#I’m so normal about the things I like clearly

[writeriguess]

katsuki x reader where katsuki meets readers parents for the first time and her father is really strict about dating

The day had finally come. You had warned Katsuki plenty of times about your father, a man who was notorious for his firm, no-nonsense attitude. It wasn’t that your father didn’t want you to date—he just had incredibly high standards, and anyone trying to be part of his daughter’s life had to pass his test.

Katsuki had scoffed every time you mentioned it, his usual cocky attitude brushing off the idea that anyone, let alone your father, could intimidate him.

"Oi, like I give a damn about what your old man thinks," he had said. Yet, today, standing in front of your house, he looked a little more tense than usual. Dressed in his usual casual style, he cracked his knuckles out of habit. You shot him a nervous smile.

"Ready?"

"Tch. Let’s get this over with."

You stepped inside, the smell of home-cooked food filling the air. Your mom greeted you with a warm hug, smiling brightly at Bakugo.

"Oh, it’s so nice to meet you, Katsuki!" she chimed, completely opposite in tone from what you knew was coming.

Katsuki mumbled a "Nice to meet you, too," but his eyes flickered toward the dining room where your father sat, already staring him down from his seat at the head of the table.

After the initial pleasantries, the four of you sat down to dinner. Your father wasted no time sizing Katsuki up. His eyes narrowed, analyzing every word that came out of Bakugo’s mouth.

"So, Katsuki," your father began, his voice deep and authoritative, "what exactly are your intentions with my daughter?"

You could feel the tension rise as Bakugo met his gaze head-on. Normally, he would have shot back some smart remark, but this was important. For you. He clenched his fists under the table, trying to control his temper.

"I’m not here to play around, sir," Bakugo said, his voice steady but firm. "I’m serious about her."

Your father raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Serious, huh? You’re a Pro Hero, right? That life’s dangerous. You think you can balance that and give my daughter the life she deserves?"

Katsuki’s jaw tightened. "I don’t need to balance anything. I’m the best at what I do. I’m gonna protect her and make sure she’s safe no matter what."

You could see your father’s eyes narrow further, testing Katsuki’s resolve. But Bakugo didn’t back down.

"And what about your temper?" your father pressed, leaning forward. "I’ve heard about your attitude. What’s to say you won’t bring that home?"

Katsuki took a deep breath, his hands gripping the edge of the table. "I won’t lie to you, I’ve got a temper. But I’d never take it out on her. She’s the only one who can calm me down when I’m pissed off."

Your father stared him down for what felt like an eternity, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife. You glanced between them, your heart pounding. Then, slowly, your father leaned back in his chair, his gaze still piercing but less intense.

"I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Bakugo. You hurt her, and you’ll regret it."

Katsuki smirked, his usual confidence returning. "I wouldn’t expect anything less."

Finally, the air in the room lightened as your father gave a small nod of approval. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. And for Katsuki, it was enough.

As the night went on, things eased up. By the end of dinner, your father still wasn’t fully won over, but you could tell he respected Katsuki’s determination. It was the beginning of something, and you knew with time, things would get better.

After dinner, when it was just the two of you walking home, Katsuki grumbled, "Your old man’s intense, huh?"

You smiled and slipped your hand into his. "You handled it better than I expected."

"Tch, whatever," he muttered, but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips. "I told you I’m serious about you."

And in that moment, you knew Katsuki wasn’t just talking to your father—he was talking to you.

Requests are open. Send as many as you like.

[dyaz-stories]

Cuddling — Day two of Inukag Fluff Week

Second one shot for @inukagfluffweek! This one is set in canon, and probably a little more on the hurt/comfort side.

Keeping an eye on Kagome was second nature for Inuyasha. After all, if there wasn’t food on her plate, she’d grow hungry and Jewel shards hunting would be interrupted. If there wasn’t a fire to keep her warm, she’d be too tired to go on. If they were caught in a downpour without shelter, she’d get sick. If she kept going when her legs hurt, the next day would be hell. So he got her food, he built the fire, he found the shelter, he carried her on his back. Not ‘cause he cared, though, well, he did care, a little bit, the normal amount, whatever that was, but for purely practical reasons.

