#anyways that’s enough about that fuckin guy

[missdynamighttt]

Situationship with Bakugo 😵‍💫

a situationship with katsuki bakugo would be chaotic, intense, and incredibly frustrating.

KATSUKI BAKUGO, who's not the type to do things halfway, so the fact that he won’t fully commit (or admit his feelings) means he’s fighting himself the entire time.

KATSUKI BAKUGO, who takes care of you in little ways—grabbing your favorite snacks when he’s out, making sure you get home safe, memorizing all your food orders from various places—but if you call him out on it, he’ll scoff and say, “tch. don’t think too much about it. it was just on the way.”

KATSUKI BAKUGO, where he’s got no problem pulling you into his lap, throwing an arm around you, or grabbing your wrist to keep you from walking away during an argument, only for you to cuddle right back into his arms again. "you always come back anyway. might as well stay where you belong."

KATSUKI BAKUGO, who will go out of his way to coincidentally be where you are, but if you ask, he’ll act like you’re the clingy one. "the hell are you lookin’ at me like that for? it’s a free fuckin’ country—you act like i’m followin’ you or somethin’. maybe you’re the one who can’t stay away."

KATSUKI BAKUGO, the man who kisses you like you’re the only thing keeping him sane but refuses to call it love. the man who pulls you into his arms after a rough day but won’t say he needs you. the man who gets pissed when other guys flirt with you, yet still won’t claim you as his. he knows they’ll never measure up to him.

but then, one day, you get tired of it. tired of the mixed signals, tired of feeling like you’re caught in something he refuses to name.

so you pull away. stop answering his late-night texts. stop letting him hold you like you’re his when he won’t even say the words. stop caring because what’s the point when he won’t admit he cares just as much?

at first, he acts like he doesn’t notice. like it doesn’t bother him. but it does.

KATSUKI BAKUGO, who sees you laughing with someone else and his jaw tightens so hard it aches. he catches himself reaching for you before stopping short, fingers twitching like they’re fighting the habit of pulling you close. he sees you stop waiting for him and realizes, too late, that he never thought you would stop.

KATSUKI BAKUGO, who stands at your doorway, all heat and tension, eyes burning like a wildfire ready to consume you whole. he doesn’t say a word at first, just grabs your wrist—gently, but firm enough that you can feel his frustration thrumming beneath his skin.

“you’re ignoring me,” he accuses, voice low and dangerous.

you lift an eyebrow. “i thought you didn’t care.”

his grip tightens just slightly before he lets go, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

he hates this. hates feeling out of control, hates that you make him feel anything at all.

but he’s done lying to himself.

“you think i don’t care? you think i don’t—” he cuts himself off, exhaling sharply through his nose.

you scoff, crossing your arms. "you sure as hell act like it. or is this just another one of your games?"

his jaw clenches. "it was never a damn game, sweets."

"then what was it, katsuki?" you throw your hands up. "because it sure as hell wasn't a relationship."

"you think i don’t—" he cuts himself off with a frustrated noise, pacing like he's physically fighting with himself. then he turns back to you. "damn it, i was trying!"

"trying what?" you challenge. "to string me along until you got bored? to keep me so that no one else could have me?"

"no! i was trying to—fuck—i was trying to figure it out! trying to—" he stops himself again, exhales hard through his nose, then looks at you, really looks at you. "trying to not fuck this up."

the words hang between you, heavy, aching.

your voice is softer now, but no less sharp. "and yet, you still did."

for a moment, he just stares at you. and then, before you can turn away, before you can push him out of your life completely, he closes the distance.

"no," he growls. "i'm not letting you walk away from me again."

you shake your head. "you already let me go."

"the hell i did!" his hands grip your arms, not to restrain but to hold on. "you think i don’t want you? that i don’t—"

he stops, sucks in a breath, and then—

he cups your face and kisses you. not like before. not out of desperation, not just because it’s easy. not like the heated, desperate, i need to feel something kisses he’s stolen in the past. this one is different.

raw, messy, everything he’s been too damn stubborn to say.

this one is real.

and when he pulls back, breathless, eyes blazing, he mutters, "you wanna know what this is? it’s me, fucking telling you, that i’m all in on this. now tell me you don’t want me, and i’ll walk."

you swallow, your own breath uneven. but you can’t say it. because you do. you always have.

and he knows it.

you stare at him, chest heaving, your lips still tingling from the force of his kiss. your mind is screaming at you to push him away, to remind him that he had months to figure this out, to tell him that it’s too late.

but your heart? your heart is beating so damn loud it drowns out the logic.

katsuki sees the hesitation, the war behind your eyes. he doesn’t rush you. for once, he doesn’t bulldoze his way through with brute force.

