#and like if i really tried i could actually get what i want

[andhumanslovedstories]

I am not closely following the election results tonight, but I am occasionally seeing flashes of them out of the corner of my eye. The most obvious sign that things aren’t going well right now is the complete lack of celebrating on my dash. I know what tumblr looks like when it’s happy. Maybe I’ll go to bed tonight and see something different in the morning. I hope to god that is the case. But I’m thinking about the way I’m thinking right now, and I want to get some stuff down before the future kicks in.

In 2016 I was in a period of my life I affectionately refer to as as my fuckup era. I wasn’t even fucking up really. More just chilling out and falling short of the vague expectations I’d had about what I was supposed to be doing after I graduated college. While my friends from college rented apartments in the city and got jobs that didn’t supply you with a uniform shirt, I lived at home and worked as a barista at a fancy movie theater. That’s a real job you can do for almost five years. I didn’t have a clue what the back half of my twenties should look like. The only long term plan I had in my life was moving out west with my best friend, and my plan for finding a job once I was out there was basically to cross my fingers and hope.

Those days weren’t bad on the whole, but it felt like I was not actually living a life so much as I was goofing off in the waiting room. Sometimes that felt embarrassing, sometimes it felt fun, and sometimes it felt like I was completely pointless to the world.

On 2016’s Election Day, I went to bed early. After watching the votes come in, I needed the night to be over. I woke in a world that felt different than it had been the night before—not just in the actuality of who would be president but down to its foundations. I realized for the first time how much hope I’d had in human nature because now I didn’t feel it anymore. It’s almost silly when I think about it—so many horrible things had already happened that year, people had done horrible things as long as there have been people, and I didn’t think I was naive to that—but something clicked into place that morning.

It felt the same way my world had changed a year earlier, in 2015 during my last semester of college. My college victory lap felt like a prolonged downward spiral. Very early in the morning on a Monday, after pulling an all-nighter and overwhelmed by self-loathing that I could not just motivate myself to work on a paper that had been my only thought all weekend, I self-harmed for the first time in a way that was impossible to pretend it was anything else. Earlier that weekend, I’d tried staving off the urges drawing or writing on my arm, something that did (and does) usually work. I’d written this quote in silver sharpie on my forearm: “Good is not a thing you are. It's a thing you do.”

I picked that quote from the Ms. Marvel comics and liked the words so much, I thought that I wouldn’t be willing to purposefully mess it up by hurting myself there. Didn’t work. They just made me feel more ashamed of myself as I did it.

That was the worst I had ever felt. Then, on the Friday of that week, a friend of mine was senselessly, brutally murdered.

It doesn’t feel now like there was ever a time before her death. My memoir class is now where I wrote about her. My favorite professor is now the one who held me as I cried. My final thesis, the culmination of my history degree, never got finished and certainly never got polished. I turned it what I had and got an A minus. Sometimes I think of rereading that paper to see if that’s the grade it actually deserved. We hadn’t been the closest friends, but my name was still on the email admin sent to professors, listing students who might be emotionally affected by this tragic event. Grace’s murder hangs over every memory I have with her and everything she ever touched. It feels like its own type of obliteration to leave her reduced to her death.

Grace wanted to be a lawyer because she believed in justice and also liked arguing. She could be rude when she wasn’t interested in what you were saying. When you caught her attention, you felt like the most fascinating person in the room. She was so proud of being Jewish. I watched her become proud of being gay. She was so universally friendly that it took me a year to realize that she actually liked specifically me. She had a somewhat silly laugh and an astonishingly luminous smile.

I thought less of the world and the people in it because of how she died. Trump’s election in 2016 felt like that.

After he won, I left stasis. From November through December, I thought harder about my future than I ever had before. Who did I want to be? What did I most value? What did I think was worth protecting? What work wouldn’t kill me to do? At one point, in presumably a fit of madness, I thought, “what if I got into politics.” Epiphany eventually hit me. By the time of Trump’s inauguration, I was already enrolled at community college, getting my pre-reqs for nursing school.

Now it’s election night again, eight years later. I live on the west coast with my best friend, in a house that we bought together. I work as a nurse in a hospital in a city where there are homeless encampments off every highway and someone begging for change on every corner. Meanwhile, there’s Palestine. Meanwhile there’s Sudan. Meanwhile refugees drown in the sea and border patrol shoots jugs of water. Even hurricanes have human cruelty now.

I don’t think people are inherently good or the universe inherently kind. But I am very good at tricking myself into thinking it for a little while, and when I do, I can remember the a specific feeling from Friday of my senior year, from that morning in November— how fucking hard the disappointment hit me because I had expected people to be better than this. It makes me want to be better than that.

I believe, and hope that I always will, that we can make a better world. I don’t know what it looks like, but I think I will see it in my lifetime. Those of us who can believe such things owe a bit of that naïveté to the world—not to excuse atrocities or think them impossible but to believe that we can stop them at all. You have to have a couple people sprinkled around who are genuinely shocked when people do bad things. It’s not that the pessimists are wrong, but you need the occasional counterbalance. I want to be a reasonable cynic’s pleasant surprise.

Every shift, I interact with people at their lowest and worst. I see the direct pipeline from pain to anger to violence, and how fragile that pipeline can be. So many situations can be changed by things as small as a warm blanket or a kind word. Violence can be quite easy to avert. Crises can be quite simply to resolve. Even when I know that whatever I do that shift will not change the circumstances of a person’s life, I think that what I do that shift still matters.

I’m lying in bed, writing this post instead of looking at the news. I wonder how tonight will change me. Been thinking about what I’ll do if Trump wins. Been thinking about how whatever I think I need to do under Trump will still need to be done if Harris clutches out a victory. I guess this is a pessimist’s optimism: to a degree the election doesn’t matter. Good is not a thing you are. It is a thing you do. Our better world will always take a lot of work.

But please god please, why can’t it be just a little easier to do it?

[itaipava]

— little hints f1 boys would give that they have a crush on you.

˒ ⌕ LANDO NORRIS

he is interested in all your passions and hobbies: even if it is something he knows little about, he’ll ask you about your passions or things you like to do to have more to talk about with you and to get to know you even better. he also likes to research on the internet and send you videos that he finds about your favorite topics and, when you least expect it, he will start conversations about it, leaving you surprised but happy to know that he puts a lot of effort into connecting with your world.

˒ ⌕ GEORSE RUSSELL

he always includes you in his plans: whenever he travels, he talks as if you’re going too, without even inviting you directly. when you ask him about it, he usually says, “well, you’re going with me, aren’t you?” and when you can’t go because of work, he gets really frustrated, but he makes sure to keep you updated. he’s also always saying “we should check out that new place together… when are you free?” or “wouldn’t it be fun if you go with me for the next race?” he loves planting the idea of ​​future moments with you, and he loves it when they actually come true.

˒ ⌕ SEBASTIAN VETTEL

he loves teasing you: he always looks for a way to tease you, but always with a touch of flirting, which leaves you wondering if it's really just a joke or if he means something with it. he also hates it when someone else does this and he doesn’t hide his anger, and it’s at this moment that you also don't miss the opportunity to tease him; and the look in his eyes tells you that in fact, he doesn’t tease you just for fun.

˒ ⌕ CARLOS SAINZ

he always offers to help you with whatever you need: no matter what you need, he will do whatever it takes for you and to make your life easier. he will get you a coffee (and a sweet treat) in minutes when you say you want it. he will buy you something you said you needed but couldn't because you were too busy. he will come to your house to fix that broken drawer. he will always be there for you, even when you don't ask him directly, he will be there.

˒ ⌕ CHARLES LECLERC

he always remembers little details about you: sometimes he'll casually mention something small that you've said in the past, like your favorite snack or a specific memory. and sometimes you're delightfully surprised by how accurately he tells you these things because you could swear he'd forgotten or didn't really care, but he's always paying extra attention to you and everything you say is important to him.

˒ ⌕ LEWIS HAMILTON

he always compliments you a lot: but they’re not generic compliments that you always hear, he focuses on unique characteristics of yours that he really admires, like “you always have a way of making everything more fun and cool” or “you always seem to know the right things to say”, he’s always complimenting you, and he always means it.

˒ ⌕ OSCAR PIASTRI

he always looks for reasons to text you: he likes to send you news about your favorite singers, bands, authors or something he knows you’ll like. it’s things like “you popped into my head when i saw this, and i had to share” or “doesn’t this remind you of that joke you made?” and he always tries to keep the conversation going, no matter what.

˒ ⌕ LIAM LAWSON

he is always your biggest fan: whatever you do, he gives you all the support and help in the world. he is always the first one to show up when you need encouragement, whether it’s to wish you good luck at an event or send you a bouquet of flowers with a little note, or a brief message saying that he believes in you, and that he knows everything will turn out fine. he also loves talking about you to people like “did you see what y/n did? she’s amazing, right?” he is your biggest fan, and he doesn’t hide it from anyone.

˒ ⌕ MAX VERSTAPPEN

he looks at you a lot: when you two make eye contact, you have to look at something else first because he can’t get enough of you - and he loves it when you get embarrassed about it. he also loves to admire you when you’re distracted and don’t realize he’s looking at you; he loves looking at you and learning your mannerisms. to him, you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, and even though sometimes you catch him staring at you and ask him with a smile what he’s looking at, he doesn’t stop or give you a serious answer, which creates a spark of curiosity in you.