That meant he figured out early on that something was wrong. He couldn’t pinpoint what for the life of him, though.

He’d added wood to the fire. He’d caught and cooked a rabbit. He’d carried her on his back half the day, holding her two-wheeled thing in one hand. He’d even offered his services in ridding some farmer of pesky yokai, so they’d get to sleep in a barn for once. Sure, he wasn’t Miroku, and he couldn’t secure them a place in some luxury house, but he was trying his best, ‘kay? Miroku wasn’t around anyway, and Kagome had never complained about luxuries before.

And still, when everything should have been fine, something was clearly wrong. Kagome kept looking in the distance, eyes turning glassy, mouth curving downward as she buried herself in her thought, keeping him so, so far away from her even if she was sitting right next to him.

 Inuyasha had no damn clue how to fix it.

“What is it this time?” he snapped at last as she was finishing her food in silence, taking small, slow bites, and she jumped at the sound of his voice. Her wide brown eyes focused on him at last, and that simple action was grounding enough for him that he would almost have felt sorry for his outburst.

Almost.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, and the immediate frown on her face told him she was not to be messed with right now — too bad he didn’t care, at this point.

“What’s wrong with you, you mean,” he scoffed, folding his arms and shaking his head. “You’ve been sulking for days. So tell me how to fix it, or just stop doing that already!”

If he’d been self-aware enough for that, he would no doubt have realized how childish he sounded. Kagome could have, too, but instead, her face flushed.

“I’m fine!” she replied, her voice too high-pitched to be convincing. “It’s not your problem anyway, so just forget about it!”

“How is it not my problem when you’re all—” He gestured at her, frustrated. “—and it’s a pain to travel!”

“Well if it’s a pain to travel with me, why don’t you just go with someone else?” she replied, raising her voice a little more.

“Because I don’t want to travel with someone else!” he yelled back. “I just want you to tell me how to not make it hard for you!”

She went quiet then, uncharacteristically so, red spreading to her ears, and Inuyasha growled under his breath, muttering to himself. He wasn’t sure what to do with this quiet Kagome. If she needed to scream at him to feel better, well, she could get on with that, and at least then she’d be fixed or whatever, but even picking a fight wasn’t working, damn it.

“I’m sorry,” Kagome whispered at last, and Inuyasha started like he’d been stung by a bee. Uh, yeah, not good. She didn’t do that. Even when she was in the wrong, she needed her time and space to calm down, and then she’d apologize, often while bringing him an offering of ramen. She never turned down a fight with an immediate apology.

That was when the tears came.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, sniffing.

“Wh— No— Don’t—” he pleaded, voice cracking, but she paid him no attention.

“I just— It’s been a very long year, you know? And I— I— I miss my mom,” she finally broke, waterfalls on her cheeks, quiet sobs wracking her body as she wrapped her arms around her knees.

Inuyasha froze. He reached out for her without thinking, overwhelmed by the need to make it stop, make it better, make her better, make it so she’d never ever cry again, but his fingers curled up before he could touch her, caught by some other part of his instinct.

“W-why didn’t you just say so! You can just— you can just go home then!” he scoffed, trying very hard to sound annoyed, but he couldn’t keep the worry out of his voice.

“But we’ve been on the road for days,” Kagome sniffed, “and it would take days to go back, and we haven’t found that stupid Jewel shard, and I just want her to give me a hug, and—”

“Ha, well I-I can do that too! You could have asked me!”

That made Kagome stop crying for long enough to give him a blank stare.

“Come on, Inuyasha. I’m not going to force you to hug me.”

“W-who said anything about forcing me!”

“Well you don’t look thrilled about it,” she said, doubtful, and at least she was crying a lot less now, but her eyes and nose were still read and he wasn’t going to let that slide, was he?

“J-just— just don’t move, okay?”

Clumsily, despite how careful he was being, he put both arms around her, awkwardly tugging her until he’d brought her against his chest. He was barely touching her, his arms forming a misshaped circle hovering around her. He’d hugged her before, but it had been an impulsive action, not one he’d thought about. He— had no idea how to do it intentionally.