"you’re such a fucking asshole," you mutter, shoving at his chest, but he doesn’t budge.

he exhales, a short, almost bitter laugh. “i know.”

you lick your lips, looking anywhere but at him. “you put me through hell, katsuki.”

“i know that too,” his voice is rough, but there’s no anger anymore. just quiet, painful honesty. he huffs, rubs a hand down his face before dropping it. “i was scared, sweets.”

you blink. katsuki bakugo, scared?

he sees the doubt flash across your face and scowls. “don’t. don’t look at me like that. like i don’t get to be scared of this—of you.”

your breath catches, and suddenly, the anger flares up again. “me? you were scared of me?”

“yeah,” he scoffs, eyes flicking between yours. "i ain't good at this shit, alright? but don't ever think for a second that i didn't want you."

your jaw tightens. "then why the hell did it take losing me for you to say it?"

something flickers across his face—regret, maybe. frustration. the words sound like they hurt to admit. "because i was a goddamn coward. because i didn't know how to have you without screwing it all up."

you stare at him, searching his face, waiting for the catch—for him to backtrack, for him to make another excuse. but he doesn’t.

instead, his grip on you softens, hands sliding down to your wrists, fingers brushing over your pulse. he watches you carefully, fingers grazing your wrist.

"tell me you don’t feel the same, and i’ll let you go. but if you do…” he leans in just slightly, gaze flickering to your lips. “then stop fighting me and let me be yours.”

and damn it—damn him—because you do. you always have.

your breath is unsteady, your chest tight as you stare at him. he looks like he’s ready for a fight, ready to prove himself, but you’re not making this easy for him.

he doesn’t deserve easy.

you step back, but he follows, unwilling to let space grow between you again. "if you really mean it, you’re gonna have to work for it."

his lips part slightly, like he wasn’t expecting you to say that. then, he huffs, shoving his hands into his pockets. "fine. i will."

"you don’t even know what that means."

"doesn’t matter," his eyes burn with determination. "i’ll figure it out."

you study him, searching for hesitation, doubt—any sign that he’ll walk away the moment things get tough. but all you see is conviction, a stubborn resolve that’s so him it almost makes your chest ache.

still, you’re not going to let him think this is some quick fix.

"no more mixed signals," your voice is firm. "no more acting like i don’t matter just because you're scared of your own feelings."

his jaw clenches, but he nods. "yeah."

"and no more kissing me like i’m yours and then pretending it doesn’t mean anything."

his eyes darken slightly. "that one was never pretend."

you don’t give in just yet. you let the silence stretch, let him sit in it, let him feel the weight of what he’s asking for.

then, finally, you nod. "alright. then we’ll see."

from the moment you demanded he work for your trust, he treats it like the most important damn mission of his life.

KATSUKI BAKUGO, who starts showing up—not just in the ways he used to, sneaking into your life with little gestures he refused to acknowledge. no, this time, he makes it clear.

KATSUKI BAKUGO, who texts you good morning. goodnight. little things throughout the day that show you he’s thinking about you. "did you eat? i know you don’t like the coffee at work, so i left one for you on your desk, call me if you need a ride."

KATSUKI BAKUGO, where at work, he swings by your office under the pretense of “checking in,” but you catch the way his eyes linger, the way his fingers tap against your desk like he’s resisting the urge to touch you.

KATSUKI BAKUGO, when he knows you’re out with friends, he doesn’t pull the usual possessive coincidentally running into you routine. he lets you have your space but makes sure you get home safe. "text me when you’re back."

but the real proof is in the way he listens. the way he remembers.

KATSUKI BAKUGO, who recalls things you mentioned offhandedly weeks ago—your favorite dessert from that bakery downtown, the dumb movie you wanted to watch but never got around to. one night, you mention offhandedly that you’ve been stressed, and the next day, he drags you out of your apartment. "c’mon. you need a break."

you expect something explosive, something him—but instead, he takes you to a quiet spot, lets you rant, doesn’t rush you. just listens.

and when you look at him, skeptical, waiting for him to make some kind of sarcastic remark, he just shrugs. "told you i was serious."

he never demands anything from you. never pushes you for an answer.

but one night, after another long day, after another moment where he reminds you, without words, just how much he’s changed—how much he’s trying—you finally give in.

you reach for his hand.

it’s tentative, just a light brush of your fingers against his. he looks down, then back up at you, something unreadable in his expression.

you squeeze lightly, voice quiet. "okay."

he blinks. "okay?"

you take a breath. "i believe you."

and for the first time in a long time, he smiles. really smiles.

then, with all the patience he’s learned just for you, he lifts your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles.