[8-evil-annoying-catboys]

i keep finding myself wondering.. why did she open the drawer where the gun case was hidden? i’ve seen people say it was a mercy to curly, so that maybe he could open it to use it for a quick and less painful way out, or defend himself if jim broke in.. but i can’t really believe that. she’s a nurse. she knows curly can’t even really move, let alone move with the coordination and dexterity required to open the gun case, get the gun out from it, and actually use it on anyone. plus, while jim obviously doesn’t have a lot of reservations about hurting curly, i think she knows he wouldn’t kill him, because if he would, why wouldn’t he have already done it? so i don’t think it’s for his potential self-defence.

could it be.. that she’s taunting him? here’s this case. we both already know that there’s a gun inside it. you can’t open the case. i can’t open the case. you can’t use it to defend yourself anymore. neither can i, because i never could. the same goes for hurting yourself, you can’t do that with it any more than i could, even though you’re in so much pain now that there’s no way it could hurt much more with the gun. you can’t even tell me how to unlock the case, even if you wanted me to have it now that you know so much more than you did before, back when i wished you’d have let me take it. of course, knowing you never would, i hid it. it’s been here the whole time, literally right under you, and you never knew. and, to top it off, i’m proving to you that i never would have used the gun on myself, because watch how easily i can do the same thing with tools that were directly entrusted to me, because of the nature of my job. and you’re going to watch, because.. what else can you do? you can’t even turn your head to look away.

but then, anya is so gentle, that seems like it might be out of character for her. and like, maybe the situation just got to her that bad that she’s acting this different, and i can’t really wrap my head around another possible reason, but i keep fixating on that. why did she open the drawer? like, maybe she was going to try and brute force her way into it, guessing codes at random until it opened, and she became impatient and took the pills? maybe, after taking the pills, she started to feel bad for curly since she locked him up in the room with her and she tried to open the case and give him one last act of mercy, but died before she could succeed? maybe she figured that jim would find his way in no matter what, and since her own safety was no longer at risk since she’d die anyway, she left it so he could go through with a mercy killing, trying to leave him with no option other than to step up to the plate and take responsibility as the new captain for putting curly out of his misery? maybe she thought that since swansea had the utility axe, he would be the one to break into medical and would be smart enough to brute force his way into the gun case, and take out this maniacal, incompetent tyrant of a self-imposed leader, saving daisuke and possibly himself, and putting curly out of his misery?

ultimately, we obviously can’t get a concrete answer from canon.. but does that mean i’ll stop wondering about it? no, it actually means i will never stop thinking about it.

i need everyone to understand the poetry of curly turning a blind eye to anya’s suffering only to be robbed of his autonomy and voice as she was and then forced to observe jimmy’s crimes and the abuse of his own body

[clockwayswrites]

@cannedinternets @darkstarsapocalypse @idontcaboose Phantom + Young Justice, Heads, Blue cw for Miss Martian's mental manipulation

The hatch slammed behind Conner as he stormed out onto the roof.

She was—

She was going to—

He was so stupid! He really had though that love could be enough! Like life was some sort of fucking fairytale. Like life worked out like that. But that’s what Megan had sold him, wasn’t it?

Him and her, perfect together.

A teen romance like the movies.

Meant to be.

Conner clapped his hands over his mouth to cover the ugly laugh that bubbled free without his permission.

Meant to be as long as she could make him into what she wanted. As long as he didn’t disagree. As long as she didn’t have to be wrong.

He wasn’t, he couldn’t—is this what it was like to be out of breath?

He really didn’t like the feeling if it was.

His whole body felt weak. Black was creeping into the edges of his vision. His knees buckled under him.

But he didn’t hit the roof hard. He was lowered down gently. Someone was speaking to him.

“Con, hey man, breathe for me, okay?”

Gentle but almost impossibly firm hands actually managed to pry Conner’s hands away from his mouth. That narrowed the pool of who it could be down a lot, but Conner just couldn’t get his mind to work.

“Come on, like me.” His hands were pressed against a slight chest that took an exaggerate breath.

Conner did his best to follow along.

It still took what felt like ages for the black to recede.

“Sorry… I don’t know what…”

“Panic attack,” Phantom said. He was sitting (or floating) cross legged across from Conner. He still had his hands cradled gently. “Or that would be my guess. I think you had a panic attack.”

“Oh.”

Conner didn’t how to take that. He didn’t… he was Superboy. He wasn’t supposed to panic.

“Conner… you, um, you were talking while you paced. What did you…” Phantom closed his eyes and took a breath he didn’t need. His eyes were bright when he opened them. “What did you mean about Megan making you into what she wanted? Like, was she trying to tell you what to do or—”

“She tried to wipe my memory.” The words were out before Conner could take them back. But he… he didn’t want to keep them inside him like rot. “She was going to use her powers to wipe my memory about… something.”

The temperature on the roof drops so quickly that Conner felt it. Phantom’s power crackled through it like the coming storm.

Like reckoning.

“She did what?”

[munsonsmixtapes]

You'll Fit Right In

shy!eddie x fem!reader

summary: Eddie is super nervous to meet your parents, but it turns out he has nothing to worry about as they have the exact same interests that he does

cw: Eddie has anxiety

this is a request made by @bellasm3lla in a comment on this post

You and Eddie stand on the porch of your childhood home and you can see that he's panicking. This dinner has been planned for weeks now and he's super nervous to meet your parents. Adults aside from Wayne don't seem to like him because he plays DnD and they all seem to think he's some sort of devil incarnate even though that couldn't be further from the truth.

Eddie is nothing but sweet and kind and you really hoped other people were able to see that instead of listening to silly rumors. You've always seen him for who he is and know that your parents will love him.

You've tried to tell him that they're nothing but chill, but you totally understand why he's so anxious. You've tried multiple times to give him an out, but he wouldn't take it. He just told you that he could handle it and that he wanted to at least try before he gave up.

So you're knocking on the door as he's holding onto your other hand for dear life as he rests his chin on your shoulder, inching his face towards your neck to hide as the door opens.

But as soon as it opens, his ears pick on some music playing at a loud volume. He immediately recognizes the song as Gypsy by Dio. And that's when he pulls away from you just in time to see your mom's Metallica t-shirt. Now he suddenly doesn't know why he was so nervous.

Your mom is quick to pull him into a hug and he's quick to respond, squeezing her just as tight before she pulls away, a bright smile on her face.

"Oh, it's so lovely to meet you," she gushes as she pulls him into the house, you and your dad following.

"Sorry we're late, we were cleaning up our DnD session we had earlier," your dad apologizes and Eddie's head whips around to you, silently asking you why you hadn't told him about any of that. All you had said was that they were cool. But you had told him exactly what they were into and he would just tune you out because he had convinced himself that he hadn't wanted to hear it.

"You guys play DnD?" He asks, suddenly feeling all of his nerves melt away as your mom leads him into the living room where everything from their session was still set up.

"Every week. Do you play?" Does he play? Your dad might as well have asked him if he breathed.

"I do," Eddie nods. "I'm actually the DM of my own club."

"I knew I had a good feeling about you," your mom pinches his cheek. "Can I get you a drink, Eddie? We've got some beers in the fridge."

"Sure," Eddie nods and your parents get your drink order before they both disappear into the kitchen, leaving you and Eddie alone.

He leans over to you and you give him a knowing smile as you know exactly what he's going to say.

"You didn't tell me that your parents were so cool," he whispers and you just giggle in response.

"I actually did, but you wouldn't listen to me." Eddie just waves you off as your parents as your parents enter the living room once again with your drinks and all Eddie can think about it just how he's going to fit in there and that he really was nervous for no reason. Because there, he feels right at home.

[hello-sweetheart]

You know that trope where Person A thinks Person B is just being nice but they’re actually flirting. What about the opposite? Person A misreading their behavior and being the only one falling impossibly in love.

Clumsy in Love part 4

Eddie rubs his hands over his face and presses the heels of his palm into his eyes.

Im such a piece of shit. God, how could I just do that.

He’s pissed at Steve for not saying something sooner, for waiting until Eddie had something good in his grasp. But he’s angry with himself too.

How stupid is he, really? Did he really not notice until it all came face to face?

He has Adiel’s number memorized, but he knows which of Steve’s beauty marks form constellations.

Mostly, hes confused. His feelings are a jumbled mess and he’s never been good at sorting them out. Naturally, he turns to music. Dio has serenaded him these past few days. Wayne has steered clear of his shit show.

How do you feel right now?

What do you see?

Where would you be right now?

Hey angel what about me?

Jesus fucking fuck. He attempts to run his hand through his hair only it doesn’t get too far, rings snagged in his tangled hair. He can feel the oil built up on the strands and knows it’s time to get his ass out of bed. He doesn’t.

“Angel, Angel, angel. You were my angel. Just not anymore.” He mutters to himself long after the track has finished and another song plays. He’s learning to let go still, even after he’s ended it.

You know what really makes him feel like a dickhead? That Adiel got hurt because of him. He didn’t deserve to get caught in Eddie’s bullshit.

Guilt eats him alive.

His conscious hurts and his heart trembles, tumbled in his chest, but he doesn’t feel the heartbreak the way he should. That world-on-fire and breath burning feeling. He can’t find it.

Like a masochist he wants for it, desires it, deserves it like sinner.

Those last few weeks were enough for his feelings to settle, for his heart to make a decision with or without his input. He tried—god fuck I tried—to feel that skipped-beat flutter when Adiel smiled his way. Could almost convince himself he could. That Adiel’s interlocked hand in his still felt an extension of himself instead of something foreign.

It used to feel like I belonged at his side. Why did it have to stop?

He’s wronged a friend who trusted him to keep his heart safe. A friend who had already been through so much. And Eddie added to that lifetime of hurt because he couldn’t figure it out himself.

Because he was too stupid to see and too stupid to know.

He thinks of Steve’s lips, like he has now for days. Weeks. His heart twists, rung out. That skipped-beat flutter that betrays him.

Fuck. Fuck, man.

He has to stop yanking at his hair like he can train himself out of feeling it.

Do your demons, do they ever let you go?

When you've tried, do they hide, deep inside

Is it someone that you know?

You're just a picture, you're an image caught in time

We're a lie, you and I.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he tells no one because he needs to say it until he can forgive himself a little. Until he can make himself believe that Adiel will forgive him, in time.

“I’m so sorry,” this time says it to himself, covers his face with his hands and finally cries.

Against his fucking will he cries, can’t hold onto it anymore. Ugly retching sobs that can only come from mourning an almost.

Finally, after days of like solitude, Wayne creeps in un-intrusive as a shadow. His hand on his shoulder may be the only thing that keeps Eddie from disappearing.

“I could’ve loved him, Wayne. I could’ve—I did. I think I fucking loved him and I didn’t know until—until I didn’t anymore. And then—and then I just couldn’t again.”

I wish he got to know that. That even for a short time, I had loved him.

Wayne, ever a man of few words, sits with him and lets him have his silence.

———

It’s a little over a month after that that Steve pays him a visit.

He’s smart enough to show up when Wayne isn’t home, looking sheepish as he shuffles on his front step. At least he has the gall to look him in the eyes.

All this is because of you, he thinks. His dark under eyes, his pallid skin. The rage in his blood. The almost that he had.

“Why are you here?” He looks taken aback, almost shrinks in on himself.

“I… the boys said that you, well.” Steve rubs the back of his neck, his hair longer than when Eddie last saw it. It slips through Steve’s fingers. “You never came by again and I wanted to see you. To talk? Can we talk? Can’t… can’t I come in?”

Having Steve in his home, in his space, is dangerous.

Those eyes are deep, soften by tired shadows.

