#but didn't get caught lmao

[longeyelashedtragedy]

since it's come up this morning--let's go over the post-Ayia Napa Sex Tape aesthetic

[almea]

"Did we miss anything?"

Bonus: When your gay pining was so obnoxious that even Juniper looks excited about you kissing

[a2zillustration]

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[[ All Croissant Adventures (chronological, desktop) ]]

[[ All Croissant Adventures (app) ]]

[neonthewrite]

Lies Under Duress

Today's prompt is "Celebrating", and we are back with another installment of borrower Chase and his latest misadventure. Where we left off, he'd been caught by a human ... this one will continue right after where Almost a Thief finished off.

Forbidden Fruit Snacks | Fried Potatoes | Minnie’s Supply Run | Nailed It | Orange You Glad | Almost a Thief

~~~

Chase, dangling by the back of his jacket over a broad palm that was unfairly large when he really gave it any thought, found himself at a loss for words. That was rare. His sister would attest, getting him to shut up in the middle of any kind of situation was a miracle in itself.

But he really didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t get a word past the fear that had settled heavily in his chest, there to stay unless he managed a miraculous escape. In the course of trying to outdo Minnie’s latest solo supply run, he might have just ruined both their lives. Getting caught could mean the human might go looking for more like him. He probably wouldn’t catch Minnie … but she’d still be all alone.

He couldn’t focus for long on the fear and guilt. The human, getting over his initial shock, moved. More specifically, his hands moved, and that meant Chase moved too. He choked on a noise of surprise as he rose in the air with a sudden yank on his jacket, the hand beneath him rising along with him. His stomach fell to his toes as he rose, only for another sudden stop as he lifted before the human’s eyes (which meant he was around six feet in the air, not that Chase was worried about that at all).

“You’re … what are you,” the human murmured. His voice, even quieted, was all too intimidating and big. Chase pursed his lips and held up his hands in an approximation of a shrug. He doubted the actual answer would go over very well.

Yeah, hi, I’m just a guy. I’m on the short side is all. Just a totally average guy with totally normal strength relative to my body mass, and I’m definitely not waiting for my latent superpowers to come in.

He flinched when the grip on his jacket moved again, lowering him towards the waiting palm below. Chase kicked his legs and tried to fold into himself to avoid being dropped into that grip, but of course it didn’t stop the inevitable. He found himself deposited on a hand that dwarfed him by several times. He even felt the heavy heartbeat pulsing just beneath the thick skin.

The other hand didn’t retreat, though. A fingertip brushed over the top of his head, then nudged a shoulder. Though he leaned away from it and tried to swat it away, it propped under his arm instead. The human never yanked his arm up, but he did stare at the way it leaned on just a fingertip.

Part of him wasn’t all that surprised. If the roles were reversed, Chase would probably be fascinated and all too curious about such a tiny person found in his kitchen. Being on the small end of that situation, though, was unnerving. He jerked his arm back and tucked it close.

The human wasn’t all that discouraged. “Seriously, where did you come from? What’s going on here?” he asked, moving on to Chase’s leg instead. It was all too easy for him to pinch it in a finger and thumb, and Chase couldn’t hope to wriggle it free.

His vow of silence was never meant to last. “Come on, man,” he complained, tugging on his leg anyway. It was an awkward angle and he made no progress. “You just grab anybody’s leg when you first meet ‘em?”

The human paused, a thoughtful look in his eyes. “Okay, dude, you got a point there,” he admitted, freeing Chase’s leg. “But still. What were you doing in the oranges? You definitely weren’t there at the store.”

Chase barked out a laugh. The thought of living in a grocery store, surrounded by so much food but also so many different humans, was all too daunting. “No, I’m not the prize in the cereal box. Orange bag. Whatever.” Glancing up, he saw that the human still wore an expectant look.

Time to come up with a lie, then. Something to stall while he figured out how to get out of this situation. “Iiiiii waaaaas,” he drawled, glancing around the room to all the places he might be able to hide if he wasn’t on a giant hand. “I was celebrating.”

“Celebrating,” the human echoed, sounding intrigued. “Celebrating what?”

“Celebrating oranges. I’m all about, uh, fruit.” Chase might have slapped his forehead if not for the need to appear nonchalant. He’d never realized how hard it was to come up with convincing stories under duress. He flashed a grin anyway. “I was. Going to … throw a party?”

