#we hate cheaters in this household

[crvvys]

keeping an eye on UT Austin’s women’s basketball team bc they’re making waves and I want to see when they’ll lose. I love Rori Harmon and I’m familiar with the high school she went to bc they were scary to play against when I was growing up lol so I want her to excel BUT I hate UT Austin even though I’m from Austin. it’s fuck that school forever bro

#growing up we were an anti longhorn household lol #and other kids were like oh so you’re an Aggie then? No. i just hate cheaters :))

[starkwlkr]

the people who said they should get back together need to STAND UP. the bar is in hell, just because the man sheds a few tears does not mean pain and suffering is not deserved. you all(even though it's fiction) deserve better and cheaters are not better.

-anon who sent in the love in my heart/hatred in me ask

we hate cheaters in this household even if it’s a fictional version of mark webber 😌

sending that to my friend cause she’s dumb as hell for going back to her ex 😔

[fledermausj]

Erasermic family cat headcanons

I just had a few thoughts to the Erasermic family, like they would totally adopt a bunch of stray cats. (English is not my first language so correct me please if something is wrong like grammar or stuff)

So, I gave them nine cats cuz I love cats but yeah, yolo ig

From youngest to oldest:

Nugget (1) Sushi (3) Window (4) Sunrise (4) Mew (6) Mochi (8) Tulip (10) Maple (12) Soup (16)

Bastard

he was just a fat bastard

Oboro found him on the streets

taked care of him

as he "died", Shota taked the cat

died sadly

was a brown Tabby cat

Sushi:

male

often really pissed and annoyed

sleeps 24/7

black

dark eyes

soft fur

hates when his belly is touched

reminds everyone a lot of Shota

Mew:

male

fluffy af, fluff ball, what the fluffin fluff

grey

Maine coon?

stray cat

doesn't sleep

always wants to be petted

always in a idgaf mood

is a little bit like Toshi

Mochi: named by Shoto (in my Headcanon they would totally adopt him too)

female

stray cat, found and fed by Shoto

blind on her left eye

round

fluffy

she's not fat, thats fluff! Really!

creme white with black, caramel and brown spots

one spot covers her left eye and it looks a little bit like Shotos scar

nice af

hungry 24/7

Nugget: named by Hawks (yes, Shota and Zashi don't care that he is an adult pro hero, they just said: you have a traumatic childhood and no parents? We got you boy!)

male

light brown/caramel with white paws, breast and belly,

only a kitten

yellow eyes

adopted from the others (they are fecking protective)

cute af

begs for food 24/7

sleeps fucking everywhere

Window:

really sleepy

always looks out the window

thats why he's named like that

I swear it was Zashi

short fur, not fluffy but soft af

Russian Blue

little Diva

only eats one food from that specific lable

lil bitch

Tulip:

fluffy white Lady

Oboro found her once at the street

years later Shota and Zashi found her again

and never let her go again

such a Lady

cleans herself at any possible minute

walks in their ways anytime

they often trip about her

she doesn't care

you can pet her literally anywhere

and she loves it

Sunrise:

Maine Coon

so big and fluffy, it's incredible

yellowish, beige, white fur

Shota found her in the sunrise, wounded

has still a scar from it above her eye

also a cut in her ear

honestly she fights like the devil

drama queen af

'touch me and you die' but only pretends

looks like a cinnamon roll… That's it

Soup:

ginger cat

a little ass

wants in every room

only to sit before it

everyone is pissed by it

like you go to the door, he meows like he's going to die, just so you can open the door and he sits before it and walks away

plays Hide and Seek with Eri

but he's a cheater

although he's too cute that anyone can be mad at him for a long time

Maple:

viridian eyes, like damn this eyes look into my fricking soul

looks like hours on the same spot on the wall

like, is their a ghost? A spider? A fly?

everyone gets nervous when she does that

caramel like fur like the shade of autumn leaves or of sweet maple

Toshi loves her so fricking much

she's the only one allowed outside because she's careful af

even before Toshi was adopted in the Erasermic household he would sometimes pet her under the trees and she falls asleep on him

falls asleep on anyone

don't move when it happens. It's a law.

also jumps on everybodys lap

Ragdoll cat

I have to say that some Fanfic inspired me so thanks for that

Also I have cats on my own so ig I know how cats are (lil shits, just gonna say)

#bnha #mha #cats #erasermic #erasermic family #headcanons #head canon #use it if you like #pls tag me

[onlyjaeyun]

Sunghoon is pissing me off (in a good way) also I hope jaemin gets his ankles broke walking to whatever girl he is trying to pick up.

ankles, nose, neck broke whatever we hate cheaters in this household 🤞🏼🤭

#; mailbox 📬 #; cold hearts

[one-abuse-survivor]

hi ! it’s the anon with the abusive sister, and i bring good news !! i really wanted to share it cause no one irl knows what my sister did to me, and i feel like i’ve made a huge step in getting better !

(first tho, thank you so much for the resources/advice about healthy coping skills !! i’ve bought a stuffed toy of a rabbit and a dog that i now sit with whenever i miss them/get triggered/generally need comfort. we’re thinking of adopting a dog next year when my dad is ready, so i’m looking forward to that ! i’m still a bit scared because i’m so used to dealing with an elderly dog—my dog was 14 when she died—and i don’t want to accidentally hurt a puppy (even tho i know i wont because i’m fine with other people’s pups). but i’m still excited !)

okey, good news time ! (sorry that this got so long ! i just had a lot to share and no one to share it with, so i hope you don’t mind)

one - i cut off my grandmother. she told my sister that the rabbit had died and used it as to excuse why we weren’t talking to her, and then she implied that the reason why my sister did what she did was because i was born and took attention away from her. the only way i could interpret that was ‘it’s all your fault and you shouldn’t have been born’ so i cut her off (though my main reason was secretly about the rabbit, because she had no right to do that and grieving made me 10x angrier). i haven’t spoken to her since january and it’s wonderful, but she did message me on her birthday to thank me for the card i wrote (my parents forced me to send it to save my mother from getting hateful texts) but my mother typed out a response for me because i was too anxious. since then, my mum cut her off too so things have been better. i have wobbled a few times thinking that i’m overreacting or being unfair, but it’s like, she’s abusive, she let my sister abuse us, and is generally just unpleasant to be around. why would i want to be around someone who implied that i deserved to be abused because i dared to be born?

two - my parents finally realised that i’m not exaggerating about my memories. they’re a bit upset, but it finally clicked that i really don’t remember much. they’re also taking my nightmares more seriously (not that they weren’t already) and that side of the family is very rarely talked about. it’s nice that it’s open in the household now, since they already knew about my anxiety but this is like a step up. (they also FINALLY listened to me about me possibly having adhd, but only because my mum might have it, but whatever). 

three - not fully abuse-related, but still kinda good. i have been saved from a possible relationship with a cheater and enforced one of my relationship boundaries ! there’s a guy i’ve been talking to for a few months (since around april?) and i thought that i might end up in a relationship with him. he was very flirty and honestly a bit of a smooth talker, and i embarrassingly fell for him because of that, yet he’s had a partner the entire time. i only found this out two days ago when he told me that she had blocked him and he didn’t know what to do. thankfully school starts up again in september, and because i’m in my final year before i go to uni, i have to practically get rid of my social life in order to study so i don’t have to talk to him. i don’t wanna talk to him about it, even though i should, because now my trust in him is gone and i won’t be able to have a friendship with him either. cheating is something my abuser did frequently to her partners and something she gaslight me over, saying stuff like ‘oh i never cheated you’re wrong why do you hate me etc’ even when we had proof in the form of a baby, so i have a very strict policy to not date cheaters/get caught up in an affair of any kind. i might be overreacting, but literally the day before i found about his partner he sent me a post on instagram that said ‘i love you <3’ and he’s frequently said it before, as well as stuff like ‘you’re so cute’ and ‘you’re so sweet’ with a bunch of other compliments i actually feel sick reading. i know it can be meant platonically, but he knows i use tone tags and some of the stuff he’s said before had a nigh-on sexual tone to it so i struggle to view it as platonic. but whatever ! it was my bad for not seeing the red flags, but i’ve seen them now, and i’m doing what is best for me.

it’s my abuser’s birthday in a few weeks, so i’m gonna take extra care of myself around that time just in case she tries to get back in contact, but i know the day is uncomfortable for me anyway so i have some plans in place for comfort and distraction.

i can do this ! i’m going to recover from what happened and deal with my mental health no matter what happens !

Hi again! I'm really sorry it took so long to reply ❤️

That's amazing that buying stuffed animals helped you! I'm really glad to have been able to help with my advice. And it's so exciting that you're going to have a puppy! I'm sure you'll be amazing with it! :3

I'm so glad to hear you cut out your grandmother, nonnie. She was abusive, and a abuse apologist and enabler, and you absolutely did the right thing. It's completely normal to doubt yourself and wonder if you're exaggerating after cutting out someone who was so hurtful to you, but the best thing you can do when you feel that way is just to keep going, because time really gives you the clarity that you need. And it can also help to (carefully) remind yourself of some of the stuff she did and said if you're worrying about exaggerating.

I'm really happy for you that your parents have also cut out your grandma and are taking your issues more seriously now, and are willing to have conversations about them with you. You deserve all their support while you navigate your nightmares and memory issues and possible adhd. I hope things have improved a little now that you've been able to talk about these issues openly and honestly ❤️

And woah, you really dodged a bullet with that guy! Ugh, what a crappy situation to be in. Good for you for cutting contact with him after seeing the red flags! I really get you about cheating—my own abuser dated a married man for years behind his wife's back and made it my responsibility to keep it a secret, so I absolutely, 100% get your reaction. And, for the record, you were not exaggerating.

And, lastly, that's so amazing that you planned ahead for your sister's birthday and prioritised taking care of yourself during that time of the year. You ought to be really proud of yourself for that. I'm proud of you! It's not easy to be gentle with oneself during trauma anniversaries and other difficult trauma times of the year. Go you ❤️

Best of luck with your last year of school! You've got this! 💪🏼

#Abusive sister anon #ask #Abuse tw #Abusive sister #Abusive grandparent #Abusive sibling #Gaslighting mention #Gaslighting tw #Cheating mention #Cheating tw #Abusive mother

[xtruss]

Postscript: Rubbernecking For Jerry Springer

He was sweeter than Howard Stern, realer than Phil Donahue. His coolness gave his show its plausible deniability.

— By Doreen St. Félix | April 29, 2023

Photograph By Jeff Sciortino

Jerry Springer is dead at seventy-nine. He had fantasized about his demise coming in his fifties. Judgment Day would take the shape of—what else?—a talk show, a reproduction of his program, “The Jerry Springer Show,” with Springer as guest, God at the mike. No hypocrite, a true believer in humiliation, Springer would offer his life up for final scrutiny. The trial-in-Purgatory is the conceit for his memoir, “Ringmaster!”—speaking to a theory of showmanship, which to so many and for so long looked like no theory at all. Not anymore. Should the scamp die a forefather?

Springer, a veteran of newscasting with many Emmys, licks his finger and the wind tells him, Go outré. He had introduced his eponymous show, in 1991, as an issues-of-the-day digest—a natural roost for an erstwhile lawyer and politician with an arsenal of liberal bon mots. This first iteration was not remarkable, and so producers retooled, scripting the chaos we associate with Springer today. It drew millions of viewers. The show was more than popular; it was ubiquitous. The dramatic pivot of “Jerry Springer” the show perverted the ordinariness of Jerry Springer the man. You had to be there. The scene looks goofier with distance. What was this middle-aged man doing amid the crowd of whooping youth? What had he done to warrant the chant of his name? He was sweeter than Howard Stern, realer than Phil Donahue. His coolness gave “Jerry Springer” its plausible deniability. Railing against the family-values rhetoric of the decade, exploitation television still needed, at the time, the frame of a substitute moral universe. Tolerance worked. The fight dispersed, a commercial aired, and the show would end on a sombre Springer, delivering a variation of the Christian tenet, to do unto others as you would have done unto you. Entertainment as a gift from above.

Was he serious? Springer could play mogul; he could play pariah. He played chief self-deprecator, lampooning himself and his industry in a 1998 film, also called “Ringmaster.” The ready-made argument available to him was that his product was attuned to true normalcy. There is no exhausting of the Real America phantasm; it validates all kinds of business. The family was broken and may not ever have been coherent in the first place. The observable mode of American engagement was altercation and not conversation, certainly not discourse. We are a physical culture. Launching a chair at a cheater’s face was speech. The eroticized people who had been made sick by prudery deserved to display their inner lives. Something about being in touch with whatever source is called the American id. He was catching with a studio full of cameras a melee that had long been brewing. Because he had exactly the pedigree of a snob, Springer delighted in deflating the snob attack. He delighted in calling his own show “stupid.”