“No,” his swallow is audible and steels himself, “Why should I want you in my home, Steve?”

Steve stands there lips parted and hands clenches at the bottom of his sweatshirt, eyes shined over. Eddie takes the chance to step forward. Everything inside him is too much.

“Don’t you understand what you did? I was happy. And you, fuck, you ruined it! Steve! You!” He out of the door way now and Steve steps back, back, back.

Steve’s face is red in shame. Eddie’s in anger. His pointed finger jabbed at his chest, accusing.

“You couldn’t just let me be happy? Why? Why did you kiss me, Steve? Why then? Was it because you couldn’t stand that I finally had someone? Say something!”

Steves eyes overflow, “Yes! I could stand it because I love you, asshole! I thought, I don’t know—I thought you loved me, too. Okay? Me. We both felt it—tell me you felt it too, Eddie? It wasn’t just me, right?

“You were everywhere and everything. You’d smile at me and it was the sun. So close, always right there and it was like we were—we were teetering on the edge of something amazing. And I was so happy, Eddie. So happy that day ‘cuz I thought, it was just us, right? Me and you. Just us. Together.

“But then you saw him and your weren’t even listening to me. You didn’t hear a word I said, did you? You only had eyes for him. You left me there and I didn’t know what to do with myself ‘cuz suddenly all you’d talk about was him. Every day and every minute we were together. After thinking, after thinking you loved me too.

That I had you.

So yes! Okay? I kissed you because I was selfish and I needed to know. I needed to know if any of it was real. If there really was nothing there.”

Steve’s breathing hard by the end of, words a wavering wet string of rawn vulnerable pulled out of his chest. He’s looking at the floor, hair covering his eyes, and shoulders trembling as he hiccups.

Then, everything feels still. Calm inside. For the first time in ages, Eddie feels like he can take a deep breath and not fall apart. He closes his eyes for a second and just breathes. The fight escapes him with the last breath.

“You ruined me, Steve. You ruined me in a way that even I didn’t understand. I didn’t know, not until that night, about how you felt. And I’m sorry if it was my fault, if I did and said things to make you feel that way, okay? But I didn’t… I didn’t feel that way about you. Not then. Not when you kissed me.”

“And now? Eddie? Do you… could you feel that way for me, now?”

“If it weren’t for you,” he begins, “Adiel and I… we could’ve had something great. But then you—and I— I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I wondered so much on why you kissed me that night, replaying every moment together, to see what you saw. And ended up feeling… feeling what you felt.”

He takes the chance to move forward the last bit of space to reach to him, have him look him in the eyes. Both of them mirror images of despair.

“You ruined me, Stevie. Everything was different. It wasn’t perfect anymore, I couldn’t make it perfect again. And I couldn’t be who I had been with Adiel knowing that I couldn’t find in me what we had before. That maybe, this has the chance of being something amazing, too.

I stopped seeing you everyday, so I saw you in everything. I stopped speaking to you, and you became the voice inside my head. It was maddening.”

Eddie laughs and wipes away the tears from Steve’s eyes, they fall faster when he smiles a weak and small but real thing.

“Adiel and I, we fit together; we were good together. But despite that, I didn’t want him anymore. I didn’t know why, I think I still don’t, but… I don’t need to know. I just need feel it, Stevie. And I feel it. I want this. Me and you. You have throughly ruined me, for anybody else.”

This time the kiss is different. It’s shared elation, wet and salty on the tongue, and clumsy as they try to fit into each other. Disappear in one another.

“Are you still mad?”

Those brown eyes don’t resemble gems of green, but they’re filled with incredible warmth and Eddie sees home in them,

Sees a life with them,

It’s own kind of precious.

And he laughs.

“So much, Stevie. I’m mad and heartbroken and falling jn love and happy and so so sure of us. I think, I think I still need some time, I’m really fucked—no, no, shouldn’t cry anymore,” he says as Steve’s face scrunches and it’s so unbelievably cute if he wasn’t blaming himself for it all.

“I just want to make sure I do this right this time. And if I, if I invite you in… I won’t be able to.”

Steve rests his forehead against his, there is heat between them, “But I have you, right?”

“Yeah, took me a while to figure it out but… yeah. Yes. You have me, Steve. God, and I have you. And tomorrow, tomorrow you’re going to come over and pick me up at 6 in the evening so we can eat shitty pancakes at the diner.

And then we’ll figure this out together.”

Part 3 <💛 End, thank you for reading and for all the feedback!

[beardysuits]

Piece of Jake

Logan has hated his body his entire life. Obese, gay, and a shut in have been a terrible combination for him. He decides becoming his sexy roommate Jake may be just what he needs to build up his confidence.

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I’ve had a crush on Jake for… well forever I guess. I guess that’s one of the perks of being a part of the same class every year since kindergarten; you get to see the cute boys become cute men. Then there was the downside of that, that anybody who bullied you from kindergarten will decide to do it until you graduate. They’ll do it for anything too; being gay, being fat, your race, your wealth. I was lucky enough to get 3 out of the 4 for about 12 years now. However, I’m ready for that to change.

See I was blessed with a fantastic combination of having a slow metabolism, and an anxiety which I decided to soothe with eating. The result has left me to be a 19 year old with a BMI of 42. And yeah, BMI is bullshit if you’re stacked with muscle, but I had the rolls and pudge to prove there was some truth to it. Combine this with the fact that I was more queer than a midnight premier of Rocky Horror, and I came out to be not the most popular guy in school. I thought that would all change once I went to college, but freshman year was hell. I essentially spent the entire time in my dorm room, locked up in the dark and playing video games. But, I guess it wasn’t all that bad.

See, back to Jake. Jake kept his status quo of being one of the top dogs from the ages of 5 to 18. Baseball star, debate captain, and voted “most likely to succeed” by our peers. Top all of that off that he was on of the few people who actually wasn’t a total ass to me, and you can see why I was head over heels for him. He was straight of course, and even if there was a touch of bisexuality in him, he would never be interested in me. Now color me surprised when I found out that not only were we going to the same college, but we got randomly assigned to be roommates in the dorms! I was astounded, it was like there really was an astral force looking out for me. 

So for almost the entirety of our freshman year, we chit chatted here and there, but Jake was almost never home. Instead, he was working to get himself into one of the fraternities and move into the house. While I was sad to not have as much time to admire Jake as I would like, that did give me the opportunity to go through his stuff. Mostly his closet. Jake wore the usual clothes you’d expect, hoodies, jerseys, wrangler jeans and the like. However, being that he was on the baseball team at the college, I found his stash of jockstraps he wore for practice. And good god, thank goodness laundry day was only once a week. The other 6 days I had a full time supply of used jocks to sniff and fantasize with. 

I even tried to put one of them on in a hormone-fueled rage, but my thighs were probably the same mass as his entire body, and I couldn’t get the damn thing on. The longer I admired Jake and saw him for who he was, the more my love for him grew. With that, so did my jealousy. Jake was everything I wanted. He was fit, cool, and could get any guy he wanted if he even batted an eye at them. My time alone did prove to give me an opportunity to do some research however. 

See, I’ve tried for a long, long, long time to get fit on my own. Watching my diet, exercise, starving myself. But, nothing would work. That’s when I started to look for more, creative solutions. I came across a blog hidden deep on the web which talked about taking another person’s form. Most of these seemed bogus, but I had to try. I found one eventually from a user, “Magic_Mann_720” who shared a potion, once which he claimed could turn anybody into a bodysuit. I was about to just toss it aside, but after looking at my desk and seeing the empty bag of McDonald’s staring back at me, I said fuck it. 

In all honesty, brewing a magic potion was easier than I assumed it would be, and after just a few short weeks of waiting for unusual supplies to arrive in the mail, I had a vial of the stuff at my whim. Now, who could I possibly give this to? No, not Jake. But also, maybe? Would that make me the worst person imaginable if I slipped this to him? He was one of the few good people I had come across, I couldn’t betray him like that. However, I saw one glimpse of his jock hanging from his hamper, and doubts crossed my mind. It was staring back at me, taunting me with how tight it fucking was. I had to wear it, and I only knew of one body it would perfectly fit. 

He was like clockwork, especially early in the morning when he made his preworkout and went off to the gym at 6 in the morning. I set my alarm for 5:50, just early enough to slip the potion into his drink before he woke up and set off. It was of course impossible to wake up so early in the morning, but somehow I managed to silence my alarm without waking Jake. 

I fumbled around in the dark and found his shake he made the night before. I had slept with the vial under my pillow, though I could barely sleep from the anticipation of my task today. Being careful to not wake him, I unscrewed the lid, dumped the contents of the vial into the jar, and shook it up. I had just laid back in my bed when his alarm woke him up. I kept my eyes closed, hoping to trick him into thinking I was asleep. I heard him stumble around the room, getting his bearings, getting dressed. I couldn’t resist popping one eye open to see his lithe frame as he found a tank and basketball shorts. 

He was already wearing boxers, but if my plan went accordingly, he never would wear such loose fitting underwear again. I heard him grab his shake, and my heart began to race. The pop of the lid went off, and I strained my ears to listen to him drain the contents quickly and quietly. The lid closed and just as I heard the doorknob turn, there was the sound of heavy stomps. I opened my eyes a bit wider to see Jake stumbling around, trying to get his bearings. 

“Hey… Logan?” Jake said weakly. I pretended to wake up and rose from bed, seeing him lean against his desk. 

“Jake? You okay?” I asked him. He turned his head to me, panting. 

“I d-don’t feel good man,” he said between breaths. “Get.. get help. Help.. me..” He slumped to the ground, and while I anticipated a loud thud as his jock body slammed to the ground, it was a soft thump, like that of clothes tossed to the ground. For a moment, I hesitated to creep any closer, afraid of what I would find. I mustered up the courage to turn on the bedside lamp and found a near horrifying site by the door. 

There on the ground was Jake, but he was flat as a pancake. He arms and legs stretched out, head deflated, and the clothes he was wearing were atop of him in a pile. I tiptoed to the body, already feeling regret in what I had done. Fuck why did I do this to him? Was I really so driven by my own lust I essentially just killed a good guy? 

My own footsteps were much heavier than Jakes, making the floorboards creek. I kicked at the body, the skin feeling as alive as ever, but made no movement of its own. I got on my knees, and with the tips of my fingers, grabbed Jake’s hair and pulled his head up. I was met with Jake’s face, his eyes now hollow sockets and mouth agape. I dropped the skin and scuttled back in fear. Fuck fuck fuck, it’s so god damn creepy! I took a few deep breaths and crawled on my hands and knees to the body once more. 

