#sorry anon lmao

[ashtray-girl]

Everytime I read or listen a Grant Showbiz intervew he's like trying to say Moz was madly in love with Johnny and that there was something else going on, but without saying the actual words lmao

right?? lmao one of the most interesting things he said imo is when he talked abt feeling "physically threatened" by morrissey when the band was recording those cilla black & elvis covers, right before they split up... bc morrissey had apparently been drinking (which i mean... THAT was quite ooc, i wonder what led him to do that... 👀) & he was acting erratically... showbiz also kept the recording for that Elvis cover (A Fool Such As I) for a while, even tho part of the song was allegedly wiped by the sound engineer & therefore would've been unusable, but THEN he ended up giving those tapes to johnny "for safekeeping" & bc it was "the right thing to do", which like... sure, but if the song was deemed unusable anyway, why not just getting rid of it? why hold on to the tapes? but according to a recent BBC interview, johnny still has those tapes, even tho he hasn't listened to them in a long time & it's apparently the only Smiths' song that's yet to be released... interestingly enough, he said he doesn't plan on ever releasing that bc it reminds him of a bad time & he "doesn't want to put that out into the world"... (no mention of the song having been partially wiped tho... 👀) which leaves me wondering... was that song really the problem? was morrissey's rendition really THAT bad? or was there other stuff that ended up on tape while they were recording? stuff that had to do w/morrissey's erratic behavior & that they don't want anyone else to hear bc it would reflect badly on them, possibly painting a picture that would affect the band's legacy & that would make ppl see johnny & morrissey's relationship in a different, potentially more intimate way? 👀 i mean, at one point the song literally says: "you taught me how to love & now you say we're through"... are we really meant to think nothing of that, given everything else we know? 👀

[hinamie]

to moving forward

[banananabr3ad]

there you go

[americankimchi]

Do you have any tips for writing Obi Wan or any meta in mind with his characterizarion?

hmmm sure why not! i'll give a few tips on how i'd write obi-wan. mind you this is how i interpret the character, so ymmv.

i truly do not like it when fics have obi-wan voluntarily leaving the order. like it's so out-of-character for me in my head that the premise of the story + the writing would have to work triple-time to get me to stick around. now if he's been removed from it by an EXTERNAL SOURCE (not the order. i cannot stress this enough: the jedi kicking obi-wan out is so jarring to me i'll leave the fic in an instant) or somehow unable to return to the order for whatever reason, all is well.

not a prodigy, but a genius. obi-wan is an incredibly intelligent person with an absolutely staggering knowledge base in a wide variety of topics, but all that knowledge was earned through blood, sweat, tears, and time. he sat down with his game face on and put in the work. that's also why he makes an excellent teacher: he knows what most students will struggle with because he struggled too, and knows through experience how best to overcome them. i headcanon that it contributes to why he's such a good negotiator: he's really good at stripping down information to the essentials and communicating that information effectively and efficiently to others because of his intense study habits.

humble, but not ignorant of his skills. it's pretty impossible to fully divorce yourself from pride in your achievements, and i don't think it's healthy to not feel any pride at all, so i think obi-wan has a very clear understanding of his skillset and how best to use it. i don't think he'd be ignorant of how good he is at something, especially since the direct consequence of his aptitude led him to being a member of the jedi council. pretty hard to be blind to your strengths when you're being asked for your input on topics that directly draw from that knowledge.

averse to healthcare. listen i enjoy obi-wan whump just as much as the next obi-wan stan (the desire to put him in the cosmic salad spinner comes with the territory, i fear) but as a character who grew up in an environment that deeply cares for the well-being of all, and knowing that you cannot help others unless you yourself first have the ability to do so, i can't really see him ignoring injuries outside of combat scenarios. like on the battlefield he's got more pressing concerns than a pesky little shrapnel wound or five, but once the battle's over?? he might not be first in line to the medics but i can't see him avoiding them entirely. an army without a general is working at a sharp disadvantage and i don't think he'd risk his men by neglecting his physical health in that manner. note that i said 'physical'. make of that what you will :)

duty. obi-wan is the definition of a paladin. he takes an oath and by the force he's going to keep it. train the boy? absolutely, qui-gon. whether or not anakin chooses to respect that training is another matter, but he did definitively get knighted! refuse to kill anakin? listen he's handed vader his own ass to him twice post order 66 and each time he did it he did it nonlethally. that takes skill. that takes dedication. exile yourself to tatooine for 19 years and then decide fuck it, we ball, and die after Once Again Deciding Not To Kill Anakin Skywalker? step aside casper, there's a new friendly ghost in town. every time obi-wan commits to something the man COMMITS. you GOTTA respect that grind.