In the dedication to his memoir, Springer muses affectionately that his mother would hate his show. Margot Springer gave birth to her son (né Gerald) in 1944, in a makeshift bomb shelter in the London Underground. The family, German Jews, settled in Queens, New York. Springer’s father, Richard, a salesman, reached middle-class security by founding a toy company; his most popular doll was the Emmett Kelly, fashioned after the sad likeness of the Depression-era drifter clown. The Springer household was one of engaged citizens. In “Ringmaster!,” Springer recalls being enamored, as a child, with John F. Kennedy’s speech at the 1956 Democratic National Convention, which necessarily implies that Springer was also enamored with television. He would leave New York to study at Tulane University. He pursued law at Northwestern University, graduating in 1968, and moved to Ohio to work for a firm, setting the stage for his next act.

For those who know about it, Springer’s political career, first as a member of Cincinnati’s city council and then as the city’s mayor, from 1977 to 1978, is good fodder for the idea of politician as entertainer, a sunnier example than Donald Trump, because the controversy, in Springer’s case, a bounced check at a massage parlor, is manageable and his affiliation was liberal. He had been a campaigner for Robert F. Kennedy. He had been antiwar and pro civil rights. As a politician, Springer knew how to spin shame. He referenced his parlor indiscretion in his campaign for governor of Ohio, in 1982.

Jerry Springer in front of a studio audience at a taping of “The Jerry Springer Show.” Springer entered professional civic life through the front door, pilloried the idea of it from the back. Photograph by Steve Kagan / Getty

It was the failure of the 1982 campaign that brought Springer to broadcasting. What do we make of Springer’s biography? His background did not come to bear on his performance on the show; there was only a faint lawyerliness to his questions, which weren’t meant to mature into true probes, because there were brawls to be had. It is true that Springer did not really launder his bona fides to court a better reputation. He knew what he was doing. And, anyway, wasn’t reputation and shame the problem? His justification was the simplest: he knew that desire came from the base.

The chyron on the screen invited viewers to submit their stories for consideration for a future episode. The thing about scandal is that it presupposes importance. The “Springer” model integrated regular people into a conduit of attention, ephemeral but measurable attention. To come on that set meant a virtual promise of some kind of injury. There was an atmosphere—surrounding the audience to the guests to the viewers at home to the bespectacled m.c. himself—of no innocence. The terms created immunity: there is not a lot of effort to reappraise “The Jerry Springer Show,” as there has been for “The Tyra Banks Show,” or even the whole of the Oprah enterprise, because what violation contradicted the sign at the door? Its surface was its underbelly.

The show did not shutter until 2018. There are nearly five thousand episodes. The story of the host’s life is this: Springer entered professional civic life through the front door, pilloried the idea of it from the back. Everyone loves a precedent, and Springer, undeniably, exploded a standard for reality TV. The logic of exhibitionism he peddled has been elaborated on, perfected, brought slightly closer to documentary art. What he staged is now mainstream. He loved to live his business life on the defense, in part, I’m sure, because affiliating with the margins obscured the immenseness of his accumulated wealth. You may have noticed, in the wake of Springer’s death, clips of “Jerry Springer” shared under the cover of nostalgia. They were being shared before this week. I think they are valued because the guests perform a rawer, credulous version of fame hunger. Fascination with his spectacle had been rooted in disdain, in the nineties, and in shock; rubbernecking, these days, as the shock has run dry, it looks quaint. ♦

[the-hem]

“The Sacrificial Post.” From the Pranagnihotra Upanishad, the Exploration of the Mysteries of the Sacrifices to the Vital Air.

17. Let this external self meditate on specific activities – thus one makes offerings in the fire. Let (the performer) be a son to all. The ritual offerings are consecrated in the fire. 

Meditation is the inclusion of the Self at the expense of all distraction. Stop worrying about salvation, and whose God is what, and all your sins and focus on the Prana, how splendid it is how the body works without anyone minding its affairs but itself. 

Into this miracle, the Fire of Life alone all notions of sin and delusion can easily be dumped and forgotten. 

 18. I shall perform sacrifice in my body. There are the four fires, no mean ones, corresponding to the four parts of OM with the half syllable. 

The Four Fires are the body, the mind, the intellect, and the soul. Each field nuances experience. 

The body gets hot, cold, wet, dry, horny, satisfied, hungry, thirsty, sleepy and energetic. 

The mind, like pieces of flint will try to add sparks to the sensations of the body, it will try to love or hate what is going on. 

The intellect will provide the details: red, white, blue, brown, tall, short, fragrant or rank. 

The soul gathers experiences that it finds meaningful to it from the rest. Without the Prana none of this is possible. Without habitually destructive responses to the combinations of the prana with the BMI, the soul will find peace. 

The ability to withstand the tidal forces in the BMI and survive the day without a come apart is the goal of meditation and more serious forms of stoicism. 

Imagine a worm that has big vampire teeth on it, that hangs out on the hook, waiting to leap off and take a bite out of the nearest fish. That is what the BMI are like when stoicism is absent and impulsivity is present. 

Pema Chodron, a Vajrayana Buddhist, says wait for the fish to come to you. See what happens. Maybe it will bite, maybe it won’t...unless someone is suffering, then all bets are off, you need to drop what ever tall tale you are telling yourself, drop what you are doing and haul ass. 

Strange silly stories, spiteful little feelings we pick up from nowhere about others, these are sacrificed the moment someone else needs a reprieve.

An experienced practitioner will do this for himself at once. To end all investment in self-inflicted suffering is a sign one has realized the nature of the soul and all the sacrifices to attain it have paid off. 

The process as Pema and I have said, begins with shutting the front door: 

 19. There is no solar fire, shaped like the solar disc, sheathed in a thousand rays, abiding in the crown as the solar seer. The fire of vision mentioned (above) with its four forms, becoming the Ahavaniya is stationed in the mouth. 

Remember the Ahavaniya is “blessed speech”. Blessed speech is like a ball gag, it blocks curse words, complaining, and annoying special requests.

The bodily fire consumes the oblations that destroy old age. Becoming Dakshinagni, shaped like a half moon, it is stationed in the heart. 

Dakshinagni is speech that destroys corruption. It is consumed through the ears, where it is ingested and feeds the heart. Go to church and listen to the words in the Mass and the Gospels and you will understand Dakshinagni. 

Then, there is the gastric fire that, becoming Garhapatya is stationed at the navel consuming what is eaten, drunk, licked and sucked. 

Garhapatya “household” and “government” fires consume the good and the bad food of the natures of their populations and the results of their duties. Households and governments that contain drunks and dullards do not perform their duties and collapse because they lick and suck on the wrong kinds of personnel. 

20. Underneath are the three horizontal states of mind – the moon, Lord and the agent of generation. 

The moon and the mind are satellites which reflect the light of the nearest star. If your star is bright, bold and blessed, you will reflect its qualities. If your star is corrupt, violent, a cheater, liar and a bigot, guess why you act like one too? 

The agent of generation is the penis, does it lust for the right things about the right people or do you find yourself chasing the wind, do its desires leave you empty handed, feeling vacant, or angry? 

Which way the penis points clearly affects what we say and how we act, and what kind of god yours is. 

Verse 21 discusses how to turn the wrong kinds of lusts into sacrificial animals and turn the mind into a chariot that drives towards more important and beneficial kinds of prey. 

[hpalways]

Hot Pot || Thoma

FOOD and more food settled there on the long, narrow table of Ayaka's household. In the middle of it was a boiling pot with water inside. From here, everything looked delicious and ready to be eaten, however, a certain blond had other things in mind. An excited sparkle painted his green eyes while he gave you that look. Oh dear Archons, you thought to yourself. It could only mean one thing.

"So... should we try out that new hot pot game I learned again?" Thoma asked. "Just the two of us this time? Since Ayaka and the traveler are busy and all."

"May I remind you what happened the last time we played the game?" you said with a scowl. Using your chopsticks, you clicked them together in disapproval. He appeared unfazed by your reaction, grinning sheepishly, though not sorry at all.

"Don't worry," he assured, "This is a game of trust. I trust that you won't put anything that'd make me sick."

"You were the one who put in all the inedible things!"

"That was to prank the traveler and Paimon! I would never do that to you though."

Groaning, you finally gave in and agreed to his suggestion. Grinning widely, he quickly grabbed his ingredients and told you to do the same. And since there were only two people playing this time, there were going to be multiple rounds and more than one ingredient from each. The table was filled with every type of food there was. Snagging some fish fillets and shrimp, you quickly put your ingredients in while Thoma's back was turned on you. Afterwards, the roles switched and it was his turn.

The game began. Being the gentleman he was, he offered to take the plunge and go first. Closing his eyes, he knitted his brows together in habit as he struggled to pick an item from the pot. You watched him with a soft expression on your face, taking him entirely in. Long lashes fluttered gently and his ponytail draped from his shoulder, nearly touching the boiling water below.

Quickly hurrying around the table, you swept his ponytail back, fingers feeling the gentle textures of his hair. He whirled around, his closed eyes now opened again. "You cheater," you gasped.

"Hey-- no--" he protested. "What are you doing?"

"You were about to burn your hair off if it weren't for me."

"Oh..." he said. "Thank you."

Flustered by how sincere his words sounded, you mutely nodded in response and returned to your seat. The game continued and he finally took a bite out of his first item, making a twisted face at the taste of it. Unamused, you realized he had indeed put inedible things in there again. It wasn't even surprising at this point -- perhaps he just liked to torture himself. You hated him for dragging everyone else down with him.

"Look! You don't understand [Y/N]. The God of Hot Pot will send down blessings if we consume worse things."

Arms crossed and shooting daggers from your gaze, you sat there with an upset stomach. "Blessings, my foot. Trust, my foot. I knew you would do something like this again!" you accused, pointing fingers at him. "Should've let you singed your hair to flames."

He wasn't even listening to you. He was off in his own world with a pained look on his face. Clenching his stomach, he placed a hand over his mouth. No doubt, he was sick from the food, just as he was the last time this game was played. He never did learn his lesson the first round, did he? Seeing how much he was suffering, you couldn't stay mad, so you stood up from the table. Your own stomach wasn't exactly having a party either, and you knew it was best to get away from the scenery of food.

"Come on, Thoma. Let's go get some fresh air."

Pulling him up, you led him out of the door of the vicinity and entered the cool, crispy air of the outside world. Inazuma was pretty at night, the rows of houses lit up, accompanied by the pinks of sakura blooms. Petals blew from the skies, resting at the bottom of your foot and leaving color upon a very monotonous town. It was beautiful, but it was also lonely. Lonely like the stars covered by the clouds... and lonely like the people living here.

You sometimes felt lonely too, until you weren't. Thoma was here, forever by your side. He was reliable like a sturdy rock in the middle of a sea's storm, and he gave you hope for something that was supposedly impossible.

As if reading your mind, the blond male turned to you with a smile. "Thank you for sticking by my side," he whispered, as if he was too afraid to break the peaceful silence. "I can sense it. I can sense that change will occur soon. We will finally get that future we've been yearning for. Justice will be served."

He wrapped his arms around you, his warm body shielding you from the harsh realities of Inazuma. His head lowered and he placed a small kiss on the top of your [h/c] head, breathing you in to remind himself of your scent. He wanted to remember you forever... wanted to ingrain you into his head... in case his vision were to get stolen.

Because if he lost his vision, to lose memories of you, he wouldn't know what to do with himself.

"If I forget about you someday, will you knock some sense into me?"

"Of course."

You knew why he wanted to play that hot pot game with you. He wanted the most vivid memories of you to be kept in his mind, hidden and locked away. What better way to get a memorable memory than eating disgusting food? What better way to remember than laughing at your nauseous reactions? What better way than feeling the pain of a stomachache?

He was willing to do anything for you.

#genshin impact #genshin x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #genshin #thoma x reader #thoma #thoma genshin #romance #oneshot #fluff #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact scenarios #childe x reader #childe #zhongli #cute #genshin impact oneshot

[ordinaryschmuck]

Next idea I have to suggest, Luz playing video games with Vee and Hunter in an AU, then they both tease her because of needing to get ready for a date with Amity.

Advice During Kombat

The time: Five in the evening.

The place: The Noceda household living room.

The players: Vee and Hunter.

And the competition of choice: Mortal Kombat...the video game, not the actual bloodsport.

Regardless, the game was still ready as the two teens prepared for pixelated bloodshed, with Vee picking Scorpion and Hunter choosing Sub-Zero. The classic video game feud in history.

"Scorpion, huh?" Hunter cocked an eyebrow, "Why's that? Because you want to pretend for a second that you're actually hardcore?"

"Oh, yeah? Well, why did you pick Sub-Zero? Because um...because...Luz!" Vee called to her foster sister, "Hunter picked Sub-Zero!"

"Why?" Luz called back from the top of the stairs, "Because he has a cold heart?"

"Yeah, Hunter," Vee grinned, "Is it because you have a cold heart?"

But Hunter didn't look amused.

"You do realize that if you want those kids to stop making fun of you, you're going to have to come up with your own smack talk, right?"

"...Let's just play the stupid game."

"Excuse you! This game is--"

"Wait!" Luz slid into the living room, wearing a fancy dress shirt and coat with a frilly skirt, purple leggings, and combat boots. "Before you virtually kill each other, tell me: How do I look?"

"Um..."

"You look like a five-year-old dressed up their doll in a mish-mash of crap because they haven't discovered what fashion is yet," Hunter dryly commented, "Go pick out something else."

