#something about it just makes people shut their brains off

[tanadrin]

I am sorry for the anon but I feel too vulnerable to come off due to the nature of my question.

I am slowly losing friends due to my refusal to engage in negative/nihilistic/doomer views of the future. My friends are 1000% convinced Trump and Republicans are going to crash the economy on purpose, leading to a depression, and carry out a Gilead situation. I told one of my friends the other day how, despite everything and the political situation, I am trying to be as positive as possible - or at least neutral. Her response to me was, "Why? I don't understand your optimism. You know they're going to enslave us all like in The Handmaid's Tale, right?" and it has become so dreadful now to interact with them. Anytime I disagree, they try to intellectually dominate me or put me under them in a way where I have no choice but to just leave the conversation.

I know this was a lot. But is there any advice you might have for someone like me? Because I sometimes feel like I am being painted as crazy. I know things will be hard but they genuinely want me to believe I have no future and I can't stand that.

Also, would it be too much to ask if you maybe mind sharing some of the other people/blogs you follow?

I once heard advice on dealing with Qanon family members who had fallen down the rabbit hole and only ever wanted to talk about conspiracy theories or the outrage bait they'd seen on Fox News or OANN or whatever, about not challenging them on their views but basically saying "I don't want to talk about this; let's talk about our plans for the weekend, or what movie we wanna go see later, or what interesting books you've read lately." The idea being, arguing with someone can only further entrench their beliefs, and if you really want to shake someone out of their dismal universe of conspiracism, it helps to remind them of all the things that aren't the fear-and-anger-activating content they're stuffing their brains with for hours every day.

Maybe something like this could help? I have a hard time imagining that someone really believes The Handmaid's Tale really is just around the corner--if you really believed that, surely you would be trying to flee to Canada or doing some political volunteer work or something--and sometimes doomer stuff can be kind of reflexive or phatic, like making a crack about how your retirement plan is to die in the water wars or something. But even if it isn't, I don't think there's any point in trying to argue about this stuff in the moment. Instead try to build on the things you still find fulfilling in that friendship, the conversations and interests and activities with those friends that caused you to become friends in the first place.

If you can't do that--if hanging out with them is always a constant grind of full-throttle doomerism, and they express no interest in actually trying to do something with their feelings of anger and frustration--you are perfectly within your rights to spend less time around them. You could, if you wanted to and you felt that you owed them at least that, give them a heads up as to why. If a close friend of mine or a family member was doing this, I would certainly talk to them about it. But your obligation to subject yourself to someone else's self-destructive idee fixe is not bottomless. Even with a partner you are within your rights to eventually say "I'm not going to talk about this with you anymore."

(And that's not only true of politics or conspiracy theories, by the way! If you have a close friend or family member or partner who--for example--has severe depression but refuses to seek treatment for it, you are not obligated to be the sponge for their misery forever every time they need someone to talk to. If someone in your life is in a relationship or a job that is making them miserable, and won't do anything to leave that relationship or find a new job, and just wants a friend to complain to, you are within your rights to eventually shut that down. Lots of people fall into a holding pattern in their life where they are unhappy but unable to do anything about it, and they will make this their friends' or loved ones' problem. That doesn't make them bad people: lord knows I have found myself doing this before. It's a very human thing to do. But sometimes the Good Friend Thing is to say "I love you, and will support you if you want to actually *do something* about your situation, but otherwise, oh my god shut the fuck up." But, you know, nicely.)

But if your friends want to make themselves miserable because hanging on to an endless stream of toxicity and doomerism from social media (and I will bet this is primarily coming from social media) is more important to them than your friendship, and they can't handle you not agreeing with them, you may lose them as friends. If you do, I'm sorry. That sucks. It's hard to lose friends, and it's even harder later in life when making new friends is more difficult, and I don't want to pretend like that's not a big deal.

[ihatebrainstorm]

i never got very far into the comics because adhd is a harsh mistress, so i don't really know anything about brainstorm. what are your favorite things about him?

Aw man there's so many things I love about him, and I'll try to avoid spoilers but there is a certain in the story that really flipped the switch about how I thought of him kaksdf- Also this will get very long winded and incoherent very quickly bc uh I love this stupid asshole and he occupies 90% of my brain at all times: (i apologize in advance)

Surface level wise, I love his stupid arrogant humour and how seemingly absorbed with himself he is- I love how much of a ridiculous scheming little prick he can be gahgh, idk I think I just really like that character archetype?? At least going off of characters from other media I immediately get attached to lmao

He's just so sillyyyy and a menace and a prick and a stupid little annoying asshole but then he's actually really caring towards his friends and I want to shake him and rattle him and throw him out a windoww (He'll be fine, he can fly)

He's a trickster and he does science for the love of the game- Experiments with everything and everyone, builds whatever stupid idea just for the sake of building it, and idk I relate to that ig and I respect that

His stupid moldy egg colour scheme. (idk that's how I always see it) idk why,, I just like it. but also I don't like it. but also I do... but also I hate drawing with that colour scheme