flirty but in the sense that he's going to match the energy someone brings to the table. like he's a negotiator. he knows how to read people and figure out the Vibes. if he thinks the other person will be 1) 100% receptive and 2) will respond with a delightful wit, why the hell not? obi-wan's highest stat is charisma and he's got expertise in persuasion. whether they're allies or not does not factor into this equation. he can have a little flirtation with morally dubious and potentially hostile characters. as a treat.

this has nothing to do with his character but i firmly believe that he and quinlan vos had at LEAST a fling when they were padawans. there is zero evidence to back this up aside from a few comics where they were being goofy teenagers together but i stand by this. it is an unshakeable aspect of obi-wan to me that has only gotten worse with the kenobi show.

no matter what, no matter how terrible or devastating or downright apocalyptic it gets, obi-wan kenobi will never fall to the dark side. never. it won't be easy, but that is a line he has never, and will never cross. i will not hear any "obi-wan touched the dark side during the theed generator fight" slander. if that was true tell me why the force theme was playing during his moment of triumph!!! Would John Williams Lie To Us Like That?? to our face?????

anyways i could go on forever about obi-wan because he is My Ultimate Blorbo but this post is getting super long so i'll leave it there. hope this helped even a little or at the very least was entertaining for you to read <3

[temeyes]

banging fists on table NIKTO

SHASHAHS WHY HE'S SO HARD TO DRAW,,,,,??

[blindmagdalena]

imagine being hired by vought to be a sort of housekeeper to homelander, doing his laundry and cooking for him in his penthouse. he’d immediately grow to love having someone to come home to, and would automatically slip into husband mode whenever he finds them doing him some wifely act of service (conveniently ignoring the fact they’re paid to be there, of course)

ao3 link

Working for Vought, specifically Homelander, turns out to be an insanely simple gig. Typically, you never even see him. You're free to do your cleaning in peace, picking up after America's favorite hero. He rarely ever leaves a mess, but there's enough to keep you employed. Tidying up his towels, replacing his hygiene supplies and tooth brushes. You're trained specifically on how to clean his suits. You empty and stock the fridge. He goes through a lot of milk. You always make sure to get whole. He lodged a complaint the one time it was less than. You were told initially that your cooking services wouldn't be necessary. Homelander isn't known to be, well... much of an eater.

Still, you didn't want the food you stocked at the start to go bad, so one day you prepare a few meals and put them in containers in the fridge. You include little notes with instructions on how they should be reheated. You sign each one with a little heart simply because that's how you've always done it, and pin them to the fridge. You think nothing of it. Homelander is dumbstruck by it.

At first he's affronted that you would leave him cold food in his fridge and expect him to heat it up for himself, but there's something distinctly... loving about it. Coming home to his laundry clean and his shelves dusted never felt like that. It was nothing more than a reset, an automatic process that he didn't dedicate any thought to. But this? This is personal. This reminds him that a living, breathing person was in his home, tending to it, and that person... cooked him a meal, and left him a little note. With a heart.

The next morning you get a text that you will indeed be cooking for Homelander that evening! You're in the midst of it, staying later than you usually do, when he walks in the door. You aren't making anything fancy, just steak and mashed potatoes, but he sucks in a breath like he's inhaling the scent of a gourmet meal. His smile is broad and gleaming. It makes your heart skip a beat.

To your surprise, he introduces himself. He shakes your hand firmly, and holds your stare as you remember your manners and manage to spit out your own name. "Charmed," he says through that radiant smile, and you feel like he means it. His eyes are somehow much bluer in person. His gaze flickers to the stove, and he clicks his tongue. "Not to question your craft, but is this really enough for two?" Looking at the steak currently searing, you falter. "Oh, I'm sorry, are you having company? No one told me." "Well of course I'm having company, you silly goose. You're standing right here, aren't you?" He asks, putting his hands on his hips. It's cheesy, like a moment straight out of a sitcom, but you fluster anyways. This man has such presence to him.

"You... want me to eat with you?" You ask, bewildered.

"Be a shame to cook up a storm and not even feel the rain," he laughs, as if you're the one thinking strangely here. He's already gone to the fridge, and pulled out a second steak. He offers it out to you with that same charming television ready grin. "C'mon. I can hear your stomach growling."

Tentatively, you take the package from him. "Okay."

That night, and each night that follows, you cook Homelander a meal at the tail-end of your shift, and sit down to eat with him. It's surreal, but after the second night, it occurs to you that you've never once seen sign of him having company. There's never extra dishes, or towels. No remnants of a party in the trash. If he does have friends, they're certainly never here.