Luz blew a raspberry before running back upstairs. Once she was gone, Vee and Hunter focussed back on the T.V. screen.

"Now, get ready to eat your words about this game being stupid!" Hunter challenged, starting the fight. The second they could, both players controlled their characters in vastly different ways. Vee was more sporadic and tried to button mash her way to victory. Whereas Hunter appeared calm as he pushed the right buttons that he knew by heart.

"When you said that you were going to teach me how to fight, this isn't what I was expecting," Vee said as she miraculously got Hunter to half-health.

"I am teaching you. The first lesson is to pay attention to what these characters are doing. If you mimic their moves, then nobody is going to mess with you."

"I doubt that I'll be able to use a kunai spear in real life. Liiiiiiiiike THIS!" Vee expertly pulled Sub-Zero over to Scorpion, ending the round with one final blow. "Yes! In your face!"

But Hunter only chuckled menacingly at Vee's celebration.

"Oh, you poor, naïve girl. I was only going easy on you. Now, the real game can--"

"How about this," Luz interrupted Hunter's threat to present herself in a black dress with a crescent moon on the center.

"Looks great," Hunter said with disinterest as he paused the game.

"No, it doesn't," Vee interjected, "Luz, you look like a hot-topic kid's dream come true."

"See, now that is a good insult."

"To be fair, Amity is sort of emo," Luz pointed out with a nervous grin. "Maybe she'd be into it?"

"Just go pick out something else," Vee told her, causing the poor girl to run back upstairs with a whine.

"Back to bloodshed," Hunter announced, pressing play. This time, he practically destroyed Vee, who barely got two hits on him during the whole fight. Once the round ended, Hunter looked back at his opponent with the smuggest grin he could muster. Vee only glared.

"You...are a jerk."

"And your insults could use some work again," Hunter teased, ready for the new round, "Watch carefully now as I show you how to really--"

"Is this ok?"

Hunter paused the game again, absolutely fuming as he looked over to Luz.

"Would you STOP interrupting my--What...On Earth...are you wearing?"

Luz stood before them dressed in...something unconventional for sure.

"The otter onesie? Really?"

"...I'm nervous, ok?!" Luz blurted out, "I haven't been on a date before! I don't know what to wear!"

"So you went with the otter onesie?" Vee asked.

"I don't own that many fancy clothes!"

"Even then, I feel like you should know that wearing that thing is quite possibly the worst option you have," Hunter responded, "Seriously, you're better off going out naked than in...that."

"You're overthinking things, Luz," Vee said in a calming tone, "Amity's had a crush on you for, like, forever."

"For reason's that nobody will ever understand."

"Ignore him and listen to me when I say that you're going to be fine. No matter what you wear or what you do, Amity wouldn't care less. Just as long as you act like yourself, and--"

But Vee's reassurance was cut short once she heard the sounds of violence again. Looking back to the screen, she realized that Hunter had un-paused the game and was currently beating up a static Scorpion.

"Oh, you cheater!" Vee shouted, grabbing her controller.

"This is another lesson," Hunter smirked, "Always pay attention."

As the two of them went at it, Luz slowly trudged upstairs. After a few minutes of action, Vee had two hits left in her health bar, with Hunter's barely having a dent in it. Without any other options left, Vee's only choice was to jump around, dodging all of Hunter's attacks.

"You're only delaying the inevitable," he mocked.

"Only because you cheated!"

"In a real fight, you shouldn't have to worry about playing fairly. Only about winning."

"How's this for fair then: SWITCH!"

"Wait, what?"

Just then, Luz, now wearing a dress shirt and dark skinny jeans, took the controller out of Vee's hands. Effortlessly, she dominated Hunter, pulling off a flawless fatality once ending the match.

"Boom," she said simply, mic-dropping the controller. Vee smiled happily at her foster-sister, but Hunter only fumed.

"That is so not fair!"

"And we so don't care," Luz told him, giving Vee a fist pump, "Ok, so, this is the last outfit I can think of. How do I look now?"

"I think you look great!" Vee gave the thumbs up.

"I'll admit, while I hate this display of bad sportsmanship--"

"You cheated first!"

"--You don't look as bad as you usually do."

Bzzt!

After taking out her phone, Luz's eyes widened at the reminder she had set on it.

"I sure hope you're right, because I gotta go!" she exclaimed, heading for the door. "Love you, Vee! Hunter, you can go die in a fire!"

"Love you too, sis!" Vee called out.

"I hope Blight girl dumps you after this!" Hunter shouted back, but his genuine grin took the wind out of the threat. With Luz out of the house, it was just Hunter and Vee, who both sat on the couch with a hanging question before them.

"So..." Vee grabbed the controller off the floor, "Rematch?"

"Only because now you can't cheat this time," Hunter snarked, grabbing his controller and picking his new character.

"Again, you cheated first!"

#the owl house #luz noceda #toh vee #toh hunter #the golden guard #luz and hunter are siblings #luz and vee are sisters #the hiatus of drabbles #lumity

[otomegema]

hi! convergence theory is my favorite fic ever. i just wanted to know how did gojo and reader's conversation about geto go? 🥺 thank you <3

I actually wrote it once! There was a sub-plot in convergence theory that got nix'd where reader thinks he might still be hooking up with chicks on the side. There were a lot of sketch moments that you can still see peppered in the fic where he would hastily turn his phone off that made her get suspicious in that dropped plot line. Now it just looks like he is polite and wanted her to have his full attention-- which, actually WAS what was happening anyway.

I know Gege said Gojo is a ladies man and wouldn't be tied down to one person, which has translated into him being a fuck boy in a lot of fics and a cheater-- but I hate it. I can not imagine Gojo being so flighty if he was truly serious about someone.

SO essentially the conversation began very defensively because reader approaches it like, "Hey. The engagement is fake, I get that. If you wanna still see other people, go ahead. Just make sure you don't blow our cover." and Gojo gets OFFENDED. Like who does she think he is?! If he is truly committing to this role, he can't do that because he wouldn't do that. Like yeah he usually only does casual flings, but if he were engaged he wouldn't screw around. And she is surprised by his answer which in turn gets him even MORE huffy. He kinda just shoots off that he gets that everyone thinks he is a rake because his last long-term relationship was forever ago and ended-- ya know. With Geto dead.

There is kinda a pause and reader suddenly feels awful and apologizes just reiterating she doesn't want to make this weird. Gojo finally asks her point blank if it bothers her. She mistakenly thinks he means that he was in a relationship with someone who became a criminal and who he then KILLED. Gojo corrects her and asks if it bothers her that Geto was a man.

It does not. Because we support a bi!Gojo in this household and so does this reader! She is more concerned over the "You mean to tell me your last significant romantic relationship was with someone you were forced to kill?"

And suddenly his history of casual flings makes so much sense to her because who would POSSIBLY be willing to risk such pain again? It really is a moment where reader realizes Gojo is in fact still extremely wounded over Geto's loss and just has never dealt with it fully. The added trauma of having to kill someone he loved just adding to it. She gets the feeling that the only reason he can even open up so much with her is because he is actively trying to. Which means he wants to. Which means whatever sort of connection they have he values enough to attempt to be honest. And she isn't even sure he realizes that is what he is doing.

Gojo asks her how she wants to handle this-- aka is she asking because there is someone she wants to pursue? She assures him no, there isn't and there won't be. And he confirms the same with a curt "Good chat" and humorous banter. But yeah! Basically just two adults having a frank conversation on the openness of their relationship under the pretense it is just "fake dating strategic planning" when it is actual real boundaries they are setting. So her reaction is one of understanding and empathy. She feels for Gojo and hates that he was hurt in such a way and lost someone so important to him. Also she muses on whether he might find someone like that again and in general on the idea that maybe there are multiple people who could be someones "soulmate". Lawl it's her

#fic; convergence theory #asks #gojo x reader #gojo x you

[pandemilkbread]

nine days // bakugo katsuki

author’s note: here is the sequel to paubaya! it can be read as a stand alone fic, but it’ll feel better once you read the first one. 

please enjoy ♡ please leave a like or comment if you enjoyed it,, it’ll mean alot aaaaa. also, beware. this is pretty long! 

ʙᴀᴋᴜɢᴏ ᴋᴀᴛsᴜᴋɪ

nine days. (angst!fic) part 1

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: It took eight, just eight days to fall in love with you; and as dense as Bakugo was, it’ll take him a lifetime (or two) to admit it.

i.

The idea of love has always been a difficult subject to comprehend. 

And to a young boy at the tender age of four, whose typical acts of love revolved on beating the crap out of anyone who dared to mess with him (or his friends, though he’d rather not call them that), the subject was more troublesome to speak out loud. 

Which was quite contrary to the Bakugo household persona that radiated pure noise throughout the whole course of the day, a feat their neighbor would love to refute if they were able to.

(how a detached and sound proof home such as theirs could release that much clamor, they hardly knew.)

However as loud as the Bakugos were, it’s a no-brainer to realize how quiet they became in regard to their own feelings. The eccentric family breathed the words “show don’t tell” like a mantra; the essence of touch being the utmost way of showing affection—something Bakugo Katsuki never truly understood until one Saturday afternoon. 

Bakugo loved his quirk. His favorite part? Not one single part, but a bunch load of favorites. 

Blasting shit into smithereens. 

Screams of wow! and cool! from his followers. 

(”the imaginary people in his head, who continually shower him with praise.” not that he’d admit it.)

The sizzle of sweat on his fingers. 

…And exactly everything else that buffed up his currently fragile ego.

The worst part? 

The smell of burnt cloth that followed his usual fits of excitement. 

The lukewarm water plummeting from the ceiling sprinklers.

…Most especially the whack that vibrated through his skull when his mother found out his only son almost managed to burn down the whole kitchen. 

He took it personally, very personally. What happened? An accident!  The All Might segment thrilled him to the point of attempting a somersault, one that he succeeded in doing! Was it his fault a measly floor couldn’t handle his greatness? Yet, how does his crappy mom reward him for this feat— a full throttle to the head. 

“Katsuki,” his father muttered, rousing him from his thoughts. The scent of antiseptic lingered in the air, forcing him to scrunch his nose in disgust. Was he so weak to need a dab of a stupid medical solution to—

“You could have gotten hurt. Don’t be stubborn.” He sighed. “Your mom was very worried.”

Bakugo grunted. ‘A pissy way of showing it!’ He’d retaliate, but the downcast glint in his father’s eyes stopped him. He was clearly worried for his son’s wellbeing. 

“...Could’ve said so.” He sputtered out. (unwillingly, of course.)

“Sometimes you have to look past words to truly understand how someone is feeling, Katsuki.” A small grin perched on Masaru’s face. “People love differently. You just need to spot how.”

ii.

“I like you! Can we please start seeing each other?”

“Hah? Who the fuck are you?”

One tear, two tears, three tears. With that, the girl ran, and down the middle school staircase she went. 

Bakugo hardly understood why he was invited to the rooftop in the first place. No. He knew a confession would take place, that was obvious. All thanks to his fellow female classmates who couldn’t stop gossiping about it. One more ‘oh God! she’s going to confess to Bakugo-san later!’ and he’d burst, literally.

No. He couldn’t grasp the whole idea of confessing your love to a stranger. Bakugo knew nothing of the teary-eyed student, except she was a crybaby. Besides, it irritated him to the point of seething. Why confess your love only to run out halfway when things go sour? 

It wasted his time. Time he could have spent training, studying, doing something important. 

Don’t misunderstand. Bakugo was not a cruel person, he never was. Just one with below par conversational skills. He wanted to know the reasons, not disregard her feelings. He wanted to understand the why’s and what’s of the equation; the basis of what directed her feelings onto him. 

But, he would never accept her proposition, even if she managed to spur out a million reasons. Bakugo never saw himself in a position to love someone, it was too troublesome. Hell, he never understood the whole idea of love itself. 

He scoffed. If he had found himself fancying a person, it would be one akin to himself. 

Someone strong. 

Someone who spoke their mind. 

Someone who could handle him. 

Someone who—

Whack! A shoe smacked him out of his dazed stupor. Apparently, the friends of so-called stranger who shuffled off the rooftop in a crying heap told what transpired. The whole girl squad fashioned themselves into a line meant to reprimand his actions. 

“You could have softened the blow, you know!” One of them hissed. “In a way that wouldn’t hurt her feelings!”

“Yeah. You’re pretty selfish, Bakugo-san. You could have at least tried to hang out before deciding!” Another chided.

The act ignited his anger, leaving him an irked mess. 

Soften the blow? What did they expect him to do? Listen to the confession wholeheartedly, seemingly interested in actually dating the other party? Hell no. Why would he do so? It would only make the rejection hurt more. No matter how you put it a rejection is still a rejection; and a rejection will hurt. 

Selfish? He had done the girl a huge favor. More or less she would finally move on and treat the event as a lesson; focus on someone who had the time for affection. 

Was it his fault for not feeling the same way? Fuck no. He owed them nothing. 

“Don’t wanna. Too much of a hassle.” Bakugo sneered. 

And, oh boy were women scary. Nothing was more terrifying than a group of women who managed to suppress Hell’s fury and rage into their whole being. Hypocrites. Speaking of softening blows when one hit from any single one of them could break bones. 