"’bout fuckin' time."

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ hi!! a little something to publish bc i feel i havent been posting much like i've been before? js burnout from school and shit, also indulging my free time😭 hope you guys enjoy💜💜

[vandme12]

Maybe a fic abt Ronin from Angst to Fluff ? ?

comfort him?

It starts with silence. A rare thing for Ronin, who lives for noise—the crack of bone, the wet slap of a heart hitting the pavement, the scream of someone who thought they were safe. But not now.

Now, he’s quiet.

His fingers twitch at his sides, itching for a cigarette, a blade—something to fill the emptiness gnawing in his gut. But all he has is you.

And that should be enough.

“Should be.” His voice is raw, torn up like he’s been screaming, but you know he hasn’t. Not aloud, anyway.

“You’re quiet,” you murmur. Soft. Too soft—he hates it, and you know that. He thrives on your fire. But tonight, even your flame isn’t enough to burn through the wall he’s put up.

He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t look at you. Just presses the heel of his hand against his temple like he can squeeze the thoughts out if he tries hard enough.

“…Ronin.”

It’s the way you say his name that cracks him open—like he’s human. Like he’s something worth worrying about. And that shouldn’t matter, not to someone like him, but it does. Fuck, it does.

“I shoulda done something to...help..” he says, voice like gravel. “Shoulda made it faster”

Ah...

You should’ve known. It always comes back to him, Them. It's someone from his past.

You don’t ask if Ronin’s blaming himself—he is. Even when he’s laughing, when he’s carving his name into the world with bloodied hands,

“You did what you could,” you tell him. The words feel hollow—but they’re the truth. And Ronin’s a bastard, but he doesn’t lie to himself. Not about this.

He snorts softly. “Ain’t that a sweet lil’ line, baby. You should write it in a fuckin’ Hallmark card.”

You don’t laugh. Not this time. You just reach out—slow, careful—and brush his blood-streaked hair out of his eyes.

He flinches. Like he isn’t used to being touched gently. Like it burns.

“…I’m here,” you say. A simple thing—but it shakes something loose in him, a thread pulled too tight finally snapping.

His breath shudders as he grabs your wrist, dragging your hand down to his mouth. Biting. Not enough to hurt—but enough to feel real. To feel alive.

“Yeah?” he breathes, voice rough against your skin. “Y’gonna stay?”

You don’t hesitate. “Always.”

And that? That breaks him.

One second, he’s a knife’s edge—sharp, unyielding. The next, he’s burying his face in the curve of your neck, arms locked around you too tight, like he’s holding himself together with nothing but blood and sheer spite.

“Shit,” he mutters, voice muffled. “This ain’t fair, baby. You—yer too good for me.”

You laugh—quiet, breathless—tilting his head up so he has to meet your eyes. “Says the guy who just handed me a human heart.”

He grins, but it’s shaky. “Hey, I’m a romantic.”

And maybe that’s what kills you the most—he means it. In his own fucked-up way, he really, truly means it.

“You’re mine,” you whisper, because it’s the only thing that matters. “And I’m yours. Got it?”

For a second, you think he won’t answer. That he’ll slip back behind his teeth, all sharp grins and sharper knives. But then—

“I got it,” he says, softer than you’ve ever heard him. “I—fuck. Yeah. I got it, baby.”

And when he kisses you, it’s not wild. Not cruel. Just desperate.

Like you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.

[triptychcryptid]

O'Sadley's, sometime in the early 90's:

Stan H512'12 at the bar with a drink in his hand, smooth-talking the bartender who just mentioned it's her last day.

-Anti-Ford walks in and spots Stan- "Hey Stan! Good to see ya!"

-Stan turns around as Anti walks up to him with a friendly smile. Gruffly- "Hey man."

Anti: "What are you doing here? You doing okay? You seem upset."

Stan: -scoffs- "Upset? Nah, I'm fine, man. What, somethin' needs to be wrong for me to get a drink? Man can't just go into a bar on a Friday night and hit on the bartender?"

9 drinks later

Stan: -face down on the bartop, sobbing while Anti-Ford sits next to him with an arm around him- "-An' then that fucker took off my fingertip to get me to let go of him, and he LEF' ME TO DIE! My own brother! " -holds up his hand so Anti can see the missing fingertip, except that Stan's friend Saoirse already fixed it for him, so there's nothing to see-

Anti: -in a soothing tone- "Hey, buddy, I know. It's okay, you're not alone."