HIS WINGSSS HIS STUPID WINGS AND HIS HEAD THAT ARE ALL PISS ANNOYING TO DRAW BUT I LOOK AT IT AND GO "yeeehaheehe he's so annoying i hate him i love him wow i love airplanes" I love airplanes so much, I love how he has a jetpack that he barely ever uses, and an airplane altmode that he also barely ever uses, and I love that he can fly, I love flying characters, I love flying animation, I just love anything that can fly, I like flight and flying

That stupid silly prick little annoying scrunkled lovable punchable face he always does:

like don't you see that and want to sock him directly in the face <33

Nerd. i like nerd characters. and he is quintessential nerd. loud mouth babbleton yapper info dumper extraordinaire and I wouldn't have it any other way

HE'S SO GIGGLY AND ADORABLE SOMETIMES. AND ANNOYING. AND A PRICK. AND GRGHRGHRHHHH WHY IS HE LIKE THAT I WANT HIM TO SHUT UP AND NOT SHUT UP.

His friendship with Nautica and Percy <33333 Their little science trio is so adorable and fun and the stupid silly science antics potential is through the roofff- Like look at Nautica and BS aghgghgh they're so adorablee <333

Simpatico. i. idk why but something about that ship makes me so damn happy- like somethign about Brainstorm being so goofy silly, constantly trying to prove his worth in contrast to Percy's super analytical no nonsense attitude, eventually drifting towards Percy mutually respecting the silly fella makes me so happyy.... It's a really funny dynamic to me, and there's that point in the story where I feel like you can see Percy start to really admire BS.. it really flipped a switch for me- Also that final simpatico panel in the last LL issue makes me so happy bc they both look so happy and I love seeing happy characters :D

Edit: Forgot to mention, but also something about post-war Percy finally returning to science work, after years of being a sniper? To me at least, it felt like Percy was relearning his love for science outside of his duties, and Brainstorm's little arc + Nautica's arrival helped him gain new equals to work alongside with- They bring a bit competitiveness and discovery to science that helps reinvigorate Percy's intrinsic love and interest after years of strict duty

Brainstorm's angstt.. his internal conflicts, lack of self-worth, being so absorbed with his work that it ends up harming him, and the way he cares about people he's close to which eventually all leads to his arc all are stuff I really relate to heavily so i chomp it down with salt and pepper

His weirdness,, like he's sorta funky weird and I appreciate that a lot, because it all makes sense or no sense to him and him alone, and yea that makes my brain happy :)

His own little hyperfixations/general fixations like researching time travel, the dead universe, sparkeater stuff, multiverse stuff etc. etc. (like who else goes: oh huh this creature almost killed me, lemme go make a gun that makes more of those things :D) he just like me fr fr

His deceptiveness, sneakiness, and doing shady things under the table (I can't get too into it bc it's pretty heavy spoiler stuff so yea) Also his weird moodiness sometimes

His friendship with Chromedome,, they seem to care a lot about each other, but are also in the midst of drifting apart??? Old acquaintances/ coworkers/ friends who've been working together for ages and know deeply about one another, including the crappy things they've done in the past, but are now kinda distant? Yet they have a certain flavour of sad care to their dynamic which feels real and melancholic,, also the way you can kinda feel how his experiences with Chromedome's past sorta influences how he sees Nautica's decisions later in the story gghhgughhh

This bozo idiot getting partially Mike Wazowski'd on the cover of MTMTE #28

His MTO backstory and theorizing about how he ended up doing science??? How'd he get there? Why is he so adverse to calling himself an MTO? What was the Operation he was born into about???

His strange spookiness- like he isn't scary per-say but sometimes he's just kind of a spooky menace creature and I love that :) It's like adding layers of mystery to his erratic goofy outer-personality and it's really intriguing (kinda like cuddling with a cat then watching it stare you down from the dark corner of a room an hour later)

In conclusion: I want to kick him into the stratosphere out of spite and love <3 thank you for coming to my incoherent, likely uninformative Ted Talk :)

[peachversace]

Bakugou Katsuki is not one for hesitation. 

His approach to most things—whether it’s fighting villains, cooking up the perfect dinner, or tearing you apart in bed—is always intense, always deliberate, always so him. And tonight? Tonight is no different, though something about him feels even more charged, more relentless.

It's been two weeks since you moved in together, and the sex is good—always good—but tonight Katsuki seems almost unhinged. There’s a hunger in his every movement, like he’s got something to prove, like he’s aiming for perfection.

You’re on your back, thighs pressed flush against your ears as he holds your calves with an iron grip. His hands are big, and calloused from years of training, and the way his fingers curl into your skin is possessive, and grounding. He pounds into you with a rhythm that’s utterly merciless—hard, short, precise thrusts that leave no room for doubt. The stretch has your body trembling, your hands scrambling against the sheets as if they might anchor you to reality. But there’s no escape from him tonight.

Your voice comes out loud, almost a wail, as you struggle to keep up with him. It’s not like you’re trying to keep quiet—Katsuki would hate that—but every sound he pulls from you feels raw, involuntary, like your body is reacting without your permission. And he? He’s gone, too, muttering through gritted teeth, every word rough and unfiltered.

