#people have always been blowing the 'meaning' out of proportion but it's been for the better

[kindnessoverperfection]

I've found that, when interacting with others (or myself), it's useful to consider the lessons I'd want to teach a growing child.

If a child makes a mistake, I wouldn't want them to feel shame. I wouldn't yell at them, humiliate them, or in any way indicate to them that their mistake is a reflection of their worth or of who they are as a person.

Instead, I'd want them to associate the process with love and joy. If they say something that hurts someone's feelings, or otherwise ostracizes someone in some way, I'd compassionately explain to them. Ideally, they'd walk away knowing why they said / did it in the first place, how to handle similar situations in the future, and would accept the consequences (e.g. if a friend no longer wanted to hang out with them).

While the consequences may sometimes be painful, I'd do my best to instill in them that mistakes are human and natural, and that the process of learning from these mistakes is an opportunity to improve connections with others and express love.

I have a tendency towards excessive guilt. Memories in which I've said / done something ignorant or hurtful are infused with this guilt and shame- but ideally, I'd feel a sense of love and peace, and perhaps happiness, when looking back on them. Because they were moments of growth, moments I learned how to be more compassionate (even if the actual learning came years later).

So I'll put this out into the void:

When you make a mistake, that is not a reflection of you as a person. It is a moment in time, a moment which was informed by your past experiences. Humans are not static labels, or monsters in an RPG game. We are social creatures who live and learn and react and grow and experience and love. Be gentle with yourself and move forward knowing you're doing so in accordance with your values.

[waning-wings]

why is every youtube drama nowadays such a nonissue lmfao

[satyricplotter]

pairing: dick grayson x reader

word count: 3.2k (i think?)

warnings: rape mention (as per dick's canon)

notes: i keep thinking of applying one of my favourite manga/manhwa tropes with dick specifically, because it works so well, but i don't particularly care to put in the work of setting up that it'd take for it to land as well as it could. maybe later. as it is, i'll give you the quick rundown because i spent two days writing it lol

something ugly about you has made you undeserving of romance. you have spent your entire life puzzling out what it is and how to fix it. nothing much is special about you: the matter’s far from isolation, or becoming any particular sort of pariah. perhaps that'd be easier to explain. no. people leave you alone, your friends cherish you, your family loves you. it is not that you have not known affection, but that you have and so when you crash against the wall that horrible first time, it hurts all the more.

nothing changes after that. there is always a limit to where your interest can reach, unnamed but palpable. a line you cannot cross. it seems to you as if the entire world has reached a silent consensus during a meeting to which your attendance was not required and your input unnecessary. why would it be? this is not about you. after all, your ability to love has not become impaired. you like people. you’ve fallen in love. but who has ever loved you back?

this one facet of life has been closed off to you entirely, and you’ve been chased away from all attempts to form a romantic bond with unspoken threats of shame and implications of disgust. (a bit much of a display just for the offense of being little old you. you come to regard the matter so as you grow older and start curating some self-respect. it still stings as badly as scrubbing your skin raw under hot water, but not all the loathing is directed inward nowadays.)

regardless, you’ve learnt that you are undesirable, and nothing you can say or do will change that. you must be content with the other shapes that love can take. nothing that you want matters whatsoever.

you meet dick grayson one summer evening under exceedingly normal circumstances. you do not know about heroes or rogues, no batmans or nightwings. the person that crosses the threshold is none other than dick grayson, the handsome young man. suspicion does not cross anybody’s mind, and if it does, it comes only a good couple of thoughts after his darling smile and shapely thighs.

obviously you like him immediately. what’s not to like? he’s gorgeous.

you react to him with the tense wariness of someone hardened by years of useless crushes. trying to avoid him. trying to be normal when you invariably cannot. it’s fine. it’ll be fine.

you still crush on him.

it’s inevitable, at this point. he’s too pretty, too smart, too kind not to draw you in. every interaction comes a rush of exhilarating fear. at times, you manage to subdue yourself into normalcy, hang out with him with as much naturalness as you can muster. but then he does something particularly attractive and you’re back in square one, shoulders drawn together and so short with him he probably gets emotional whiplash. it’s as exhausting for you as it must be for him, and he still reacts to it with grace. it doesn’t help.

through your concerted efforts to be normal, or at least appear as much, you and dick become friends. not great friends, mind you, but good enough that you start hanging out on your own without any of your mutual friends present. and you only spend about three hours total pondering the meaning behind the phrasing of his texts. that’s gotta be some form of progress, right?

he sits at a little table away from the window, and beams when you arrive. coffee’s on him and conversation’s on you. you’ve got more in common than you first thought, but you go back and forth between imagining it must be fate and squashing down delusion, telling yourself you’re blowing it out of proportion.

at one point in time, a beautiful, sultry-looking woman approaches the table.

this sucks, you think, glancing away from dick’s bland mask of politeness. all of it is hopeless and it still sucks.

you and dick tense immediately, like you both know what’s coming. sure as ever, the woman smiles and asks for his number. you look away politely, sip at your drink. the proximity makes it useless to pretend you’re not eavesdropping (though it can hardly be called that when she came to your table), but you take care not to make any faces that’d give away the little storm brewing in your stomach.

you think about running off to the bathroom, get as far as shifting on your seat when dick shoots you a troubled look. the woman’s been at it for a little more than is appropriate. a minute or so more of insistence and she’ll be stretching the boundaries of her own dignity too far. you look away with pressed lips and move your hands under the table.

your alarm beeps.

“oh, shit, dude,” you gasp, hoping to land somewhere in the ballpark of realism. “It’s almost seven. we’ve got to go, or else we’re gonna miss the movie.”

dick gives the woman his apologies and swiftly runs out of the café with you hot on his heels. on the way to the movie theatre, you wanna ask the million questions running through your head—why’d he reject her? didn’t he like her? did he not think she was pretty? who is pretty for him? what’s his taste in partners? is he seeing someone?—but you know it’s a futile endeavor. what will you even get out of that? it’s clear dick didn’t enjoy the interaction either. you make small talk about something else, trying to draw his attention away from whatever conflicted feelings he’s moored in right now. just because you like him doesn’t mean you can’t be a good friend to him.

it’s a short walk. soon enough, he’s all smiles again. in the line for the popcorn stand, another two girls come up to him, this time much younger than you two. he’s nicer with them than he was before, but he rejects them all unequivocally.

“doesn’t it annoy you?” you can’t help but ask. when dick raises an elegant eyebrow, you panic and backpedal so hard you might as well have driven a truck through a storefront.

“a bit,” dick says, ignoring your rambling. you shut your mouth firmly closed when he gives you a sidelong glance, and continues, so very casually, “it’s worse when it comes from a friend rather than a stranger. so many people just try to befriend me because they’re looking for a relationship, or they want access to my body. it’s… tiring. i’m sure you can relate.”

“ah,” you say. your tongue feels numb, but you’re burning up under the weight of his gaze. “no. I don’t really get harassed like that or, um, asked out.”

“huh.” dick blinks. “really?”

“yeah,” you force out. blessedly, the attendant calls your attention. you jostle dick forward. “look, it’s our turn.”

dick orders popcorn. you get a large slushy that you’re not gonna finish. you make him pay. he complies with no question. inside the theatre, you spend all two hours and sixteen minutes of the showing in absolute silence. it is not so strange to be fixated on the movie, but you’re usually a little more chatty. under normal circumstances, you’d eagerly take the opportunity to lean closer to him, whisper something about the main character’s penchant for gummies and its relation to the degradation of the American working class. he’d glance at you and thoughtfully smile, and you’d catch a whiff of his cologne when you straightened.  for the rest of the movie, the twinkle of his eye as he forwent the film for your conversation would be all you’d think about.

such is not the case now.

you can tell when you’ve been summarily dismissed. in fact, you appreciate when people are subtle about their rejections. it’s always all the more humiliating when they feel the need to bring it out into the open, like your affections have been so blatant they must be commented on, debated.

the rest of the evening is spent convincing yourself that this is good, that this means it’ll be better for yourself going forward. you’ll be less distracted, if anything. dick’s attempts to discuss the movie with you afterwards fall flat, as the only thing you really want is to get home and stare at your ceiling.

when you’ve reached your apartment door, and are turning to enter after a hurried goodbye, dick calls your name.

“look,” he says, running a hand through his hair unsurely. “I don’t usually do this.”

oh, no. dread fills you up. he’s breaking up with you and you’re not even dating.

you swallow. “dick—”

“I like you a lot,” he interrupts. your teeth clang the way you shut up so fast. in fact, you feel a little dizzy. he continues before you can even process that first sentence. “I think you and I could be really good friends, and I’d love if we could continue seeing each other to, you know, hang out and talk. I do truly appreciate your insight. is that okay?”

you blink fast some three or four times. it must be comical, the face you’re making, because the corner of dick’s lips pulls upward despite him trying to keep a serious air.

“I thought we were already friends…?” you say, at a loss for anything else to say.

“yes!” he beams. “we are.”

“okay,” you respond, perplexed. this is so far out of left field. “um. text me when you’re home?”

“yeah.” he grins. gorgeous grin, to be sure, but why? “for sure.”