God. He hated their quirks. 

(scratch that. he hated the sound of his mother’s cackling the most. ‘now what did i tell you about pissing off girls!’ she scolded.)

iii. 

Bakugo was a lot of things: perceptive, intelligent, strong— Hell he could list down a thousand adjectives if he wanted to. But, he was never the observant one. 

Sheer power? He was fucking amazing. 

Keen leadership? Bakugo is your guy!

Socializing skills? …Working on it. But, God yeah!

As perceptive as he was, his ego took a bit of a hit the moment he crashed into her. And as much as he would like to boast it was her fault in the first place, with the stacks of books that perched on her forearms, he knew better than to daze off in the middle of a crowded hallway. 

The books shook in momentum, and in return one hand steadied the massive collection. The blonde Pikachu outwardly reached out preventing the crash, a feat Kaminari would evidently use as a bragging tool later on. 

“Ah, sorry about that! Spiky over here’s in a daze after the math quiz,” Kaminari snickered. 

“Says the cheater who got caught on question one.” Bakugo retorted with an eyeroll to match. 

The other person in question huffed out a breathy laugh, the books shook once again in reaction, forcing her to side step to balance them out. “That’s fine. Sorry for blocking the way too.” The stranger reassured. 

By then, Bakugo’s stomach growled. God was he hungry. He casually followed the flow of people toward the lunch area. A few steps later his blonde companion tapped him on the shoulder, almost frantically. 

“I-I’mma help carry the books to—” Kaminari whipped his head back and forth at him and the other person walking the opposite direction. “So... yeah! Go without me!”   

Bakugo grunted. A non-verbal consent which easily meant “go, I don’t care”, or more likely “bye. i’m fucking hungry”. He couldn’t understand why Kaminari would go that far for someone he barely knew, especially when their whole body was covered by the stacks of books. Suspicious if you asked him. 

The boy was simply unpredictable and troublesome. Nah. He had no time to think about the electrical cord, he wanted to eat. Once he arrived at the dining hall, the other three constituents of his group sat on their usual hangout place. Thankfully (he won’t admit it) the eccentric red head ordered his regular lunch for him, allowing Bakugo to immediately slide into the table. 

“Bahkuwgo! Whersh Kahmiyari?” Pinky blurted, her mouth filled with food. 

His eyebrows furrowed. Where was Pikachu? “Shithead’s busy.” 

Bakugo returned to the matter at hand, his aching stomach, and began chewing. Obviously, the angry porcupine had no time to gossip about the who, what, where, and when’s, hello? Stomach first. His ears on the other hand had no shut-off button, prompting him to listen in the conversation rather irately. 

“I told him to study! Three nights ago! And what happens? He decides to write down the whole syllabus into his hands!” 

Sero sighed. “Mina. He’s helpless and will never learn—”

“Didn’t you copy off him too?” Kirishima chortled. “I saw you look over his answers!”

The black haired boy feigned shock. “Are you assuming I cheated? I thought we were friends!” Seconds of thought later, his eyes widened in real shock. “If you saw me looking... it means you looked too!”

“Bro. I wouldn’t cheat. It’s against my honor—” 

“Oh my God! All three of you are idiots.” Mina gushed. 

“Says the girl who left the whole back page em-empty.” Sero snickered, his palm jabbing his chest to dislodge the food stuck in his throat. 

Kirishima gasped. “There’s a back page? The—”

“Hey! How do you know? You’re seated at the third row! So you’ve really been chea—”

The thwack of a lunch tray interrupted the conversation, an achievement only possible by the fourth idiot of the group. The lightning bolt returned from the alleged errand in a sputtering mess; like he would be when overloaded by his quirk, almost but not quite. 

“Denki! What took you so long? I bet Aizawa-sensei decided to talk some sense into you!” Mina teased, tilting her head in confusion when the blonde suddenly dazed off. 

Bakugo smacked the Kaminari on the forehead, rather lightly. “...Idiot’s broken.”

“No... I met an angel...” The chargebolt mumbled. 

“Here we go again.” Sero shook his head in response. “Who is it this time?”  

“Shush! She’s here!” He hissed. “Bakugo bumped into her earlier. She had these big books—”

“Bro! That’s no way to talk to a girl—” 

“No! Not that! Real books! So, they were heavy and... Yeah. I helped her carry them to Recovery Girl— and yeah!” 

“You’re not making any sense.” Sero advised. 

“Shut up! She might hear us!” Kaminari gawked. “...She’s so pretty...”

Four sets of eyes travelled towards the person the Pikachu was ogling at, a silent agreement among all five of them to be as unsuspecting as possible. Evidently, she was a simple normal high school girl whose smile seemed to radiate glee likely from her co-classmates who sat with her. 

Bakugo surveyed her face, and then onto her gestures and actions. A Goddess? Huh. The girl seemed pretty normal to him, no one special. Kaminari unmistakably gushed over another woman, like he usually did for no reason at all. 

“Where’s she from?” Bakugo asked, rather boredly.

“Ah, yeah! I don’t know.” The lover-boy continued ogling. “...She’s not from the Hero department for sure.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” 

iv. 

Bakugo hated many things; failing tests (he’s too smart to fail), winning without actual merit, God he despises losing even more, Deku (he doesn’t actually, too prideful to oppose it though), nagging— He hates Aizawa’s nagging the most. 

It must have something to do with the nonchalant tone, more like dead and spiritless if you asked him, the all knowing attitude, the deep timbre of ‘Bakugo. Fix that up. If I find out you’ve been bleeding all over the floor. Good luck.’, the threatening staring contest thereafter, and the resolution: him walking furiously to the nurses’ office. 

He groaned. It was a tiny scratch. Maybe a bruise, or two. The gash on his temple stung, not just physically. The reason why he was cut in the first place was all because of shitty Pikachu blabbing about his fucking angel. If he said “You’re just jeaaaalous” one more time, he would explode. 

Bakugo warned him. Multiple times. Kirishima could vouch it. But, no. Bolty decided to repeat the phrase manifold of times, leading him to screech a “shut the fuck up!”, causing Pinky to scream, in succession scared Shitty Hair forcing him to activate his quirk—

Fuck that. In short, it was all thanks to the living and breathing phone charger. 

Bakugo gripped the clinic door and slammed it open. The quicker he found Recovery Girl the quicker he returned to class and beat the shit out of Pikachu. Yeah. He’d do that, but instead he found her. 

For fucks sake. The indirect reason why he was in this state. 

He marched toward the desk, dragging his feet in a somewhat stomping manner. The way she blankly stared irritated him more. Was she just going to stare? Bakugo rolled his eyes. Did she think he was pathetic to come in for a slight scratch?

He had no choice. Not his fucking choice. 

“What the fuck are you looking at?” 

Finally. The girl roused from her state of daze and stood up. Now all he needed to do was ask— nah, he’d wait for the head nurse himself. 

The other person in the room darted her eyes to him and a clock on the wall almost quizzically, as if she was contemplating what to do. With that, she spun around and faced him. 

“She’s not here. Bear with it for a sec, let me get something to help.” She mumbled. 

Oh? The girl wasn’t a bystander after all. She reached for a small kit inside a cabinet in the wall. Her hands then beckoned to a chair and it was his cue to sit down. 

This gave him ample time to observe the woman who’s been driving him nuts. Through the oddball Kaminari of course. 

First of all, she was no goddess. Looked more like an enraged chipmunk on Christmas morning. Her cheeks puffed up in concentration, dabbing antiseptic on his temple. How Kaminari fell for her, he had no idea. Not surprising though, he’d fall for the whole female populace if he had the time for it. 

Second, why the fuck would he be jealous! What was there to be jealous about? Pikachu should be the envious one. The girl he fawned for happened to be the same woman in charge of cleaning his wounds. No. Not wounds. Scratches. Stupid scratches. Her eyes glazed in utter focus at the task of hand, this beat Kaminari’s “watching habits” any day. 

Hell, he was a tad excited. Using this incident as a tool to finally make the idiot shut up. The imminent power he’d have over the crappy blonde. He would bring it up on every occasion possible, well— not every one. Bakugo did have mercy for the goofball. So, maybe five times a week. Almost enough to make up for all the weeks of his bantering. 

Third, he thought, wouldn’t it be better if he introduced you to Kaminari instead? Yeah, he barely knew you. Even so, it was worth a shot. Maybe referring you to the Pikachu would be better in the long run. Maybe, the experience could humble him. Bakugo shook his head. No. Even if he managed to coerce you into meeting Bolty, there was no guarantee you’d actually like him. 

Then there was the impending heartbreak and sobbing and whining and complaining. Nevermind. He’d go through so much shit for a tiny bit of satisfaction. Scratch that. 

Anyway, what was so great about you? You weren’t from the hero course. Obviously. Bakugo knew most of the students from that department. Although he couldn’t remember names, faces seemed to pop up in his mind. You didn’t have an awesome quirk. Hell, if you did, he recalled no one who looked like you from the sports festival. Business department? He assumed people like them don’t intern for the clinic. General department then? 

Bakugo growled. Why was he trying to understand you? You were nothing to him. A simple stranger who crossed paths with first time, and highly for the last time once the whole ordeal was over. God. He’ll kill Kaminari for this. 

At that instant, Bakugo felt repetitive pressure on head. It took him a few seconds to realize she patted him. Like a kid!? Fuck no. His ego couldn’t take her treating him as a child. A small vein popped on his forehead and when he was about to berate her for her actions, apparently she spoke first. 

“Good boy, you can leave now.” With. A. Matching. Grin.

Fuck no. This was worse. You didn’t treat him as a child, he was a pet to you! A pet? Why a pet!? He wanted to wipe that dumb smile off your face. You were exactly more annoying than Pikachu ever was! 

Her cheeks flooded pink from the small laugh she released.  Bakugo’s eyes hovered over to yours and one though popped up: cute. 

What. The. Actual. Fuck. 

Imaginary steam evaporated from the top of his head. Cute? Cute! Gross. The woman in front of him wasn’t cute. She was fucking annoying. He bet his mind spelled u.g.l.y wrong. The scratch on his head fucked up his intellect. 

Bakugo immediately stood up, pointing an accusing finger at her. “What’dya call me, ugly!?”

v. 

Anyone who thought Bakugo was the type of person to run away from a fight would be met with the indignant monster himself, threatening the offender with fury akin to the devil.  

It’ll take a million years before Bakugo willingly scampered off the battlefield without dealing a punch (or two). 

However it would take longer for him to admit he was running away from you. No. He wasn’t ‘running’ per se, he was observing the situation. The whole clinic event left him irked and in a sense, intrigued. 

Now that he thought about it, anyone who met his “angry” side were prone to either a. running; b. crying; c. anger; and d. all of the above; and in rare cases: e. laughing. He assumed anyone who laughed at him after his usual feats of anger were the real creepy ones— or idiots reincarnate. 

The moment he knew of her existence, he found himself noticing her more and more. He remembered specs of her daily routine from mere perception, something he hated he did, yet couldn’t stop. 

She hated tomatoes, he gathered from a passing conversation on the way to the lunch room. 

She hated snakes even more. Something to do with a childhood fear that forced her to go to the hospital. 

She loved reading, he presumed with all the books she had on the top of the desk in the library. 

As much as it irritated him to realize she took up a part of his thoughts (a big part, really), it pisses him off further when she spotted him looking at her as well. That led her to offer him a smile, sometimes a nose scrunch, other days furrowed eyebrows in confusion, but most of the time you never noticed the blonde hero student glancing at your direction. 

Well, that’s fine with him. More time to speculate the shitty woman who managed to take up his time. 

She took the courage to approach him one day. Bakugo knew she headed to his table in the library. So what does he do the moment her eyes met his in an attempt to introduce herself? Run. He fucking runs. 

An accomplishment that only happened when the world split into two. 

Yet, here were are on Day Four: Bakugo Ignores Gen. Girl to Restore His Self-Esteem. Part one of the “he was caught looking multiple times and almost confronted” franchise. This happened for quite a while, pretty easy actually. Both of your schedules never met, the only times he caught a whip of your existence were in the library (your humble abode) and the clinic (your humble abode part two). 

Obviously, he avoided both places like the plague. 

His plan worked for a while. 

(for the first five days, honestly.)

Bakugo’s broke his streak one lunch afternoon. He caught her eye the exact moment she looked at his, inciting a silent battle of leering. She grinned set out to stir his anger and he glared right back. The fight lasted for minutes neither parties admitting defeat, earning the attention of his fellow lunchmates. 

“Bakugo? Could you teach me this later?” Mina pleaded. “If I fail one more quiz I’d be dumber than Denki!” 

“Hey! I studied this time. I bet I might get a higher score than Midoriya this time!” Kaminari disagreed, flicking the girl’s forehead. 

“Finish eating already. We might be late again...” Sero sighed. “God. Aizawa-sensei gives me the chills...”

The red head of the group noticed Bakugo’s full tray and focused glare first. Kirishima lightly tapped the blonde, earning a grunt in response. Kirishima’s eyes then followed his line of sight to see the girl Kaminari has been talking about nonstop, and stop he did weeks ago. 