I tried to be more confident this time, grabbing him by his shoulders, and pulling him up as I struggled to stand. Jake was of similar height to me, so once I was fulling standing, I leaned the face to my mine, the tips of his toes still slumped on the floor. You know, it’s less creepy now. Jake was always a cutie, and even as a husk of himself he was irresistible. It was too late now, and while I felt bad about what I had done, I did it with a purpose. The issue now was, how the hell did I fit inside? Speaking of, would I fit at all?

I pulled at his cheek and found it to be rather elastic. My curiosity piqued, and I pulled at the corners of his mouth, which stretched at least a foot wide when I put some effort in. That gave me an idea. I quickly took off my shirt and briefs, catching my reflection in the standing mirror as I did so. God damn it, I was so fucking fat. My stomach hung out in front of me, almost covering my pathetic cock. Ass was as wide as trailer, neck rolls which made it seem like my head sat straight on my shoulders. Tits bigger than most girls I went to school with. This was my last chance to do something about it. 

I sat on my bed, laying Jake down in front of me like a pair of pants. Stepping one foot into Jake’s mouth, I stretched it further and further until my thick calves were encompassed by his lips. Grabbing at his chest, I pulled him further up my leg, already running out of breath as I did so. This was a workout on its own. I remember watching videos of guys slipping into wetsuits when I was a teenager, it was a slight fetish of mine. I loved seeing the neoprene cling to their slim figures. Those guys would go inch by inch yanking the suit further up them, so I went ahead and mirrored the practice. 

I found doing so actually made the process easier. Soon enough, my foot aligned with Jake’s. I shimmied his calves to match mine, but it was so incredibly tight. It was like my leg was vacuum sealed inside of him, crushing the fat around my leg down to match his. I began to pant, scared I was cutting off all circulation. I was so scared to look down and see something horrific, but shot a glance and was amazed by what I saw. There, my right leg was pristine. It was a mirror image of Jake’s which I had stared at so often when he wore shorts. I wiggled my toes, and Jake’s did the same motion. 

Kicking my leg around, the pain began to subside, and I could see up to my knee, it was like I had worked out my entire life. I could feel the beaming smile creep across my face as I stretched Jake’s mouth open wide again to shove my other foot inside. Now that I had some practice, my left leg was far easier to work with and soon enough, I had two sets of legs which were built from years of baseball practices and running. My thighs proved to be another issue entirely, practically twice the twice of my calves. 

I stood up from the bed, almost falling over from my balance being so off. Grabbing at Jake’s stomach, I jumped up and down a few times, his skin stretching and sliding over me with his lurch. My I stuck my hand down the inside of Jake’s mouth, the feeling of my now erect cock sliding against the inside of Jake. Although I wasn’t generously endowed, it still hurt to have it crushed inside of him. I found Jake’s cock, and while deflated, certainly overshadowed mine in length and girth. With one hand on the outside, and the other inside, I guided mine into his like a sheath. 

It was the most orgasmic feeling I had ever experienced. Jake’s cock went from looking like a flattened worm, to coming to full erection. He was at least seven inches long, and despite mine being half the size, somehow felt like it was filled entirely. It was beet red from anticipation, and while I wanted to cum right here and now, I had to finish what I started. I turned to the mirror once more, and was shocked by what I saw. From the waist up, I was still fat fuck Logan, but from the lower half, I was built like a god damn star. My new cock swung side to side, stiff as a board, and my ass, while squeezed in like a sausage, now was as perky as if I squatted 300 lbs. I turned and slapped Jake’s ass, watching as the taut skin slapped me back. All hints of cellulite gone. 

Finally was the part I was most afraid of, my stomach. It hung over the edge of Jake’s body, the flap of my stomach going over Jake’s lips. I sucked it in, which did practically nothing. Taking one of my arms, I pushed it as far in as I could, and used my other hand to pull the lips of Jake’s mouth up. I groaned in pain, feeling like a rubber band was squishing me in and threatening to cut me in half. Somehow though, his head moved up and moved. It was by inches and incredibly painful. Once I reached my belly button, I found a system to make it easier. Moving him up further and further, I finally reached my chest before I had to fall onto the bed. 

I was breathing heavier than ever, and drenched in sweat from what was left of my original body. I felt Jake’s, and he was as dry as ever, as he would never be worn out from such a task. I counted down from ten and hoisted myself up, catching my sight in the mirror. My moobs hung over Jake’s torso, but it was like I was wearing a skin corset. I rubbed my had over my new stomach, feeling how flat it was. In fact, I would even see the beginnings of a six pack bulging out. It was surreal, I don’t think I’ve been this thing since… ever. I took a deep breath and worked to shove each of my tits down Jake’s mouth. 

Each of them was a chore on their own, but eventually, all that was left were my arms and head. I don’t know how that would work, but if I made it this far, it was certainly possible. It would be tough as I would lose an arm at a time trying to slide them in. Taking my right one first, I wriggled my fingers inside, pushing them down Jake’s like a skin tight glove. With each inch my fingers slid in, it was easier and easier as I gained Jake’s strength. Eventually, the fingers found their way into his. I pulled at his bicep, as stretchy as the rest of him, and snapped it into place, enclosing my arm. 

I rushed to do the same with my left and with my newfound strength, found this section to be the easiest. I was almost done. Jake’s lips were around my neck, and I had to use his fingers to make sure he didn’t choke me. I glanced at the mirror, and found Jake with my head. I turned my body around, admiring his form. I had taken several sneaky glances at him as he changed, but to have full autonomy, to see his tattoo on his thigh, the way his veins popped in his hands, the curvature of his muscles, it was like I was being treated to a feast. 

“Goodbye Logan,” I told myself. I don’t know if I would come back from this. Or, if I would even want to. I took a deep breath and shimmied his head up my own. The same tight sensation took over my entire headspace and it was like a migraine hit me. Using my hands, I smushed my face around, placing my nose into his, eyes, lips. I fluttered my eyelids and had to refocus my vision. Going to the mirror was a picture perfect reflection of Jake. 

“Holy shit,” I said. Oh fuck, that was still my voice. I guess that wouldn’t have changed. I don’t know how I could pull off Jake’s voice, but I would have to practice it. I looked at the corner of my mouth, seeing my original lips peak through Jake’s. I took a finger, stretching and pulling it into place.

There, I was Jake. Fuck I was Jake! I laughed and rubbed my arms across my body, watching as Jake did it in the mirror. 

I spent a good ten minutes trying different poses and watching as Jake bent to my will. Sniffing his pits, making funny faces, bending over and showing off my new hole to myself. That last one sent me over the edge and I knew I had to blow off the steam which had built up. I sat on the bed and hoisted my legs up, cradling the back of my knees in my hands. I could never have even thought about attempting that in my old body, but as Jake, I felt so lithe. My smile was beaming in between my legs as I puckered my hole. I had to see what this looked like. I wanted to see Jake be pathetic now. I twisted my face to match that of so many porn actors I had watched alone in this room. 

“Ohhhh… oh fuck me daddy,” I said, begging, watching Jake’s eyes as they wished desperately for a fat cock to fill him up. I split into my hand and began to pump my new cock, already slick and slimy from precum. I stuck a finger in my mouth and wet it before sliding it over my hole and slicking it up. I had plenty of experience playing with my old hole, but I always struggled to get my arm in a position to really get deep in. Jake didn’t have that problem though. I started to finger fuck myself, watching as Jake became his own bitch. 

“Oh fuck daddy, fuck me. Fuck me!” I yelled, the point of climax racing through my cock before I could even react. Laces of cum shot out and started to drench my body, reaching even to my face and getting into my hair. I pulled my finger out of my hole, let go of my cock, and felt it rest against my thigh. There in the reflection was Jake, covered in his own cum and looking like a bitch. 

I giggled, knowing I should feel far more guilty about what I had done, but too high on my own bliss to care. After bathing in my glory, I decided to clean Jake up and explore his body some more. I grabbed one of his towels and left the room, still naked. Walking down the dorm hall to the bathroom, it was still dead silent. Logan would have been petrified at the idea of being caught naked by somebody, but Jake? Well Jake now hoped somebody would see him and be jealous. 

Getting into the bathroom, I passed by Brad, another guy on our floor, who had a towel wrapped around his waist, still glistening from his shower. 

“Jake, the fuck?” He asked. I couldn’t pull off Jake’s voice yet, but I gave him a pat on the shoulder and winked at him as I pushed past. For a second I caught a glimpse of him checking out my body before he shook his head and rushed out to his room. I went to one of the mirrors in the bathroom and knelt over, posing and kissing at myself. Jake was going to become a lot more playful it seemed. 

I took my time in the shower, feeling every crevice of Jake’s body and feeling myself up. And of course, stretching out his hole some more to work him up to taking a real dick. Maybe by one of his new frat brothers I need to meet. Once I got back to our room, I knew there was only one thing left on my to do list of the morning. I went to Jake’s hamper and pulled out the jock which was mocking me just hours before. I sniffed at, Jake’s pheromones becoming mine. 

I slipped both legs down and had no trouble at all this time adjusting my bulge and feeling the elastic hug my jock thighs. I snapped one of the bands, feeling a sheer run my spine as I did so. Slipping one of his black shirts on, I went for Jake’s phone, which thankfully could be opened with just his face. I snapped a few pictures for myself to look at whenever I pleased. Now, how about we download Grindr to it and see what this new body can pull?

[thelindenpapers]

"who taught you that suffering in silence was noble, and how would you shutting up have benefited them?"

It's often something you learn when you're in an abusive or oppressive situation.

Especially long-term.

And especially if those long-term situations occur multiple times throughout life.

I grew up in an extremely racist/misogynist community.

They learned that they couldn't bully or intimidate me ...but they would pick on anyone who tried to defend me.

And that later expanded into them shunning or bullying anyone who I let on that I liked, or even worse, was crushing on.

I grew up with an abusive, fascist father.

He killed our dog. Why? Because it kept angrily and loudly barking every time he was trying to hurt Mom and me.

More than that: in my childhood community, anyone I tried to talk to would either ignore me like I was a ghost, or, shout slurs and death threats in my face. I'm talking early on in life: Before kindergarten, Kindergarten to at LEAST thru 3rd grade.

So:

You learn that anyone you like gets punished for the grevious faux pas of being liked by you.

You learn that anyone who tries to help you, gets hurt or even killed.

You learn that almost nobody comes to help when you cry for help.