“cool.” you give him an awkward thumbs up and scurry inside.               

it is… baffling. you spend all of that night wide awake and pondering. dick must’ve misconstrued something, or either you missed a crucial step in your relationship. otherwise the end to that evening makes absolutely no sense. the only thing you can conjure up is that dick must reject a lot of people who, like he said, try to befriend him only to get with him or worse, only to fuck, and it’s not very likely most of those people stay in his life once it is clear he won’t budge on the matter. the fact that you didn’t immediately turn your back on him must’ve come to him as a pleasant surprise.

it’s sad. like, really fucking sad, actually.

that very sadness—and the memory of his handsome, bright grin—turns your outlook inside out. why do you like dick? clearly he’s got the looks and the personality, but do you really know him? what do you know of him? you make a list of things you’ve learned about him in the short time of knowing him. it’s not long.

you come to the conclusion, mortifyingly so, that you don’t, in fact, like dick grayson. that, if anything, the only thing you like is the idea of the boyfriend he could be, which is not the boyfriend that he is (you know nothing about that). it’s the social acumen inherent in bagging such a hottie, and the sparkling sexual attraction bound around it, that really prompt your crushing. it’s not dick as a person. frankly, you think, a little hysterically, could be anyone, really. didn’t even have to be dick. he was just there, the handsomest person in the room. an apt target for the voracious hunger of your heart. you’d mooned and mooned over him for ages and it turns out it wasn’t even about him.

god, you’re such an asshole.

in penance, you endeavor to actually get to know dick without the embarrassment of a crush between you. and it does, in fact, help. dick’s eager to get to know you too, now that you’ve both formally acknowledged you’re friends (such a weird practice, fresh out of kindergarten behavior, but, as you soon find out, dick is weird about plenty and not entirely well-adjusted as an adult). you go on outings together, attend one another’s events, text sporadically throughout the day. you learn which video games dick likes, you tell him which movies are your favorites. it’s fun and light and uncomplicated now that you’ve freed yourself from the constraints of romantic expectation.

not everything’s good. dick’s got bad habits, which grate on you. is it so difficult to put the stupid toilet seat down? can he not learn to chop vegetables in chunks smaller than an elephant’s baby teeth? can he, for the love of god, stop yelling at the tv during horror films?  he’s got some serious character flaws, too. you find about those a lot more slowly, but they don’t cause too much trouble.

you fight one or two times due to dick suddenly abandoning you in the middle of an outing with no regard for your safety, and his tendency to get pissy instead of saying whatever’s upsetting him upfront when he knows, you’ve warned him that you’re stupidly thoughtless about your actions at times. all those are things you wouldn’t have come to experience if you hadn’t given the man a chance to actually be a friend. it’s kind of heartening, actually, to have come so far.

sometimes your crush rears up its head in the middle of nowhere. it’s kind of hopeless by now, but you can’t help the fact that dick’s attractive. neither can he, anyway. you just watch him sometimes, the way the sun hits his eyes, lashes sweeping over his cheeks. it makes you go tongue-tied and silly, but the moment always passes. it has to pass. you struggle against it, recall every time dick has upset you or insulted you in one way or the other. some days it’s easy as buttering toast, others you can barely think around the searing heat of your desire. those are bad days for all involved.

one evening, when you’ve grown close enough you’ve begun to think about dick grayson as maybe, possibly, only-if-he-says-so-too your closest friend, he tells you about catalina.

he does it over the phone line, during your almost-nightly calls. over the months, you’ve taken up the practice of teasing him about handsome people he clearly finds attractive in a desperate bid to divert attention and train yourself for when you have to do it for real. this is not one of such cases, and as soon as you realize this, you sober up immediately.

he says it so simply. talks about it like it’s just a hazard of life. there’s a tight hardness at the edge of his voice, but other than that, he speaks like it’s normal Tuesday for him.

not so much for you.

“is it okay if I come over?” you request over the line.

for a moment, the only thing you hear is dick breathe. “yeah,” he croaks, and you’re bolting out the room immediately.

you don’t know how to react to this other than with a shaky sort of desperation. it’s been years since it happened. there’s nothing you can do about it now. there’s something big he’s leaving out, which you notice but don’t point out. a big lump forms on your throat as he speaks. dick tells you when you arrive that the woman is behind bars for an unrelated crime and the only way you stop yourself from wishing ill on her out loud is the fact he looks so politely disjointed, you know your fury will only startle him.

and you feel it so frightfully, the fury.

you love dick, you realize. beyond the fancies and the underlying attraction, you love dick as a person, as a friend. he’s one of yours now.

the evening morphs into a casual sleepover. you don’t interrogate him, and he seems torn between wanting to say more and grateful you’re not prying. you keep yourself open to the possibility, but also try to comfort him as best you can. you make dinner. you put on a movie. you talk and joke and quietly watch. he invites you on the bed with him because his couch is a nightmare to sleep in and his guest room is “unavailable”, whatever that means. you don’t even think about it, just follow.

lying together under the sheets with the lights off, the rest of your feelings bubble up to the surface.

you ask before you clasp his hands between yours and look into his shiny eyes in the darkness. you try to tell him, how this single evening and all those that came before turned over your loyalty to him. how he can come to you for anything he ever wants or needs—your ear, your care, your protection. how much you appreciate his trust and how much you wish you could make anything, everything better for him. how much he deserves it.

“I’ll never leave you now,” you vow with fierce conviction, searching his eyes for any signs of doubt. any other time you would’ve questioned this statement with the sheer weight of infinite possibilities, but not now. tonight, truth is absolute and in your hand. “they will never take me from you. I will always be on your side, by your side. i’m serious, grayson. you’re not getting rid of me.”

a glimpse of  a watery smile is the only thing you see before dick throws his arms around you and buries his face in your neck. “couldn’t dream of it,” he whispers into your hair.

you hug him back as tightly as he is, murmuring platitudes and running your fingers through his hair. he falls asleep like that, in the cradle of your arms. he feels secure enough to do so, and you feel both proud and nauseous about it considering the secret you keep.

that he’s told you this at all, that he’s trusted you with such a thing—you know how big it is. you know you can never betray him.

you consider your inherent monstrosity, that little unspeakable thing that bars your from that special kind of love. you understand, firmly, that any desire you feel will never be received eagerly and joyfully. not by him or anyone else.  in silent fury, you vow to die before you be like her, to bestow upon this man your grotesque wanting with no regard for his own desire, for the integrity of his being.

that night, you press a kiss to dick grayson’s hair and let him go forever.

.

the next morning, dick watches as you leave. you turn back one last time to wave at him from the parking lot, a bright smile and tussled hair you didn’t bother to brush. you wear out the clothes he lent you to sleep, so harried last night in your haste to come over that you’d simply forgotten to pack pajamas. he suspects you hadn’t planned to stay the night at all, but he’d been damned if he’d let you go yesterday.

you’re pretty. he’s always thought so, but this morning, you’re prettier than ever. it’s the radiance of your heart shining through.

I will always be by your side, you’d said last night. you’d meant it completely, then. dick had been dazed, overcome. he couldn’t take the brightness of your eyes, the surety of your affection. he’d buried his head in your neck and fallen asleep breathing in the smell of your shampoo. in the morning, he’d woken up with your fingers carding through his hair and the gentle warmth of your body against his.

that was nice. he wonders what he has to do to make it happen again.

[ohsalome]

And I am once again reminding you that for centuries, Ukraine wasn't given its own voice in the world discourse. Our history, politics, culture were written by the people who colonised us and benefited from convincing the world (and us!) of a distorted picture. A good majority of information in English language that exists about Ukraine, that you believe to be the default knowledge of the world, is such distorted information. Because that is how russian propaganda work. They take a snippet of truth and blow it out of proportion and add a bouquet of lies to it and repeat it many-many times until you think that it is just basic information about the world that everyone knows.

No, Ukraine is not run by nazi. Ukraine has a non-zero percent of nazi population that is marginalized out of politics because their rhetoric is not relatable to the majority of the electorate, which leans towards socialistic populism and anarchism.

No, ukraine is not "brotherly nation" with russia. Antropoligically we belong to the same slavic family of nations that includes many other eastern europeans like czechs, polish, moldovan etc. There is no reason to select russians, belorussians and ukrainians into a distinct category that isn't political. The idea of "three brotherly nations" was literally created by a theologist Theofan Prokopovych as a part of philosophical justification to russian imperialism in the 19th century meaning of the word.

No, DNR and LNR are not "people's republics". They were created by russian army, run by the russian army and following the orders from the kremlin. Russis spent decades trying to create a dissident movement in the eastern Ukraine but failed and stepped down to brute force. Everything you see in the southern Ukraine now has happened in the east in 2014. The only difference is that y'all swallowed russian lies back then.

No, Crimea didn't have a "referendum to join russia". Russian soldiers occupied the peninsula, forced the politicians under the gunpoint to announce the referendum, and made sure that the results would be the ones they like. The native population of the peninsula, crimean tatars, that had been twice genocided by the russians in the past, boycotted the referendum. Despite making up only ~12% of the population, crimean tatar rallies were much more numerous than those of the russians in Crimea. The people who "supported" the "return of Crimea" were russian nationals, who moved to the peninsula after the ethnic cleansing of the native population and proclaimed that "it has always been theirs".

No, Ukraine doesn't have a "government-run kill list". Myrotvorets is (1) run by the volunteers, not the government, (2) is a database of pro-russian propagandists, and (3) hardly anyone on that database has been killed so far. FFS, our current first lady used to be in this database.

No, Ukraine didn't ban russian language. Ukraine has implemented laws that would help ukrainian book, music, film industry survive the competition with russian industry that has for many years monopolised our market. Ukraine has implemented the law that our politicians need to know ukrainian language if they want to hold office (this will sound surreal, but many didn't. Can you imagine such scenario in any other country? A spanish minister that doesn't speak spanish?). Ukraine has implemented a law that websites, advertisements published in foreign languages need to have the information accessible in ukrainian as well Ukraine has implemented laws that state that ukrainian citizens have a right to governmental service in Ukrainian. And if you bothered to open the law you criticise at least ONCE, you would have seen that every article has a clarification "the communication can happen in any language as long as both parties consent, but if the consumer requests to be served in ukrainian, the provider is obligated to respond to them in ukrainian".

