, yeah. That kinda comes with the territory of being a vampire. He's less territorial than some of the others, and says he doesn't care if you cover up his marks. While it's true he may not be as possessive as say Dante, Kuya, or Karu, he still gets fussy when you intentionally cover his bites. Makes him feel like you're rejecting him in an intimate way that he doesn't really understand or want to confront.

Morvay

He LOVES leaving hickeys on your upper inner thighs, and your lower stomach. Framing his favorite part of your body. He likes being the only one to see all the marks, but he also loves when your shirt rides up and he, and others, just get a tiny peek at the marks he left on you.

[hbpseverus]

at this point i just find it so ridiculous how often this fandom talks about the infamous boggart scene. i mean, if you ask any snape hater for reasons why they don't like him, chances are they will say "well because he was nevilles biggest fear!!" and it's so funny because by doing that you're kind of missing the entire reason why this scene exists.

the point of this scene was to show that all of the students in harrys year had completely normal, childlike fears: spiders, bad grades, and yes, scary teachers. these are ordinary fears that many readers can relate to themselves. all of us have been scared of a spider or a strict teacher at some point in our lives. these fears are not some kind of serious, debilitating, life-long trauma. which is shown in the way neville himself is hesitant to admit that he is scared of snape, because he knows it's a bit silly, and he laughs about it. it was quite literally never that serious to even neville himself!

these normal fears the other kids, like neville, have are there to show us the contrast to harry, who has experienced actual lasting trauma and whose boggart has a much bigger impact on him, which is why lupin decided to step in for him. you straight up can't compare nevilles fear of snape to this, because it's nowhere near as serious as harrys trauma. but in the way many readers talk about this scene, suddenly every boggart represents life-altering trauma. and sorry, but that's just. plain wrong. you are misinterpreting it.

furthermore i'd also argue that nevilles boggart being snape was never meant to give us any deeper insight into his character anyway. it was meant to be comedy. because snape, the evil brooding scary teacher, is suddenly wearing a dress and a silly hat. it's supposed to be funny, not something to (badly) over-analyze as some fundamental aspect of nevilles character. it's just, haha snape in a dress, funny! oh no harry is having a panic attack. end scene.

now, i won't pretend like i'm the #1 biggest neville fan or that i care deeply about his character (i think he's cool but i'm not obsessed with him, you know?). but even so i feel like it honestly does injustice to his character to constantly only bring up this scene. he has much more defining traits than being scared of snape as a kid. hell, in 7th year he is actively going behind snapes back (well, he thinks he is) to run a secret anti voldemort organisation and he is honestly fucking badass and clearly couldn't care less about headmaster snape. he overcame his fear and grew so much as a character, i don't believe it's fair to wash him down to that one trait. just like it's not really fair to erase all of snapes good deeds because he was some kids boggart. i'm not saying children should be scared of their teachers. but i am saying that this little boggart scene shouldn't be considered a character defining moment for either snape or neville. it was never meant to be that.