Against his chest, Kagome giggled.

“You have to actually hug me, you know? Like that.”

She did it without hesitation, wrapping her arms around him. Closing her eyes, she rested her head against his, and this time when he froze, there were very different emotions running within him. On the top of his head, his ears were twitching, all his senses alert, taking in her breathing that was getting more even, her smell, her breath against his skin. Swallowing, he finally brought himself to close his arms around her, and she sighed contentedly.

“See?” she asked. “That’s nice, isn’t it?”

He could barely reply around the knot in his throat. She felt so soft against him, so delicate. His half-demon strength would make it so, so easy to break her in half — and she knew that. Her warmth was spreading through him, from his chest and face to the root of his hair and the tip of his toes. Everything he felt was Kagome. With great care, he ran his fingers through her hair, not wanting his claws to cut through them by accident. She shivered, tilted her head forward a little to give him better access. Mesmerized, he kept going. Her hair felt soft between his fingers, silky.

Everything about this was calming. And she’d been right. It was nice.

It caught him by surprise when she moved, entangling herself from him.

“Thanks, Inuyasha,” she said, sniffing again. “I’m feeling better. It was nice of you to— Oh!”

He pulled her back into him, this time with a tighter grip.

“You said you needed a hug, so I’m giving you one that’ll last you until I can get you back to your time,” he said gruffly. “Now just sleep, ‘kay?”

Her laugh vibrated through his chest, and he found it to be the best thing he’d ever felt.

“Okay,” she said. “Thanks, Inuyasha.”

He would have told her that he was just doing it so she’d be in the mood for shard hunting the next day, but if she’d called him out, he would never have been able to lie with a straight face, so he chose not to.

‘cause truth be told, now that he was experiencing it, he thought he’d needed that hug at least as much as her.

Don't have ideas for the upcoming themes so this will probably be my last entry for the week! Thank you all for the love on yesterday's entry, hope you've enjoyed this one as well, and I'll see you when I see you!

[paingoes]

Rubies

Check In

this is the most living weapon its gotten in a while

(Content: living weapon whumpee, recovery, conditioning, past abuse, guilt, emotional whump, death mention)

Delta rolled over in the bed. He didn’t startle so much when he woke up anymore; the room had become familiar. Even weeks later, he still slept much more there than he ever had on the Thorn. He was still so tired all the time. They’d said it was okay for him to rest. He was grateful for that.

The only issue was how disoriented it made him. He didn’t know what time it was when he awoke, but the sky outside was bright and airy. He slowly rose up, about to brush his hair out of his face when he remembered it wasn’t there anymore. So weird.

He cracked open the bedroom door, doing his best to keep quiet. It was a force of habit. He slipped out into the hallway.

Levon was standing in the kitchen.

Delta dropped as soon as his eyes fell on him. Before Levon could even get a word out, he’d already gotten onto the floor, bowed down about as low as he could get.

He didn’t hear Kitty approach, but she was at his side soon enough, gently urging him off of the ground. He almost fought her. He didn’t want to. He reluctantly stood up, but he could not bring himself to look up. In his periphery, Levon leaned back against the kitchen counter. 

“Good morning, Delta.” He was unperturbed by the display, not upset with him for standing, as deeply wrong as it felt to do it.

It was the first time he’d said his name. Delta paid careful attention to the way he’d handled it. No contempt. No anger. 

Apollo stood back against the stove, staring daggers at Levon. He dropped the expression just as soon as he was caught doing it, but the discontent was still written across his face. A few bags were laid out on the counter.

Kitty’s hand still hung loosely in his own from where she’d picked him up off the ground. He found himself gripping it a little tighter. She bumped into him, nuzzling a bit like she was trying to mark her scent on him. He was already wearing her jacket.

“Thought I’d drop in to see how things are going. I brought you some clothes and some groceries. I’d have stopped by early, but I’ve been a bit preoccupied lately.” 