No, Ukraine doesn't use the war as an excuse to repress the political opposition. The only people that have been "repressed" are the ones who have been colluding with ruZzia and have helped in organising the invasion of Ukraine. FFS one of those "poor oppositioners" is literally putin's godfather, and another visits russian tv channels agitating russians to nuke Kyiv. The proof against them is overwhelming and well-documented, and ukrainian civil society has been pressuring our government to stop them for literal years. Even today, many russian agents remain in governmental structures.

No, Euromaidan was not a "coup". It was a response of civil society to the police brutality and usurpation of power. We do not need white saviours to tell us that being beat up at peaceful protests is bad. We have enough agency to understand this without external help.

It's almost a year of this war. It's high time for people to stop spreading russian propaganda, especially if they claim to support Ukraine. I am yet to see a "both sides are wrong" argument that wasn't based on russian propaganda.

[olderthannetfic]

twitter is blowing up with rpf discourse again and i am just. i am so tired.

the drama this time is over a fanfiction about two fictional characters, but because one of the characters is played by a teenage actor on tv, all of a sudden this makes the fanfic "literal child porn" that "sexualizes an actual minor" and i am so sick of explaining to morons on twitter that actors are not in fact the fictional characters they play.

of course, because this kind of discourse ALWAYS gets out of control and escalates out of proportion, a concerning amount of people have moved on from "writing fanfic about fictional characters means youre a pedo who gets off to the real actor" and are now arguing "every fanfic about a real child should be banned from ao3" and "why does ao3 allow child porn?"

i just cant understand how so many people can be so stupid. even proshippers and pro fiction/anti censorship people are jumping on the side of "this is disgusting, how dare you write about LITERAL CHILDREN having sex, it doesnt matter if its about the fictional character!" and advocating for ao3 to ban the author and delete the fic. and anybody with a functioning brain who tries to explain "hey guys, this is a bad idea, we shouldnt support harrassing authors and censorship" is being called a pedophile or a pedo defender.

look, i dont like rpf. i especially dont like rpf of minors. but not only is a fanfic not rpf if its about fictional characters, the amount of people who are taking this drama as an excuse to crusade for the censorship of actual rpf is just ridiculous. no amount of telling people that ao3 hosts it because its legal will get through to these idiots. and if you point out that banning one type of work always leads to banning other types of work, you get brushed off.

i know that rpf has been talked about here before, as well as on other blogs. if anyone could point me toward a good post or breakdown on why rpf is normal that would be great. same if anybody has any thoughts on fanfiction about fictional characters that just so happen to be portrayed by actors. i am dying to hear from people who are actually able to think critically.

--

[burningupp]

twenty-three: you can tell me anything

<<< masterlist >>>

Y/n was nervous, but that wasn’t exactly new. She had been losing her mind ever since agreeing to spend time alone with Hyunjin, which honestly didn’t make much sense considering they had done that before. Maybe it was just the fact that they would be spending time alone at his dorm? Yeah, that was definitely it. That in combination with the massive swarm of butterflies he always managed to elicit in her stomach just by existing in her general vicinity.

She had visited the dorms many times before, of course - Chan was one of her best friends, after all - so she tried to comfort herself with the knowledge that her surroundings would be familiar. Then again, she felt more comfortable around Hyunjin than she did most people, insane butterflies aside, so maybe she was just blowing things out of proportion. In fact, she was aware that she was; she just had no way to stop overthinking. Anxiety, and all that.

As part of making Y/n as comfortable as possible, Hyunjin had suggested watching the movie during the day as opposed to the evening. She was so incredibly touched at the way he was accommodating her anxiety, but she honestly wasn’t sure if anything could take away the anxious feeling completely. To be fair, even without her disorder, she was fairly certain that she would have been freaking out about this situation. Still, Hyunjin’s attitude did help her as much as anything possibly could, so she decided it was time to be brave.

Dressed in an outfit that was both comfortable and cute, she made her way to the dorm building to watch the Barbie movie with her… friend. Normally, she definitely would have spent at least three minutes just standing outside the door and waiting for her nerves to die down (which they wouldn’t) before ringing the doorbell, but in the spirit of breaking out of her comfort zone, she decided to rip the proverbial band-aid off and just ring the darn bell.

The door opened almost immediately, and a smiling Hyunjin appeared. He quickly stepped aside to let her in, and when the door was closed, he granted her a gentle hug hello. She hoped he couldn’t feel the hammering of her heart or her slightly rapid breathing. Either way, she knew he wouldn’t comment on it if he did.

“Hey, Y/n,” he said softly, letting go of her and taking a small step back. “How are you feeling?”

“Good, I think,” she responded, decidedly ignoring the slight tremor in her own voice. “How are you?”

When he smiled, she felt like melting into a puddle on the floor. Her heart kept beating rapidly, but less due to anxiety and more due to the butterflies that suddenly reappeared in her stomach. He was so pretty, so gentle, so… nice. Lovely. Sweet.

“I’m good! Excited to finally watch Barbie!”

Hyunjin’s excitement made Y/n laugh, nodding along. She was excited to watch it, too. As she removed her shoes by the door, he disappeared to fetch her a pair of house slippers. Then he led her into the living room, where they both sat down on the couch.

Her friend had very obviously put in a lot of thought and effort into this hangout, because the coffee table was filled with an array of different snacks and food. She gaped at the display before turning to Hyunjin with wide eyes, giggling a little.

“Who else is joining us?”

“No one, why?”

The way he looked genuinely surprised at her question made her let out a genuine laugh, waving the comment off with a quick “nothing, nothing.” He tilted his head in confusion before glancing at the table again, and then he started laughing too.

“I know it’s a lot, but I didn’t really know what you preferred! I mean, I know you like most of this, but I wasn’t sure what you wanted for today or if you’d had lunch, so I just- are you crying? Why?!”

Y/n sure was crying. She had spotted the plate of japchae amongst all the clutter of the table, and she couldn’t believe he’d remembered her favorite food and gotten it for her. It was really dumb, but she couldn’t help it; she had been so anxious, and this simple gesture had given her a form of relief she hadn’t thought she needed. The tears were happy ones.

“I’m sorry,” she blubbered, carefully wiping underneath her eyes to get rid of the mascara that had undoubtedly smeared due to her tears. Hyunjin looked like he was ready to do literally anything to make her stop crying, which just made more tears flow out of her eyes and down her cheeks.

“Don’t apologize! Listen, if this is too much for you, I completely understand. If you want me to, I can take you home. Just, please don’t cry,” he pleaded, grasping her hand gently and looking deep into her eyes.

She vehemently shook her head, refusing his very kind offer. She wanted to stay, more than anything. She just needed a second to collect herself, and maybe a hug or two. So, she silently tugged on Hyunjin’s hand in order to get him a bit closer to her. When he was close enough, she let go of his hand and pressed her face into his chest, wrapping her arms around him. He quickly wrapped his arms around her too, resting his cheek on the top of her head and waiting patiently for her to calm down enough to explain what was wrong.

After a minute or two, Y/n collected herself enough to pull away from the hug and look at Hyunjin’s face.

“I’m sorry for crying,” she began. She could tell he was about to interrupt her, most likely to reassure her, but she held up a hand to stop him. “I’m just feeling… cared for, I guess. And safe. And I’m just really grateful that I have you in my life, Jinnie.”

Okay, so maybe she hadn’t meant for the last part to be so exposing of her feelings for her friend. It was okay, though. She could most likely play it off, if he were to ask - heightened emotions, or something. Oh fuck, what if that didn’t work? What if- No. She refused to let herself spiral any further because of something so small.

She couldn’t help but look away from the man in front of her, feeling bashful at the entire situation even if she wasn’t exactly overthinking… yet. She felt a gentle hand come up to brush against her cheek, prompting her to look back at Hyunjin. His gaze held nothing but warmth. The butterflies, who seemingly had taken up permanent residence in her stomach, intensified their fluttering.

“Y/n,” he breathed, and the tone of his voice was so soft that she wouldn’t have heard him if she was sitting even slightly further away from him. “I… have something I want to tell you.” Oh God. “Nothing bad, I swear. At least I hope not.” That… helped, and then it didn’t.

“What is it, Jinnie? You can tell me anything.”

And she meant it. If he confessed a crime, she wouldn’t tell anyone; she would even help him outrun the law if necessary. If he confessed an embarrassing secret, she wouldn’t even make fun of him. Well. Maybe a little. But she would guard that secret with her life, without hesitation. She would do anything for this boy, and it both scared and thrilled her.

“I know that our first meeting was less than ideal, to say the least, and I know you said I don’t have to apologize, but I’m pretty sure I will be regretting what I said for the rest of time. You’re such a wonderful, wonderful person, and I count myself lucky to have met you.” Y/n was melting, she was sure of it. “And, uhm, I have thoroughly enjoyed getting to know you more properly these past few months. You’re a person unlike any other that I have ever met, and I just… I don’t know how to say this without being very direct, and I hope you will forgive me for that, but I think I just have to do it before I chicken out.”

“Anything, Jinnie. You can tell me anything.”

He took a deep breath. Then he released it. His hand fell from her cheek to her hand, and she immediately missed the warmth of his skin on hers. His gaze was still filled with warmth, but there was a bit of uncertainty in it now.

“I really, really like you, Y/n. Like, so much.” Y/n’s breath left her in one fell swoop. All she could do was stare at the man she undoubtedly had a gigantic, humongous, world-ending crush on as he confessed that he returned those feelings. She felt frozen, her brain needing a reboot before she could process thoughts again. “A-And it’s totally okay if you don’t feel the same, or if it’s too much or-”

Screw thought, she decided, and kissed him.