“Ah. You know her, Bakugo?” Kirishima whispered. “You might... with that staring contest going on between you.”

“No. I don’t.” Bakugo scowled, in concentration. 

Sero, who was in close proximity, heard the short discussion and pulled the other blonde by the ear. “Yo, Denki. Isn’t that Goddess #18?” 

“Ah!” Denki immediately covered his ears. “Stop! Can’t handle it! Don’t even mention her anymore— Bakugo ruined the whole experience! Remember Goddess #20? Yes. I’mma stick with her.”

“Woah... Bakugo that’s one intense stare you have. Don’t tell me... you’re dating her!” Mina gushed. “Denki you never stood a chance!” She laughed. 

“Who would like that— ugly!” Bakugo chided. 

“No wonder you hated it. You were reaaaally jealous, huh?” The Pikachu sang. “It’s fine with me. You have my permission.” 

Bakugo fumed. “I don’t need your permission to do anything!” 

Kirishima blinked. “Oh, you were serious, bro? You do like her?” 

“You’re all fucking annoying! Shut the fuck up!” 

Sero grinned, a wide cheshire smile. “You know what this means? Time to meet the princess who stunned the angry dragon.” He stood up. 

Mina understood the signal and followed suit. “Watch Bakugo for us, Kiri! We’re going to— Denki. You’re coming too.” She pulled the latter by the arm, dragging him unwillingly. 

“I don’t wanna!” Kaminari cried. 

“Hurry up. She could have pretty friends—”

“Ah? Let’s go.” The blonde picked up his weight and dashed. 

The remaining two students sat in silence. Bakugo groaned in frustration. He’s going to kill all four of them. Maybe a slower death for Spiky Hair since he called their attention in the first place. Bakugo smacked his head on the table. 

For fucks sake. Out of all the times they had to notice, why now? God. He hated his friends. 

Kirishima patted his back, gently. He did not want to enrage the irritated Bakugo even further. “There’s no harm in meeting someone new, right? Think of it as a — fun experience.”

Fun, alright. Bakugo was going to have fun beating his friends up. 

(says the angry pomeranian who heeded, and plomped down on the seat next to the stranger— not so unfamiliar anymore, almost happily. well, in his own way.)

vi. 

You and Bakugo were polar opposites; the duo that clashed every second possible. 

Believe it or not, the slightest of jabs ignited an argument so intense that calling the fire department would be justifiable. 

(alright. this may sound over dramatic. but, hey. it came from kaminari himself. dramatics beget drama.)

One argument in particular stood out among the rest. It started little, truly. A small squabble, really. 

Bakugo preferred sweets, she hated them. 

He liked mathematics, she detested the subject.

He thrived with attention, she favored staying in the sidelines. 

He loved the winter, she wished for summer. 

And one phrase led to another, one plain phrase led to an even more painful prick, and in conclusion—

“You’re quirkless. Stop complaining.”

happened. 

Bakugo never meant for the remark to hurt your feelings. It was a smooth attempt to disguise his embarrassment; you begged to hold his hand. Utterances of ‘we’re friends!’ and ‘don’t be shy!’ irked him. How the fuck was it possible to stay calm when the simplest brush of your hand against his, sent him into a frenzy?

Safety. He rebutted. It was for your safety. As much as he’d like to hold your hand with his—

(he’d die before admitting it, though.)

that quirk of his, stopped him. Sweat triggered his quirk. The very instance of the substance forming in his hands could cause an explosion. He doubted you’d be thankful spending Christmas in a hospital, your parents resorting to call a lawsuit. 

Was warmth a suitable reason to lose an arm? Hell no. Bakugo knew you hated winter, and all sorts of cold weather. Yet, he’s not stupid enough to risk your safety for something so... immaterial. 

Her words of ‘you’re selfish, Bakugo!’ prickled his skin. It was an innocent jab, he knew it was a joke. Still, if you haven’t understood the way his quirk worked. He thought it would be better for you to learn the hard way. 

And bingo. Bakugo said it. 

“You’re quirkless. Stop complaining.” 

Little did he know those words impacted his companion harsher than he initially thought. 

A small forced laugh came from your lips, compelling you to step sideward. An attempt to move yourself farther from him. “We should hurry up. I don’t think they’d like cold pizza.” 

Bakugo nodded, unconsciously watching your every move. He understood the topic of your quirklessness was taboo. A sort of innermost disappointment, and the focus of childhood bullying. He should have phrased it in a better way... a small part of him thought maybe, you wouldn’t get hurt, a way to attest your friendship. 

He grunted. His mom would kill him if she found out it was his fault. And knowing the woman’s personality, he preferred not being chewed out in front of his schoolmates. With a sigh, Bakugo unshuffled his muffler and wrapped it around his female buddy. 

“Next time, wear something thicker. I won’t always be here to save your ass.”

Her eyes blinked in succession. Her eyebrows furrowed after. Roughly, comprehending his actions. 

She beamed. “Oh? Is little Bakugo apologizing?” Her fingers twisted the pizza box, forcing it onto his hands. “Then carry this ‘oh holy’ one. I might forgive you then.”

“Fine. Crappy woman.” Bakugo grumbled, tugging her forward by pulling his muffler. “Hurry. I’m hungry.”

By 5:30 P.M., the pizza deliverers (Bakugo and her, the idiots who lost at rock, paper, scissors) arrived at the Bakugo household with the food. The appearance of the two prompted cheers and yells from Mina, Kaminari, and Sero who huddled on the couch. 

“What took you so long? Imagine listening to Denki sing the karaoke for hours!” Mina whined. 

Sero jested. “Next time, we forget inviting him. This early Christmas celebration can carry itself without his presence.”

“Get the fucking pizza yourself then! Stupid crowds hogging the whole pizza place...” Bakugo threw the box at the group, instantaneously, marching towards Kirishima.  

“Bakugo! B-Becareful!” Kaminari worried. “If it’s destroyed... you... get a new one!”

Heh. Like the expensive meal couldn’t handle a bit of force. Bakugo stomped towards the redhead and took a soda from the table nearest to him. 

Kirishima rose his eyebrows. “So. Had fun?” He elicited an all-knowing grin. “I think you did.”

“Shut up!” Bakugo hissed, eyes wandering to the bundle of people on the couch. 

“You know, you’re too obvious.” He laughed. “Well, except for one of us. That one has no idea.”

“I don’t fucking know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t? Or you’re pretending not to?”

“Ugly’s a friend!” 

Kirishima hummed. “Alright, bro. I won’t pressure you into talking about it.”

A loud pop interrupted their conversation. Kaminari opened a fizzed up can of cola, the drink sprouted into Mina’s face. “I’m going to kill—”

“But, If you want something to happen though. You have to learn to speak up, Bakugo.”

vii.

“Come on, Bakugo! Just this once, please!” Mina begged. “It’ll be great for everyone! Don’t you feel sorry for Denki... He’s been cramming for days!”

“That’s what the gets for playing the whole weekend.”

“Please! I promise we’ll make it up to you!” 

“No. Too much of a hassle.”

“C’mon... Princess, help?” The pink haired student gestured to the other girl in the group. 

You sighed. “Mina, he doesn’t want to do it.”

“See, ugly agrees!”

“...Oh, wait. On the other hand, Bakugo’s too busy to teach. Mina, try asking Midoriya to help.” Her eyes met his in a stare off. “He’s got the time, especially when he’s so busy himself.”

She knew using his rival’s name as a bargaining chip kindled his anger. It was his fault for calling her such an offensive nickname in the first place. 

“Might let Pikachu teach you math too. You’re dumber at it than he is.”

“Oh? I should let him. He’s better at teaching than you are!”

Mina glanced back and forth between the two parties. A silent ‘oh boy, this will not end well.’ featured on her face. Pinky shook her head, and placed a hand on Bakugo’s shoulder. 

“It’s fine! Stop arguing, really.” Mina murmured. 

“No. She started it.”

“Don’t be a child, Bakugo! …Oh, you scared?” Ugly taunted. “I might beat your score in math.”

“Hah? You, the flunk? Fine. I’ll teach the shitty subject.” Bakugo grinned. “Any score lower than mine means you owe me one.”

And she gulped, anxiously. 

This became the humble beginnings of how Bakugo became the professor of the study group, ultimately leading to her doom. He was excited. Oh, what shit he’d make her do in retaliation. 

He agreed on the following terms: library after classes, subjects will be appointed beforehand, anyone skipping must be told in advance... and fifty other rules so on and so forth. 

And on the third week of the so-called cramming agenda, four of his classmates decided not to attend, leaving him and ugly as the remaining participants. The whole point of the activity was to teach the idiots, if they don’t show up why was he here?

Bakugo scanned through the math test he gave his companion. First, she was no idiot. There were hardly any errors, if there was, he presumed it was her faulty writing and adding. Solutions were well done, the logic was there. The problem? Yes. The idiot forgot her calculator. 

He clicked his tongue. The assumption was apparent, the whole back page had scribbles of numbers, divides, and all the shit. Why the hell did she not have a calculator? Forgetful one she was. 

And second, why the fuck was she dozing off? Sure, mathematics was a boring subject. Sure, he was a boring teacher. Sure, he was teaching them to pass the subject. They should all be grateful for his fucking effort. 

The hues of the sunset danced on her skin, the reds and oranges bounced on her hair radiating a wave of light. Her head perched on her crossed arms on the table, the head leaning slightly right. He saw the dark pigments below her eyes. 

Must have been studying hard, huh? Bakugo knew the girl was on a scholarship. It’s been discussed millions of times. He realized the pressure must have gotten to her, especially being one of the only quirkless students in the school. Seemingly, all she had to offer was her bright intellect. 

(not all. she was way better than most of the students in the whole department! bakugo punched anyone who thought otherwise.)

“...Do you like someone?” She muttered. 

What? In a split second, he focused his eyes on the girl in front of him. She stayed in the same sleepy position as earlier, convincing him she might have been talking in her sleep. Shaking his head, he returned back to the papers in his hands. 

Minutes later a sudden tap on the table prompted him to look at his companion. Her eyes gazed at him with such intensity, his stomach jumped. Somersaults, loops, rollercoasters. God. This only happened after a punch to the gut in battle. The woman was supposed to be asleep! What the fuck was she doing awake. 

Oh. So, she did ask the question. Was he supposed to answer? Silence is an answer. Knowing the girl, any answer he’d give sired more questions. God. He wanted to leave. What was the shittiest answer he could give her. Yeah.

“...Shut up, extra.” 

Perfect. Now back to the question at hand. What kind of fucked up person willingly confesses ‘You. Stupid. I like you.’ without proof the other party felt the same? It was simply a formula to fail. 

Hold. 

The. 

Fuck. 

Up. 

Did he really think he liked her? No. Brain thought wrong. Brain really thought fucking wrong. Just because he hated it when she focused on people who weren’t him doesn’t mean he likes her. Just because he’d break someone’s face for talking shit about her doesn’t mean he cares like that. Just because every retort she said in retribution turned him on doesn’t mean he wanted to kiss her. 

Fuck. He wanted to kiss her. 

Kiss her badly. 

He wanted to grab her by the collar and just kiss her. 

God. He hated it. 

The girl abruptly reached for his collar, pulling him towards her. “Who is it?” She whispered. 

Oh fuck. The cogs in his brain twisted and turned. Did he say it out loud? Did he fucking say that out loud? What the fuck was he doing? Who is it? What the fuck were you talking about? 

Who is it? Who was who? He hated cryptic messages. His eyes searched for meaning on your features. A person? Who?

Ah. You asked who he liked. 

Great. What was he supposed to say? It’s you, ugly! Wake up! He’d burn in hell before speaking up. 

One name popped up. Miruko’s agency. Rumi. The woman he was interning for. Like crap she’d find out about it. 

“Rumi, her name’s Rumi.”

viii.

12:00 P.M.

bakugo: i’m hungry

bakugo: bring ur snacks

12:50 P.M.

bakugo: u not gonna eat huh?

bakugo: suit urself brat

3:00 P.M. 

bakugo: think u gonna win the bet now aren’t ya

bakugo: keep ignoring me maggot

bakugo: fine

5:00 P.M. 

bakugo: spiky hair said to come 

bakugo: he has shitty fish crackers for food

bakugo: the fuck??????

bakugo: you ignore me and answer his calls?????

Bakugo was not an avid texter. Most of his messages consisted of ‘ok’, ‘nice’, ‘no’, curses, other single word messages, sometimes barely a reply at all. The sheer amount of effort he put into texting you proved otherwise. Yet...

Read. Read. Read. 

All of his messages sent to you were on read. What he fuck was going on? For five days, she’s been missing in action. He tried everything. 

Inviting the woman to lunch. Ignored.

Reminding her of the cram session. Bailed. 

Snacks! You loved snacks! Ignored again. 

Bakugo was this close to shoving you up against the wall and forcing the shit out of you. What did he do so wrong? Oh, was it the kiss thing? Did he say it out loud? Your face showed no clear answer at the time. Your deadpan expression irritated him. 

What if he wanted to kiss you? Was that shit so bad?

That had to be it. 