Stan: -still sobbing as a different bartender walks in, switching out with the other one- "An' I ended up on that stupid ass dinosaur planet and almost got eaten like 50 times!"

Anti: "That must have been terrifying! Big hugs, let it out."

Bartender: -sighs and goes to the bar phone, presses the 3rd speed dial button and waits. After a minute: "Hey, yeah, it's Matt. -pause- Yeah, again. -pause- 10. -pause- Yeah, it was fuckin' Nicole. It's ALWAYS Nicole. I never let him drink that much. -pause- No, Anti's here with him. He's scaring off my other customers, though, get him out of here. -pause- Yeah, okay, thanks." -To Anti-Ford and Stan- "Saoirse's coming to get him."

Anti-Ford: "Hey, thanks, man. I appreciate you calling her, I think the poor guy's had enough."

About 20 minutes later, Stan's best friend Saoirse shows up and walks up to them

Saoirse: "Hey, Anti-Gravity! Thanks for babysitting him. Sorry you had to see this. He's such a baby when he has more than like 5 drinks."

Anti-Ford: -gives her a friendly wave and smile- "Hey! Oh, no worries. I deal with worse from my best friend." -meaning Jerk Ford- "He had a lot of feelings he needed to get out. I really don't mind."

Saoirse: -shakes Stan's shoulder- "Hey, Staniel Day-Lewis, let's go. You're a fucking mess and you look like shit."

Stan: -grumbles something unintelligible at her-

Saoirse: -grabs him around the waist, slings one of his arms around her shoulders and slides him out of his chair- "Nope, come on. Matt's losing business because of you and you're embarrassing yourself. And me. And Anti-Ford." Anti-Ford: "Oh, no, I really don't-"

Saoirse: -in a teasing sort of way, grinning at him- "Shut up. You're embarrassed, I'm embarrassed, we're all embarrassed. He's extremely embarrassing. Anyway, see ya later, Lisa Frank!" -waves to Anti-Ford and Matt as she drags Stan out of the bar to her ship.

I don't know, I had an idea where Stan gets shit-faced at O'Sadley's one night and Anti-Ford just happens to be there and lends a shoulder for Stan to hysterically sob on. XD This would be after they'd crossed paths a few times, so they were sorta on friendly terms, but Stan's still warming up to him as he's still very against Fords in general. But Anti is the most NOT like his Ford, so he trusts him more than the others. Also, this happens enough that the bar has Saoirse on speed dial. XD Also, if people don't know how to pronounce Saoirse's name, it's Sir-Shuh. Rhymes with Inertia. XD

Hopefully I did Anti-ford justice. Or...SOME justice. XD According to @tinfoil-jones, Anti's superpower is accurately translating emotional unavailability into it's deeper meaning. A.K.A, this is the 10th anniversary of Stan's arrival to the portal and he's got feelings about it, but refuses to admit that he's upset. XD

@localcanadiancreature62

[dailyhtfboards]

Day 41

Today’s Board is:

*disco music stops*

(From TV episode 7A A Change of Heart)

[bixels]

Jesus man, relax.

[ricky-mortis]

Y’all should watch The Edge of Sleep…

[xxplastic-cubexx]

what is your favorite thing about charles and your favorite thing about erik? separately, as in what you like most about their characters :]

a devious question this one is, my friend!!! it's hard enough for me to explain my thoughts cohesively, but having to pick ONE thing i particularly love is difficult. with characters like charles and erik, theres been so much done with their characters over the decades and so they have so many components to them that make them so interesting and fun to observe. BUT I TRY FOR YOU TODAY. under the cut i kinda ramble and the size of this text box makin me anxious

i think if i were to be simple and broad, what i enjoy most about charles is his determination to help others, even if he isn't really thanked and/or if people don't even like him. ofc, this isn't to say he hasn't done wrong- to be honest, the fact he does wrong/questionable things at times is another aspect of him i really enjoy, maybe because- broadly speaking- he's meant to be altruistic (intent vs outcome and all that). i don't know if that's super exciting to most people, but it is for me

as for erik, my reason for liking him is easier to explain tbh. To Be Simple And Broad, his progression from villain to antihero over the decades has been fun to observe (as much as i have so far anyhow) and analyze. i think to be a bit more specific, him using his rage and pain as justifications for his villainous actions is definitely what compels me the most: hurt people hurt and the sort, an idea i've always found interesting (something something vicious cycles and the like). yet now, he recognizes this wasn't really. A Just Thing To Do and is beginning to change that, which i enjoy