~*~

Hyunjin was in heaven. He was sure he had died, or he was dreaming, or… just anything that meant this wasn’t real, because surely it couldn’t be? He was kissing the woman he damn near loved, and it was the best thing to ever happen to him. Her lips were soft and pillowy on his, and the feeling of her right hand reaching to the nape of his neck and playing with the hair there made him shiver and grab her face as he kissed her deeper.

The kiss was very romantic and soft, almost innocent if it wasn’t for the depth of the feelings both of them were conveying in the kiss. It was enough for Hyunjin, he thought, that he could die happy in that moment. One kiss from Y/n, and his life was complete. He felt like his hearing was gone, everything beside her, her, her utterly unimportant.

She was the first to pull away, looking perfectly dazed with lips swollen from the kiss they had just shared. The tips of her ears as well as her cheeks were blazing a bright red, and it just endeared him infinitely. He couldn’t resist, and grabbed her waist to gently tug her into his embrace, holding her tightly to him. He kind of hoped she could hear his heart beating faster than what should be anatomically possible, just so she would know the depth of his affection for her. Even if she didn’t, he would make sure she knew.

The only sound in the living room of Hyunjin’s dorm was heavy breathing. The moment felt so fragile, he didn’t want to speak up for fear of ending it - still, he knew he would have to do so before her overactive mind would spin her into a spiral.

“I don’t- I don’t know what to say after that,” he breathed, crushing Y/n tighter against his chest. He truly didn’t, but he figured if he just kept talking, it would eventually lead them both to a place where there was something to say. Maybe. “That was definitely the best kiss I’ve ever had.”

“M-Me too,” she answered, her voice trembling slightly. He wanted to let her go to see if she was okay, but as soon as his grip on her loosened, she tightened hers. It made him smile, and his heart skipped a beat. “I, uh, I hope it’s clear that… that I feel the same.”

It kind of had been, but something bloomed in his chest at her words either way. His face split into a massive grin, his cheeks hurting almost immediately, and he had to fight with himself to not kiss her breathless again. He would, but later. After they talked.

“Thank you for telling me, anyway,” he whispered into her hair, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Another moment passed, and then they separated from the hug. Neither one of them let go of the other’s hand, though; it was as if they were physically incapable of parting from one another, now that the long-building tension had finally been released. They both took a deep breath at the same time, and then broke into giggles. Then Y/n cleared her throat and adopted a serious face, and Hyunjin immediately snapped to attention.

“Is something wrong?”

“Like I said,” she began carefully, “I really, really like you too. And I- I mean, you haven’t said anything about it, but I’m just assuming that- you know what, maybe this is stupid, I should just-”

“Nuh uh.” Hyunjin shook his head sternly, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of her hands. “Please, communicate with me. I like you so much, there’s literally nothing you can say to get rid of me.”

Y/n cracked a small smile, then seemed to steel herself. Hyunjin had never stopped focusing on her, couldn’t if he tried, but he zeroed in on her completely at the seriousness of her demeanor. Whatever was important to her, was important to him too.

“I know you didn’t say anything about being together, but-”

“Yes.”

“Hyunjin-"

“Yes. Let’s be together.”

“Jinnie,” she sighed, with an exasperated smile. “I want to be with you too.” His chest exploded with flowers, butterflies, rainbows and candy, anything sweet and beautiful. He felt so full in that moment, squeezing her hands tightly in his and grinning from ear to ear. “But.” Uh oh. “I have to be honest with you, and I-” She sighed before continuing. “My anxiety is… a lot. My life is not easy, and it’s not like everyone else’s. I have a pretty hard time with intimacy, in all its forms, and uhm… If we do this, which I completely understand if you don’t want to, we would have to go really slow. And I don’t want you to ever think that you’re the problem, because you’re not, but if you ever feel like that, please tell me?”

“I will. And going slow is not a problem, baby.” Hyunjin grinned again when the petname made her flush a deep red. “Every single step we take has to be a joint decision, yeah? If you’re not comfortable with any touching at all, that’s fine. If you want to hold hands, cool. Anything you feel you’re ready for, we will discuss together. Yeah?”

Y/n’s eyes started misting over again, but this time she was smiling while it was happening, so Hyunjin simply cooed at his new girlfriend (holy shit he’s going to die) and wiped away the few tears that managed to escape.

“Let’s start with hugging, and maybe some kissing sometimes…”

“I am more than okay with that.”

Eventually, after Y/n was perfectly tucked into Hyunjin's arms, they finally started the movie.

<<< masterlist >>>

taglist: @sopebubbles-reads @skzfelixlove

[callmissrogers]

There For His Girl | Steve Rogers x Reader One Short

Summary: Y/n has reached her limit. Work has been difficult. People have been short, and some just mean. It all brings her back to her childhood, and right now, she just wants to pretend to be ok. So determined to pretend she tries to push her concerned husband away.

WARNINGS ⚠️ This contains mentions of a toxic relationship with the reader's mother and quotes some of their arguments. If this is a trigger for you, please DO NOT proceed. It also contains angst, fluff, and comfort. Also, very little editing and wrote on my phone.

Steve Rogers x wife reader

Word count: 1,370

Notes: The next part in the That's My Girl series will be going up today or tomorrow. I was feeling the need for some comfort myself, so this is what I wrote. Hope you like it!

Y/n slammed the door, tears streaming down her face she pressed her back into the wall and slid down until she was a small ball on the floor.

"Why do I do this?" She sobbed hating herself.

Y/n had had a rough few days. It seemed like no matter what she did or said, people were short with her. Everything was going wrong, and after one mistake, which led to a snarky backhanded compliment from Tony Stark himself, well, Y/n was done. Usually, it didn't get to her like this anymore, but her emotions frayed to a breaking point.

Her dad always told her she wore her heart on her sleeve but she just thought her mom was right and that instead of enduring this made her a nuisance.

Why should she be so bothered when people utter unkind things to her?

Why can't she pull herself together?

"You're always start crying! Stop trying to make me feel bad"

"You're stabbing me in the back by trying to do something different"

"Don't you know I need you here? Stop thinking about yourself and making everything harder on me"

This and many other instances where y/n would be belittled, ridiculed, screamed at, lectured for two hours at 1 in the morning, and reduced to making herself as small and as unseen as possible while being a sobbing mess, had made her what she is today.

Too sensitive. At least that's what she told herself at times like this.

And why couldn't she just talk about it like a normal person instead of blowing something trivial out of proportion?

Literally five minutes ago....

Steve had come home the night before. Poor guy had been so tired that he fell asleep in uniform on the couch.

Y/n had been carefully tiptoeing around the kitchen so as not to accidentally wake him up. Intending to surprise him before heading to work.

She was supposed to be going over mission plans with Vision today. This was the kind of work that excited her. None of the agents would bother them while they were working, which meant that she could just disappear for the day.

She platted up breakfast and carried it over to set it on the coffee table in front of the sleep soilder.

Tho he didn't actually wake up until she set down his mug of coffee.

Eyes fluttering open he peered up at her groggyily. "Hi" He mumbled, pushing himself upright. "Hey sleepy head." Y/n said, trying to make her voice sound chipper.

Steve sighed contentedly as he stretched out his muscles before standing up.

"Mind if I go change clothes before I enjoy this masterpiece?" He asked. Y/n turned to face him, attempting to smooth down his wild bedhead and then said, "Go ahead"

He was back a matter of moments, settling down next to her and drinking deeply from his coffee.

"Thank you for this," He sighed leaning over and gently kissing her on the cheek. Y/n just nodded, trying to keep her mind on a healthy track she focused on eating.

"Did you sleep well?" Steve asked. Taking another bite, she thought about lying and telling him that she had had the best night sleep.

"Sorta" She said trying to stiffle a yawn. "What does sorta mean?" Steve asked turning to look at her. "Nothing really. I'm good! Nothing some strong coffee won't fix."

Steve placed his hands on her shoulders, making her look at him. He studied the dark circles, the faint tint of bloodshot in her eyes, how she held herself and her fiddling hands.

"Hm," He said, his voice low in his chest.

Y/n knew exactly what he was doing, shaking his hands off her shoulders and standing up she said, "I should probably get ready for work."

Steve stood up, grabbing her wrist and stopping her. "Y/n, you look exhausted." "I'm fine" "You're twirling your hair, which means you're not telling the truth." "Steve, c'mon I don't have time for this" "Y/n, it looks like you've been crying" She pulled his hand off her wrist and started to walk away from him, "I'm going to work." "Sweetheart, please just tell me what's - " "Steve! Please just listen to me and leave me alone!" She yelled, cutting him off. She ran off to the bedroom, and that's when the door slammed.

Steve stood there a moment, thinking about honoring her request and leaving her be. But his protective nature overtook him and he decided that the best thing to do would be to be there for his girl.

In the bedroom.

Y/n sat against the wall still crying into her hands, body trembling, thinking hateful thoughts about herself.

She heard Steve knock on the door, saying "Sweetheart, can I come in?"

When she didn't answer him, he slowly opened the door and stepped inside.

She could feel him kneeling down in front of her, "Sweetheart," He whispered, trying to tuck her hair behind her ear to which she only buried her face further.

The next thing that happened, was Steve scooping her up into his arms and settling down in the arm chair that sat in the room.

Somehow this just made her cry more.

"Oh honey, come on now. Take a deep breath. In through the nose and out through the mouth." He soothed.

After about ten minutes of this, her crying settled down, breath becoming rhythmic.

Once he was sure that she had calmed down enough to be able to communicate with him, he asked his voice low and rumbling through his chest, "Do you wanna talk about what's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

She nodded against his shirt. "Everything" she gasped. "Everything?" He asked, pulling her back so he could look her in the face. Dabbing away the leftover tears.

"I'm too emotional. Everything the last few days just hurts. I let everything get under my skin... I just. . Lately, people and Stark are just mean, or maybe I'm just too sensitive.. and now I've yelled at you, too." She said, trying to get up.