The human didn’t look convinced, which sucked, but also which wasn’t that surprising. “You were going to throw a party. In the bag of oranges. To celebrate the oranges.”

“You bet,” Chase said, his voice higher pitched than he expected. “That’s the long-short of it all. But you caught me in the act. Don’t blame you at all for sending me on my way empty handed. It’d make a ton of sense, this being your apartment and not mine and most people just kick unwanted guests out, right?”

The guy laughed at that, a short burst of noise that made Chase’s shoulders shoot up in alarm. “Okay, this is definitely not a normal ‘unwanted guests’ situation, though,” the human said. “You’re … you look just like … come on. You can’t expect me to believe this story. What’s really going on here?”

Chase put his hands up in yet another exasperated shrug. “Sorry to disappoint you, big guy. I’m a simple man, I see some fresh fruit, I get stoked.”

The human shook his head, though his amusement lingered. “Whatever, little dude. I think you have more going on,” he said, though he had looked away and didn’t look like he was expecting an actual answer.

Chase almost retorted anyway, but flinched as he realized the fingers nearby were curling closely. He balked away, but they stopped before closing over him, instead forming an arch nearby. After that, the human turned away from the counter, quickly enough that Chase had to hunch over against the feeling of motion.

It only took a couple stupidly-long strides to get to the table in the other half of the kitchen. While Chase watched, the human leaned over it and used his free hand to clear up some clutter, moving aside some papers, a bag of shopping that had not yet been unpacked to the various cupboards, and a plate with only a few crumbs leftover from breakfast. Once he had a clear spot, he sat down before it.

Chase thought the movement was bad while the human moved all that stuff around. The hand he was on suddenly dropping to the table was so much worse; he yelped and reached out in panic for anything to steady himself, finding nothing really except a wall of curved fingers.

“Chill, dude,” the human said, at least sounding genuinely concerned. He gave Chase a moment to realize he wasn’t falling to his death, before tilting his hand over the table. As Chase stumbled off the hand and fell to a seat on the open space on the table. Before he could orient himself, the human went on, a note of bemusement in his voice. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I swear. I just wanna talk, get the real answer to why you were sneaking around in my apartment.”

[hanzajesthanza]

i'm just saying that somewhere out there, there is a bizarro regis that is a human guy that sits in caves in complete darkness alongside five vampires and communicates through telepathy with them. whose eyes have grown to the size of drachmas and twists his head and scampers in jarring ways. and he also drinks human blood. in human terms, this guy would be so fucked up.

we would be like, what the fuck. this guy is no longer human - he has ceased to be human, he has become a vampire. (though he would still be undeniably human, able to do human things if he hasn't forgotten them, and also unable to do many vampire things)

so i'm saying this to illustrate a point, to try and illustrate regis in vampire terms. to live in a house (or palace) in daylight with five humans and speak with spoken word. to walk on the ground and have facial expressions and nod your head and sew with your hands. and to not drink blood, of course. so what would other vampires think of him. yeah. that's right

[ghostsessioned]

stills of the community center.

[von-karmas-a-bitch]

cell block tango but it's the ace attorney women who killed men (who deserved it to varying degrees and in some cases not at all)

[dangoulains-devotion]

thinking just a bit too hard about how the added depth given to tifa and aerith's friendship only increases the weight threatening to crush tifa after the forgotten capital, she already had so much to carry on her weary shoulders, she's going to have to carry even more when mideel happens, and it doesn't even stop after meteorfall, ohg od oh i love her so much i

[thebewilderer]

HOLY FUCK

so my qualifying exam was due at 11:59 pm with an "ABSOLUTELY NO EXCEPTIONS" type of attitude and at 11:53 i wrote my validation section in about forty five sections and at 11:56 i wrote the worst introduction i've ever written in my life in about fifteen seconds total and at 11:58 i was about to hit submit and realized i'd left off a whole code file and had to go back into "add a file" and look for the missing file and thank fuck i name all my code files by what version they are and then the file name because it only took me a minute to find it and it was a WHOLE MINUTE and then i smashed the submit button and gave myself a fucking heart attack at EXACLTY eleven fifty nine oclock and SECONDS after that it turned twelve and i think that took ten years off my life span

[doubtingthomasin]