“F-fuck,” he growls, his voice low and strained, breaking over each syllable. His red eyes, narrowed and fierce, flicker down to where you’re taking him, watching with an almost predatory focus as he wrecks you. “Creamin’ all over this dick, ain’t ya? Shit—fuckin’ good—”

The way he says it, so rough and unpolished, sends heat rolling through you. It’s not just the words—it’s the conviction behind them, the way Katsuki always seems to mean every single thing he says. It’s the way he’s completely consumed by you, by this moment, by the slick, desperate sound of your bodies meeting over and over again.

And God, he’s so beautiful like this. His blond hair is damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead as his jaw clenches in concentration. The veins in his forearms stand out as he grips you tighter, holding you in place like he’s afraid you might slip away. His body is taut, muscles rippling with each thrust, and his expression—flushed, intense, somewhere between pain and pleasure—makes your chest ache.

You’re drunk on him. On the way he feels, on the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters in the entire world. And in the haze of it all, you blurt it out—three simple words that come tumbling from your lips before you can even think to stop them.

“I love you.”

The moment the words leave your mouth, everything happens at once. Katsuki’s thrusts falter, and for a split second, his whole body freezes, like his brain has short-circuited. His red eyes widen, just barely, and then a deep flush creeps up his neck, spreading to his cheeks so fast you can almost feel the heat radiating off of him.

And then—oh.

You feel him tense up, his grip on your legs tightening as he lets out a sharp, almost wounded sound, somewhere between a growl and a groan. His hips jerk forward one last time, and you feel the rush of his release as his body shudders violently against yours.

He comes—hard. So hard, in fact, that you almost laugh in disbelief. It’s sudden and overwhelming, like your confession has lit a fuse inside him he didn’t even know existed. But Katsuki? Katsuki looks absolutely mortified.

“F-fuck,” he mutters, voice cracking slightly. He lets go of your legs, almost dropping them in his rush to bury his face in the crook of your neck. His breaths are ragged, his body still trembling, but it’s the way he curls into himself that gets you.

He’s embarrassed. Bakugou Katsuki, of all people, is embarrassed.

“Shut up,” he snaps preemptively, voice muffled against your skin. He’s avoiding your eyes entirely, and the heat radiating from his face tells you just how much he’s spiraling internally. “Don’t say a fuckin’ word.”

You’re grinning now, unable to help yourself. It’s not just that he came so quickly—it’s why. He’s flustered because you told him you loved him, because those three little words completely unraveled him in a way that even he didn’t see coming.

“Aw, Katsuki,” you tease, your voice light, though there’s real warmth behind it. You trail your fingers lazily through his hair, delighting in the way he stiffens against you. “You okay? You seemed, uh, really excited about what I said.”

“Shut up,” he snaps again, pulling back just enough to glare at you. His cheeks are still bright red, and the scowl on his face only makes him look more endearing. “I’ll kill ya, I swear to God.”

But there’s no real heat behind his words, and you know it. Katsuki may be brash, loud, and perpetually angry at the world, but he’s terrible at hiding his feelings. You can see the way his ears are still burning, the way his gaze flickers down to your lips before darting away again.

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed,” you say, grinning at him, and he groans, dropping his head back into the crook of your neck like he’s trying to disappear.

“Don’t fuckin’ start,” he mutters, but there’s a softness to his voice now, a vulnerability that makes your heart ache. His arms wrap around you, holding you close like he’s afraid you might take it back. Like he’s still trying to wrap his head around the fact that you love him.

It’s not the first time you’ve told Katsuki you love him, and it sure as hell won’t be the last. But it is the first time you’ve said it during sex, and the weight of that makes it hit differently. It wasn’t a calculated decision—it just spilled out of you, raw and unfiltered, because when Katsuki looks at you like that, when he makes you feel like this, holding it back feels impossible.

And now, with him buried in your neck, cheeks burning, and every muscle in his body locked up in embarrassment, you can’t help the soft giggle that escapes you. It’s light, teasing, but also full of affection, because watching him—Mr. Unshakable Dynamight himself—fall apart over three little words is a sight you’ll be replaying in your head for weeks.

“Oi,” he growls, but it’s muffled against your skin, more a plea than a threat. “What the hell are you laughin’ at, hah? You think this is funny?”

You press your lips together, trying to stifle the sound, but it doesn’t work. Another giggle bubbles up, and you feel the way his arms tighten around you, the heat of his flush practically searing against your neck. His grip is firm, almost desperate, like he’s holding you close to shield himself from the weight of what just happened.

“Katsuki,” you breathe, still grinning, running your fingers soothingly through his hair. His spikes are damp with sweat, softer than usual, and you can’t resist the urge to rake your nails gently over his scalp. He groans, a low, almost involuntary sound, and it makes your heart squeeze. “Relax. You don’t have to act so shy about it.”