"Now hold on a minute, " He cooed, keeping her in place.

"What did Tony say?" "Nothing. I messed up and he was being sarcastic, but I'm such a mess that it hurt" she said her voice breaking. "Alright. Listen to me. One, you are not too emotional. The world tells everyone to button up and be cynical. You, my dear, are a light in all that mess. You do care and that's a very good thing -- I don't want you to listen to anyone that would belittle that, ok?" He asked getting a slow, uncertain nod in response. "Ok. Secondly, people can be mean, especially Stark. People also have power trips and want to pull people down to make themselves feel stronger or better. This means there's one thing you can always be certain of: Do you know what that is?" "What?" "They're wrong. Anyone who would belittle you to make a point or to win an argument or for any other reason, is just a bully." "But what if-" "ah. No what ifs. Thirdly, and this one is the one that's most important of the three." "Then why'd it come last?" She asked clearly beginning to feel a little bit better if she could tease him now. Steve simply rolled his eyes and continued,

"I want you to remember that when you're upset, you can always talk to me. No matter how silly it might make you feel, your feelings are safe with me." "Steve I just yelled at you for no rea-" "No. You had a reason. You were upset. I can see that and you know what that means? It means I can take it too. When I put this ring on your finger," He said taking her hand in his and running a finger across her knuckles. "I signed up for this. I'd rather have you get emotional than bottle things up and hide them from me."

Y/n looked down at their still intertwined hands and then back up at him. Nodding again and breathed out an "ok"

"Ok." Steve replied, giving her his usual comforting smile and kissing her forehead.

[thehottiesknoweren]

Keep that toxic ass love

“If that’s the way you love then i don’t want any of that shit”

Choso x reader

Tw: toxic relationship, breaking in and entering, smut (poorly written sorry), choso breaking shit/destroying stuff and overall needing therapy, mentions of pregnancy ( barely even there dw)

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was a regular Saturday for you.

Cleaning,

Cooking,

And fighting with choso.

You sighed as he kept blowing up your phone, he was cursing your out one minute and professing his love the next and honestly it was exhausting,

Last night you went to a party with your friend and posted you having fun on your story, drinking, smoking and just being a vibe.

You and Choso hadn’t been speaking to each other for at least a week, you guys were on a break, Or more like he was on a break and you were just done with his ass completely.

After viewing your story he spammed your phone with a bunch of nonsense which you didn’t reply to and simply just blocked him.

That was a mistake.

Ten minutes later he was at your house slashing your tires, and then he quickly drove away when he was done.

He then messaged you from a different number rambling again which you also blocked but that didn’t stop him.

No.

He just kept getting new numbers and you decided to feed into him a little because why wouldn’t you if he wasn’t going to leave you alone?

Choso: people who love each other don’t go out with other people while they’re just taking a break from the one they love.

Y/n: you used the wrong “they’re” it’s *their* 💀

Y/n: someone who loved you wouldn’t care about that yet I do doesn’t that tell you something goofy?

After sending that message you blocked his number again and put down your phone but who would’ve guessed this man got a new damn number.

“Text now need to take away his damn subscription or some shit damn” you yelled to yourself.

Choso: you don’t love me yet that’s all you could say when you were creaming on my dick huh? Lying ass bitch.

Y/n: never creamed on your dick. The orgasms you gave me were so weak they wouldn’t have been enough to cover the tip. All that dick yet you don’t know how to use that shit…. And how you love me but ima bitch? I see why your mother didn’t want your bipolar ass. Leave me alone don’t you got better things to do?

Y/n: And another thing, yes I don’t love you. That left last month when you thought it was okay to buss out my windows and made me cut up my thighs piece of shit. I wish you were swallowed.

Choso: I paid for the window and kissed every scar I left on your body. I didn’t mean for it to go that far, I just blacked out,

Choso: I know I’m acting crazy but I need you baby, I need my baby give me another chance I’ll get help I’ll make it right,

Y/n: Every time I do you hurt me. Do you know how much shit you’ve done to me? Choso I’ll probably never be with another man and I know that makes you happy but it shouldn’t, you’ve hurt me so bad, physically, emotionally and verbally I can’t even want a relationship. Just stop coming around I don’t need you.

He stopped texting you after this and you went to go lay down in your bedroom, sobbing in the process.

You knew deep down you loved him and wanted to be with him, he’s all you knew.

He’s the first person to explore your body and teach you what feeling good in bed meant, he was the first person to take you on dates, shopping sprees and wouldn’t let you lift a finger when you didn’t feel good, he always took care of you, did you lie earlier to hurt his ego? Yes but you had to.

Because he was also the person who slut shamed you, insulted you, broke into your house, broke everything you owned, just a few weeks ago he cut up most of your clothes that he didn’t like and burnt them, he also never knew when he was wrong and would blow the smallest thing out of proportion when you proved him wrong saying you were ungrateful.

And do you know how he solved all of this?

Sex and shopping spree’s

but to be honest you were pretty sure the sex was for him. He would destroy your health in every possible way and then he would only opt to take you shopping and then after that he would get you into the bedroom and fuck you until you were crying his name and spewing affirmations of love.

And you couldn’t take that anymore. Everyone told you that you deserved more than a man who only offered you sex and money, and although you didn’t really believe them and wanted to be with Choso you noticed that being around him only hurt you

As you were deep in thought you weren’t aware that your breathing was heavy and you were sobbing, you were having a panic attack.

The bed sunk down and a pair of hands wrapped around your stomach, you knew exactly who it was

“it’s okay” he whispered in your ear trying to calm you down.

“Choso I can’t do this with you anymore” you said. Your breathing got a little calmer, “I-I’ve been going to therapy and-“

He cut you off, “you know how I feel about that shit, why would you go?” he was getting mad so you got up out of the bed,

“That’s why. Look at the way you act” you said, also getting a bit mad and confused because he just said he would go to be with you but at last it was probably another meaningless lie spewing from his lips.

“I’m sorry that I act that way but it’s because I love you, I get mad because I love you and don’t want to lose you, it’s like when I see you doing things I don’t like I get angry and black out because I’m scared of losing you but I’m not realizing the things I do are causing me to lose you” he got up and tried to hold your waist but you pulled away.

“If that’s the way you love then i don’t want any of that shit” you looked him dead in the face letting him know you meant what you said, “if your love is you hurting me any time we argue then keep it choso” you broke eye contact because you could feel yourself starting to cry.

You felt him wrap his arms around you but you didn’t stop him, he begin to place kisses on your forehead while holding you in his arms, “I’m sorry baby, please don’t cry my love” you could hear him sniffing and looked into his eyes to see tears there too,

Suddenly he picked you up and laid you on the bed quickly getting on top of you and laying down. He kissed your chin and kept saying how sorry he was while keeping his arms wrapped around your body.

You didn’t respond but you didn’t stop him and after a while you two just laid there in silence, not a word from either of you until he decided to speak again, “I’d do anything for moments like this, moments I get to hold you” he started kissing your neck,

“Choso we can’t keep doing this, if you say you’re gonna change than do it. I can’t wait for you much longer”

He stopped kissing your neck and looked at you with a smile, he knew you were giving him a second chance, “I will baby I promise.” He kissed you passionately amd you couldn’t help but be happy,

His kiss begin to go lower and he slowly made his way back to your neck, he took his time sucking on every area his lips touched,

And his lips kept getting lower and lower until he made it to the end of the bed, he was quick to take off the skimpy satin nightgown you had on, underneath it was just you in panties no bra,

He quickly stood up and started to take off his belt and as soon as he was done he wasted no time taking off your panties and spreading your pretty legs,

He dragged one of his fingers through your folds picking up some of your juices and making you moan and arch your back in the process he put his finger in his mouth. “Just how I like it. Good girl” he said positioning his head in between your legs.

He quickly put his tongue to work and showed your touch deprived pussy just what it missed.

You never touched yourself when you and Choso were arguing, because you knew he would be right back. You felt as though only letting him touch you made you crave him more and although you would never admit it to him you never saw yourself giving up on him and not touching yourself was basically a guarantee that you wouldn’t lose fillings.

Choso on the other hand would touch himself to the thought of you everyday or sometimes just the control he had on you, he would think about how he was the only person to ever have you and only person you ever allowed to touch you. Shit like that turned him on.

Your legs started to shake intensely as he ate you out and just as you were about to cum he stopped,

He got off his knees and stood right in front of you, he put his body in between your legs and aligned his cock with your entrance, “you ready?” He looked at you but you only gave him a moan in response.

As he entered you, he could here the wet sound pussy made and that was music to his ears only making him speed up his pace to hear it more

“Fuck” he said under his breath,

You were a moaning mess for this man

He felt himself get closer to his orgasm so he came closer to your face and placed kisses all over it, you wrapped your arms around his neck as he continued to thrust inside you,

Soon you could feel him leaking inside you making you arch your back, you knew he was trying to hold his orgasm so that you could cum with him because his thrust were sloppy but firm enough so that you could feel good.

As soon as he felt your nails dig into his back he knew you were cumming.

As you painted his cock he painted your insides, “I love you” he kisses you one more time before exiting your pussy,

You could feel him getting off the bed and then you saw him entering the bathroom, you heard running water and was about to doze off but Choso came and picked you up bridal style.

He made sure you peed and cleaned you both up, “you made a mess in the bed now I have to change the sheets” he chuckled while you sat in your vanity chair wrapped in a towel, you watched him change the sheets and take the other ones to the washing machine. You couldn’t help but smile at him, he was so cute.

He came back into the room this time he didn’t have that same cute look though, he seemed mad and as he looked directly at me I couldn’t help but wonder why,

“What the fuck is this?” He held up something pink and white and as I looked closely I saw it was a test.