You learn that even trying to talk or say 'Hi' to people, results in them suddenly appearing harmed or troubled or annoyed or angry, somehow.

...And why wouldn't I be silent?

As a feral kid, no one was going to listen to me anyway, no one was going to care how I felt about anything or about how anything was affecting me.

And if I did tell?

People frequently took the abuser's side.

Just as the cops did, the very first time I was finally old enough to threaten dad right back!

Don't even get me started on my marriage.

How long are you supposed to keep on telling a person, 'Hey, these are my needs, and I need your help to get something done about it please.

Hey, I should probably see a doctor, why aren't you letting me have access?

Hey, we really need to talk about our relationship. I don't know why you don't want to spend bonding time together.

Why are you making it so difficult for me to try to get a job or an education?

Why are you sabotaging my writing efforts?

Why do you get so upset at my physical activities?

What is with the panic when you see I'm trying to advance my tech skills?

Why does it anger you so much when I try to be proactive and vigilant in making us a comfortable and clean and helpful home?'.....

He actually complained to me:

"Why can't you just LIE?"

About being happy.

About being well.

So yeah.

Why would I want to ask his (or his parents) help in anything. I can't trust them at all.

Why would I allow someone to help if it might get them hurt or killed in the attempt?

Why would I bother to let anyone know? When, after SO many years of being stuck in a deep pit of a life, to help me would probably cause WAY more stress and take WAY more effort and resources, than any one person could possibly offer or endure?

Why would I do that?

When someone might decide to try and help, start the process -- decide partway through that it's all too much, and abandon the process: leaving me in a position that is less safe than where I started?

( Hell, sometimes that is an on-purpose thing. When a person feels bad, and knows they can't or don't want to help, but they'll make a gesture to make themselves feel good, not caring whether what they try to do is actually helpful or effective. )

And why would I tell people exactly what I'm going through, when so many around me would instead:

Victim-blame me.

Call me a liar.

Assume I was crazy.

Nod sympathetically and then use it as a way for them to feel much better about how they're doing in their own lives.

Say it's too much, say it's not so bad, or say others have it way worse.

Enjoy my explanation and my existence as a form of entertainment like I'm their personal IRL soap opera.

Or, use the information that I've given them about me as a way to hurt me further -- since they now seem to think that I'm some easy target, or that, in some twisted sense, abusing me further is somehow less morally bad, and more acceptable: because I've been abused before.....

So in their eyes, I'm 'Already soiled'?

'Already hopeless'?

'Already nothing'?

It's nothing to do with moral superiority.

It's survival.

...And I'm not saying it's right.

In an ideal situation, absolutely: being helped at any point in my life would have been great!

A healthier social structure would allow for this.

In a world where care was offered by the Community rather than by the individual, I wouldn't worry about speaking, just to find myself in worse trouble than when the 'helping' process started...

But this ain't a healthy world yet.

^^;

You asked why people feel that way.

So I've told you all the reasons why they might.

YMMV. 🤷🏾‍♀️

who taught you that suffering in silence was noble, and how would you shutting up have benefited them?

[stellamancer]

flips and shit (katsuki bakugou + reader)

notes: more stuff inspired by things that happen in my kitchen. name me me attempting to flip scallion pancakes. it's been a while since i had one of these actually. part of the kitchen adventures series. mostly unedited.

wc: 1k

contains: gn!reader, pro-hero bkg (not actually mentioned) neighbor au.

You have never asked Bakugou to teach you anything before. 

Mostly because there’s never really been anything you’ve actually wanted to learn. Despite his griping, you think you're honestly a pretty decent cook. Sure, you may prefer taking convenient shortcuts over doing things the proper way, but it's not like it's the worst thing in the world. Still, Bakugou’s taken it upon himself to teach you in order to prevent you from committing what he considers to be kitchen atrocities. Admittedly, your knife skills have improved and you don’t hear your fire alarm going off as often (which you suspect is more due to Bakugou changing the whole thing himself in a fit when it dared to screech as he was broiling some fish during one lesson), but there are some things, like your instant miso soup, that Katsuki Bakugou can pry out of your cold dead hands. 

“Hah?” Bakugou whips his head around to face you, his expression twisted into his own special brand of confusion, eyes narrowed in an aggressive form of bewilderment. 

“Can you teach me how to flip things in a frying pan?” you repeat slowly.

His mouth twists, “Why? Usin’ a spatula not good enough for you?”

“It's not that,” you say. Bakugou shoots you an expectant look and you clear your throat as you elaborate. “It just looks cool is all.”

 “Y’got bigger things to worry about than lookin’ cool in the kitchen. Why’re y’worrying about that kinda crap anyway? Got someone to impress?” 

Grumbling, you say “Not really, but since you mention it, it would be nice if I were able to impress my smartass neighbor even just once.”

Bakugou snorts. “Maybe y’d impress me if you finally threw away those damn instant soup packets! I taught you how to make it yourself! Why do you still have them?”

You roll your eyes. What about cold dead hands does he not understand? You try to get the subject back on track. “Are you teaching me or not?”

He stares at you for a minute before shuffling past you into the kitchen proper. “Fine. Even an idiot like you should be able to do this much.” 

Feeling smug, despite his insult, you follow after him, watching as he pulls out your frying pan from a cabinet. He’s come over enough that he’s familiar with the layout of your kitchen, no longer needing to ask you where you keep this or that. It’s nice in a way, though you’re not entirely sure why. That said, you can’t help but be confused when he grabs one of your kitchen sponges and tosses it in the pan. Is he—

“Bakugou, I’ve got some frozen scall—”

“We’re using this first!” he barks at you. “No point in risking you flipping perfectly good food onto the kitchen floor!” 

You wince. It wouldn’t be that bad. You’ve tried flipping things before and the worst that’s happened is that the pancake flipped over on itself. 

Bakugou moves over to the stovetop, his arms gripping the frying pan’s handle. You stare at his arm— he’s in a black t-shirt today. The sleeves are loose, but you can see the defined shape of his arm muscles, from the near scandalous peek of his biceps down to the taut lines of his forearms. Maybe you’re staring a little too much, though, because you don’t quite catch what he says as he flicks his wrist. 

“What was that?” you ask. You could try to wing it and guess what his instructions were based on observation alone, but if you get it absolutely wrong he’ll scold you.

Though, since it’s Bakugou, he’s going to scold you either way. “Are you even listening?”

Now you are. “Yeah?” 

He eyes you suspiciously, but doesn’t mention if he noticed you oogling his arms. “So all you gotta do is just flick your wrist, but y’gotta do it like you’re shoveling dirt or some shit.” He does the motion a few times to show you, and you think you get it. It’s kind of like a flick and scoop. Watching him do it makes it seem easy, but you’ve learned that Bakugou makes a lot of things look effortless. 

He flips the sponge a few times before handing you the frying pan. The handle is still warm. Gruffly, he says, “Now you try.”

“Okay.” You try to mimic his motion, and the sponge goes up… but just falls back onto the pan without flipping over. 

“Weak,” Bakugou scoffs and you scowl at him, but he ignores you as he continues. “Try again, idiot, but put more force into it.” 

“Okay…” You do as he says and the sponge flies higher… before flopping onto the floor. Too much force.

“Not everything’s gonna weigh the same,” Bakugou says. “Y’gonna have to judge how much force to use for yourself.”

Right. You reach down and grab the sponge to put it back in the pan. It’s pretty light. You flick your wrist a couple times, not so much to flip but to get a feel of how much force you’ll need to flip it. When you think you’ve got an idea, you move your wrist and swoop your arm a little, sending the sponge up. It flips over and while it does catch the edge of the pan it still manages to land in it.

Grinning widely, you turn to Bakugou. “Look! I did it!” 

“Barely,” he says and while his mouth is curved down in a frown, there’s a sparkle in his eyes that makes it look like he’s trying to fight off a smile.. “Do it again! Make sure the flip is perfect this time!”

“Okay!” You try again and after a couple times you manage to flip the sponge perfectly. When you look at Bakugou for approval, he gives you the ghost of a smirk back, this time looking almost legitimately pleased.

But it only lasts for a moment before he switches out the sponge for a slightly heavier package of instant ramen. 

“Time for the next level, nerd,” he says, his eyes glinting dangerously. “We’re not stopping til every flip is perfect!” 

[arc-misadventures]

It Was That Easy?!

Jaune, and Coco:

~~~

Velvet: That was fucking it?!!

Coco: Yeah...

Velvet: You two have been dancing around each other for months! And, what finally gets you two to start dating was the fact that you two wouldn't hang out as much if you started dating other people?!

Coco: Yes...?

Velvet: We tried to set you up for months! A simple conversation got you together?!

Coco: You tried to set me up?

Velvet: We locked you in a closet!

Coco: Oh, I remember that closet... That was quite cramped...

Velvet: The time we stole all his clothes so you would walk in on him naked!

Coco: My man looks like a marble statue. Mmmh~! Those abbs~!

Velvet: The tickets you gave you guys to go to that resort in, Vaccuo! You two were all alone, and you didn't do anything?!

Coco: We defiantly had plenty of beach suit fashion shows. For the record: Speedos do not word on, Jaune. That bulge... I have various mixed feelings after seeing that...

Velvet: We spiked your food!

Coco: You spiked our food?!

Velvet: There was faunas grade aphrodisiacs in your food! And, nothing happened?!

Coco: Wait, was that in the fish dish you made us. Because we had the runs after eating that.

Velvet: All that planning, all that work, all our scheming, and none of that work?!

Coco: Sorry...?

Velvet: That's it! You're going to the closet!

Coco: What?

~~~

Velvet: Get in there!

Coco: Whoa hey, Vel, what are you...?! Ooph!

Jaune: Uhh... Hey, Coco...?

Coco: Jaune...?

Velvet: This time you better do it!

Nora: Or, I'll spike your food again!

(Slam!)

Jaune: ...?

Coco: ...?

Jaune: So... I take it, Velvet let you know about her schemes to get us together too right?

Coco: Yeah, apparently she was the reason why were locked in a closet for the first time. And, she stole all your clothes so I would walk in on you naked. Got us those tickets so we could stay at that resort. And, she spiked out food.

Jaune: Oh, it was , Velvet who did that. Nora told me a different story about what she did.

Coco: What did she do?

Jaune: That resort we were staying at actually had two beds in it, Nora some how got rid of one of them.

Coco: What? The bed was made into the wall; How did she do that?

Jaune: Best not ask. She actually go that distress call from when we got stuck in the cabin in the mountain.

Coco: She did?