You weren’t ignoring Spiky hair, Pikachu, Duct Tape, and Pinky— then it had something to do with him. 

He grunted. Swiping the contacts on his phone, he hovered over the one named ‘Ugly’ and tapped it. Bakugo disabled the block function. 

If you weren’t talking to him, fine, he won’t fucking talk to you. 

(yes. he was that petty.)

Streams of notifications buzzed. All of them coming from you. 

Ugly: 6 P.M.

Ugly: Outside 3-A. 

Ugly: Don’t be late.

Ugly: stupid.

Fucking finally. The woman finally decided to text back. 

A meeting place? For what?

The exams were over. A celebration party then. No. Why was the location at 3A then? Oh. The bet. She wanted to compare answers for the shitty bet. 

Bakugo flicked his phone on. 6:25 P.M. 

Amazing. He was fucking late. 

The distance from the faculty room and the third year homerooms were near. It took him no time at all to stomp all the way to the designated meeting spot. Why you couldn’t have texted the shit down, he hadn’t understood. 

Bakugo sported a look of annoyance the moment he found you. Shitty woman. 

“You finally decide to text me back, shithead.” He cursed. 

The girl fashioned an amused expression. “Hm. You missed me?”

Of, course he did. How crappy of you to fill his thoughts of only you, annoy him ‘til worlds end, only for him to be forgotten and ignored. Like a thrown away puppy on the sidewalk. 

“Who would miss you, ugly.” He fumed. 

Yeah. That’s what you get for pretending he didn’t exist. You can’t leave him begging for your attention, that was something shitty fan girls did. And she stood there feigning ignorance of the whole ordeal. He bet she never even noticed he blocked her. 

She erupted in giggles, clutching her stomach as the stronghold. “I’m sorry. The exams were really difficult.”

You bet they were terrible. They had the same general education syllabus, except for major hero subjects and courses. The outright tears Pikachu shed after the math exam proved its difficulty. Bakugo bet she cried after the exam as well. 

Might figure out the task he would make her do. Something embarrassing? No. He wasn’t that cruel. A weird prank? What prank though—

“I missed you too, Katsuki.” She consoled. 

Of, course you did. Who wouldn’t miss him? The dweeb better be thankful he blessed the his friendship onto her. 

(though, he’d like a little bit more than that.)

Hah! Bakugo could force her to buy him a new muffler. The one he had disappeared (into her closet) and wanted a new one. 

Katsuki. 

Katsuki. Katsuki.

Fuck. She called him by his first name. And he only noticed it— now? Gears and cogs twirled within his consciousness. What did it mean? What did that mean? God. He hated it. Was that your way of showing your love? Did that love mean affection as relationship or love as friendship?

Fuck. He couldn’t tell. 

Yet, he knew one thing. 

He wanted to kiss you so bad. 

The snickers and giggles from the people outside the room stopped him though. His shithead friends managed to ruin it, yet again. 

Heh. Maybe next time. 

Love has always been a difficult subject to comprehend, and for Bakugo whose typical acts of love revolved around teasing, and riling you up, the subject was more troublesome to speak out loud. 

However, you were worth the trouble. 

Now, you just needed to spot how. 

#bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #boku no hero bakugou #bnha bakugo #bnha x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugo x you #bnha fanfiction #boku no hero imagines #boku no hero scenarios

[flywithmelp]

Since CNCO hasn’t really posted anything good in a while, it’s made me bored and i started to think about their problematic behaviors. So, this is a post about some of them because I have nothing better to do and I need to entertain myself like it’s a reality TV show. Just a few things I want to discuss. So, Let’s analyze them, ladies

Let’s talk about first the lack of content the whole last year. CNCO the first couple years of their career were worked like crazy under Ricky Martin’s management. Constantly touring, making albums, interviews, and not getting a lot of time with family as most bands are overworked. Once they got under Walter’s label, their work schedule wasn’t as bad but they also lost a lot of fans from it. As we all know their team sucks right now and although they were traveling, performing, doing their thing like they were suppose to, their team wasn’t promoting them/handling them like they should. Their team just doesn’t seem smart, and it seemed like they were doing all this hard work for almost nothing. I think once quarantine hit, they were just burned out. They had hit that point were they found an escape to hang out with their family and resume back to their normal lives and they took it. Joel went to California while the others were in Miami which made all content kinda weird for a lil while. Then the Black Lives Matter movement happened and all content stopped for a while which is understandable but they also should’ve taken that moment to educate themselves and find their voices. After that, it took a while for them to get back on track and them on MTV was cool but also random because their team did it so poorly. They released Beso but then all of a sudden announced a cover album, which at the time I hated but I understand now. But, anyways, It was all so confusing and messy and nothing is ever done right so we’re left with crumbs. I think once they start traveling again they’ll get back into the groove of things but right now they’re way too comfortable.

I wanna talk about Richard next. Richard unfortunately comes from his family who has a very traditional way of thinking that can be very damaging towards woman. I hear him make a few comments here and there but he doesn’t seem as bad as the rest of his family. Like, some of the comments Yashua has made are just gross. Also, he’s probably the one you’ll hear the most making comments that sound a bit like toxic masculinity/homophobia, which again is unfortunately how it is in a lot of Latino households. Another thing, is that he says the words ‘Chris Brown’ way too much. I do see growth in him though. I think one of the reasons he’s not as traditional as his family is because of his daughter, he loves that girl very much and learns from her everyday. He’s also the only one who had a voice during BLM, and actually used it with passion. I loved seeing him so passionate about that. He had to be corrected a few times during time but he took the corrections and learned from it and that it what I like to see, we’re making progress with this one.

Now, Joel, its no secret that i’m not the biggest fan of him. One of his biggest problems is that he CAN’T take correction and anytime anyone tries to call him out, he gets super defensive. Like with BLM, he had no reason to get all defensive and block fans that were trying to educate him. I really think he sees a lot of his fans as annoying little girls, and that’s why he gets all petty on twitter anytime anything happens. I assume it’s some kind of insecurity he has that makes him like that and i can’t imagine how annoying it is to have the fans constantly in his business but cmon there’s ways to be mature about it but he has never gone that route even though he’s super grown now. His friends are truly, problematic clout chasers & i don’t know how he doesn’t see that. And i’m so certain that those friends constantly talk shit to him about the other CNCO members which is what creates a barrier between him and the rest of the guys. But, as long as I’ve been a fan of them I’ve never liked Joel’s attitude, he kinda walks around with a holier than thou attitude and it’s not cute in the slightest. Not to mention the fact that he’s with Sam S right now. I reallllllyyy liked single Joel, he was laughing, playing around, hoeing around with the other boys and it was so amazing to see. I want THAT joel back pls can someone get him away from that girl.

Ok, Zabdiel. With him it’s just him being dumb, dumb. I don’t know how he was raised but I still feel like he needs to make smarter decisions. The main things he’s done is when he said the n word and also the durag, which are both damaging to black culture. I’m 100% sure he was not aware of the significance of the word when he said it seeing as though he didn’t even speak english, but that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be called out for it. I wanna hope that he’s learned since then. The durag was another one that was just like bro, what are you doing? It’s not fashion, friends. Again, I think he’s learned as after people started letting him know, he stopped wearing it. He seems to be good at learning his lesson, although, I wish he would actually apologize for some of these things.

Erick, this poor boy was thrown into this group at 14 years old, he was literally a child. He’s not super problematic but in that video of Zabdiel saying the n word, you can hear him say it as well. Probably not knowing what it meant either but still needs to apologize. Also, going to Mexico during a pandemic like damn, i know they get tested all the time but they literally went to a club full of people not wearing masks cmon now. He’s also admitted to being a cheater which is pretty shitty of him. Idk he just turned 20 so maybe he’ll start growing up soon.

Christopher, an unproblematic king. No actually he really just minds his own business and lives his damn life without bothering other people. But, he did do the whole go to a party full of people barely wearing a mask. That’s Florida for you. I wish he was a bit more vocal politically but none of them are anyways I just want them to be. Also, he’s just a big hoe which could be a problem but i feel like he’s always upfront about his intentions.

Fin. End of rant. Let’s discuss.

#these boys #give me headaaches #anybody else? #cnco #christopher velez #joel pimentel #zabdiel de jesus #richard camacho #erick brian colon

[el-moscorrofio-y-el-mercachifle]

Same here: Betty, Marcela, and Armando- The holy trinity lol

Betty has my heart, but I find Marcela and Armando so fascinating and I love unpacking their dysfunctional relationship. There's just so much to discuss and analyze in their dynamic. Their competing egos, the incompatibility in personalities, and general lack of respect for one another, all wrapped with the irony that on paper, and in society's view, they were "perfect for each other". For me though, ultimately, both Armando and Marcela were victims of their own prejudice that was condemning them to settle into a relationship that made them both so unhappy.

Omg yes, in this victimization of Marcela, people fail to recognize how misogynistic she actually was!! Marcela took out all her frustration on not being able to control Armando's infidelity and her denial of how bad their relationship was, on the women that surrounded him, regardless if they engaged with him romantically or not. Her hatred for Betty is the biggest example of that. It's ironic that on paper, Armando hiring Betty as his secretary should have been the best news for somebody as jealous of beautiful women as she was. Yet literally her reason for hating Betty was that Armando was a cheater, even if (at least initially lol) she had nothing to do with that. But there she was, trying to justify her hate in creative ways when it was all rooted in misogyny and resentment towards Armando. Yet, breaking up with him was out of the question. The epitome of this is the scene where Marcela takes Betty out for lunch trying to get information out of her. I mean, she's broken and I genuinely feel for her in this scene, but when she tries to manipulate Betty using the female solidarity card 🙄🤦🏽‍♀️🤦🏽‍♀️🤦🏽‍♀️🤦🏽‍♀️ AKJSDHAJDK. I CAN'T lol. That's exactly what she never showed Betty, solidarity... not as a woman, not as a professional. and not as a human being. But again, Marcela did have her moments where she was reasonable, showed good judgement as a boss, and it was hard not to root for her in general.

Yes, Armando's parents were terrible. They were terrible to both Armando and Marcela. I've seen criticism of Don Hermes (justified) but at least in Betty's household, she had genuine display of love and affection, even if they did handicap her in some ways with their overprotection. And that's a whole other discussion. But that's what so amazing about the series, it gives way for so much interpretation, perspective, and analysis. For example: Mario Calderon is a terrible human being, the ultimate villain of the series, but also he was almost impossible to hate👀😭🤣.

Lol! The Holy Trinity of Ambiguity and Chaos lol❤️

Same here. I love Betty for her sweet, way-too-innocent personality and her sense of humor (even if it’s more like a mechanism to deal with her insecurities and how much they affect her), but Armando and Marcela are so dark and interesting (although good to notice that Betty herself BECOMES pretty dark aftet she finds the Letter. She becomes just as abusive as Marcela in revenge). Yes, everything in that relationship was so, so wrong!

I’d say a great part of Armando’s and Marcela clinge to each other (Armando’s clinge to Marcela is strange— he “needs” her, can’t let her go because she “represents” a good, stable life dven though in practice it’s chaos, yet at the same time he’s desperately trying to free himself and get a breath of fresh air), more than prejudice itself, it was due to their parents. They have a very strange dynamic, as they both see Roberto and Margarita as their parents, and Roberto and Margarita also treat Marcela and Armando as their children (they constantly call them that), and often blur the lines in the relationship between the two, like that scene the day of the collection in which Claudia Bosch got drunk. That time Armando and Marcela were fighting and angry; it was a couple’s quarrel that could have seriously affected their relationship. But Margarita and Roberto treated it like a pair of little siblings fighting over a toy, and even asked them to hug each other, smile, and “make peace”. That was so, so strange. That was a siblings’ dynamic, not a couple’s. Armando and Marcela grew up together, so we can assume that it’s been this way their whole lives. This just can’t possibly be healthy. Add to that how Margarita was always partly helping Marcela, and partly helping Armando, because in her eyes they were both her children… and on top of it all, the constant drilling into their heads of how they were meant to be together and it was the Mendozas’ and Valencias’ dream to see their children getting married. They were treated like siblings and expected to love each other as a couple. Just weird.

We could also mention that, even though Armando was a womanizer, he only looked for beautiful women of a high status. The kind of woman that, were it not because he’s already with Marcela, his parents would aprove, unlike the poor guy that Camila married and got her exiled from the family. Even Armando’s rebellion and need for freedom restricted to what his family would approve.

Yes! Marcela even laughs at the idea of Betty being Armando’s secretary and mocks him that he’s “presenting symptoms of fidelity”😓 she hated Betty simply for being ugly, and completely disregarded her professional abilities based off her looks… but, funnily enough, she never criticizes or judges Gutierrez for being ugly, nor ever undermines his owrk or authority (except when he was trying to abuse his position to take advantage of Aura Maria). It was just all rooted in mysogyny and classism.