The test.

[creatingnikki]

I sit there across you in the café that we usually hang out at writing you a letter. You're leaving the city. Yes, that doesn't mean that you are leaving my life. But leaving is still leaving. And so I have to write you a letter, I want to. But life has been chaotic and heavy and I didn't get the time to do this before meeting you now. All I could do was grab my letter writing supplies and stuff them in my bag as I left home tonight to come see you. So once I reach, I ask 15 minutes of you to write the letter in real time. And once I am done putting it in the envelope I realize I don't have a sticker to seal it the way I usually do and you say, 'wait a minute' and reach for your wallet.

You are giggling and I begin to giggle too even though I don't know what it's going to be. But it's always been that way with you. It's light, it's laughter, and it's warmth. Always? Well, a big chunk anyway. I smile and giggle and laugh in anticipation of smiling and giggling and laughing.

You remove a band aid from your wallet and then we giggle some more. I take it. Of course, I do. With you, I'll let myself do such things that make me forget that I am 26. Or that perhaps let me be without having to be something else. I begin to unwrap the band aid and you start recording me. The whole thing becomes a funny little sweet moment and an analogy of this band aid signifying healing between us. After all, we have recently reconnected after months of trying to be strangers.

I say this is all so poetic. I've said it before. I say it all the time. I view my life and life in general through the lens of poetry and literature and books. Everything is a scene from a story. A few minutes later another such moment is shared and before I can say anything you say, 'this is so cinematic'. That's when you make the observation and say, everything you call poetic I call cinematic. And that very observation and the articulation of that observation as we begin to leave the café post midnight is poetic to me.

Poetic or cinematic, whatever we were, whatever we are, I'm glad we crossed paths and attempted healing. This is a goodbye, not the goodbye. From the minute we met, you have been helping me fight my cognitive distortions. Why? Because you are healthy and normal. All I have wanted this year are normal experiences and normal people. Normal does not mean all good and smooth sailing. To me, it only means things not blowing out of proportion or going bat shit crazy. Things not resembling the arc of a book or a movie.

I've been consciously realizing lately how seeing my life and myself from the lens of a story and being the mc is not helpful. It gives my life this fanciful flavour and adds whimsy but with that comes unnecessary plot twists and agony.

"Normal" can also be poetic/cinematic. I don't need to be an unreliable narrator for that or let wild, vicious people in my life. I don't have to take whacky decisions and put up with things for character development. My life can be normal — light, full of laughter, and warmth. Without it having to be blindingly bright, headache-inducing laughter, and scorching warmth.

Thank you. Thank you for helping me come to that realization. I'm glad you exist.

[sunkissed-zegras]

angsty blurb w/Trevor🤭

you asked and you shall receive…

─ warnings | angsty asf, don’t say i didn’t warn ya! cheating, trevor is a fraternity ASSHOLE, just mean ass shit

you’d heard the stories about trevor but you’d chose to ignore them — and now, tears streaming down your eyes you really wish you hadn’t. giving him the benefit of the doubt multiple times after he’d shown you exactly who he really was, trying to ignore the warning signs.

as you sat there on his couch, tears cascading down my cheeks, you replayed every moment, every warning sign you had chosen to ignore. it started with little things, subtle remarks that cut deeper than they should have. each time, you brushed them off, convinced that beneath his rough exterior lay a heart of gold. the lies, oh the lies! they wove a web so intricate, so deceptive, that you found yourself trapped before you had even realized. he promised change, redemption, but now you realized it was all just another layer of deceit.

"her, trevor?" your voice came out quiet but fuming. "her?"

she was the complete opposite of you — looks, personality and everything else. and yet, despite the glaring differences between you, trevor had chose her. the realization cut like a knife through your already wounded heart. how could he betray you with someone so unlike you in every aspect?

her presence haunted you, her image etched into your mind like a scar you couldn't erase. you couldn't help but compare yourself to her, picking apart every flaw that made you feel inferior in trevor's eyes.

"i-i didn't mean for it to happen," he pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation. "it was a mistake, i swear. you know you're the one i love."

"you don't fuck other people when you're in love, trevor!" you shouted, your voice coming out shaky as you watched his expression change from emotional to slightly agitated, as if you were the one who was inconveniencing him.

"come on, don't be so dramatic," he scoffed, his voice laced with contempt. "it was just a mistake. you're blowing this way out of proportion."

his words hit you like a slap in the face, his lack of remorse fueling the fire of your anger but also deepening the wound. how dare he dismiss your pain so callously, as if his infidelity was something trivial?

"you did it more than once, trevor. you're a fucking traitor," your voice broke as you spoke, feeling all the emotions from the last 8 months come down on you. how did something so perfect, become something so terrible?

eight months of love, laughter, and shared dreams now felt like a cruel joke. the memories of happiness now tainted by the bitter taste of betrayal.

his expression remained indifferent, as if your pain meant nothing to him. it was a cruel realization that he was never the person you thought he was. the man you loved had been nothing but a facade, a mask hiding the true nature of his deceitful character.

with a deep breath, you squared your shoulders, meeting his gaze with determination. "i'm done, trevor," you declared, each word dripping with finality.

"oh trust me, you'll be back. like you always do," trevor's voice came out so bitter, you almost didn't recognize him. is that all you were to him? a mug, a girl who always came back? who was always there?

for a moment, doubt threatened to creep in, whispering its insidious lies in the nooks of your mind. had you really been so blind, so naive to believe in his empty promises over and over again?

but then, something inside you shifted. anger surged forth, fueling the flames. you refused to be reduced to a mere afterthought, a pawn in his selfish games.

"no, i won't," you countered, your voice firm. "i won't be, i deserve more than being treated like an option, like a backup plan for when it's convenient for you."

with that, you turned away, leaving trevor standing there, his words hanging in the air like a bitter echo.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[necroromantics]

Regarding being "cancelled"

Im not gonna address this further unless anyone needs clarification or something cuz its just drama with random ass kids who I'm not interested in interacting with

Some people dug up a fuck ton of old screenshots of shit I said in my server a year ago. Not gonna deny saying any of that, cuz I did say it, and I've said worse, and if you've talked to me at all I am always very open about this stuff.

In the screenshots I made jokes about disabled people and said I don't care if someone is a Nazi, because at the time my server had like no rules, everything was free reign (which is now changed). This is because I did not care if someone was disabled or a Nazi. It kinda comes hand in hand with ASPD, not caring unless it directly effects you. This does not mean I condone or support the things I joked about*

If you don't know what ASPD is, it's antisocial personality disorder, its characterized by "disregard for peoples rights and feelings". The reason I was even diagnosed in the first place was because I fit the criteria of crossing moral boundaries, disregarding peoples feelings, and not fitting into social norms. I was VERY bad with that in the past, especially a year ago when I was 18 years old, very deep in drug addiction, and didn't have the support system I have now.

If you want to judge me based on my past mistakes and actions, I can't control you. I don't expect anyone to like me, but I do care to get my side out too. I post here because I have fun, not because I care what people think. And if you judge me from shit I said as a drug addicted horribly mentally ill 18 yr old, then that isn't my problem.

Love the label, hate the symptoms yeah?

I don't like apologizing for things I'm not actually sorry for so this isn't an apology. I know I've said a lot of jarring and rude and fucked up things in the past, but if you know me at all then you know it never came from a place of hatred. To me, as someone with ASPD, its about proving that things like societal rules and norms aren't going to be another thing that controls you, so you just ignore them completely. This is what makes it a disorder. Cuz it's irrational and dysfunctional and causes problems like this

Also they vaguely mentioned me abusing someone who's borderline which is ??? because all the relationships with borderlines Ive been in had been very unhealthy on both sides. My mom has BPD so I know how to help those with BPD and Ive always tried my best to cater to BPDers symptoms and issues, even in the relationships where their condition got too much for me.

But yeah, I made mistakes in the past, and I'm not that person anymore, or at least I try hard not to be. I've been sober for almost a year, I have amazing friends and a good support system, I'm on medication for my bipolar disorder. Judge me from the past, but anyone who talks to me now knows that I work very hard to get over those mindsets and habits. To me, thats all that matters.

Edit: Not blaming my disorder, its just easier to explain. I'm taking full blame for what I said in the past, and I acknowledge that it was morally wrong. I said what I said. These people have been absolutely hellbent on being on my ass for months now when all I want to do is just chill out, get better, and live life. Theyre gonna keep complaining about everything I do, and I don't care to make any more edits, just wanted to clarify that Im not making excuses. Also I don't support Nazi's, I just made jokes about it. Anyone who knows me knows Im very against that shit

(I dont mean to sound callous or whatever, I just woke up to this and wanted to quickly clear shit up before it all blows out of proportion)

[codylabs]

I like Samus

(Miscellaneous notes in no order)

She's kind. I've gone into detail about that before on one page of my comic, but it bears repeating here. She doesn't often do things in anger, and she shows mercy and goodwill when she can. I think that's a big difference between her and somebody like Doomguy who just kills anything in his way; it's always more complicated than just "kill the monsters," and she does ponder and respect that complexity, even if, all too often, the only reasonable and responsible option IS killing.

Speaking of, dang there is blood on her hands. None of Batman's "There's one line I won't cross" philosophy; she's been in war and crossed lines. She's killed people. A lot of people. Fanon often characterizes her as the one who blows up planets, but that's not fair or accurate, since she was only involved with ONE [1] of those, but even if not, she IS still the type of person willing to make those tough calls. And leaving the planet-killing out of it, we can see the grizzly truth that most of her killing is intentional, and done in person, face-to-face. Watching interviews with real soldiers, that type of thing often has some serious effects on mental health, and I feel bad for her for that.