You can't help but wonder if he's lonely. The thought humanizes him from the larger than life image you had of him in your mind, and you have an easier and easier time engaging him in conversation. He's funny, if not a little strange. There are times when you don't really know how to respond to the things he says, but he often moves on quickly enough to keep things from being awkward.

Truth be told, you're starting to quite enjoy his company.

Homelander begins showing up earlier and earlier into your shifts. The next week, it's barely after 4:00pm when he strides through the door, greeting you with a chipper, "Heya!" and a little salute.

You turn off the vacuum, and despite being a little caught off guard, you smile at him. For the first time, you say, "Welcome home!"

For a second, you worry you've said something wrong. That smile slips off his face, and he stands frozen a touch too long in the doorway. However, before you can add an amendment, his lips stretch back out and he closes the door behind him. "Good to be home," he says. There's less of that showmanship in his voice, you think.

"I didn't know you'd be home so early, I haven't finished-" "Oh, don't mind me, you do your thing. Pretend I'm not even here," he insists, taking a seat on his couch.

You expect him to occupy himself in some way. A book, perhaps, or even just his cellphone. Instead, for the next hour you're keenly aware of the fact the only thing he seems to be entertaining himself with is you.

After that, you cook dinner as usual, and the two of you eat amidst pleasant, casual conversation. It's the same as any other night, and yet somehow this evening feels distinctly different. You can't name exactly what it is, but something has changed.

Homelander begins filling out your time with new requests; he's suddenly become quite fascinated with plants. You had mentioned to him before that you like to keep them, despite the work they take. Your shifts grow longer to account for your new tasks.

All the while, he's been more and more present during your shifts. Although he doesn't directly take or distract you from your chores, you're always keenly aware of of his gaze on you while you work. You try not to overthink it, but the weight of his attention is heavy nonetheless.

One day, you're sweeping up a mess of spilled dirt, struggling to maneuver around the legs of a piece of furniture, when Homelander hops up to intervene. "Let me get that for you, sweetheart," he says, lifting the entire cabinet up as if it weighed nothing at all.

You lose yourself for a moment, standing dumbfounded before abruptly remembering to sweep the dirt out from under it, your heart racing. Your mind keeps replaying the pet name, and with every echo of it, your cheeks feel redder. Homelander smiles, watching you all the while. The next day, you arrive to find an enormous bouquet of roses sitting in a vase on the kitchen counter. There's a note with your name on it, and a simple message: Thanks for all your hard work. Keep it up! The note is signed with Homelander's sprawling signature. Smiling widely to yourself, you tuck the note into your pocket, and lean in to inhale the sweet smell of the flowers. On another occasion, it's time to clean the blades of the ceiling fan in his room, but you can't find that darn step ladder anywhere. Homelander must hear the way you're shuffling around and muttering under your breath—you swear the man hears everything—because he steps in to check on you. "Everything alright in here?" He asks, peeking in from the doorway. "Oh, fine, fine, I just can't find my step ladder anywhere. Have you seen it?" You ask, feeling flustered. Getting put behind schedule never fails to trip a thread of anxiety in your chest. "Can't say I have," he answers, stepping inside. He looks around the room. "What'cha need it for?" "Ceiling fan. Uhm, it's okay, I'll get to it later, if that's alright with you? I'm sorry, I could have sworn I left that ladder-" You stop yourself, realizing Homelander is suddenly striding directly towards you. Uncertain, you begin to take a step back, but he's fast. He puts an arm around you, and without warning you're being hoisted up into his arms as easily as a doll.

"Up y'go," he says, supporting not only your weight with ease, but resting you snug against his chest. You squeeze your knees together, arms pulled in tight, as if making yourself tiny will somehow protect you from the embarrassing quicken of your breath, or the rampant beat of your heart. "There you go. Who needs a step ladder when you've got me?" He asks, grinning down at you with that familiar dazzling spread of pearly whites. His smile feels better suited to a Hollywood audience than this quiet little moment, but the only thing you can really focus on is the fresh, woodsy smell of his cologne. "Uhm, I-I still don't think I can reach-" You stop, noticing the ceiling fan is now within arms reach. "Oh." Looking down, your eyes widen. Neither of your feet are touching the ground. Instead, Homelander is hovering well above it, holding you adjacent to the fan. You can't help the nervous laughter that suddenly bubbles out of you. "Oh my god," you laugh, looking around. "You're flying!" "As I'm known to do from time to time," he says, voice dripping with satisfaction. His gloved fingers tap absently at your waist, basking in your awe over what is, to him, a wholly unremarkable feat. The sheer normalcy of you makes his every move seem a marvel. He savors your wonder. You're so enamored with the novelty of it, you remember belatedly why you're up here. Clearing your throat, you reach up with the duster, and gently spin the fan, collecting the strands of dust and the like that had gathered on each one. You try your damnedest to focus on that, and not the fact Homelander's face is less than a foot from yours. Out of your peripheral, you can see that his grin has softened into a content, absent smile. Your stomach does cartwheels as you finish dusting the fan, bringing the duster back down. You clear your throat again, pretending it's not a nervous habit. "All done, thank you," you say quietly, smiling back at him.