Jaune: Yeah, she wanted us to... mingle to stay warm before she rescued us the next day.

Coco: Posing naked in furs was certainly a way to mingle...

Jaune: And, she spiked our food...

Coco: And, after she learned that we got together because we didn't want to stop hanging out, she shoved you in the closet as well...

Jaune: Yeah... And, while i wouldn't mind us having some fun here in the closet~!

Coco: Oh, really~?

Jaune: But, they put us in the wrong closet...

Coco: Eh?

Jaune: It's too cramped, I can't move...

Coco: Grr... come one. I can...?! Grrrr...! I'm stuck too...

Jaune: Can you reach my scroll?

Coco: Nope, my hands our stuck here feeling up your broad chest~! You?

Jaune: Maybe...? Let's see if I can... Ahh found it! Uhh... Password?

Coco: 0-2-2-4.

Jaune: Okay... Calling...? Glynda...

Coco: Good choice.

Glynda: Hello, Coco do you need something?

Coco: Hi, Triple G! Uhhh... So, Jaune, and I started dating...

Glynda: You two started dating?!

Coco: Yes... and...?!

Glynda: Fucking finally!

Coco: ...

Jaune: ...

Coco: We should have started dating months ago...

Jaune: Yeah...

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

In Your Head

Lucifer sighed as he held the guitar that he took from the battlefield. It was Adams guitar and aside from a few scratches it looked like it was in perfect condition.

Lucifer: I'm going to miss you old friend.

Though, was friend the right word? Adam was so much more than a friend to Lucifer.

Watching him get stabbed like that had been very hard.

Was it though?

Lucifer snapped his head up, eyes wide as he looked at the angel he thought to be long dead, his helmet gone and golden blood staining his robe.

Lucifer: A-Adam? What, how are you here!?

Adam smiled at him and it was too sweet for the Adam of today the one that he turned into. But not the Adam he knew in Eden.

Adam: Oh come on Luci, you're smarter than that. No one comes back from an angelic blade to the heart. Thanks for that by the way.

That nickname sliced through his core, he hadn't heard it in so long he almost forgot that's what Adam used to call him.

Lucifer: You're not real are you?

Adam: Bingo baby! Awww, it's actually sweet. You miss me so much that I actually take up space in that head of yours.

Lucifer: Why are you so..... Nice? But look like that?

Adam shrugged and moved to sit down beside him: Probably because you don't really remember what I looked like in Eden, but more how I acted. So you just kinda...... Married the past with the present. I don't know boo, it's your mind.

Lucifer felt Adam touch his hair as if to tuck it behind his ear, but since he wasn't real the hand just went right through him.

Lucifer: I don't get it, you weren't like this in Eden.

Adam: Maybe I'm a version you've always wanted.

That made sense in a way.

Lucifer: Why would I want a polite slightly flirty version of you?

Adam smiled gently and leaned in: Come on Luci, you know why. Stop lying to yourself.~

His breath hitched in his throat, sure he had always thought about what could have been between them but...... It was always just a fantasy.

Adam: A fantasy you could have made real.~

Lucifer: You didn't want me.

Adam: How would you know? You never asked or tried. You could have had me all to yourself.

Lucifer: I could have?

Adam: Yeah. But now you never will.

@fanofstuff01 @beef-brisket

[shoccoe]

Oh! Suggestions, can’t say I really expected those, but this is super fun!!

Here’s my thoughts

1 - good idea all around. I think the block the character would represent could be altered to be one more relevant to the series, though! I tried to keep the language consisting of references almost entirely, so good idea with the crystals!

Something like:

X = Crystal = Quotation mark

(?# = Single Quotes)

(^# = Apostrophe)

(v# = Asterisk)

Yeah!! I like that!! Ty <3

—————

2 - Useful shorthand! No notes, but I wanna push that whenever you’re doing something for display purposes, the script was written the way it was for the aesthetics! One of its primary design principles is the language being *actual parkour you can do.* This gets muddled when ya use verticals, but for most sentences?? You can literally build a sentence. I’ve put some thought into how to delineate flourishes without muddying or making the language too complex, but if I come up with something I’ll probably release a guide with examples of how to build sentences! (Currently you can just put signs with what flourishes it has and the language is totally buildable… but that’s kinda lame)

——————

3 - Oh! I actually prepped something for this exact thing! “-“ for chain blocks! This is preferred to barriers (despite the lesser series-significance) because I honestly just value the buildability of the language more!

——————

4 - tbh! I don’t think this is a necessary addition to the system. It only applies if you want to make an entire system of [] capital, as numbers would take the negativity of their first digit. I suppose if you wanted, you could perhaps do:

?vu8[]____C[]__OC[]vu

I believe it’s best to try and use existing things to address a problem as opposed to introducing new things to keep track of.

(As it’s impossible to place more than one of the (?,^,v) set of Flourishes on any given block, the ? becomes a floating Flourish. This, paired with the vu pair makes the ? distribute the every block inside)

——————

Thanks for the feedback~!

So… I may or may not have written an entire Conlang based on a single joke in Minecraft Parkour Civilization 2. That would be ridiculous. Aha. Hahahaha. Ha.

*cough*

A Quick Guide to Writing in Parkour

Flourish List.

You add these in front of blocks to change their meaning. There’s a key at the bottom containing the Parkour alphabet which demonstrates how the space, 180°, 360°, and 720° Flourishes are used to refer to specific English-Letter analogs.

_ = Space

C = 180° Flourish = 5 spaces

O = 360° Flourish = 10 spaces

8 = 720° Flourish = 20 spaces

? = Reverse = Reverses input

^ = Vertical Jump = Raises Intensity

v = Drop = Lowers Intensity

Block List.

These are the building blocks (lmfao) of the language and are what would be counted as an “input” or “letter”. Also included are short legends under each block describing what each flourish does to each block!

(Note! _,C,O, and 8 cannot be applied to any block other than [ ] and H)

[ ] = Block = Grammatical Value

(?[ ] = Capitalized)

(^[ ] = Impassioned)

(v[ ] = Depressed)

H = Fence = Numerical Value

(?H = Negative)

(^H = Exponential)

(vH = Square Root)

u = Pot = Period

(?u = Comma)

(^u = Hyphen/Equality)

(vu = Parentheses)

I = Pane = Question

(?I = Exclamation)

(^I = Command)

(vI = Sarcasm)

% = Brewing Stand = Addition

(?% = Subtraction)

(^% = Multiplication)

(v% = Division)

Alphabet

a = [ ]

b = _[ ]

c = __[ ]

ch = ___[ ]

d = ____[ ]

e = C[ ]

f = _C[ ]

g = __C[ ]

h = ___C[ ]

i = ____C[ ]

j = O[ ]

l = _O[ ]

m = __O[ ]

n = ___O[ ]

o = ____O[ ]

p = OC[ ]

r = _OC[ ]

s = __OC[ ]

sh = ___OC[ ]

t = ____OC[ ]

th = 8[ ]

u = _8[ ]

v = __8[ ]

w = ___8[ ]

y = ____8[ ]

Numbers

0 = H

1 = _H

2 = __H

3 = ___H

4 = ____H

5 = CH

6 = _CH

7 = __CH

8 = ___CH

9 = ____CH

Now that you have all the tools, let’s put it all together~!

————————————

?8[ ]____C[ ]__OC[ ] ____C[ ]__OC[ ] OC[ ][ ]_OC[ ]__[ ]____O[ ]_8[ ]_OC[ ]?I

____CHH% _HH ^u _HHH

?C[ ][ ]____OC[ ] 8[ ]C[ ] _OC[ ]____C[ ]___[ ]^I

————————————

Big thanks to my friend PrismaticKoi for giving me the idea and helping me figure this all out! Working with her made this process super fun!!!

Enjoy Parkour-!!! I’ll be coding an English<—>Parkour translator at some point, so stick around to find that!!

All of you need to go watch Minecraft Parkour Civilization though. It’s seriously fantastic.

[ennn]

Re: “Rio's goal is to kill Agatha so she can be with her forever”

My brother in Christ, if Rio's ultimate goal this series was to kill Agatha we wouldn't have gotten past the first episode.

Okay okay, I get how it can be confusing because Rio literally says she wants to see Agatha dead in episode one and tells Agatha she'll let the Salem Seven (who do want Agatha dead) know where she is.

But it is noteworthy that Rio tells Agatha what she is going to do and when the Salem Seven are expected to arrive. Rio is usually surprisingly fair in how she deals with Agatha.

Rio has always met Agatha at her power level

In episode one, even assuming Agatha was protected by Wanda's spell and Rio couldn't harm her there, once it was broken Rio went "full analog" – to quote Hahn – with her knife, the only magic she used being the wind blasts.

Guys, that's not a serious murder attempt, that's foreplay to them. Violent, bloody, sexy foreplay.

Also Rio has healing powers. That's a thing they have very clearly shown.

To be clear, my read is that Rio can't actually kill anyone before their time ("You can't kill me, it's not allowed") just hurt them really really badly until they maybe choose to die ("I can make you wish you were dead"). Which you could argue equals killing I suppose, just slower.

But this is Agatha Harkness: all she really needs to survive is a bit of time to scheme and manipulate and do her usual girlbossing, gatekeeping, and gaslighting – and I think Rio also knows this. Agatha keeps surprising her, for better and worse.

Yes, Rio gets BIG MAD in episode 8 because Agatha says possibly The Worst Thing to her but the first part of their confrontation is technically physical torture, not murder attempts.

I know it sounds like I'm splitting hairs here but my point is that having Agatha dead isn't Rio's ultimate #1 goal. It's not so clean and easy.

There's something to be said about how the wounds Rio inflicts speak to how Rio sees herself hurt by Agatha emotionally in the relationship i.e. death by a thousand cuts, the severing of her Achilles tendon.

There’s probably something also be said about the relationship a being like Rio has with physical pain. Trees feel pain. Everything living does. Rio mocks Agatha for dulling herself to it using dark magic.

But I digress.

Anyway, note: it's only after Agatha gets magic back that Rio starts throwing magic blasts – and even then she seems to be holding back.

These two are possibly the worst two witches to fight each other directly like this because Agatha can't absorb Rio's magic or she'll die. She has to actively block or avoid all hits. And I bet this isn't something Agatha is used to dealing with considering she had no issues taking Wanda's magic.

And Rio is aware of this because she’s just lobbing quick little green blasts Agatha's way. It's not a torrent of magic like what Agatha is gleefully unleashing.