She's nearly silent, but she's not mute. More in a reserved, cowboy-just-passing-through sort of way. It's believable that she just doesn't have a lot to say, especially to strangers, or especially on missions. Super Metroid, Fusion, and Other M have her deliver longer dialogue, but it's usually a pretty dispassionate account of her actions, of what she's done and seen. Yeah that's probably a feature of the game format, but if you read into it, a lot of the personal interactions in her life may boil down to that: recounting stories or delivering reports.

*slaps roof of armor* shit's sturdy as hell.

Her gun can't be disarmed or set aside, but she carries it at the expense of a hand; it may be a little goofy, but if you read way WAY too far into it, it can be taken as symbolism for the violence inherent in her duty. But in that vein, there's another kinder side to the symbolism: the Chozo didn't give her two guns, they left her one hand. So killing isn't all that her duty entails.

Double genocide survivor is a frankly bizarre backstory. Like, this poor woman; what are the odds. But it's semi-necessary to the narrative, and I love it because it sets her so far apart. She looks human, she could be a human, any human she meets would think she was one, but deep down, her true people are the Chozo. And with the Chozo gone, she remains an alien wherever she goes. She's bound so tightly to her past that she will always be a stranger.

Related to previous, her armor is obviously alien technology. And not in a "ooh it's too advanced and shiny and glowy" way or whatever, but I mean it's distinctly Not Shaped Like A Human. Stand a Chozo next to a human and you can tell which one it was built to fit. As the series' art style has progressed its proportions have even evolved to match the Chozo's proportions; it's anatomical difficulties have never been resolved or lessened, it's never gotten more humanoid. Which is more than a little goofy (cue rekindling of decades-long debate of how her shoulders work or how her legs are so long) but I think it's awesome.

The built-in jetpack is not for flying, it's for running fast and sick flips.

g gre gr green lights...

The Mother complex is a controversial thing to like, since the only thing the games gave her to be motherly toward is a mindless jellyfish bioweapon (and that was in the worst-written game too, ouch) but I do like it. I like the idea of her being tender/caring/affectionate to the point of being good with kids or animals (if ever given the opportunity (which she never is.)) In another life, in some gentle elseworld, she could have excelled at a happy, perfectly normal domestic life, and it would be a happy ending to the series for her to finally find that life, though I don't expect such an end.

Most of the games represent her death animation as the suit exploding. Which I choose to interpret as a literal self-destruct, to avoid the horrors of her capture and the technology falling into wrong hands.

Ridley. I love her relationship with Ridley. It's the classic image of the knight vs. the dragon, but it never ends, and neither of them ever die. I feel like there's some symbolism I can't quite grasp about how he always comes back through the power of whatever OTHER thing she's currently dealing with, like he's never even plot-relevant, he's just there because she's there, tied to her, hounding her, he's there because her real duty isn't done.

Big strong woman let me touch your abs mommy

Actually could I take that last one back? Her modern fanon portrayal as 7 feet tall and shredded is probably better than some portrayals before (hourglass figure with heels), but I don't think it's accurate or necessary to her character either. Yes, I draw her more athletic, and yeah her job requires some physical prowess, but 90% of the time that prowess comes wholesale from the power armor, in which context the pilot's flesh isn't much more than wasted space. (Plus whenever I see abs I think of an interview with a powerlifter who was dissing bodybuilders, saying that abs aren't a sign of strength, they're just a sign you aren't eating enough.) In any case, I think the Samus portrayals I like best are those that make her just look like an ordinary lady, covered in the wrinkles and scars of her life. Prime Remastered did her right by my book.

The Chozo could have raised anybody to be their champion, a boy, a girl, one of their own, a defected pirate, why an alien like her? Why a human? Why an orphan who already had burdens enough? I am lead to believe by the canon that she selected by a Chozo prophecy, but from Whom does the prophecy spring?

And to what end is her prophecy? Is her great task in life to stop the lawlessness of the Space Pirates? To exterminate the X? Or Phaazon? (Judging by the events of Prime 3, I think the Federation could have done all such things on their own, and the Metroid Prime wearing her suit as an exoskeleton probably made the situation worse.) Or did the wellspring of the Chozo prophecy recognize the Chozo's own failings, and elect a champion intentionally not from among their own as a means of cleansing the universe of their mistakes, and handing the torch to the metaphorical next generation of races in the galaxy?

Prime 1 has a statue of a Chozo holding a tray, and a scan shows it's meant to represent their race balancing the weight of existence in their hands. Heck if I know whether that's an accurate assessment or just so much pride and hubris (the Metroid universe is admittedly a savage and fragile place in desperate need of balance and wisdom,) but it does make me wonder if Samus believes in all that.

If you held a gun to my head and made me give a headcanon about Samus's sexuality, I'd probably say cisgender and straight, since that's statistically most people, but I also recognize that she hit puberty surrounded by alien bird monks who wouldn't know what lips are without looking it up, and I don't know WHAT that does to a young lass, so I don't feel qualified to say. In any case, the canon never mentions friends, personal life, or significant other, in any way at all ever, which implies either A) she keeps privacy even from the narrative B) she doesn't have a lot of free time to spend in those contexts C) she's always on the move D) she tends toward a life of loneliness or E) all of the above.

One wonders what did her time in the military looked like. Did the Federation allow this genetically anomalous cyborg to just walk into the recruitment office? Did she have to apply for citizenship first? Did she just go into battle in her bright yellow? Did they know about her Power suit? Could she even speak human language at this point?? Did she like human food or does she prefer mixed grain and mealworms??? I headcanon: why not, yes, no, no, not much, sure.

[keeperoftinyarmy]

If Jikook is the company ship then it wasn’t exactly a good marketing tactic, considering the state of the fandom right now. There’s no doubt ships have always been a huge thing in kpop and companies know how to capitalize in it but the way some people try to overly rationalize every single interaction between Jimin and Jungkook as some part of a bigger plan sounds like a conspiracy theory. Same way many shippers blow up every tiny interaction out of proportion as well and gives it a whole meaning that was probably not there in the first place (Jikookers included). I think we should be equally careful about hardcore shippers than those who coat their thoughts in such a way like they’re some sort of voice of reason and higher knowledge. I'd rather trust my gut and be wrong. It triggers my bullshitter alarm when I'm basically being told I'm not seeing what I'm seeing, or what I'm seeing doesn't actually mean what it usually means, yada yada yada. I'm all for critical thinking and skepticism but I know when I'm being gaslighted and it happens a lot when it comes to Jikook.

The voices saying that jikook are basically company created are so loud. I know people new to the fandom will take that as fact.

My skepticism really kicks in when it’s only jikook that’s an issue. So Hybe only created one pair to entertain the fans? Internationally TK are a very popular unit. If Hybe is about profiting off interactions, then why not at least balance out the content and include more TK? I can’t see why they wouldn’t do just that. Unless there just isn’t much footage of TK to work with…and what we are getting is the best they have.

[becauseplot]

completely random thought but thinkin about like. how interesting it is that what happened to qcellbit in the war and what he was forced to do to survive traumatized him and still clearly upsets him. like we all know that. but given his interactions with bbh he still feels a sense of nostalgia, referring to them as the "good times" and reminiscing n whatnot. and it could all be a result of the headspace he's in rn, perhaps glorifying his childhood as a means of reinforcing his "i have always been this way" mentality to help justify his violence against the fed workers and/or clinging to the "good" moments he had growing up in an awful environment because that peaceful childhood was stolen from him.

anyway all this is to say. what if even back then, in order to cope, cellbit thought about the wars as a game: hunting alongside bbh, strategizing, taking people out, collecting "loot," upgrading their gear. and when they're the last ones standing, they win! just,, interpreting the "games" part of "hunger games" as a young, scared little cellbit subconsciously putting distance between himself and the horrors he experienced/committed on the daily and trying to motivate himself to keep going by making it a "fun game to play." and how that might affect how he thinks of it now. like on one hand he's probably aware that it was a seriously messed up situation to be dropped into as a kid, on the other hand, he can't deny that he was having fun.

also i do believe that even outside this "it's all just a game" mentality, cellbit and bbh had some pleasant moments that cellbit is still clinging to (and perhaps blowing out of proportion; nostalgia and rose-tinted glasses and all that). cellbit goofing around while setting up camp for the night. bbh looting a cool jacket (or perhaps a sick pair of goggles?) off a body and giving them to a delighted cellbit. cellbit trying to teach bbh some portuguese, bbh teaching cellbit new words in english. cellbit, bored, hanging upside down from a tree by his legs while waiting for bbh to finish looking at the map and call their next move. a flawless double takedown where neither of them broke a sweat and bbh greatly praised cellbit's skills and cellbit smiled for the rest of the day. (are you proud of me? are you proud of me?) a tree branch breaking and falling directly in front of cellbit and cellbit screeching and bbh laughing harder than cellbit has ever heard him laugh before, so much so that he forgets his embarrassment and starts laughing too.

just,,, man. what exactly is cellbit referring to when he brings up "the good times" with bbh. it's so fun to think about.

[futurebird]

Bolting

“I really think the media is blowing it out of proportion. This isn’t a new thing you know?” Petra was working on cracking the formidable locks on the door to the old woman’s apartment. She let out a sigh, the vibrating lock pick had failed, so she rummaged in her many pockets for a different tool. 

She went on:  “I mean, this has always happened in big cities. People get so emotional, bent out of shape about it. And, you know, I get it!” The balloon on the inflatable lock pick let out a sharp pop. Petra’s dark eyes sparkled with delight. She was very good at picking locks. Probably one of the best. And yet, she was also far too cool to act like what she’d done was a big deal. With a deliberate and professional casualness she went on with her story. 