"Any time, sweetheart," Homelander purrs. There it is again, that coy little nickname that sends your mind into a tizzy. As if that weren't bad enough, he winks at you, floating gently back down to the ground. Your legs feel so much like jelly, you worry you'll collapse the moment you're on your feet. Luckily, even once he's set you down, he leaves a hand lingering on your back. "You got a thing with heights? Your heart's pounding," he points out, much to your mortification. You try to laugh it off. "Oh, no! No, just wasn't expecting it. I'm fine with heights," you say, fumbling with the duster for a second before slipping it back into the cover. "Good," Homelander responds, an oddly cryptic depth to his tone. His smile lingers. "That's good. Alrighty, I'll leave you to it," he says, tipping his head in a polite little nod before he heads for the door, leaving you to your own devices, and the rapid fluttering in your stomach. Later that same day, you're thoroughly perplexed when you spot the step ladder exactly where it's supposed to be, certain you had checked there a dozen times over.

Two weeks from the day you first shared a meal, he presents you with a gift after dinner. "Oh, sir, you shouldn't-" "Please, please! Don't be so formal. It's just a little thing," he says, waving his hand dismissively. "Y'know, to show my appreciation. You take such good care of me. Just wanted to return the favor." Butterflies swarm rampant in your gut as you tug loose the pretty red ribbon tied around the box. Uncertain of what to expect, you feel a measure of relief when you lift the lid, and see a lovely apron folded inside it. "You wear this print a lot, figured you could use something, you know, matchy. Feminine," he says, gesturing vaguely with his hand. "Your other one's seen better days."

You exhale a soft laugh, touching the fabric. It's soft beneath your fingers, and of excellent quality. The gift is a thoughtful one, and it feels appropriate, despite what the expensive looking wrapping made you think. "You like it?" He asks after a beat, snapping you out of your thoughts. "I do! Yes, thank you. It's very nice. I've enjoyed working for you, sir—" You stop when he points a finger at you, his brows raised, and you correct, "—Homelander." He smiles, dropping his hand. "And eating with you. I can't say any of my other clients cared whether or not I ate," you say, chuckling. You think you see his nose twitch strangely at the mention of your other clients.

"Right, well! C'mon, let's see how it looks," he says, taking you by the shoulders and guiding you over to the mirror near the floor to ceiling windows that overlook the city. Homelander takes the box from your hands and presents it to you, allowing you to lift the apron up and let it unfold. Odd, it feels a touch heavier than you expected. You sling it around your neck, but before you can reach back to tie it, Homelander has taken it upon himself to do it for you. He cinches it at your waist with a sharp little tug, grinning at you from over your shoulder as he meets your eye in the mirror. "Loooook at that, perfect fit," he purrs, tying the ends off. "It's beautiful, thank y—" Smoothing your hands down the front of it, you stop. There's something in the right pocket of the apron. Glancing up, Homelander has a mischievous glint to his expression, but his brows raise, and his lips curl down. He's playing dumb.

Curiously, you slip your hand into the pocket, and feel smooth velvet against your fingers. Wrapping your hand around a firm rectangle, you draw it out, and feel your stomach flip as you stare at the distinctly luxurious looking black box now in your hands. "Oh, geeze, totally forgot that was even in there," Homelander says. His tone is terribly unconvincing, but he does sound very pleased with himself. "Whelp, you've already accepted, so I guess it's yours now." "I—" "Go on," he urges, giving your shoulders a little shake. He's watching you eagerly through the mirror. "Open it up. It's all yours."

Swallowing, you crack the box back on it's hinges. Your jaw drops, your chest tightens. You stare at the shimmering three-stone drop diamond necklace in utter disbelief. You don't even feel Homelander let go of your shoulders, or hear him slide off and drop his gloves to the nearby table. "Oh my god," you whisper. You probably couldn't afford the box this thing was sold in, let alone a single stone on it. "I don't think I can accept this, sir," you say, slipping back into the habit of formality as your brain struggles to catch up to reality.