kinktober: hellcheer edition

prompt 22: pregnancy fetish word count: 3.3k

(since i'm about 95% sure i have tokophobia (pregnancy phobia) i wasn’t gonna do this one at all.

but the angst called. and i answered.)

MINORS DNI

@viharker

-------

It starts with a skirt, of course. Just like always.

Laura calls Chrissy to the sewing room one evening, in a rage.

"Th-That doesn't make any sense," Chrissy stutters, already shaking. "I've been on a steady diet of c-celery and cranberry juice for a week."

"Well, it's not working, missy!" She throws the skirt down on the sewing table, rounding the corner of it to get in her daughter's face. "Keep this up and I'm sending you to fat camp again this fall instead of college."

"Mom, please, no, I'm trying–" She cries out as her mother's rough hand closes around her arm, dragging her out of the room and pushing her into the hallway.

"Figure it out!" She slams the door, leaving Chrissy on the verge of tears.

She rushes directly to the bathroom from there and weighs herself. Sure enough, she's gained two pounds. Perplexed, she cries herself to sleep that night.

Eddie hears about it the next day when she knocks on his door, already crying before it opens. "I've gained weight again."

He sighs while she clings to him, stroking her hair as they settle onto the couch. "And what have I told you every time before, baby?"

"I know, I know," she says anxiously. "'It doesn't matter. You need some to survive.' I get that…but it doesn't make sense this time."

He shudders at what that means she's most likely been doing, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Chrissy…you told me that the doctor said you're destroying your body. Remember what we read about Karen Carpenter–"

But she's already shaking her head, so he stops. "I'm late again."

He stares at the floor, eyes growing wider as he swallows hard, rubbing a hand over his mouth. "That…that's two months in a row." She nods before he looks up at her, their eyes meeting as they gauge each other's reaction. "H-...How sure are you?"

"I haven't taken a test," she admits. "I don't even know how to get one without some…busybody noticing that it's me buying one, and I…if my mother finds out…" 

The tears well up again and he wraps his arms around her, resting a cheek against her head. "I think I have a solution for that."

Two hours and one phone call later, they're standing in the alley around the corner from Melvald's, waiting. Finally, Joyce comes into view with an unmarked paper bag. "Now, there are two in here, just in case one's defective or…you just wanna make sure."

Chrissy nods, reluctantly taking the bag from her. "Thank you so much, Joyce, I owe you one."

"We owe you one," Eddie corrects.

"You don't owe me a thing," she says a bit forcefully before giving them a sympathetic smile, embracing them both. "I had Jonathan when I was twenty. Everything's gonna be okay no matter what, alright?"

They nod against her shoulders, stomach turning. "You let me know how it turns out and if you need anything else," she adds as she lets them go, rubbing their arms. "Promise me."

"We will," they both say almost in unison.

But nothing feels okay when both tests come back positive and Chrissy runs to the bathroom in tears, locking herself inside for an hour. Nothing feels okay when she runs to escape her mother the night she tells her, making it all the way to the other end of Loch Nora–to Steve’s house.

Joyce and Jim are staying there until they can find a place, and it’s Joyce who answers the door. “Oh, sweetie,” she coos, gathering Chrissy in her arms as she breaks down.

“What’s going on?” She looks over Joyce’s shoulder to find Steve staring at her, terrified, and she cries even harder.

Nothing feels okay when she mutters, “It isn’t yours,” curled up in the passenger seat as he drives toward Forest Hills, trying to stem the bile rising in his throat. 

Nothing feels okay when she peeks through Eddie’s bedroom door to find him crying on Steve’s shoulder that same night. They talk, but she knows she won’t be able to bear what they say, so she stays in the living room.

And there’s definitely nothing okay about the moment Joyce, the Cunningham’s, and both Munson men start a screaming match, Jim trying to calm them all down as Chrissy runs away again. She curls up in the back of Eddie’s van, sobbing harder than her lungs can handle.

She awakens to the sound of Jim loading up her suitcases, almost missing her small frame entirely. He helps her out of the back and into the passenger seat as Eddie gets behind the wheel.

But when Eddie turns his back to her as they try to fall asleep later that night, she knows the truth with heartbreaking clarity.

Nothing is okay, and it’s all her fault.

That thought repeats intrusively for the next week, wearing her down like water on stone. She and Eddie say good morning and every other basic nicety under the sun, and he offers her juice and sets toast down in front of her. 