“‘M not fuckin’ shy,” he snaps, finally lifting his head to glare at you. His face is still flushed, and his red eyes dart away the moment they meet yours. He’s scowling, his expression sharp as ever, but there’s something undeniably soft in the way he looks at you—like he’s trying to reconcile his usual bravado with the fact that he just lost it over you saying I love you.

You grin wider, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth. He freezes for a moment, his jaw tight, and then lets out a huff of air, like he’s trying to get himself under control. But he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he lets you kiss him, lets you soothe the lingering tension in his shoulders as your lips trail from his mouth to his jaw.

“It’s not a big deal,” you murmur, voice low and teasing, though your words are weighted with sincerity. “I’ve said it before, haven’t I? What’s one more time?”

Katsuki bristles immediately, his scowl deepening, but there’s no hiding the way his ears turn bright red. “S’different,” he mutters, barely audible, like admitting it aloud might kill him.

Your heart skips at his words. He’s not wrong. Saying I love you during sex, in a moment so vulnerable and raw, is different. It’s intimate in a way that catches even you off guard, and from the way Katsuki reacted, it clearly means something to him.

“You’re so damn cute,” you tease softly, your voice light, but the way you look at him is anything but. You mean it, every word, and he knows it. He scowls harder, which only makes you want to laugh again.

“Shut up,” he grits out, his tone rough but lacking bite. He looks at you then, really looks, and for a moment, he seems to hesitate, his sharp features softening ever so slightly. “You’re a pain in the ass, y’know that?”

You can’t help but smile. “Yeah, but you love me for it.”

Katsuki’s eyes narrow, and for a second, you think he might try to deny it, but instead, he groans, dragging a hand down his face as if the weight of his feelings for you is physically exhausting. “Dumbass.”

But there’s no heat in his words. If anything, there’s something almost tender in the way he looks at you after. Vulnerability doesn’t come easy to him—it’s a fight every time—but in moments like this, you can feel it, raw and unguarded. And it makes your chest ache, knowing that even when Katsuki struggles to say the words, he doesn’t have to. You see it in everything he does, in the way he holds you like you’re something precious, in the way he fights not to meet your gaze because he knows it’ll betray him.

“I love you too, idiot,” he mutters under his breath, and it’s so quiet you almost miss it. But you hear him. And in the warmth of that moment, you can’t help but feel like you’ve won something—something big, something you’ve always wanted but didn’t dare expect from someone like him.

“Say it again,” you tease, even though you’re grinning like a fool.

He growls, shifting his weight on top of you like he’s gearing up to smother you with his body. “Over my dead fuckin’ body.”

But there’s no hiding the way his lips twitch, threatening a smile he’s trying desperately to fight.

You can’t resist. He’s just too easy to rile up, especially when he’s like this—flustered, red-faced, and trying so hard to cling to his pride when he’s clearly out of his depth. Running your fingers lazily along his sweat-slick back, you lean in close, letting your lips brush against the shell of his ear as you purr, “I love you so much, my big, bad, buff Pro Hero.”

It’s meant to tease him, to needle at his embarrassment, and you expect him to explode—maybe snap back with one of his trademark insults, or bury his face in the crook of your neck again to hide his embarrassment. What you don’t expect is the subtle twitch of his cock against your thigh, the unmistakable weight of him stirring back to life.

Your eyes widen, and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you, equal parts amused and incredulous. “Katsuki,” you say, raising an eyebrow as you tilt your head to look at him. “Really?”

His reaction is immediate and utterly predictable. “Shut up,” he snaps, his voice rough and defensive as he turns his face away from yours. His cheeks are practically glowing, the flush spreading down his neck and to his chest, but there’s no hiding the way his hips shift slightly, like he’s trying to get comfortable—and failing miserably.

You can’t stop grinning now, your own embarrassment forgotten in the face of his. “I mean, I didn’t even try to turn you on again,” you tease, your tone dripping with mock innocence. “What’s the deal, huh? Got something you wanna tell me?”

His red eyes flick back to yours, sharp and irritated, though the heat in his gaze betrays him. “You didn’t fuckin’ come yet, that’s why,” he bites out, the words rushed and defensive. “What, you think I’m just gonna leave you hangin’? I’m not a goddamn amateur.”

The excuse is so Katsuki it almost makes you laugh again. Because of course, he’d turn this into some kind of pride-fueled argument, as if the fact that he’s hard again is purely about your unfinished orgasm and not the fact that he’s just completely whipped for you.

“Oh, is that what it is?” you ask, your grin widening as you trail a finger down his chest, letting it rest just above his abdomen. “You’re just that dedicated to your job, huh? Nothing to do with me saying I love you, right?”

His jaw clenches, and you can see the way his hands flex at his sides, like he’s trying to decide whether he wants to throttle you or kiss you into silence. “You’re such a fuckin’ pain,” he growls, leaning down so that his face is just inches from yours. “I’m gonna shut you up, and then we’ll see who’s laughin’, yeah?”

The challenge in his voice sends a thrill through you, and before you can even think to respond, he’s moving—one hand sliding down to cup the back of your knee, spreading you open again as he rolls his hips forward to press the length of his cock against you. He’s still flushed, still grumbling under his breath about how insufferable you are, but the heat in his gaze is unmistakable now, raw and smoldering and entirely focused on you.