"Oop, too late for that," Homelander dismisses, plucking the delicate necklace up from the fabric it lay in. "Here, allow me," he says, ignoring your shellshock while he drapes the necklace against your skin, his bare fingers brushing the back of your neck as he gets it fastened.

Breathless, you tentatively touch the bottom diamond. Your mouth feels full of cotton, and your heart is racing. Is this really happening?

Meanwhile, Homelander grips your upper arms, beaming. "Look at you. You know what they say about diamonds; they're a girl's best friend," he laughs, those canines of his looking sharper than ever.

Giving your arms a squeeze, Homelander leans close to your ear. "Happy two weeks," he whispers, the heat of his breath on your neck prickling goosebumps all the way down your spine. "Thank you," you whisper back, pushing out a bewildered little smile.

Homelander lingers there a moment, the warmth of his hands on your arms seeping through the fabric of your shirt. His smile has relaxed some, and his gaze is slightly distant as he looks you up and down in the mirror. You see a flash of pink as he wets his bottom lip with his tongue. It isn't until you clear your throat that his eyes snap back up to yours, regaining presence of mind. "I should get going," you say gently. His fingers flex on your arms, and the corners of his mouth twitch. "Right," he says, lips pulling into a thin smile that doesn't reach his eyes. This is always his least favorite part of the night. With obvious reluctance, he drops his hands from your arms. "Right, ah, let me—" "Unless..." You interject, turning to face him. Homelander's brows shoot up to his hairline. He blinks. "Unless...?" "Unless you'd like me to stay," you say quietly, your stomach tying itself in knots. "Not as your housekeeper, but maybe as just... Company?"

"Company," he echoes, his parted lips slowly drawing into a smile. This one does reach his eyes. "We could watch a movie."

"I like movies," you say. The words sound dumb to you as soon as they leave your lips, but Homelander looks at you like you've just spun a beautiful sonnet. "Great, I have movies," he says, putting a hand on your lower back as he gestures you to the living room. His smile is broad now, eager and a touch boyish. You feel a little surge of endearment amidst the adrenaline. "What do you want to watch?" "Dealers choice," you say, slipping out of the apron before you take a seat at the couch. Homelander immediately busies himself with the television, flipping through Vought+'s enormous repertoire.

Still in a mild daze, you don't process any of the titles that fly by on the screen. Instead, you're hyper aware of the weight of the necklace hanging from your throat, and the lingering heat that Homelander's hands left on your skin.

So much for a simple gig.

[askchilchuck]

RIP chucklefuck you would’ve loved Ayesha erotica

[stuffeddeer]

i just wanna hug dazai all the time randomly (i never get hugs at home) and if he were to hug me i would cry (a little)

i also feel likes his hugs would feel so so safe warm and comforting

(could i please be 🌹 anon?)

im collecting more anons like Pokémon omg YES you are in my Pokédex now hiiii 🌹anon sorry this took so long (like every rq oops!)

i included platonic hcs at the end as well bc why not

cw: dazai-standard suicide mention, i use the word vomit once ?

Hugging Dazai catches him off guard. Or it used to, you had found - randomly jumping on top of him throughout the day whenever you'd see him. It started sporadically and became more frequent, which led to Dazai becoming more prepared. He'd tense up as you entered a room, ready for you to pounce.

It started as a playful bit, knowing Dazai tended to short circuit when given affection. You'd seen it multiple times with Atsushi, the lovable boy having no clue why Dazai would panic a little when randomly given flowers that one time, or why he was so surprised when Atsushi spared a few kind words. It was little things, things Dazai clearly wasn't used to, and it always made you smile.

So of course, you wanted to do the same.

The first time he nearly pushed you off of him, choosing instead to hold his hands up like you were some cop trying to take him down. The second he'd merely frozen, breath baited as he waited for you to let go. By the third, he was able to brush it off with an awkward laugh, and the more it happened the more he was able to respond with a joke or the like. But you never missed the way his whole body seemed to pause for a moment.

Of course, once you noticed he was mentally and physically preparing before you even did it, you started to think you might've pushed too hard. Was he uncomfortable? Was he unsure of how to ask you to stop? It made you feel guilty, especially when he started flinching when you entered the room, knowing what was coming next.

You stopped.

It wasn't like it was hard, and the guilt eating at you was much worse. Dazai wasn't the only touch starved one, but you'd not-so happily give up the brief second of hug you got when seeing Dazai in favor of him feeling safe around you, as well as keeping your friendship alive.

It was hard at first, arms moving up slightly on instinct as you had to constantly remind yourself to stop. After maybe a week of no more hugging, you finally felt relieved - everything was back to normal. Dazai wouldn't freeze when you walked into a room, your hands wouldn't twitch as though trying to reach out for him.... Everything was normal.