He assures her that she’ll always have a roof over her head as long as there’s breath in his body, he’ll make sure of it. They work on separate projects, her reading a book (trying to, despite her anxiety) and him practicing guitar or scribbling down D&D ideas, sitting on opposite sides of his room.

He still makes jokes and does things on purpose to try and make her smile or laugh, which isn’t as easy as it was the week before. He gets the prenatal vitamins himself because he doesn’t want her to have to deal with all the judgemental stares and whispers. He’s already used to that anyway. 

He’s taken to changing his clothes in the bathroom and knocking every time he enters his own bedroom if she’s in it. He gently pressures her to eat because now she has to. And it takes him a few days, but he finally broaches a sensitive aspect of the situation.

“You know…there are options, Chrissy…if you don’t want to keep it.”

He swallows the lump in his throat as he looks up at her over their lunch, and he thinks the anxious look on her face is just from the topic itself. But she’s heartbroken all over again, thinking he’s already decided that he doesn’t want it, yet how can she be upset over that? Of course he doesn’t want to be a dad at twenty, and it’s her fault that he will be. So she rounds her shoulders, on the verge of tears she doesn't deserve to weep.

“I don’t think I could live with myself…with either one.”

He nods in understanding and goes back to eating, and that’s the end of the conversation. After lunch, she excuses herself from the table, walks out to the porch, and cries as quietly as possible.

Later that night, lying in bed, she builds up the courage to look over her shoulder. He’s turned away from her again, just like every other night since the sky fell in on their world. The tears fall, soundless, as she drifts to sleep.

Another week passes, somewhat identical to the first, always with him acting like himself during the day. Except he doesn’t touch her anymore, not even for a hug or a peck on the cheek, and she knows it’s purposeful because she tries and he jumps back, claiming that she startled him. And, of course, he continues to leave distance between them in the bed at night, a few feet that might as well be a chasm threatening to swallow her whole.

She starts wishing that was possible.

She’s fairly sure Wayne hasn’t said a word to his nephew about the whole ordeal since the night her parents threw her out. (That’s what she is now, she thinks: an ordeal.) However, the day before everything comes to a head, he does say something to her as he’s leaving for work.

“I’m so sorry for this whole mess…and the fact that it was my nephew who got you into it. I thought I raised him better than that.”

But as he’s walking away, she just can’t let it stand.

“Wayne?” He turns toward her small voice, her expression resolute as she speaks calmly. “This is on me. He didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to do.” Her eyes are already burning for the fourth time that day. “I need you to know that.”

He hesitates, then nods– “Of course, kiddo.” –and leaves.

When the tears don’t come, she figures she’s finally all cried out.

The next morning, that proves not to be the case rather quickly. She lays in bed alone for a few minutes, forming a plan for the day in her head. She gets dressed before leaving the bedroom, walking slowly into the kitchen to find him washing dishes, a towel slung over his shoulder.

“I’m gonna go out,” she says, glancing at what must be her glass of juice on the counter. “Gonna go visit Steve.”

He turns around, slightly confused because she doesn’t have a car since her parents took it back. “Okay. You might have to put gas in the van.”

“Okay.” After he’s turned back to the sink and her hand's on the doorknob, she hears it.

A sigh of relief.

It’s unmistakable because she knows what he sounds like when he’s relieved, when he finally presses into her after building himself up to the breaking point, when he finally gets to climax. It’s almost the exact same sound, just quieter. But not quiet enough.

Her eyes are instantly filled as she turns to his back, and there’s no other reason she can think of for that sound than that he’s relieved she’s leaving. There’s not stopping the tears, no steadying her voice because it’s impossible with how much agonizing pain is in her body now, but she has to know.

“S-So are we over now?” Her voice is high and shaky and she hates it, hates it.

He faces her, alarmed. “What?”

It all comes crashing out of her like an avalanche. “I…I know this is all my fault because I must’ve messed up my pills somehow, and I’ve ruined your life…but you said I could stay. I didn’t think that you’d…that you’d stop loving me. I mean…you don’t touch me at all, and I know I’ve gained weight, but I can’t help it, and you said that was okay anyway before this shitstorm even started! But n-now it’s like you don’t want me at all or I disgust you, and you’re just pretending to make me feel better but I don’t deserve that! I don’t deserve to feel better because I messed up!”