Something changed in Levon’s voice on those last few syllables. Nobody else would have noticed, but Delta had become adept at measuring people’s emotions. Finding their tipping points. It’d been a matter of survival.

He resisted the urge to drop to the floor again. He wouldn’t beg for forgiveness. He didn’t deserve it. But he was sorry. He knew what preoccupied meant.

“Things are going fine.” Apollo’s tone didn’t betray any of his enmity. “Maybe you’d like to give him a minute to get his bearings? He just woke up.”

“I’m okay,” Delta said weakly, surprising himself. Surprising them, clearly. 

He clamped his hand over his mouth just as quickly. He hadn’t been given permission to speak, not in front of Levon. He wouldn’t have normally. He didn’t like to object, but he had an override: Levon didn’t need to give him anything.

“It won’t be long.” Levon rested his elbows against the counter. “You’ll have the rest of the day to yourself, I promise. Just a talk.”

“Yes, sir,” Delta confirmed cautiously, since he hadn’t been punished for speaking the first time. 

Kitty leaned closer against him. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught her wink.

~

They went outside. Levon had obviously wanted to talk alone, but was not so audacious as to kick Apollo out of his own house. Delta pulled on a pair of blue and white tennis shoes he’d recovered from the den before stepping out into the morning light. He hadn’t come out to this side of the house yet, certainly hadn’t ventured as far as the dirt road that led up to it. 

Levon’s ship was parked in the yard, nearly the same size as the house. It was a bright, electric purple, reflecting the sunlight out at harsh angles. His leather boots paced unbothered through the grass of the yard, getting dust on their edges as he walked out into the road. Delta followed after him. It was a bit hard to keep pace when Levon was so much taller. Levon slowed down to accommodate the difference.

It was warm out. Delta studied the trees of the forest around him — mostly Arecaceae. They were further South then he’d realized. Bright birds moved upwards in the canopy.

The wildlife was much easier to focus on than the figure beside him. He couldn’t help himself from tensing as Levon spoke.

“How’s your arm?” He cast a glance at the cast. Delta held it up for him, the way he would’ve under examination. If nothing else, Paris had at least made a clean break. It didn’t hurt much anymore. 

“It’s better. Thank you.” Delta blushed for some reason. It was hard to accept concern from Kitty or Apollo. It felt stranger coming from Levon. More taboo. He didn’t know why.

“You cut your hair,” Levon observed.

Delta flinched. 

“They…said I could,” he defended weakly. He shouldn’t have. He should’ve just left it alone, he didn’t know why he had even said anything in the first place. He started to apologize.

“No, it looks nice,” Levon said, “Lot less heavy, I’m sure.”

It was.

~

The road eventually led up to a tributary, which led up to a large lake. It was cooler by the edge of it; the wind carried off of the water.

“I wanted to check in to see if you were adjusting okay. I wanted to make sure that you were ready to come back,” Levon admitted, toeing at a stone with his boot. He cast Delta a sidelong glance. “Are you ready to come back?”

Delta stared at him blankly. Levon nodded; of course he didn’t know. Nobody had bothered to explain it to him. 

He passed him a smooth shaped stone. He didn’t know why. Gesture of moral support? Delta took it anyway.

“There’s going to be a trial. Nothing big. We just need to catch some of the council up to speed on your situation and establish a plan going forward.” He paused.

Delta had returned to staring at the ground. The thumb of his good hand turned anxiously over on the stone; he gave no other indication he was upset. Everything else remained perfectly neutral.

“This is only in the interest of security,” Levon tried to reassure him, “It won’t be punitive — though that may come up in conversation, nobody will go for it. I’d veto it before they could. I gave you my word that you wouldn’t be harmed and I mean that. Still…it may be a difficult experience for you. And your friends are concerned it may be too early.”

~

Delta blinked. They’d said that?

They’d been concerned about him. That strange, dull ache started up in his chest again. They’d defended him.

Not punitive, he’d said. Why not? He’d have deserved it. Amnesty was a promise they had made to him; it was never anything he had asked for. All he had wanted was to get out. Whatever they decided to do with him afterwards was beyond him. He’d have accepted it gladly. It was the least he deserved.