Omggg! Yesss! That scene always irked me. The way she says “we are both women, and we need to be in solidarity of that feeling”. Like, girl, whaaaat? She spent the whole show callinf Betty a thing, an animal, an undefined being, etc. Marcela even told Armando explicitly that she found offensive that Armando believed that she saw Betty as a female rival, and even Armando seems shocked or disgusted for a second there. Marcela genuinely didn’t even see her as a human being. She had her good side (thus why I can’t hate her), and I feel bad for her situation, but it’s important to also highlight her bad attitudes and not hide them under the rug like most of the fandom seems to do 😓😓

Lol, tbh I loooove Mario Calderon. He’s an a-hole, mysogynistic, manipulator, awful “friend”, maquiavelic, cruel, and much more, but he’s soooo funny. He has so much charisma! I can’t help but love his scenes because he always makes me laugh. Ahh, ysblf always finding a way ti make people love very wrong and broken characters😌❤️✨

#betty la fea #ysblf #yo soy betty la fea #armando mendoza #marcela valencia #mario calderon #beatriz pinzon solano #beatriz pinzón solano

[optima-chama]

I Remember...

I remember the first time I experienced racism.

It was quite long ago, I believe I was around 7 (I’m 22 now). I remember how shocked and hurt I was by it, yet still so confused. Even though the day was over a decade ago, it’s still vivid and fresh in my mind as if it happened yesterday. I lived in Illinois back then, with my mother, father, and little brother. We lived in a predominately-white suburban neighborhood. Obviously, we were the only black family on that street, so we stood out quite a bit. I had a few friends on that street. Waterford Lane, Lake in the Hills. I still remember that two story house fondly. School had just let out, and just like several other kids, I had gotten on a bus to get home. Ah, those were the days--Elementary School was such a great experience to me, you know? I loved to learn. I loved to read. I loved making my teachers smile and exceeding their expectations and making them proud of me. In school, during that time, we were learning about 3D shapes. Another group of kids that weren’t in the same class as us had gone through their lessons a bit faster, and finished the project to be made at the end of the lesson. A 3D shape of your choosing made out of plastic straws and those twisty-ties that people use to keep bread loaf bags shut. I, being the curious child I was, had been fawning over the 3D shapes those kids had carried onto the bus. I was sitting with a group of kids I had made a pretty good friendship with, or so I thought. One of them even lived on the same street I did; a little white boy my age. We used to bike all the time around the neighborhood together, and he had even been inside my house to play games. I remember asking one of the kids I was talking to if I could see their little 3D project because I just thought it was so cool. My ‘friend’ (who hadn’t even been a part of the conversation) interjected, and said something that shocked me into stunned silence. ‘No, you can’t, because you have dark skin!’ I ran off the bus crying to my parents, who had been waiting at the bus stop for me. I told them what my ‘friend’ had said. I remember them being furious and unleashing holy hell onto that little boy’s parents while all of the other kids and parents watched. I remember being so hurt by what he had said, but so confused as to why his parents were so apologetic and embarrassed and stammering before ushering away, clearly talking to their child in hushed, furious tones. Why were my parents yelling at his? What had they done to deserve being yelled at? Did I really deserve less just because I had brown skin? Because a child doesn’t just go around saying that out of the blue. That boy had never been allowed near my house again. I remember the second time I experienced racism.

Third Grade. I had a teacher by the name of Mrs. Gross (yes, that was actually her name). She was a short, pretty woman in maybe her mid-30s. I revered teachers, because they were authority, and they were giving us knowledge. Teachers couldn’t be bad, right? I still remember the first day we had started that grade, where she gave us a nice sweet flowery speech about how if she offended us in anyway, to come to her and let her know. We could be safe with her. We could trust her. And then came the day she made fun of my birth month during a lesson and didn’t like that (I was a sensitive little kid). I went to her during quiet reading time and told her I didn’t like that, because all months are great. That was when I learned her little ‘You’re Safe With Me’ speech didn’t apply to me. She was dismissive and blew me off. I was hurt by this, but figured, maybe I was just being silly? I could get over it, I wasn’t one to hold grudges. I just wanted to make the adults I respected proud. It took me many detentions, her calling me a cheater due to me being the one student with the highest reading skill, and becoming the scapegoat of the classroom and getting in trouble for many things I never even did to realize that not all authority deserves respect. I remember the first time I ‘fought back’ against racism.

Still third grade. Mother and Father were going through divorce proceedings, Father had left leaving a sore bleeding hole behind in our once idyllic home and it was wreaking havoc in our household. I was a sad and angry little girl. I started acting out more, even in school; because I figured I was being treated like a villain in school anyway, so why not act like one? There was hardly a day that went by that I wasn’t being bullied by my peers, my teacher, or older students that were in the Fifth Grade. I remember this one particular girl in the fifth grade, Nora (of Indian descent), who I thought was my best friend, but in actuality tried to get anyone and everyone she could to make me cry just so she could get a laugh. She liked putting me down, just to make herself seem cooler. God, after I realized how toxic she was, I hated her with a passion. She even turned this one fifth grade boy I had a crush on (he had pretty red hair, silly I know) against me. I’d only ever see him on the bus, but he’d make the bus ride to and from school a living hell. Calling me names, pulling my hair, the like. I tried to tell my teacher about it, but lmao, of course she didn’t do anything. Hell, she even snidely told me I deserved it. So I just sat quietly and took all the abuse, because I knew that no one would help me anyway. One day, I had had a particularly rough day at school. Ridicule from my teacher and peers, and knowing I’d be heading back to a broken home where no father was waiting to hug me and wipe my tears away? I was stressed. I was angry. Mother had heard me crying one day before this, and told me I had her permission to defend myself if I needed to, but ONLY if someone else put their hands on me first. I was NEVER to throw the first punch, she told me. I didn’t understand why, but I trusted my mother above all else. I got on that bus that day. That little boy had a wild hair up his ass for some reason; was showing off for a group of friends. Calling me ‘blackie’, ‘a fat tub of lard’, ‘stupid’, etc. I ignored him, and this made him angry. Then he stood up and kicked me in the stomach. I saw red through the tears of pain blurring my sight before blacking out. When I came back to reality, the bus had been pulled to the side of the road and I was being pulled off the boy by the bus-driver. He had a split lip, a quickly swelling black eye, and was sobbing through chipped teeth. I was banned from the bus for a week after that, during which time I learned that he had a fractured jaw and bruised ribs from my rage too. I remember being pulled into the office by the Vice Principle, with my mother and his parents there, and being shown the tape from the Bus Camera that had caught the whole thing. I remember his parents being angry that I was even still in the school despite their child being clearly in the wrong, and being called a ‘monster’ and a ‘danger to the school’. The VP was cool though, and was on my mother’s and I’s side, saying it was Self-Defense. They said they’d sue, to which the VP laughed and said ‘Go ahead; with this tape, it won’t go anywhere’. I didn’t get in any official trouble, but the glare that mother had given me sent chills down my back. The rumor of what I did spread around the school very quickly. The only good thing about that was that I wasn’t being bullied anymore. I remember the first time I was told I wasn’t as pretty as other girls around me because I had dark skin.

Still in Illinois, but different school. I was in Fifth Grade now. Mother had won custody of my little brother and I, and we had to move from that big old house that I adored into a much smaller condo apartment. Mother had to work long hours to support us, so I had to help her parent my brother. Help out with chores, make sure we got to school on time, help her cook, make sure my brother and I did our homework, we ate, and got to bed on time, stuff like that. I remember feeling quite a bit of pride for being such a big girl to deserve my own phone back then, so my mom and I could keep in contact while she was at work and we were home alone. There was this boy I had a small crush on in my class, he was most definitely the clown. Got in trouble a lot for playing pranks, and joking around and talking while everyone was working. I liked him because he was funny, and made me smile even though I was clinically depressed (that’s a whooooooooooole other story). I had told a ‘friend’ in confidence that I liked him, and well, of course that didn’t remain a secret for long. We were heading to art class when he confronted me and made fun of me for it, in front of our whole class. He said ‘That’s cute, but honestly, I could do a whole lot better than you’. I was hurt. Distraught. One of the other girls seemed to have a bit of sympathy for me and said ‘That’s so mean, why would you even say that?’. I still remember his response to this day. ‘Black girls aren’t as pretty as White girls.’ I remember the first time I was ridiculed by people who looked like me. We had moved to California, to be closer to my mother’s side of the family. I remember being vaguely shocked and excited to suddenly be surrounded by people who looked like me. New friends I could make! Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad anymore! Maybe I wouldn’t be so lonely anymore! I remember my first day in my new school, Sixth Grade. The class was so much more diverse in terms of ethnicity. Not a single white kid in sight. I remember being very wary and even distrustful of my teacher, because he was a white male. I learned better as the year went on though--He was quite honestly the best teacher I had ever had, and I’ll remember him forever.He was strict but fair, and he made learning fun again for me. He was the one teacher who ever told me that it didn’t matter what I looked like-- If I wanted to succeed, and was willing to work for it, I’d be great in whatever I decided to set my mind to do. He believed in me. But anyway, I remember being introduced to my new students, and everyone looking at me like I was a shooting star or something. Illinois was so very far away, after all; I remember getting swarmed by my peers during recess asking me if I wanted to play, and I was so excited. But as the day went on, and I kept talking and laughing with them, they kept giving me weird looks, so I asked them what was wrong. ‘You talk white. Why are you talking like that? Do you think you’re better than us? You sound just like a whitie/gringo. Don’t you know what they do to people who look like you? Why do you want to sound like them?’ It wasn’t long after that that I became lonely again. I remember the first time I had been stopped by a security guard in a public setting. This was during my make-up phase. I had reached my mid teens by now, and I was feeling really insecure about my image. I particularly liked lipstick and eye shadow, and I would beg my mom to take me to the local Walgreens to get some whenever I had saved up enough money. I liked collecting random colors and flavors; it made me happy. I had made the mistake of wearing a baggy hoodie that day. I loved hoodies, still do; they make me feel safe and warm, like a hug. Mom hated them, cause I liked using the hood to hide my face and kept my hands in the huge pockets they had, ,which I personally didn’t get. When we walked through the doors, I had sped-walked straight towards the make-up section. I was looking at all the different brands and colors, touching them while oohing and aahing over them before putting them back; none of them were really catching my eye. Over the intercom, we heard a lady give a strange nonsensical code. I turned to my mom and joked that maybe they thought I was stealing or something (I felt it was funny because mom had put the fear of God in me when it came to stealing; I was terrified about even thinking about committing the act). Turns out, when we were done and walking towards the entrance after paying for our goods and I got stopped by a security guard, that I had been right on the money. I got patted down and forced to empty out my pockets and little purse in front of the doorway, in front of the whole store, for that security guard to be sure that I hadn’t taken anything without paying for it. It took fifteen minutes. They didn’t find anything, of course, but I was practically crying by that point. When we were allowed to leave, I was ushered out the store by my mom and when we were in the car, she took the time to calm me down before telling me that was why she didn’t like my hoodies. Because I would be looked at with even more suspicion when I was in a store than I already was. My mom told me that in order to not be bothered by authority, I had to look as non-criminal as possible. ‘B-But why...?’ I asked, like a naive child. ‘Because you’re black.’ She sadly told me. I didn’t go back to that Walgreens for at least a year. I remember the first time I felt threatened by a police officer. We were living with my disabled grandfather after his second wife had passed by this time. I still thought that the majority of cops were good when I was turning 17. Why else would they be protecting the public, right? They were strong and brave, and put themselves on the line to keep citizens safe. They were the good guys. Sure, there were some bad apples, but you couldn’t judge a whole group based on what they wore, right? There was bound to be some worms no matter where you go, and I had been coached extensively by my mom and uncles about what to say and do if you’re approached by an officer-- Be respectful, stay calm and compliant, and don’t speak too much (this confused me, but whatever my family said I’d do). I was walking with my little brother back from the 7-11 near our house, after a snack run. My brother was 14 then, and he had a bike. It was a pretty cool red bike that he absolutely loved, and he rode it around everywhere. If he was out and about in the neighborhood, chances are he was on his bike. We were laughing and squabbling with each other, like siblings usually do and just minding our own business. When we were only, I’d say, a quarter mile away from home, a police cruiser coasted up beside us on the sidewalk. We immediately went quiet and stared ahead, trying not to look like we were up to no good or anything. I whispered to my brother to let me handle the talking if they spoke to us, because my bro had a bit of a temper back then and I didn’t want him mouthing off to an officer. They followed us for a small distance down the street, before the passenger side window rolled down and the (white) officer in the passenger seat asked us to stop. We did. He then asked us where we were going. ‘Home’, I said, sorta shielding my brother from view. ‘Oh yeah? Where’s home?’ ‘Close by.’ We stared at each other in silence for a bit (I wasn’t dense enough to not realize there wasn’t tension) and I could feel my brother gripping onto my shirt from behind. I could feel him shaking a little. The officer looked at my brother, and consequently, the bike he had been riding down the sidewalk. ‘That’s a nice bike’, he said. ‘T-Thanks!’ My brother said, realizing he was being addressed and eager to talk about something he loved to a guy he thought was doing a really cool job. ‘I love my bike, I ride it everywhere!’ ‘Your bike, huh? Got proof that it’s yours?’ My brother’s eyes went wide in shock. They wouldn’t let us leave that spot until we proved that the bike in our possession was my brother’s. I remember having to call my mom who was at home, wondering where the hell we were, and explain to her that two police officers had us cornered in a nearby street and weren’t letting us leave over a shiny new-looking bike. I remember hearing her losing her shit over the phone, saying she’d be right there and not to panic, and in the background, my grandfather insisting he’d come with to try and ease things to (and to keep my mother in check, cause she’s one hell of a spitfire). I remember shaking and whispering to my brother that everything would be okay; while trying to shield him from view as we stood there for five whole minutes waiting for our mom to save the day, all the while the officer was asking us increasingly invasive questions about us and getting more and more irritated when I gave short, polite answers that didn’t reveal much. I remember taking a further look into the car than I should have, and feeling my heart drop when I realized the officer (of course) had a gun on him. And his hand was resting over the holster. I had seen it. And when I looked back up at him in the eyes, it was clear he knew I had seen it. But his hand didn’t move away from the gun. Mother showed up quick, and with my grandfather in tow. Thing is, my grandfather could pass for white. Only slightly tanned skin that could be dismissed due to the California sun, and bright blue eyes. My mother, with fury in her eyes, clearly caused alarm for the officers, but when they saw my grandfather trying his best to hold her back and keep her from cussing them out with the receipt for the bike she had bought for my brother clenched tightly in her hand, they quickly backed down and tried to seem as friendly as possible before driving off in under two minutes, wishing us a good day. I remember my brother and I quickly being rushed home, the both of us rattled out of our minds while my mom ranted and told us this was why she told us to be on our best behavior while in public. I remember that day as the day it really hit home for me. I was not seen as equal by those around me because of something I had no control over. I would be looked at with suspicion while in public because of my skin color unless I somehow managed to prove I was trustworthy. I wasn’t seen as pretty as girls with lighter skin were. Authority wasn’t always right, nor was it unbiased. Police officers weren’t friends to people who look like me. Whether I was being passive or aggressive didn’t matter to those around me if people wanted to pick a fight; if I wasn’t careful, I would most likely be the first to get accosted/handcuffed/a harsh sentence/killed. And that the freedom that the American Flag stood for, that several of my family members had pledged their lives to, military, medical, or otherwise, didn’t mean a damn when it came to us.