[moogghost]

i swear people needa start acknowledging that systems/plurals exist whenever they start going "oh but someone can't identify as [x] and [x] at the same time that's contradictory"

like i'm sorry but typically the experience of being plural will result in us using labels in a way that is outside of the singlet experience and i'm sick of y'all acting like the queer singlet experience is the only way (and the "correct" way) to be queer

[sweetest-honeybee]

them having you chill on the side is how they lure you in with a false sense of hope of "it's really not that bad!~" DON'T FALL FOR IT--

but deadass i remember it was like that the first day i was a carhop at sonic, thought it wasn't too bad. literally the next day i had over a 100 separate orders i took out. i worked there for 2 weeks then gave a 2 weeks cause i was too scared to just quite outright LMAO (was my first job at 17)

best of luck to you, and am sending all the good vibes that you get a better opportunity elsewhere!!! 💛🏵

EXACTLY and I fuckin KNOW they’re making it look easier. I’m not quick enough yet to handle a line of people and that’s fine but they haven’t trained me for it yet

The funniest thing is is that so many people quit ALL at he time there and people would keep saying those people who quit were just too lazy and the workload was too hard and blah blah blah

It’s NOT. The “workload” is running around in the same open room or to the kitchen unless you spend your time in the cooler. The main managers just an ass and I have the strongest feeling she’s run out people by being an asshole to them because the second I saw the way she handled me accidentally letting a dude walk out without paying, I knew there and then that I wasn’t gonna be working there long be it that she fired me for the stupidest gd reason or I quit

[camellcat]

dunno if it really fits them but the thought won't leave my brain so here's a doodle

[timeisacephalopod]

Part of being Canadian is how similar we are to the US, and honestly not a single person on earth I think could genuinely pin point the difference between Canadian and American culture but the average Canadian. Americans assume we're the same as them (we aren't), even a bunch of Canadians think we're Americans, especially around voting seasons, and about half our cultural identity is "we're Not American!" but there are some cultural differences and if we all spoke French equally we could have had a language distinction but nooooo. Despite not being America unfortunately such a fuck off massive country right below your teeny tiny ass country (population wise) does result in a cultural avalanche from said fuck off massive country. Especially when you share a language.

The war of 1812 will forever be funny to me though because Americans were like "hmm maybe Canadians would also like to tell the British to fuck off, we will invade to show them!" And Canada was like *burns down the white house* and we've been tentatively chill with each other ever since lmao (even when we probably like. Shouldn't be cool with America but like. We could not risk that implosion politically or otherwise it'd be suicide).

[poyitjdr]

nothing like a guy you know breaking his hand, doing jack shit about it, and being a little shit in *just* the right way that it gets you to be a little shit back and you end up laughing together

and then once you leave you remember you’ve been medically trained for this exact kinda thing for over a decade and your brain suddenly supplies a cozy lil fantasy of you bandaging him up, suddenly forcing you to realize that *fuck* you’ve got your dumb little heart involved again, haven’t you

[omegasmileyface]

im slowly becoming more certain that ive lived an aromantic or aspec experience but im starting to think my experience was VERY much not the norm for those

[b0nelessdoodles]

hehehehe silly goblin doodles from the year

[im-smart-i-swear]

Does Jiro has ghost like abilities (possession, ability to levitate things, etc etc) or does she just live in Shiro's head?

when i created this au, i thought the best option would be for her to be unable to interact with the physical world in any way(including possesion), beacuse i really wanted to lean into her isolation and how it affects her....... and while thats something i still want to emphasise here, lately ive been toying with the idea of jiro being able to impact the physical world somehow(though it still being fairly limited). i think letting her have some control could have a lot of potential! buuuut i also have no idea what abilities i want her to have lol

For now i think im not gonna give her any telekinetic abilities, bc i feel like it would be giving her too much power......... if she could throw shit, shed go APESHIT with it. it would made things too easy for her. i'm sorry babygirl but i'm NOT giving you the possibilty to throw knives and other sharp objects, i dont trust you to not kill someone:/

i really like the idea of her being able to temporarily posses her old body in certain circumstances tho- maybe when shiros uncouncious?? or like when hes is very tired or heavily injured she can kind of 'squeeze through' and take control back for a few minutes???? idk. i think this could be a very cool ability to give her- it cant be frequently used but can also be very helpful, and also theres so much potential for ✨shenanigans✨here>:) oh god i could put these fuckers in so many Situations with this..........

uhhh. so basically i think all of her influence on the physical world are through shiro. shes here bc of her connection to her old body, and thus its the only way for her to interact with anyone besides him- and shes NOT HAPPY about this(neither is shiro).