And when he dips his head to capture your lips in a bruising, breathless kiss, you know you’ve pushed him just far enough.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

Billford x Reader cuddles fluffee💕♥️💕

Ford and Reader fall asleep on the couch together after a really long day of working on the portal. Bill comes in possessing Ford, but Read has an absolute DEATH GRIP on Fords body, and they won't wake up either, so Bill is just stuck there, forced to cuddle against his will! The horror!!!

(and he definitely likes it more than he let's on, because let's face it, Bill NEEDS a hug-)

──★ Bill Cipher’s guide to suffering: step 1, get hugged ִֶָ࣪☾.

Ford x reader x Bill, sfw, fluff

thank u for this request hun, that's such an interesting idea to write! ♡

It’s late, too damn late to be functional. The portal project is relentless and tonight it swallowed both of you, brilliant scientists, whole. You’re tired. So tired you can’t remember the last time you blinked without feeling your eyes burn, so here you are, curled up on the couch with Ford. He’s warm, his arm rests on your waist, holding you. You could stay like this forever. No portal. No equations. No endless parade of chaos. Just you and him, your lovely smart genius. However, you think vaguely that this couch was never meant to hold two people like this, his broad shoulders, your tangled legs, but the thought slips away as soon as it arrives. You’re too tired to care.

Ford murmurs something half-formed, your name tangled with numbers, probably some nonsense that only makes sense to him. Again this portal. Honestly, you barely hear it, through the fog of half-sleep, all what you hear is the soft hum of his voice while his chest rises and falls with each breath.

“No, Ford, you need to rest.” you smile against him, because he doesn’t really need to finish this tonight, does he? It can wait. Your arms tighten around his waist, pulling him closer, hoping he’ll get the hint.

He doesn’t.

“But the portal—” he starts and you cut him off with a sleepy hum, nuzzling your face against the rough wool of his sweater. It smells like him and the faint chemical tang of whatever experiment went wrong today.

“Shhh,” you drag the sound out as if you’re trying to soothe a restless cat. “just. . . stay. For a little while. Please?”

He doesn’t argue, too tired, just as you. For the first time in the whole exhausting week, he lets himself relax with a quiet sigh. Finally. You close your eyes. Yeah. This is better.

Some hours later, Ford’s body stiffens beneath you before going still again. Then again he jerks under your hand, his muscles twitching and you frown, your brows knitting together as you pull him closer.

“Ford, it’s fine. Go back to sleep.” you calm him down, thinking he's having a bad dream. Unfortunately, this began to happen more and more often with Stanford.

“Well, aren’t you a little barnacle. . . Clingy, aren’t we, doll?”

The pet name barely registers. You shift against him, still half-asleep. “Ford?” you blink once, twice, before your eyelids sink shut again. You don’t even process the difference in his tone, the lazy mockery threading through his words.

“That’s me,” Ford's body moves, wanting to get up and that's when you tighten your grip, burrowing your head against his chest.

“Don’t. . . don’t go back to the lab. You need rest.”

“But babyyy, who else is going to do this if not me?

You freeze now. That word, Ford’s never called you that. Never used anything close to it, really. Your brain stumbles over the word.

Your reactions are too slow because sleep is what you need the most right now, you'll definitely ask him about it, but later. Ford tenses again, but you don’t let go. “Please, stay. Just for tonight. For me.” your voice muffled against him. “I’ll make coffee later. You’re so warm.”

He stiffens and you don’t understand why. You’re too drowsy to care.

Ford Bill laughs. “You’re a stubborn little thing, huh?”

You nod, nuzzling closer. “Love you, Ford. You’re safe here. Don’t worry about the portal. It’ll keep.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Bill tries to move Ford’s body again and fails. Your grip is too tight. “What the hell—”

“You’re not going anywhere.” you mutter, half-conscious but entirely stubborn.

Eww, that’s disgusting. All your stupid little human things, Bill thinks, lovey-dovey nonsense. Kisses and cuddles and 'i love you's. Ugh.

Bill hisses, struggling against the deadweight of Ford’s body and your death grip. “are you kidding me? let go, you clingy meat sack!”

You don’t respond, already drifting back to sleep, lulled by the familiar rhythm of Ford’s heartbeat under your ear.

Bill wants to shove you off, peel you away like the nuisance you are, but— but you’re warm.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

It’s infuriating, your face is tucked into his chest, like you actually trust him. Like he’s not a god of chaos who could snap his fingers and turn your precious little dimension upside down. The audacity of it.

And yet, he can’t quite bring himself to move. It’s disgusting. It’s uncomfortable. It’s. . . nice? No, no, no, no, no. He refuses. He refuses.

Fucking humans, sentimental little parasites. Always clinging, always needing, always—

You smile in your sleep.

Bill goes still, motionless, probably plotting your demise, cursing his predicament, but he doesn't move. He just lies there, trapped, a caged beast forced to endure the unexpected warmth of human affection.