Except Dazai, again.

Something was off, you could tell. While everyone gets confused sometimes, watching Dazai of all people furrow his brows and look away from you was almost scary. One of the greatest geniuses in Yokohama was confused by something - by you. Nothing had changed, had it? Maybe he was confused by why the hugs stopped, but you're sure he's smart enough to realize that on his own. You didn't want him to feel uncomfortable around you, that's all.

It didn't take long for the confusion to turn to veiled fear. He hid it well, you being none the wiser - but Dazai couldn't help the anxiety that grew around you. It wasn't like you were avoiding him, you still acted the exact same. You just kept your hands behind your back and made sure to maintain distance.

But that's what scared Dazai - the distance. The worry and fear he felt stemmed from the reason why; why had you stopped in the first place? All he could think of was that you finally figured out his secret. Dazai has a huge crush on you.

He’d always tensed up when you hugged him, feeling his heart rate far from his usual controlled pace and instead beating quicker than he could’ve imagined. Something so small and normal as a hug left him breathless when it came from you, and his greatest fear was that you felt the harsh thrumming of his heart and decided to stop. If you knew his secret, then this surely is you rejecting him.

The thought makes Dazai nervous. Being rejected is normal for him, never one to shy away from shooting his shot. Asking any person with a pulse to kill themselves with him left the brunet very accustomed to the response of “no.” Even being yelled at or hit by some unruly people was something he accepted with a smile, but the thought of you politely turning him down made his chest ache.

You stopped hugging him. Surely you didn’t feel the same.

Dazai understands he is an attractive person, both in looks and personality, and he’s more than used to leveraging these factors in his favor. Just a few weeks ago, he 100% was sure that you had a crush on him, a huge one at that, and he quite enjoyed toying with you every now and again when work days would drag on. But now, he couldn’t tell left from right. Daily hugs to quitting cold turkey made him so nervous, knowing you must be too uncomfortable to even touch him anymore let alone hug him.

That’s fine. He’s fine with that. People changing their minds about him, people leaving - Dazai is used to that. You deciding you don’t like him anymore (maybe just the attention he gave before rather than crushing on him specifically?) and moving on when you realized he likes you instead is fine. It’s fine.

Yet he still finds himself frowning in your direction when you aren’t looking. Nervousness is annoying, but he was hoping it’d lead him away from you. Still, however, Dazai finds himself following you with his eyes whenever you so much as re-situate yourself in a chair. He can’t help but silently beg for you to come over to him, even though he knows he’d nearly vomit if you did. How annoying.

Of course, sitting across from each other for lunch isn’t conducive for moving on and staying away from you, but you happened to stumble upon the brunet and his bespectacled coworker at the cafe and got an invitation from the latter. “I have to get back to work. Mind making sure Dazai doesn’t do anything too drastic again?” Kunikida had said to you, to which you kindly agreed - how could you have said no?

Dazai wishes you did, every brush of his knee against yours making him lose more and more of his appetite. With Kunikida gone, after a few beats of silence, you let out a sigh. “Sorry. I’ll leave you to it, okay? Good luck at work.” Just as you stand up to leave, Dazai - stupid, stupid Dazai - grabs your arm.

The action causes you to cock your head, confused as he grabs you. The face makes him quickly let go, grabbing his mug of tea instead so his hands don’t reach out again. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he starts, deciding to just get it out of his system. Maybe if you rejected him to his face, he could move on. “No more… hugs and stuff.”

Slowly, you slide back into the booth seat, a solemn look on your face. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs into the mug, not wanting to make eye contact. What does “yeah” even mean? Is this your way of saying you know? You know he knows?

“Um, well, I know you don’t really like affection. I know you aren’t used to it, I should say. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry for continuing for so long,” you finally apologize, the guilt that built up over time washing away finally.

“No, no,” he starts, turning to look at you rather than his mug. “Uncomfortable? You thought I didn’t like it?”

You deadpan, unamused. “Dazai, you used to tense up when I entered a room and I saw you flinch a few times when I got close.” Slowly, your expression turns, no longer unamused. “I’m not that stupid, man…” A small chuckle punctuates your last sentence.

Of course that’s what you took away from it. Dazai feels like an idiot, so worried that you might have realized his secret that he didn’t even pay attention to what was in front of him. You stopped for him, of course! Because you still like him. He’s sure of it, knowing you stopped something that clearly made you happy just for his comfort.

“Thank god,” he sighs in relief, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

“..? Did you actually think I was that stupid?”

“No, you idiot - I thought you were rejecting me. You still like me, that’s perfect.”