“Chrissy–”

But it's no use as she sputters on through inhales and exhales. “So, I’ll g-go if you want me gone, you don’t have to pretend, Eddie, just tell me because I can’t live like this. I can’t live with you hating me, I’ll raise the baby on my own if that’ll help, I just don’t want you to hate me–”

“Chrissy, stop!” She flinches at his yell, hiccuping as she looks up to see that he’s crying, too. His voice breaks as he forces out the words. “I’m sorry, I just…I just needed you to stop. Sweetheart, you’ve got it all backward.”

She's sniffling pretty hard, so she's not sure she heard him correctly. “What?”

Eddie throws the towel on the counter before rushing to her, taking her in his arms. “I’m so sorry, baby. You could never ruin my life, but I’ve ruined yours." Her arms wrap around him, both of them try to stem the tears. "I was careless with you when you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And no, of course I don’t want you to leave, I never want you to go. I love you, I love you so much. And now I’ve fucked it all up.”

Her lips tremble, her forehead creasing as she looks up at him. “But I don’t understand. You said there were options.”

“Because it’s up to you." He brushes her hair off her face, cradling it in his hands. "Even if it breaks my heart, I don’t get to decide for you, but I’ll support you.”

“Break your heart? Y-...You want the baby?”

“Absolutely!” Her heart soars as he continues. “Chrissy, the moment you told me you might be pregnant was one of the most…terrifying in my life. But the more I thought about it and the more I talked to Steve, the more I realized how great it could be. I mean, sure, I’m still terrified, but I love you. But you’ve been so miserable ever since we found out. I didn’t know how to tell you how happy I am without sounding like a total ass.”

She shakes her head a little, the words on her tongue turning to sobs as he pulls her in again, hugging her tightly. 

"After everything we all went through earlier this year…this feels like it could be a good thing. Even if it's the hardest thing we've ever done."

He still hears her words, though they're muffled by his chest. “Then why won’t you touch me?”

His heart sinks, nerves hitting full force as he pulls back to scratch his neck. “Uh…”

“Eddie, please, just tell me. It’s been weeks. That’s why I was gonna go see Steve.” She pauses, her stomach turning. “Is it my weight?”

“No, no, no, baby.”

“Then what?”

Eddie leaves her to sit on the couch, almost every nervous tic of his that she knows of on full display. “I don’t know how to say it. I mean…we joke about me being a pervert, but…” He tries to make eye contact, but it's sporadic at best. “I noticed…when your…tits got a little bigger. Then your ass, and I just…I just thought, you know…you were getting better. Then we found out the truth and…the night of that big fight, when we were laying in bed…”

It's a loaded silence that hangs between them, oddly charged by whatever he hasn't yet voiced. “What?”

“Well, I definitely didn’t want to go to sleep, but I felt kind of…ashamed, I guess? I still do." He tries to swallow the lump in his throat, but it won't budge this time. "I've felt that way every day.”

A lightbulb of sorts comes on in her head, but it's still rather dim as she asks for clarity. “Eddie…are you saying that you like how I look pregnant?”

“Oh, you’d need a word much stronger than ‘like.’” He looks up from the floor to see her pacing slightly, and he sighs anxiously. “See, I knew it would freak you out. It freaks me out.”

“Why?”

“Because, you’re…kind of in a delicate situation, and still all I wanna do is…”

“Mess me up?”

He nods, eyes closed, completely missing the brief lust-filled expression on her face. “I feel like a fucking creep.”

“And that’s why you turned away. That’s why you stopped touching me altogether.”

“Yeah, 'cause it seems like almost every time I do, it causes a, uh…situation." He briefly angles his hands at his crotch, pointing to the partial hard-on she hadn't even noticed. "And I know I’m a freak, but where does it fucking stop, y’know?" He forces himself to meet her eye then. "I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I made you feel unloved just because I’m going through something really fucking weird.”

“It’s not weird." She says it right away, moving to sit next to him. "And you’re not a creep.”

He's immensely relieved that she isn't running away screaming, but her words don't really make him feel all that much better about what he's experiencing, so he shrugs. “I don’t know what to do about it, though.”

“I guess there’s only one thing you can do.” Her soft voice makes him look up from his lap, and he knows he's done for by the way she's biting her lip, the needy look in her eye.

"That's…only if you want to," he says quietly, almost shaking. It's on the last word that she's already straddling his lap to kiss the life out of him. They do their best to devour each other, her hands sliding up his stomach until he pulls his shirt over his head.