And honestly it's kind of hilarious. The horror, you say? The real horror is watching Bill Cipher, the embodiment of chaos and destruction, forced to cuddle against his will. The horror is the look of utter bewilderment on his face, the way his single, malevolent eye seems to be pleading, begging for release.

Let him stew. Let him learn a little something about the human condition. Let him experience the unexpected comfort of a warm embrace. Besides, who knows? Maybe a little human affection will do him some good. Maybe it'll soften those sharp edges and melt that icy heart.

ps - barnacle: a person or thing that clings tenaciously :)

[justarandombrit]

POV: you see yet another person misunderstand Becoming the Lastnames

[icewindandboringhorror]

sometimes looking at like Self Help Strategies lists for the symptoms I'm having is always just like:

thing that I already do

thing I have tried 10 times

thing I already do

thing that I don't have the money to do

thing I already do

thing I've been doing since I was 10yrs old to no avail

thing that is impossible given my situation

thing that doesn't apply to me

thing that I already do

thing I have already tried

hrmm, oh wait, maybe finally- OH, yeah.. okay. thing that I already do but it was just phrased slightly differently

thing I have already done

[voulezloux]

.

[thelittlemermage]

ok ok so I know this doesn’t matter to u and u might even already know but I desperately need you to know that the Day after you posted that thing about ppl getting upset about selfcest, a new adventure time episode dropped where a main character told two separate sets of alternate universe versions of people that the alt versions of each other should kiss. She Encouraged Selfcest. and the fandom is going nuts trying to figure out why she would do that. like man. what.

ok I know u don’t care but I had to tell you cuz it was literally the next day and I can’t stop thinking about it

I DID SEE THAT. I've somehow managed to never watch Adventure Time so I'm personally so far removed from this but I saw people going on about that on Twitter and I was dying kjskllkklsf. What is it about this that makes people lose their minds. Seriously. You can't fuck your clone/alternate version of yourself in reality? ? How is this a moral issue for anyone to the extent that you'd get like...actually upset over it. It's hard to believe just a few years ago the biggest thing on tumblr was Onecest. It's like we jumped into a different reality at some point.

I do care :p If only because I've had to deal with it unexpectedly (at least to me because I'm still in Timeline A idk about the rest of the ya'll) and I was actually surprised people were upset by it. So I'm curious what makes people act that way. I think it's no big deal to feel uncomfortable for whatever reason, but I don't get the part where it makes you go out and attack people in ways that are so dramatic and often gross.

[paradoxiii]

Sometimes I go on a tangent trying to analyze how I feel about or why I do certain things, & I often feel that by focusing on typing it out it's easier for me to actually make conclusions about the "why", but I still don't have a solution & it's kinda frustrating that I do all this analyzing about myself & still feel like a lazy disappointment to everyone around me.

[ginger-and-oliveoil]

. Tw

[todayisafridaynight]

GENUINELY so funny AraSawa occurred to you too for the hanahaki tags, but thinking about it, I appreciate both scenarios for different (but related?) reasons.

Because I've personally always found the base concept of hanahaki aesthetically immaculate, but impossible to relate to or take seriously. They don't love you back Specifically In A Romantic Sense so your options are either to DIE or have a surgeon come in and delete love.exe? Lol. Lmao even. Couldn't be me. Of course, to each their own, but sort of like what you were saying with Aoki and Yumeno, it's just not something I'm ever going to "get."

With MineDai, something I love about the canon dynamic is that I really don't get the impression Mine's even pressed about Daigo loving him back. Of course, there's a degree of "pining" as shown in his first character story, but it's also immediately subverted in that what Mine was pining for is a simple workplace friendship that would be more reflective of their status as oath brothers in his eyes. Like, fair enough, all things considered, right?

And in spite of the arguments that could be made here, I honestly do believe him overall when he says his love for Daigo is selfless and without ulterior motives. Even with his desire for friendship, it's super important to me that he resolved to never impose that upon Daigo unless it was what Daigo wanted. That's why Daigo had to be the one to initiate their friendship instead.

It's just refreshing, because often the execution of these types of concepts feel sort of adjacent to incel rhetoric in forcing two people together inorganically to lessen the "suffering" of one. Especially with the life-or-death nature of hanahaki played-straight pushing it to an extreme, and especially with the enormous backlog of fan-content where Mine is primarily only concerned with his own desires. But for Mine, because it doesn't cause him Suffering to not be loved back romantically (at least as far as he knows), "the problem of hanahaki" would not about The Pain of Unrequited Love, but a physical manifestation of extant problems.

It'd be about obliviousness, it'd be about miscommunication, it'd be about saying he's fine when he's not, it'd be about how the emotional barriers he puts up only serve to hurt him when his needs are unmet (kind of what we were talking about RE: Katase and past relationships; super excited to dig in and reply btw, I'm just rushing the Yokoyama clip for tomorrow), it'd be about workaholism and the need to overachieve in order to feel accomplished, loved, and wanted, and how all of that might intersect with physical illness.