It's also the Watsonian (in-universe) explanation as to why this fight is so short. Because you literally can't straight up fight Death. Rio is a hard counter to Agatha's special siphoning ability just like how Agatha was a hard counter to Wanda's magic (insert your scissors-paper-stone visual of choice).

Rio doesn't want Agatha dead, she wants Agatha to want her

It's clear that Rio is grieving when Agatha dies. This isn't the outcome she wants. They're also both crying during the kiss it's great.

Rio wants what Agatha specifically tries to deny in the deal Agatha proposes: she wants to keep pursuing Agatha, to keep seeing her, provoking her, to be shocked and surprised by her. To keep loving her but also, to keep hurting her.

Because Agatha also hurts her right back. And Agatha knows she has Rio constantly on the emotional backfoot, that Rio – despite centuries of hatred thrown her way – still humours her more often than not and what levers to push.

I don't think this can happen with Agatha dead and gone.

To be fair, we don't know what the rules are in this world's afterlife. The only insight we get into Rio's job is her scene with Alice and that still leaves a lot of things unanswered: Does Rio just escort souls to a destination or does she have more control beyond that, like a domain? Can souls refuse to go with Rio? How do ghosts happen?

I had previously assumed Rio needed to allow it but Schaeffer says that her vision in that moment has Agatha's using an evolved form of the power to take Rio's magic by touch.

And with that, it's telling that it's Agatha who ultimately ensures that she dies (with the "calculated risk" of becoming a ghost), siphoning Rio's death magic energy.

Agatha embraces death, embraces Rio, but she also doesn't – Rio's clever witch got away again.

[sugar-grigri]

CSM 182 : snow or the power of forgetting

the snow, eaten by CSM recently, forgotten

the snow, the illusion that lulled Aki in his last moments

the snow, chapter 182, where you finally put the pieces together

what does snow mean ?

What if I told you that Denji's reaction to Yoru's ambivalence was the wrong one ?

I'm not talking from a moral point of view, but purely from a narrative one.

What does Yoru actually do by threatening and kissing him ?

It leads to ambivalence, to a striking contrast that is unbearable.

But life is nothing other than this same diluted contrast, this mixture of negative and positive constantly associated.

When Denji says he can't master these two facets, these dirty tricks and all the problems he has to face, that's precisely what has become his worry.

splitting himself, splitting his surroundings, seeing obstacles as ultimatums.

All this may seem off-the-wall and crazy, or like an analysis to justify Yoru's behaviour.

It isn't.

Don't see his kiss as a kiss, but as a narrative perch for Denji to finally face up to himself

Why ?

Dirty things are what he's always hoped for, they seemed in essence extremely positive, they were the way out of his misfortunes

For Denji, doing dirty things inevitably led to happiness.

Denji gradually realises, thanks to several female characters, that these dirty things are not all positive.

You might think that Denji really took his time to realise this...

But it's far from easy for him; for him, life was a deep unhappiness, always, with no prospect of happiness

Or rather, he couldn't see happiness

Because his conception of happiness was restricted to those dirty things

Pochita, Aki, Power, Nayuta, Denji realised his own unhappiness after their disappearance, he only realised the presence of happiness through his loss

Because he hadn't done anything dirty until now!

Until the end of part 1, Denji is trying to rethink his vision of happiness and is trying to break away from normality, to raise his standards higher: eating steak, 10 girlfriends.

Even though he has come close to happiness, Denji doesn't realise it, because since that happiness wasn't eternal, it wasn't happiness.

Happiness remains a way out for him.

Tasting his definition of happiness, being kissed by Yoru, makes him realise that happiness has lost its meaning.

With each kiss, Denji realises that it won't bring him happiness, because it doesn't make him happy.

Little by little, Denji tries to get closer to something for the long term, not the moment.

That's why, he asks if "Asa" loves him.

Can he finally taste that unchanging happiness? Never taste unhappiness again ?

Asa is his downside, her intrusive thoughts, her internal panics, her reflections are preventing her from living in the moment.

And she doesn't want to live in the moment, because she doesn't trust her instincts (when for Denji they are a way out).

Her instincts led her to save a cat, causing the sacrifice of her mother.

But it was Chainsaw Man who made her realise that life can be excruciatingly bitter and sometimes sweet.

Inhabited by Denji, who is as lost.

How could Denji say something as right as that crap burger if he's lost too ? Life is disgusting, it's tiring and yet we keep eating this burger, thinking of dogs, cats and ice cream.

Because Denji didn't do it.

It's Denji perfectly fused with Pochita.

CHAINSAW MAN.

A double being, symbolically realising the ambivalence of life.

Denji was Pochita's happiness, hence her sacrifice.

Pochita was Denji's happiness, hence his unhappiness.

The constant association of happiness with unhappiness - after all, that's all Denji and Pochita's meeting is about.

Except that at that moment, Denji had come to the wrong conclusion, talking about sex, hence the feeling of unease, and a sense of rupture in his speech. The hope of supreme happiness makes us eat this crap burger, it's true. But it won't make us happy.

What Yoru shows, even though he's part of Asa, is that the concept of happiness and unhappiness make no sense to a devil ; they instrumentalizes them, doesn't understand them.

So she gets hit by Asa because, damn it, this concept of happiness and unhappiness belongs to men.

So Asa takes over and says she hasn't recovered from her mother's death because this event will always seem so unacceptable and horrible to her. Bad things don't disappear.

What changes is the memories we want to bring to the fore.

Snow.

Symbolising Denji's supreme misfortune of having killed his brother to the point of vomiting with guilt.

Symbolically, it is this same vomiting that spits out the snow.

The snow is not just a trauma.

Aki was obsessed by the memory of the tragedy of his family, who were also killed in snowy weather.

And when Aki decides to visit his family's graves, to pay his respects tragically at his family's graves

He can't do it

Because two idiots divert his attention.

Forcing Aki to look away from the unhappiness of the past

To face the happiness right in front of him.

What Aki realised just before his death was that he had never seen happiness, or rather he had chosen not to.

Because happiness isn't there to be found, it's there, it's just there to be looked at, plunged in a pile of shit but it's sometimes there, but we refuse to consider that this thing is happiness, we can hope for more, can't we?

You have to eat this crappy hamburger, even if it means throwing up.

This is the taste of happiness.

Back to the snow

Which you associate with Denji's sadness and Aki's death

Yet this snow fight is Aki's last happiness

Seeing that snow again, associated with that fateful day when he lost his family

Holding that snow in his hands, and playing with his little brother, a little brother he has found again

What if this scene wasn't something he had to endure, but a choice? Aki's choice not to see, the gun held to his eyes, the choice to lull himself into one last sweet illusion, one last bandage, one last cigarette, to escape from this reality that he had always stubbornly tried to face, to escape from it.

But Denji is crying at this point.

Happiness cannot be total happiness, it melts, like snow.

Unhappiness will always be diametrically opposed.

The fact remains that snow is this temporary oblivion, this misfortune that we take in our hands to make snowballs, this moment of fun condemned to melt, snow determines what we do with our misfortune and our happiness.

Snow represents what we decide to see.

It is the forgetting, or rather the silencing of painful memories.

To realize that the snow is cold is to realize the end of happiness, because you're not playing anymore.

I don't like playing snowball: I don't like pretending to be happy anyway.

These memories will not disappear, but we can choose not to see them too much

The snow will remain cold, it will be condemned to melt, it is this moment, what we do with this moment.

Because if it didn't melt, no life would develop

If happiness and unhappiness were not this constant ambivalence, this intermingling of happy and painful moments, if this ephemeral aspect did not exist

Then no life would exist.

When Denji vomits snow, it's because he realises once again the association between happiness and unhappiness that snow represents.

Disgusted by this sad reality too, of not seeing unchanging happiness, of seeing life not as a burger, but as a shit burger.

But the snow is beautiful and it won't stay.

Like these two.

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Reunion - Aftermath

Masterlist

Pairing: Dick Grayson x (f)reader

Tags: slight NSFW, angst, toxic, you cant fix him, smut, grad school, halloween, Dick is the reader's friend's ex's best friend, reunion, oral, penetration, praise, heartbreak, heartbroken reader,

It took some time to get over your initial jealousy after seeing Dick with the girl at the bar. You excused yourself and left your things with your friends, then headed to the bathroom. You held it together surprisingly well, that is until you saw yourself in the mirror and let out a quiet sob.

Damn you. You fell for it again. Visions of that night replayed in your mind. His kind words, the gentleness of his hands on your body, of his lips on your neck, the way his eyes geld yours - it all meant nothing!

You wished you were a like that. Wished you could indulge in intimate activities without being emotionally attached or vulnerable. That you could just have fun and feel nothing the next day.

"Asshole," you cursed under your breath.

Your mascara was smudged at the sides, giving you away despite your attempts to calm your emotions. You ripped a couple of pieces of paper and tried your best to wipe off the tear smudged eyeliner and bring yourself back to normal.

A knock at the door interrupted your thoughts.

You sniffled, calling out, "Just a minute!" And collected your things.

Opening the door, you questioned if the universe was testing you today because you came face to face with the same girl you had just been mentally cursing. She was pretty, dressed in a simple sweater and skinny jeans, tucked into high leather boots. The outfit slapped. It actually mirrored yours, and you almost laughed at the thought that Dick had a type. Speaking of, he was right behind her, his face nuzzled between her ear and her shoulder as the couple giggled to each other.

His gaze registered you, and then a look of surprise took over his face. His smile dropped, and he straightened up, clearing his throat.

You blinked, partly in surprise, partly to clear a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill. Swallowing uncomfortably, you moved out of their way, pressing yourself against the wall in the narrow hallway and trying to escape.

"Honey," the girl took you gently by the wrist. You squeezed your eyes shut at hearing her kind voice. "Are you okay-"

"I'm fine, thanks." You rushed without meeting her gaze. Then you made a mistake. As you walked past Dick, your shoulder nudged his - more aggressively than it needed to, for a random stranger passing by.

You knew your evening was positively ruined. To avoid ruining the mood of your fellow interns, you offered them a made-up excuse about a headache and took your bag on your way out.

"Y/n," the last voice you wanted to hear right now called our behind you.

You didn't turn around, instead holding your eyes closed and sniffling quietly under your breath. "Why, god?"

"Y/n," Dick prompted behind you. "What happened?"

"Oh, shut up." You said, stopping yourself too late.

He paused in front of you, leaning back as if ti assess you. "You're mad at me..." He observed.

Too tired to argue, you took out your phone and checked the bus schedule.

"Why are you mad at me?" He asked.