His hands tangle in her hair even as she tries to pull away, grabbing his hand once she succeeds and rushing them both to the bedroom. Slamming the door, she pushes him down onto the bed, groaning and rubbing herself against his leg as their lips clash feverishly.

His fingers nimbly undo her jeans, and he shoves his hand down to stroke her, the sudden contact making her break away with a squeal. They smile at each other, seeing how broken they already are, but her face goes lax as his fingers work her clit.

One swift motion and she's down on the bed, his other hand moving up her shirt and under her bra to squeeze her breast, choking out a curse. He makes her come with her jeans still on, bucking against his hand and the constricting fabric for more friction. Her bottoms and panties are down to her ankles by the time she recovers enough to kick them off, and Eddie’s on his knees kissing up and down her thighs.

She grabs his hair with necessary roughness, directing his mouth to her soaked cunt as he pants into her, licking and sucking while she whines. One hand tightens around her thigh while the other rubs her taut stomach as he tongue-fucks her toward another climax. “Oh, God!”

He suddenly stops, dragging her up the bed and her head clears enough to start working in his belt. Her hands are shaking so he helps, stripping his jeans and boxers down to below his knees. “Christ,” he exclaims as she pumps him in her hand. “I’m not gonna last long as it is.”

“Need to feel you,” she moans, her legs spreading wider. “Please, I feel so empty.”

“I’m so sorry–” His lips crash into hers, cutting off his own apology as he finally gives her what she wants, sinking all the way down her in one quick stroke. Her head falls back with a shout and he’s not much quieter, rubbing a thumb into her nipple as he rolls his hips. “Fuuuuck.” He draws out the word, overwhelmed by how goddamn good she feels, the added fullness of her skin and the slick heat of her pussy greedily pulling him back in on every stroke.

He fucks her slowly despite the urge to nail her to the sheets, knowing he has to make it amazing for her because he’s already about to burst. She cries his name as he slides in and out, never completely out, grinding his hips side to side just to hear her sob a little louder. Her breasts bounce on even the shortest thrusts, and he gives into the desire to take one in his mouth. 

Her keening voice reaches into him and rips him apart, his movements shallower and frantic as he pumps into her, his fingers digging into her hip bone. She follows closely behind as he presses against her, riding them both through the high with shuddering groans.

Even when he’s done, he can’t help licking at her nipple, swirling his tongue and sucking before doing the same to her neck. She strokes his hair as their breathing returns to normal and their eyes dry, giggling when she realizes he still has one hand glued to her breast.

He groans in response but it trails into a laugh. “I’m sorry, I’m such a fucking weirdo.”

She places a kiss on his forehead, nuzzling her cheek against his soft hair. “Even if that's true, you’re my weirdo.”

And as they fall asleep wrapped up in each other, everything finally feels okay.

[zephyr-draws]

my boy's been having a very confusing time emotionally these last few sessions

[twcfaces]

"For fuck's sake, process me already--- I could do it faster myself! I got rights in this fucking drunk tank!"

He's powerfully bored, and the room smells rancid. Honestly, he could probably break out, walk to Arkham, slip right back into his cell, and go to bed before these guys even get things moving--- but the coin has yet to agree to a single phase of this plan.

[jinhyun]

to those of you wondering, i made some progress on watercolor tonight<3

[samuraisharkie]

did I SERIOUSLY get called an “absolute walnut” from a tumblr checkmark blog. AIEJGKWJGKDNGM. if I saw sainamoonshine irl I would maul their ableist condescending ass within an inch of their life. not worth it to fight with them bc they clearly don’t care about anyone else’s perspective but jesus fucking CHRIST what a piss poor refutation of me calling them ableist. And in three paragraphs no less!

[buoyantsaturn]

no but for real have you ever done / said something and had another person be like "hang on a second, you noticed that about me?" and you can see in their face like how touched they are that you remembered something about them or picked up on something that they say or do a lot or maybe even kind of infrequently but it's unique enough to them that you're like yes of course you mean so much to me, how could I not know how important this is to you

[aro-aizawa]

i hate that when i have such a passionate belief of an aro headcanon, i viscerally hate anything that insinuates otherwise. even if i force myself to tolerate it, i’m never going to be 100% okay with whatever contradicts it and it’s so hard to let go of that hate.