That I can relate to and take seriously, because ignoring symptoms and keeping them to yourself so as to not inconvenience others really can kill you. Your crush not liking you back? Uh, not so much. But it's certainly not all gloom and doom either, because all of those things can be as comedic as they are tragic. So I think the Short, Sweet and Funny approach would be perfect.

And with AraSawa, it's kind of Just Works, right, precisely because it's another thing for Jo to endure in silence and make excuses for. "Just pretend it didn't happen. Brush it under the rug. That's what you do with secrets." It's so good as a representation of guilt and secrecy. And this is pretty much rehashing something my friend said (not about these two specifically) but if he just came clean, it might stop, but instead he continues to hurt both of them. The flavor.

In the case of Hanahaki for Mine and Jo, I do think and agree it would more be a matter not of their 'beloved' not liking them back, but just the fact they themselves either refuse to openly acknowledge the feeling, or don't try to confront the feeling and do something about it. It's more so an issue of themselves being so focused on being useful and overworking themselves that they give themselves sickness (that sickness spurring from that unspoken of love and the inability to express it because they don't know how to and whatnot)

Maybe it's just because I generally try to see things silly and funny, but yeah I dunno: letting your own overthinking or not wanting to be a disturbance just feels better than what's traditionally done with Hanahaki

[tabbytiger]

Having the profound realization that, yes, I am indeed psychotic. I also have adhd so they are holding hands. Think I’ve been in a psychotic episode since the last months of 2023 and I’m just now realizing it. 😭 I wrote it off as just my paranoid anxiety but like gorly those are symptoms of Psychosis.

Umm anyways who wants to perform a ritual to rid me of this ailment.

[notquitecanon]

Dense // Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Summary: A pretty little thing like you isn't flirting with Ghost? Are you?

Based off a prompt that's been a worm in my brain since 8th grade (I'm 25 now) and I'm probably going to write the same exact thing from the other POV.

TW: none, just a little fluffy hopefully funny insight into Simon's thought process.

God, Lieutenant Riley was dense.

That's what most people thought after watching him interact with you for longer than three minutes at a time. You'd been working in communications for two years now, mostly dealing with Captain Price but Ghost was always lurking around somewhere nearby. You'd been warned to avoid him.

He's mean, He's surly, he'll bite your head right off. He's dangerous blah blah blah...

What they didn't consider was that he was a tree of a man- tall, dark, and mysterious with pretty eyes. And you had little to no survival instincts when it came to a man who knew how to shut the fuck up.

It was obvious to anyone who watched you interact with him for any amount of time. How you stood closer to him than need be, how you watched him through your lashes when he spoke his few words to you, the way your voice changed when you spoke to him. Then it was the little touches and little gifts, sitting with him at empty tables when others would turn and walk the other way. You were so sweet on him, maybe even smitten with him.

Ghost never seemed to notice, and if he did he didn't pay it much mind. Just assumed you were just one of those chatty and nice people he seemed to attract every now and then- like Price or Soap. It didn't hurt either that you were sweet & pretty & and smelled good... no, didn't hurt at all and certainly didn't mean anything.

He brushed off Johnny and Gaz's teasings, met Price's knowing looks with icy glares. You definitely weren't flirting with him. There was no way someone like you was pursuing someone like him romantically. That was... ridiculous. Right?

Still. Something about that idea scratched his brain just right. Planted a seed that you unknowingly watered with sweet smiles and bright eyes. So, he started paying more attention.

You never got Price's attention by lingering a small, warm hand on the Captain's bicep- but you did with Ghost. You were chatty with Gaz, but never so much so that you made yourself late to other engagements- Ghost was losing track of the times you'd been chatting at with him only to look at your watch and scurry off with hot cheeks. And Soap could make you laugh, but he never got your cheeks to turn that pretty pink color- Ghost rarely saw you without rosy cheeks. Hmmm... Interesting.

So, he watched and observed (pined and yearned, more accurately). Until one day when he noticed how you flipped your hair over your shoulder as you spoke to him, direct eye contact through fluttering lashes, the dilation of your eyes.

"You have such pretty eyes-" You barely finished your statement before he interjected. He cut you off before you could even giggle, voice stern and hard and quick as those pretty dangerous eyes narrowed in a way that would have chased anyone else off. Not you though.

"Are you flirting with me?"

He asked, taking a looming step closer to you where you were standing by the breakroom coffee machine. He expected you to stutter out an excuse or apologize, or even frantically excuse yourself. He did not expect you to sigh, almost in relief(?) with that bright smile of yours.

"I have been for the last two years." You breathe in admittance, "But thanks for noticing now."

Bloody hell, you were trying to kill him.