“I get it, I really do! The idea of dying alone is terrifying. The idea of dying alone, no one noticing.” She turned the handle in the door. It clicked. 

“The world going on without you?” She pushed, then stood, tucking the tool back into her pocket. She put her shoulder to the door and shoved. 

“It’s all distilled for us in these cases.” The door opened to darkness and dust.

The rotten smell coming from the apartment had been an apparition in the hall, impossible to pinpoint or rule out as a figment of your imagination. But, the neighbors noticed. They noticed how the smell would seem to change location and strength. They noticed how it was so much worse when heat index warnings kept everyone inside. But now? The seal of the door broken, all bets were off. The odor was real, pungent, corporal: death. The air from the dark apartment was cool, heavy with stillness. When I first started this job the smell of a decaying human corpse would have been all that I noticed. So overwhelming and distinct. But, from experience, I knew to expect other scents, the staleness of food. The very particular smell of a neglected fish tank. This time there was something else: something verdant and a little damp, a green smell. Petra was looking for a light switch just inside the door. The space was lit by cracks of light filled with dust motes that fell from drawn curtains. The old woman was on the couch, a colorful crocheted blanket drawn up over her too small to really cover her. Her little frail body was curled up. I hoped she didn’t die painfully. 

I took in the rest of the room, my eyes now adjusting to the light. A pleasant little space. Photos of the woman and a man, presumably her husband, told a story of travel: There they were at the grand canyon, on a small sailboat, at a cafe somewhere that felt European. Not all of the photos had been hung up, there were more empty frames and prints in a pile on a shelf just below. This seemed like a recent project of the deceased. One she had abandoned. The photo on the top of the pile waiting to be framed was a large print of just the man holding a very unhappy looking tabby cat kissing it tenderly on its head. He had to be dead, her husband. That’s why there was no one to notice when she vanished too. We had both fallen silent for a bit. Working for a morgue can make you callous and flippant in the presence of the deceased– but there was something about the stillness of these kinds of rooms, where a person had died alone that made that impossible. Even Petra couldn’t continue her lecture. “Let’s look around.” I said in a hushed voice. “Then we’ll start packing up.” By which I meant, the dead woman.

We walked around as if in an art gallery, not touching anything, taking in all of the details of the well lived-in space. Two desks, one with a computer that had been used recently, the other mostly empty with an older and very dusty laptop, the closet which contained mostly small clothes that would fit the old woman, but in the back there was also a single moth-eaten men’s suit. Prescription pill bottles, most very recent, there were a great many. And so many books. Shelves lined every wall, some custom built to go over the doors, and even under the raised bed. Many were on physics, some on education. “Hey where do you think this goes?” Called Petera from the next room. She was investigating a door just off of the living room. It was down a little three-step flight of steps. “Probably just laundry or storage.” I said. Yet, Petra has never met a door she didn’t want to open, and this one wasn’t even locked. She opened it, and the apartment filled with light. On the other side was another world: the bright midday sun, a vast beautiful garden. 

The smell of death vanished beneath the rich scents of soil and grass, pollen and leaves. The greenery,  dense and deep, butterflies and bees alighted on bright blossoms, vines swayed lazily in a breeze. The effect of opening such a door was of a magic trick. Like finding a portal–  for a moment, squinting I wondered lazily if some absent-minded angel of death, come to collect the old woman’s soul, had forgotten to close the way back to Heaven. “Woah-” Said Petra,who almost never is surprised or impressed by anything. My brain, now catching up with my imagination, I said. “I didn’t know this unit had a greenhouse.”  As if I’d even bothered to check about such a thing. As if huge greenhouses were typical things you found in city apartments. But, it made a lot more sense than a portal to Heaven. We were on the top floor, so there could have been a terrace on the back of the building we didn’t notice when entering. It struck me what a brilliant idea it was to have your own garden in the city. Fresh vegetables were something of a luxury. But, even if I had a greenhouse of my own I don’t think I know where to start when it came to growing things. I remember when my mother put the stem of a lettuce plant in a dish of water on our windowsill. This was in one of our many miserable little apartments, shortly after our second migration, in the days of the 4th pandemic. The apartment was in one of the machine-printed buildings with lumpy striped walls and mysterious drafts. 

We had just started to settle in, though dad kept on saying how we’d “find something better soon” – we all lived in that one room and though no one would say it, we knew we were lucky. The borders had closed soon after we’d made it in. Since my father was a doctor we still might have gotten through after– if we ever made it far up enough in the line to speak to anyone, if that person would even believe us and not just take one look at our skin color and send us away. There would be a border guard on our third migration that refused to believe my father was a real doctor. It enraged him. By then we were old hands and moving and dealing with officials. My father had said “If you won’t believe in medicine you may instead believe in this.” and bribed the man who was all too happy to take it. Fortunately, he didn’t notice the utter contempt in my father’s eyes as he handed over the money we’d saved for our deposit. But, on that day when my mother put the lettuce stalk in the dish of water, explaining to me how we could grow more, I think we still had a lot more hope as a family. My mother said that the trick of re-growing lettuce so you could eat it twice had “gone viral” when she was in college. Indeed the lettuce plant did grow. Remarkably fast. In days there were a cluster of leaves emerging from the heart. Soon they grew tall and pale leaning towards the light of the window. 

But, the regrown lettuce, fed on only water, and what little light made it between the 3D printed shelters was nothing like the head that we’d bought in the store. That plant had been deep green and sturdy. This new incarnation, for it seemed the plant refused to die, put out a web of gossamer translucent roots into the water. The leaves were white, starved for sunlight, thin, unnaturally long and ghostly. I kept expecting it to die, but it went on growing as my mother religiously kept the water dish full. “Doesn't it need dirt?” I asked my mother, gently touching the long white leaves. “Probably that would be better. But we don’t have any soil so there is nowhere for it to put down its roots.” I was hurt when I came home to discover that my parents decided that we should eat it. It seemed disrespectful to its valiant effort at survival. “Lettuce is an annual. It doesn't make a good house plant. Anyway these conditions aren’t good enough for it to bolt.” “Bolt? Like run away?” “No, that’s just what you call it when an annual goes to seed. But store bought plants never produce usable seeds. If we don’t eat it it will just die and go to waste.” I remember the taste of those leaves, insubstantial, like water. Looking back I’m certain we also had to eat it that day because there was little else for dinner. And we’d reached the point when fresh vegetables were beyond our means, except perhaps on holidays. “That wasn’t exactly incredible.” Said my father of the re-grown lettuce. “But we’ll all find something better soon!” “Mom, do you think when a lettuce regrows like that, is it a new plant? Or is it still the same plant that grew in a field somewhere and had sunlight?” “Well, that’s a very interesting question!” Said my mother laughing. “I don’t know.”

“Our daughter is so smart.” Said my father pinching my cheek in the way that always made me angry but that also secretly I loved.  I wondered if the little plant could remember the way that it was before, when it was green and strong. When it could have bolted away, producing its own strange flowers, its own strange little seeds, even if they were seeds that everyone said could never grow.

It must have, right? Why else would it have even made the effort?

Shaking off the memory I looked more closely at the dead woman’s garden. On closer inspection it had gone a little feral. Weeds packed the raised beds. A dripping sprinkler system explained why all of the plants weren’t simply dead.

“Someone should take care of this.” I said.

“I’m certain someone will. Though, my money’s on this getting converted to an extra bedroom.” Said Petra.

“It’d make a terrible bedroom. It has too many windows. It would be freezing in winter.” I felt the need to defend this old woman’s project. But then, something caught my eye: “Look, Petra! Bolting lettuce!”

“Bolting? Huh?”

“It’s gone to seed.” I said, looking at the long browning stem that rose from the rosette of familiar dark green lettuce leaves.

“I didn’t know you were such a gardener.”

I’ve never stolen anything from our “clients” homes. But, that day I took a few of the seeds from that lettuce plant. I hoped that the old woman wouldn’t mind. And what does it matter? They will never grow anyway.

[5am-mist]

can you please do a Bella x reader who is going off on an interviewer who was mocking reader’s stutter and interviewer says something out of pocket so reader gets up to fight the interviewer you can make up the rest

Nobody asked

°pairing°> bella ramsey x reader

°summary°> you and Bella were doing an interview but it had to get cut short when the interviewer said something they had no business saying.

°requested?°> yess!

°warnings°> the interviewer is just a dick i think thats all

~°A/N°~

i just wanted to say that i don't mean anything i say in this fic so please don't take offense and im sorry if it does offend you i would be more than happy to change it. I know this took me a while im super sorry about that and about how short it is but i hope this is what you wanted. thank youuu for the request love you! <33

You weren't the biggest fans of interviews due to your stutter, you were always extremely anxious about them which only made it worse.

This interview in particular was making your blood boil. The interviewer was a total asshole and hadn't even been trying to hide it. He had been taking pokes at you the entire 20 minutes you two were sat there and it didn't take long before Bella had snapped. "im sorry but quite frankly i think it's stupid of you to invite us to do this interview only for you to make pokes and jabs at my partner. If you think you're funny i hate to break it to you but you're actually quite the opposite. It's embarrassing."

You were going to stop her, you really were but your plans changed when the interviewer decided to speak up. "They were harmless jokes, i don't understand why you have to blow it so far out of proportion but if you really want my opion i just don't think you should be acting if you have a stutter." the last part was directed at you.

Nobody wanted his opion and infact nobody asked for it either. You went to push yourself out of the chair you were in. You had enough of his shit and were fully about to beat his ass.

"Cut!" the camera man shouted stopping you dead in your tracks. "ok i think that's enough, thank you two for joining us."

Bella was quick to grab your hand and leave the building. You weren't a petty person and normally always tried to mind your business but you weren't gonna be quiet about this. You were going to make sure people knew how big of a dick that interviewer was.