You fluster at Dazai’s words, eyes widening at the bluntness of it all. “Wh-what?! How is that what you got from what I said?”

He only grins in response, the bandaged man leaning forward over his teacup to reach you. Dazai was never one to explain what was in his mind, leaving you confused and flustered across from him. “It’s okay, pretty - I feel the same,” he whispers into your ear, only so he can watch as you shiver at the feeling of his breath against it. After pulling back, his smug grin only grows. “I thought you were avoiding me because you found out.”

Staring at him, you wonder why it is that you like him. At least now you can go back to hugging him all the time.

platonic hugging Dazai hcs 😽

like above, he's caught off guard at first

but then he decides to return the favor >:)

dazai will try and catch you off guard with a hug and it quickly turns into high stakes tag

the two of you immediately make eye contact when you're in the same room, and actively RUN from each other so the other can't hug first

high stakes tag. dazai jumped off a roof to catch you off guard one time. now he isn't allowed roof access at the ada 🙂‍↕️

he can still jump from the windows

it hits a point where everyone Around you is nervous. you two have vaulted over tables and everything it's scary

rooms will empty if the both of you are in one

dazai is definitely winning sorry! he feels it in his bones when you're about to arrive and hides behind doors to jump out at you 🙂‍↕️

[reegis]

on my hands and knees for Jane art. Doodles or otherwise (i have ur Jane sticker on my phone as we speak how u draw her makes me Insane)

jane is my princess & did nothing wrong 🥰🥰

[carpedzem]

dnf as cinnamoroll and pompompurin

hope this is what you meant anon

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

why r sugurus and satorus manspread so NYYYASSTTYYYYYYY 😭😭 these bitches be takin up the whole space like close those legs damn

ANON I UNDERSTAND YOUR GRIEVANCES BUT PLEASE SAVE IT FOR SUGURU….. satoru manspreads occasionally but most of the time he sits like a dainty little princess, LOOK AT THIS MAN.

WHO DOES HE THINK HE IS……

[stonegoldsxcrxt]

Ah, Star Wars fans. Once again perpetuating the Draco in Leather Pants trope to the point where we're all sick of it. Do I have to beat someone with the 'He's-Supposed-To-Be-Evil' Stick or something?

yeah. the acolyte itself as a show is straddling a line right now that, I'm sorry, I kind of don't think the Star Wars fandom at large is media literate enough to understand.

I've already seen a number of tiktoks and tumblr posts saying, "omg now I understand reylos," which besides being exhausting and annoying, immediately proves my point. There's obviously some differences between reylo and whatever osha/qimir is called within both production and the narrative, but overall what I'm baffled by every. single. time. is how weirdly everyone in the star wars fandom reacts to an attractive male villain blatantly manipulating a young woman.

I think the acolyte is clearly aiming for us to see and understand that Qimir is manipulating Osha. We know Qimir is clever. We saw him successfully worm his way out of being caught by the Jedi by playing up the "quirky sidekick" shtick. What I don't think a lot of the audience picks up on is just how smart he is. During one of his and Osha's conversations, he lets her suggest things and make assumptions, ie:

Osha: Where’d you get that scar?

Qimir: How do you think I got it?

Osha: Looks like someone stabbed you in the back.

Qimir: Someone who threw me away.

Osha: Your Jedi Master?

And then he doesn't correct her or elaborate. He lets her assume the worst. He lets her imagination wander. He's not interested in explaining because he knows the real story, whatever it may be, doesn't make him look as favorable as her idea. It's exchanges like that that are subtle examples of his manipulation, less obvious than the outright goading he uses against her when he gets her to admit she thinks of herself as a failure and that's why she left the Jedi.

There's also the earlier exchange:

Osha: He’s found me before, and his strength in the Force is very powerful.

Qimir: You think that’s his strength? That’s your strength in the Force, Osha. Someone ought to teach you that.

To a lot of people, that sounds like a compliment. But it isn't. Qimir makes a statement vague enough that successfully implies the Jedi have been lying to Osha about her own strength in the Force while also keeping just enough information to himself that he knows Osha will stick around to find out what he meant, instead of swimming to the ship he points out to her right after. And she does exactly that, continues to follow and engage in argument and conversation with him.

In fact, Qimir knows the more Osha talks to him, the more Osha even entertains the idea of talking to him instead of leaving, the more he can get inside her head. His naked swimming jaunt isn't him flaunting or showing off for Osha in some genuinely romantic way– it's yet another manipulation tactic. Though, if she is seduced, that helps him too.