----

I wrote this instead of paying attention in lecture

[gibbearish]

i will say also one thing ive noticed with the cake smash debate is by and large (and esp in wedding situations), women tend to hate it and men tend to be the ones who think its turbo hilarious and the women are being big whiny babies and can't take a joke. just food for thought

[rafesweetie]

need a jealous bsf!rafe x reader where he is possessive and doesn’t want other guys touching her even though he touches other girls, so she is basically over it and at a party, she dances on another guy and he gets mad

౨ৎ in which bsf!rafe just can’t help wanting to protect you.

you were done with rafe cameron. you’ve decided it. he was your best friend, sure, but he was controlling, mean, overly protective, and he acted like he owned you or something. so you were completely done with him, forever.

this is the third time you’ve promised yourself that, and news flash — you never dropped him.

it wasn’t your fault, you try to tell yourself every time. he just wouldn’t let you leave him, shutting you up whenever you’d even try and be reasonable with him, yelling louder than you or slamming his palm over your mouth. but a little part of you knows that you like the attention. you like that rafe cares so much about you, even if it does ruin your chances of getting a boyfriend. today is the day that you break the pattern though, and rebel against his constant authority.

parties are where rafe thrives. he’s like a celebrity, it always wonders you how much people love him. during parties, he keeps less of an eye on you, assuming you’re just busy gossiping with your friends. but little does he know, you’ve found a boy — it wasn’t often you’d get the opportunity to chat with a boy that wasn’t rafe, and you were loving every second of it. you felt so free from your friend’s gaze, listening to the boy talk, his deep voice vibrating your brain.

but the issue was, the boy was boring. he didn’t talk about cool things, like dirtbikes or his life or death adventures or money. you hated to say it, but he just wasn’t rafe. your mind kept flashing back to him, how much more you smile and enjoy his company. maybe rafe was right. you just didn’t need boys when you have him.

you’re so close to excusing yourself from the boy, going back to rafe’s arm and giggling with him and talking with your faces really close together. you glance back to where he is, ready to retreat, until you see it. you see her.

you’re not sure who she is, but she bothers you. her hair is so gorgeous and healthy, and you can’t see her face from behind but she must be gorgeous. her arm is on rafe’s bicep — your bicep, the one you always hang onto while you’re walking with rafe. you hate that you’re jealous. rafe’s your friend, not your boyfriend, you have no reason to be. but it’s like you can’t control it, your rage, and before you know it, you’re blinking back any potential tears and touching on this boy — this stranger — like there’s no tomorrow. tyla is blasting through the speakers, and yours and these boy’s hands are all over each other’s bodies. you really hope rafe sees you like this, drunk off the smirnoff pink lemonades and enjoying another mans company.

it really doesn’t take long for him to notice. he’s so predictable. shrugging the girls hand off of him, rushing over to his dear friend to get her away from this lowlife.

usually he’d reason with you. coax you away from the boy nicely and lecture you. but he’d had a few beers and a line of coke and he was in no mood for politeness. a rough hand pushes the boy away by the chest, and rafe isn’t muttering a word to anyone, grabbing your wrist and stomping away with you stumbling behind.

he pushes you into a spare bedroom, the first private place he could find. sitting you on the edge of the bed, he starts pacing in front of you and rubbing his face as if this was hurting his head. it’s like your brain flicks a switch, back to “rafe rafe rafe” as you’re sat there with tears brimming your eyes, fiddling with your manicure as you bat your eyelashes up at him, remembering the girl flirting with him, and now you making him mad, and now he’s got you in a puddle of guilt.

“shit— it’s like, you never do what i say, huh?” he mutters, still pacing. “you know i do everything to protect you, kid. you even know who that fuckin’ guy was? no, m’sure you don’t, cause you don’t think. thought by now my voice would be in your pretty head, there to help you make some smart decisions every once in a while. but nah, nah, you see one other boy and it’s back to square one with you,”

you go to speak, glossy lips parting, but he shuts you up with a quick “no”, and stopping pacing to go kneel in front of you.

“everything i do — for you, okay? for you. my girl,” he often calls you that, it makes you weak every time. he grabs your hands. “stop fiddling, paid for this polish.” you stop instantly. “i know— i know you think that my protectiveness is, uh, stupid, but i need to be like this, or you’re gonna get hurt. i know you, baby. i need to be all over you for you to even have a slight awareness to not do stupid things. so i do take some ownership over you in that sense—“

you cut him off, muttering a, “don’t want you to take ownership.”

he huffs. “yeah, but i do, so…” he shrugs. “you’re mine. my friend, my girl. so i don’t like it when someone else touches my girl, or when you’re the one intiating it. makes me so fuckin’ angry, kid, makes me wanna, like—“ he cuts himself off. “so i need you to knock it off.”

you wanna argue so badly, but your brain turns to mush around him. so you sniffle and nod hesitantly.

“no, i want a ‘yes rafe.’ need your words.”

“i just think that—“ you try.

he cuts you off. “yes rafe. say it with me.”

“..yes, rafe.” you both say.

he squeezes your hands and gets up. “yeah, there you go, good girl. now do you, uh, need a minute, fix your makeup, or d’you wanna go back down there and hang out with me?”

your hand goes to his bicep as you stand up with him, and a ghost of a smile appears on his lips. “wanna go with you,” you say softly, leaning into him a bit.

“yeah, that’s what i thought.”

[35253319]

Literally came here to rant about my mum and I see this. Plus decor cause felt like it teehee✨