What a stupid question. You glared up at him from your phone. "Dont you have a face to suck on in there?"

A knowing smile spread across his face, and he shook his head. "I see."

"Good for you." You snapped, murmuring to yourself, "Go after her." You said, feeling your cheeks heat in embarrassment and began walking towards the bus stop, grasping at your coat as you shivered.

"She can wait." He took you by your hand and turned you to face him, nearly dislocating your shoulder in the process. You tore your arm away, only to be backed up against the wall of the bar, caged in by his frame.

You lifted you chin, challenging him with your red eyed gaze. You sneered, "Aren't you worried she'll see us?"

"Not really." Dick gazed back at you with equal challenge. This close you could smell the mix of his skin with his cologne, a painful reminder of how close you let him get to you. "At least she knows the meaning of 'no-strings-attatched'."

"Oh yeah?" You shot back at him "Well at least -" Your shoulders rose and fell as you searched for a retort, only to come up empty-handed. "At least..."

Giving up, you felt your shoulders sag along with your gaze as you let out another sob you'd been holding back. You sniffled, too ashamed to meet his gaze.

Something in him shifted. The vision of you crying? He never saw that, nor had he wanted to see that again.

He let go of you, feeling his own shame rise in his throat. His voice lowered to an apologetic tone. "I'm sorry. That was... uncool. Had i known you would see us... I would never have done anything in front of you."

Shaking your head, you admitted between sniffles, "I wish I was like you."

His brow furrowed. "Why?"

"I wish I could..." He swallowed. "Not get attached."

"I don't... not get attached -" he attempted half heartedly.

"Please," you rolled your eyes, taking out a napkin to wipe them. "I'm still covering up hickeys you left two days ago -" You pulled down your turtleneck to demonstrate "-and you're already shmoozing with someone new."

"I..." He swallowed thickly, studying to purple marks on your neck. Ones he left there. They had even begun to fade. It was like he branded you. But now that brand was disappearing. That image summoned a possessive flash to course through him.

You noticed his expression shift. Nostrils flared as his breathing begame heavy, and his gaze was scorching, you could almost feel where his eyes looked on your neck.

Quickly, you covered back up, putting some distance between the two of you. You didn't know what that look meant, but you knew you were just going to end up sad again. "I have to go,"

"Wait," he said, you stood, waiting for him to speak. "This isn't right."

"What?"

He ran his hand through his hair, the action causing his leather jacket to lift, revealing the gun and handcuffs on the belt of his jeans. Your eyes narrowed. Was he out on the field today? Was that how he ended up in the bar?

"Damn it, y/n," he let out in a quiet frustration. "I dont like this, you being mad at me. Our night was good. It was fun. I didn't ever wanna see you hurt. Please believe me."

"I believe you." You said, grasping at the strap of your back.

He met your gaze, searching.

"I believe you." Air left your mouth in a cloud as you repeated yourself. And you did. Truly. You didn't think his actions were in any way deliberate to hurt you. That was just... the way he was. "I'll see you around."

《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》

Yeah... he fucked up.

Not in his decision to have sex with you. That was great.

No, what he fucked up in was not picking up on the clues that you were not the kind of girl who had casual sex. The women he usually slept with were all looking for the same as him. No attachment, no feelings, just a good few rounds.

And you had him convinced. How early you got up and got dressed the next day, ready to leave quickly. You didn't even wake him up. So he'd assumed you two were on the same page.

He assumed wrong.

No, he had you all wrong. Back in sophomore year, you'd always carried yourself with nonchalance. You underreacred where others overreacted. You prefered to listen rather than speak. You always appeared so... conservative of your energy. That's what made seeing you cry for the first time, which is much more shocking. Dick felt like he'd ended years of inner peace.

What was worse is that that night when he brought home the girl from the bar, he'd closed his eyes, imagining he was with you he was in bed with.

《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》

"Hey, I'm not like a... bad person, right?" He asked out loud, eyes wandering off behind his mask as he finished dragging a perps unconscious body to the corner of the hangar.

"Who cares?" His youngest brother, Damian, spoke into his comm unhelpfully. The kid had just started the eighth grade, and his voice began to drop. Sometimes, when he spoke over comms, Dick found himself asking who that was.

"What?" Jason asked behind his own mask a meter from him, kicking the limp body of another henchman.

"Where's this coming from?" Tim asked over the comm. He was currently on lookout on the warehouse roof. "Also, you got two perps coming into the warehouse - no, hold on, one."

"Copy that." Dick nodded. "And for the record, I care, you heard me, and -" Dick put up a gloved finger as he listed his answers, then shrugged. "Just curious."

"Nightwing," Jason sighed in annoyance. "There is nothing you could do that would make you a bad-"

Another henchmen ran in, just to be knocked out with a single punch from Nightwing.

"-person." Jason finished.

But Dick wasn't so sure.

《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》

The morning rain poured against the gym’s windows as Dick landed another punch against the bag, harder than necessary. He gritted his teeth, trying to focus, on his stance, his core, anything except the remnants of that night that kept slipping into his mind.

The memories were relentless. Flashes of you beneath him, the feel of your skin on his hands, the way your breath hitched when he kissed a path along your collarbone - they crept in despite his efforts to shove them away. The warmth, the breathiness of your voice, the way you looked at him like he was more everything to you. He shook his head, forcing himself to snap out of it.

He threw another punch, this time more controlled, as if he could hit the memory right out of himself. But even now, he couldn’t ignore the way his stomach twisted, that irritating rush of excitement mixed with something he didn’t want to name. You’d thrown off his rhythm. All it took was a couple of tears. And he hated it.

Hell, he was Dick Grayson. He was supposed to have his heart compartmentalized by now - no strings, no lingering thoughts. Just one night and done. So why did the thought of you keep pulling at him, driving him back to those damn memories? It wasn’t like him to get distracted. Yet here he was, haunted by the way your lips had felt against his skin, the softness of your touch. Fuck.

A curse slipped from his mouth as he gave the bag one final hit, feeling the pain in his knuckles. He’d have to get over it, right? But no matter how many times he told himself he’d forget you, he knew the way you’d laughed, the way you’d looked at him like he was worth something real, had left its stupid mark.

Yeah, he fucked up.

[fdelopera]

And these same exact Leftist MORONS just allowed Trump to win the election in a landslide.

Not only that, these Leftists also allowed the GOP to win the Senate, and it looks like the GOP may also maintain control of the House.

So these Leftists have just allowed the GOP to control the Executive Branch, and they've likely given the GOP full control of the Legislative Branch, at least for the next two years. And because of that, when Conservative Supreme Court Justices Clarence Thomas and Samuel Alito likely retire in the next couple years, Trump will be able to pick two more Conservative Justices who will preside in the Supreme Court for DECADES, maintaining the Supreme Court's 6 to 3 Conservative majority.

And so, even if we elect a Democratic President in 2028, the GOP will still control the Supreme Court, the highest court in the Judicial Branch, for YEARS TO COME.

In other words, the GOP are succeeding in their bid to control all three branches of the US Government.

Now, why do I place the blame squarely on Leftists? Here's why:

Over 10 MILLION fewer ballots were cast for Harris in 2024 than were cast for Biden in 2020.

And yes, there will be some additional absentee ballots that will be cured that will add to Harris' total, but even with that, Trump has still secured the Popular Vote as well as the Electoral College in 2024.

If these Leftist IDIOTS had voted for Harris in 2024 in the same numbers and in the same Swing States that they did for Biden in 2020, Harris would have won.

Trump's total Popular Vote total actually went DOWN in 2024 compared to 2020, so even with some Dems in Swing States crossing the aisle and voting for Trump (as the exit polls are showing), if the Leftists who voted for Biden in 2020 had turned up to vote for Harris, Harris would have won.

Here are the numbers:

Biden 2020: 81,283,501 Popular Vote (PV)

Trump 2020: 74,223,975 Popular Vote (PV)

VERSUS (at the time of this post):

Harris 2024: 68,171,304 PV (13,112,197 fewer votes than Biden)

Trump 2024: 72,814,877 PV (down 1,409,098 votes from 2020)

"Kamala Supports Genocide" is 2024's version of "But Her Emails" and "Hey Guys Bernie Could Still Win This Thing".

Leftists have proven that they are still as uneducated about US politics, the US Government, and the world at large as they were in 2016, when we tried to explain to them that Trump was promising to pack the Supreme Court to overturn Roe v. Wade.

Leftists refused to listen to us then, and they helped get Trump elected. And then Trump fulfilled his campaign promise. He packed the Supreme Court with Conservative Justices Gorsuch (2017), Kavanaugh (2018), and Barrett (2020). And in 2022, the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade, and now half the country severely limits access to Reproductive Healthcare:

Current US Reproductive Healthcare Restrictions:

Abortion Banned (13 states) Gestational limit between 6 and 12 weeks LMP (6 states) Gestational limit between 15 and 22 weeks LMP (5 states)

In 2016, Leftists refused to vote for Hillary because they wanted to "teach the Dems a lesson," and then they did exactly the same selfish, privileged behavior in 2024.

And guess what, you stupid Leftist fucks? You didn't teach the Dems anything.

No matter how many times you refuse to vote in order to "teach the Dems a lesson," the Dems will never become your perfect little Anarcho-Commie Revolution Party. And the fact that you can't seem to grasp this shows how stupid you really are.

You know what the Dems will do though? The Dems will protect trans people, minorities, disabled people, and all the other groups that you privileged Leftist fucks "claim" to care about. And yes, that includes the Gazan people.

So, what these Leftists have proven is that they do not give a single solitary SHIT about the people of Gaza. If they did, they would have voted for Harris.

All Leftists care about is wallowing and stewing in their Jew-hate.

Leftists have spent the last 13 months since October 7 relentlessly and violently attacking Jews instead of formulating a plan, ANY PLAN, to VOTE Trump away from the White House once and for all.

And because of that, every time these Leftists say bullshit like "Don't listen to OP they're a Jew ... I mean Zionist LOL", I think we Jews can remind them that the world has THEM to thank for Trump's second term.

And so, I think it is well and truly time to DUMP THE LEFT and start building NEW coalitions.

Yo Leftists! It is now ON SIGHT with you motherfuckers.

From now on, we Jews will fight you just like we fight the white supremacists, because ever since David Duke of the KKK endorsed Jill Stein, you've proven that you are all one in the same.

you can't say you're aspiring for "free, diverse, multiethnic palestine" and then also say "palestinians are allowed to kill jews" thats not how that works and you're full of shit