Qimir purposefully makes himself into a vulnerable state in front of her to lull her into a false sense of security. He leaves his weapon with his clothes so she has the opportunity to take it; he is signalling to her that he is "completely" disarmed, though that is not true, since we know he is far stronger in the Force and in combat, and, perhaps, more cunning than Osha. His nudity forces Osha to acknowledge he is human, and Qimir benefits from Osha thinking of him as just a quirky, charming loner who's the victim of the Jedi, who offers her soup and disrobes in front of her.

The reason I know that none of this is genuine is simple. He goes back and forth between flat out acting as if he pities Osha ("Why do you love people who can only go so far?") but that doesn't get him the reaction he's looking for, so he bounces back to antagonizing her ("Why aren’t you a Jedi, Osha?) to finally, convincing her that she is similar to him ("I understand.") None of these things are actually Qimir trying to get to know Osha. Sure, he needs to understand her to manipulate her, but he'd do or say anything to get her to stick around and allow him to corrupt her further.

to me, Qimir is kind of the Star Wars equivalent to like a mimic species in the animal world. He's smart enough to know that in order to get what he wants, he has to act a certain way that isn't necessarily his real personality, and he can exploit Osha's (and anyone else's, for that matter) feelings by molding his personality and actions to achieve his goals so his victims are less likely to notice that he's using them.

The problem is that a big portion of the audience doesn't appear to recognize it, either. We know the rules of the Star Wars universe very well by now. Force Users this deep in the Dark Side cannot actually love someone. Sure, they can be obsessed with someone, but they cannot actually reciprocate feelings as the Dark Side corrupts them.

I've come to the conclusion that the majority of people watching Star Wars are not watching with the intention of picking up on any of this, despite the fact that the acolyte is actually doing it quite masterfully. They are paying attention to Manny Jacinto's muscles, and little else. You cannot argue or convince people who do not want to listen. They did not want to listen in 2017, when the reddest of red flags "You're nothing, but not to me," line was delivered, which had all the subtlety of being hit over the head with an anvil, and they are not listening now. If people are able to be gaslit by Kylo Ren into believing his victim card was validated, they will certainly and inevitably be gaslit by Qimir, who, so far, is much more cunning.

the acolyte even *plans* for this though, deliberately and suddenly cutting to the scene of Jecki's lifeless body, reminding the audience that Qimir is not the quirky, charming, harmless loner who he presents himself to be, but actually a man who we know to be capable of unspeakable acts of violence towards even children. at this point, I can't actually see any reason why the fandom continues to act like he is in love with Osha in any kind of genuine manner when it's so mind-blowingly obvious that he is male manipulator #1.

I think does a huge disservice to the story the acolyte seems to be trying to present at this point to be so blind with lust or whatever it is the fandom feels towards this guy that his own tactics have begun to work on them. it's actually so incredible that it makes me a bit ill. they may find him hot all they want, but for the love of Leia Organa's Star Wars at least recognize his tactics for what they are instead of also allowing yourself to be fooled!!

[doctorsiren]

I love Iris, she deserves good things

1000% agree

[chilfucked]

I'm thinkin abt when chilchuck does that cat thing where he looks up at you, like in your header, how he bares his neck by doin that, and how awesome it is that he feels safe enough with the touden party to do that so casually- rghhrgrhhr

dude i think about this all the fucking time. he’s such an expressive character it’s awesome. you can always tell what’s going on with him just by observing his body language

beginning of the series? before everything goes down? he’s open, relaxed. he’s really started to trust the people around again after years of not letting himself

you have him closing himself off after The Incident™️, his anger and frustration, and generally not feeling safe being on full display without needing to say anything

he closes off when he’s worried, scared, or being protective of the people around him

and he opens back up again once he starts getting comfortable with everyone again

i just. i love him so much, i love how no matter how hard he tries to keep people at bay. keep things to himself. he just. can’t. he’s an open book and boy howdy am i reading it

[temeyes]

OKAY NOW U NEED TO DRAW THE WHOLE 141 IN F1 CARS WHICH TEAM DO THINK THEYD BE IN😆😆😆

ferrari ftw cuz THAT'S THE ONLY TEAM I KNOW, ANON!!!!

[chimchiri]

Help why is Rarity me 😭She's so me, I was dating sweet and funny guys but secretly super into the buff wrestler build men and is in line with my realization that my attraction to hunks also extended to women. I was at an amusement park and struggled with the lowering the bar at the roller coaster so this hunky female attendant pushed it down for me so easily, forearm so firm, smelled so nice and gave a dimpled smile and I couldn't think about anything else the whole day

When the hot and nice smelling cowboy lady working at the roller coaster makes you question your entire life

(Very cute story, anon! I'm sure Rarity and many more women could relate!)