#BLM #childhood struggles #racism #it needs to stop #is this your liberty? #is this your justice? #when does this end #when does it get better

[inanoth3rlife]

Oikawa x Kuroo: Family First (Haikyuu!! Royalty AU)

Hello, welcome to my first ever post! I hope you enjoy, please leave constructive criticism if you feel it is needed. Thank you so much for reading and enjoy! P.S. this is dedicated to @kodzukenscorner !!

TRIGGER WARNINGS: suicide, depression, mention of death

Summary: Tōru Oikawa is prince of his kingdom and is soon to be enogerated as king. However, what many don’t know is he would rather die than be king. That’s what Kuroo, his personal “body guard” was sent to do: assasinate the prince. Initially okay with this, Kuroo planned to go through with the mission; however, he and the prince got along better than he planned. One night the prince shares some heartbreaking news that will leave Kuroo with a tough decision. What will he do?

Part 1/2

Oikawa let out a loud sigh as he stared out at the kingdom below him. He could see it glistening from the moonlight above; he could see the candle lights from each household window, the shadows of families laughing and eating together. He could taste the crisp, cold air that surrounded them all, enclosing them from their enemies far east. Everything around him looked beautiful, and it made his heart sick. 

Oikawa had asked his body guard and close friend, Kuroo, to meet him on the balcony this night. However, this was nothing out of the ordinary. They would often spend time out on the balcony, playing games or making fun of people within the palace. Kuroo could tell there was something off, though, he just couldn’t tell what. They had been silent for a long time, them both staring at the gardens and housing of civilians in the distance. Finally, Oikawa decided to speak. “There is something I need to tell you, Kuroo,” he began, “but you must promise to never tell another soul, or else I shall be escorted to the guillotine.” Kuroo chuckled at the prince’s sarcastic remark. “Of course, sir. My lips are sealed.” 

Oikawa smirked at the possible irony of what he was about to say. “I hate being royalty.” Kuroo accidentally let out a laugh. “You? Don’t like royalty?” Oikawa chuckled at the ground. “Yes, believe it or not, I don’t.” Kuroo raised his eyebrows and leaned on the balcony railing. “Okay, Your Majesty, I’m going to have to ask you to elaborate on that.” Oikawa’s smirk faded a bit as he looked up to the sky. “I never wanted to be prince and I don’t want to be King. If I’m being honest, I’d burn this entire kingdom to the ground if I could.” 

“That’s a bit extreme, don’t you think?” Kuroo asked sarcastically, but Oikawa didn’t answer. He instead continued with his testimony. “Being a royal may seem like a privilege but I can promise you it isn’t. Sure, we have money, but at what cost? I’ve seen uncle’s kill uncle’s, cousins kill cousins, mothers give daughters away to abusers and cheaters for allies and peace treaties. They married my 14 year old sister off to a boy who hated her existence and for what?” Oikawa caught a lump in his throat as his emotions got stronger. Sorrow filled his eyes, his body and brain going numb. Nothing around him felt real, but if he was honest, it never had. Kuroo noticed his friend’s change in behavior and stature, but before he could say much else, Oikawa said something even more shocking. 

“I know why you came here, Kuroo.” Now Kuroo became numb. His face went white and without thinking he stood up straight. “What do you mean, sir?”  “Oh please,” Oikawa scoffed, “don’t act like you don’t know.” Kuroo looked at the ground, the guilt he had forgotten about climbing up his throat. “Sir, I had decided months ago to withdrawal from my mission. I will do my job if I must, but I would never kill family.” Oikawa finally made eye contact with Kuroo, who was holding back tears. “You have become like a brother to me, sir. I would much rather die protecting you than be the cause of your death.” Oikawa couldn’t help but smile. All his life he never really had a family; they were all just pawns in a chess game. People either saw him as competition or a tool, but he and Kuroo were different. Kuroo was genuine, their bond was something stronger than he had ever felt. And as he thought about it, he also viewed Kuroo as family.

“I must say,” Oikawa said looking back at the night sky, “it hurts to hear you say that.” Kuroo furrowed his eyebrows. “Pardon, sir?” Oikawa chuckled. “I said I didn’t want to be King. I was hoping you’d understand what I meant.” Kuroo thought hard about what the prince had said in the last few minutes, but he couldn’t understand what he was implying. Oikawa rolled his eyes. “Your whole reason for coming here was to keep me from being king, wasn’t it?” Kuroo frowned, but then gave an expression of terror once he finally understood. Oikawa was looking at him once again with his cold, dead eyes. “Who said I wanted you to quit your mission?” A cold breeze blew on the two as if the world knew the severity of this statement. “Sir, I’m sorry but I-I can’t do that.” 

“I’m not asking you to. This is a direct command from your future king, whom you are legally obligated to follow.” Oikawa turned towards the balcony door and began to walk away. “Is this some kind of joke?” Kuroo trembled. Oikawa stopped in his tracks and shot a glare that made the hairs on Kuroo’s  neck stand up.

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

Kuroo couldn’t shake how dark his eyes had gotten, how prominent his under eye bags had become, how pale his skin and how dry his lips were. He was suddenly like a walking corpse; there was no life left in him. 

Oikawa began to walk away again, taking off his coat and setting it on his bedroom chair. “Saturday at noon, during the coronation. That’s when I want you to kill me. If not,” Oikawa held open his bedroom door for Kuroo, “I might just have to kill you first.”

#oikawa tōru #tōru oikawa #oikawa x reader #oikawa imagine #kuroo tetsuro #tetsuro kuroo #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo angst #oikawa fic #haikyuu hinata #hinata shoyuo #hinata x reader #hinata imagine #kageyama #kageyama imagine #kageyama x reader #tobio kageyama #kageyama tobio #kageyama angst #sugawara kōshi #sugawara koushi #sugawara x reader #sugawara imagine #tanaka x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu au #oikawa x kuroo

[jerrylevitch]

And there's also the misogyny apparent on your page, and the thinly-veiled homophobia surrounding Jerry. I was actually quite shocked by the way you laughed about him beating his kids in that one video, and your horrible little "I don't think he acted on it" in the discussion surrounding his possibly being bisexual - 'acted on it' like it's a compulsion, that's so horrible. Plus your confusion about Jerry not doing Some Like It Hot. Maybe he just took drag seriously? Your queerphobia is showing.

LMFAO WHAT???? I’m pretty sure I know who this is. Nerigby96, since I asked why you block me but still reblog my posts. If you have such an issue with Jerry spanking his kids, then why are you still a fan of him or Martin and Lewis. Get outta here. I was spanked as a child much more than Jerry spanked his children, which was literally twice according to Anthony. It was common place in the 1950′s and 60′s. My dad was whipped with a switch from damn tree. My mom was spanked constantly as a child, and that is just the way it is in Hispanic households. In fact if you look at some of the comments from people on that video, there are people who can’t believe Anthony or take him seriously, because in Latino and African American households, children are spanked every day STILL. My mom grew up in all that and it’s commonplace, so are you going to call those communities abusive for discipling their kids in the way that they see fit? Spankings on a child’s bottom, are not abusive. However hitting them elsewhere is definitely abuse. I was not abused and my family members were not abused in reference to what you said in your other ask. I never laughed about Jerry spanking his kids, so wtf? I have always said exactly what I said here. 

I’ll just respond to your other ask here:

“ Why do you act like what Jerry did to his kids was just 'discipline' or 'spanking'? It's either ignorance or willful obfuscation at this point, seeing as in the 1960s he bragged on TV about beating his son with a belt and leaving welts. I'm really sorry that you and your family members experienced abuse too, that's awful. Abuse is not a hierarchy, though, and it's awful to say that because you and others had it 'worse', that other 'varieties' of abuse are okay. I love Jerry but he was an abuser. “

You can just piss off. Stop being a fan if you’re going to be so hateful to Jerry Lewis and lie about him. Patti Lewis was abused as a child, and she would never have married someone who was abusing her children. She didn’t put up with it from her parents and left when she could. Jerry Lewis was practically abandoned by his parents. You’ve got a method of disciplining children from the past which literally everyone did, and you’re trying to think of it in today’s views? Please. And I have no idea what kind of queerphobia bullshit you are trying to accuse me of, but sorry you’re an idiot. Jerry Lewis literally said he didn’t like doing drag and he explained it in an interview from 1963, which is sadly not online anymore, but he literally said he didn’t like doing it. Which of course is odd because he did it in his solo film Three On A Couch, and some Jerry Lewis show specials. So I think Jerry was just contradicting himself when he was saying that, and that he did think it was fun to do in order to be silly or get a laugh. Was he doing it to be a professional drag entertainer, absolutely not. What exact misogyny is on my page? lol I think you’re just trying to throw out every term you can think of to attack me with absolutely nothing to back it up. 

It is my personal opinion that Jerry Lewis did not have sex with another man. I don’t care if you have a problem with that. Just because you want him to have had sex with another man, doesn’t mean it actually occurred. Did he kiss and have crushes on other men, absolutely? But there is literally no evidence to support that he indeed had sex with another man. If you want to show me proof where actually said he did, or someone else besides the FBI said he did, I would be happy to change my opinion. The closest he might have had sex with a man, may have been Tony Curtis since something definitely happened there to make them fall out with each other. I don’t he and Dean had sex with each other. You can still be bisexual and never have sex with either the same or the opposite sex, or not have sex at all for that matter. It doesn’t make you any less of a bisexual. Singer Robbie Williams always claims that he is bisexual, but could never go through with the sex part with a man. Those were his own words! Now I don’t believe him, and there is more evidence of him actually having sex with Gary Barlow and others, than there is of Jerry having sex with men. We just don’t know. Jerry had a compulsion to cheat, so yes “acted on it with men” would be the correct term as would he acted on his cheating instincts with women, would literally be the same thing. Either way he would be a cheater. Some people don’t act on their feelings whatever they may be sexual or non-sexual, and the term literally is not an offense to anyone’s sexuality at any time. But you want to find fault with everything I have to say. Also my friend Audi in the video you are referring to, is himself gay, and he found nothing wrong with my statement. In fact I just showed him, your post, and he thinks you're a nutjob. In fact he doesn't even think Jerry was bisexual at all. I'm the one who brought up that he likely was.

Definition of act on/upon

: to use (something, such as a feeling or suggestion) as a reason or basis for doing something. They never acted on the information they had. It's okay to feel angry or jealous, but you mustn't act on those feelings.

Anyway I really don’t care what you think, because most people aren’t crazy enough to go off on a tangent like this. Most people love what I have to say on Jerry Lewis. So again piss off whoever you are. Do yourself a favor and leave the Martin and Lewis fandom if you’re so easily disgruntled by my opinion, because I’m literally everywhere. I’ve put the most amount of Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis content online, and at least half of it wouldn’t be there without my blog or my youtube channels. So remove yourself. You don’t know me at all. 

And I'm sure the only reason you commented here instead of my actual youtube video is because you're an anonymous coward, and you know that Audi and others would come and kick your ass in the comments section. Audi has roasted people before and he will again.

#anon