What plan, then?

The answer came to mind nearly before the question did. How best to utilize him. What targets to hit. How he’d need to be disciplined — not punished, disciplined — and how he’d need to be re-trained.

He’d do it. If Levon asked him to, he’d do it.

He thought of Lemuria. He thought, funnily enough, of the seagulls he’d once vaporized midair when they’d been in proximity of the target ship. What had the gull ever done wrong?

“I’ll go, sir,” he said, though he didn’t feel ready. By the end of the month, he’d be closer to it. He didn’t want to delay it. He didn’t want to be difficult.

“We’re still preparing,” Levon nodded, “You should be, too. It’d be nice to have a clearer view of what your desires are for the future. It’d give us something to work around. I don’t know if you’ve given it any thought, but I’d be remiss not to ask.”

A large waterfowl descended from the sky, landing noisily just at the edge of the water. His attention was drawn away for a second. He was still looking at it when he answered.

“I’m not sure I understand, sir.” He found himself gripping the rock tighter.

He could only read the question as a probe, something to get caught on. But he didn’t get the sense of Levon trying to trick him. He couldn’t untangle it.

“Would you want to stay onboard Galatea after all this? Or do you want to be done with it? I can’t make any promises, but we’d take it into consideration during the ruling.”

Oh. Oh.

They don’t need you.

The realization hit with both relief and devastation. The devastation won out. He couldn’t stop himself.

“I can still operate,” he said. He had never once had to fear obsolescence. It was a brand new terror. “I’m not at full capacity anymore, but it’s still viable. If you wanted me to. Sir.”

His hands traced the collar unconsciously. 

Levon had been standing with his hand on his hip, his head cocked to the side in a post that made him look younger than he was. Rebel heartthrob — he’d never forgotten how to act like it. As the offer, his posture dropped, his expression turning much more serious. 

Delta flinched from the way his face fell, the minute shift of his shoulder. But the hit didn’t come, again. 

“Delta,” he spoke calmly, but there was a sternness beneath it, “Do me a favor.”

“Yes, sir.” His fingers twitched. Anything.

“Don’t ever suggest that again.”

He shut down.

They didn’t want it. All his life he’d been indispensable and now they didn’t even want it. In that instant, the thousand discreet instances of indiscriminate killing came secondary to his desire to be needed.

Levon’s expression softened, his lips parting slightly as his eyes searched.

“Is that what you want?” he asked quietly. “To keep being a weapon?”

There was no good answer, no right one. To his horror, he realized his eyes had started watering again. What the fuck was wrong with him?

“Oh, oh, no,” Levon’s eyes widened in surprise, all his harshness leaving. “Okay. Easy.”

“Sorry.” He wiped at his eyes frantically. “I didn’t…mean to.”

Fuck.

“You’re alright. So, more time then?” 

He hated to ask for it. He didn’t answer.

“Okay. More time,” Levon confirmed.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

It was his thousandth time hearing that. It never sank in. He’d never be sorry enough.

~

It was a somewhat awkward walk back to the house. Kitty hopped off the porch as they approached, making grabby hands. Delta took the one of them, letting her slide into place beside him. He appreciated the proximity. She glanced at his eyes, still a bit inflamed from crying, and leveraged herself in between him and Levon.

“Whaddya talk about?” she purred.

“The future,” Levon answered.

“Oh no.”

Delta pressed his forehead against her shoulder. He’d just woken up, but he was tired again. It was the kind of exhaustion sleep wouldn’t fix.

“I can extend the grace period if you really need it. Not by much, I’m afraid.” he cast a cautious look at Delta, “But you’d have more time to think it over.”

She moved up onto the porch. Delta hovered between her and the front door, unsure if he was being dismissed. Levon leaned against the railing at the bottom of the stairs, his hand returning to his hip.

“Really?” Her voice was bright, pleasantly surprised. “You’re gonna be able to hold up without me?”

“I know you’re still working,” he leveled. 

She giggled in response, the edge of her tail flicking back and forth, “I thought you needed the help.”

“There is no overstating how much help we need.”

Delta still hovered by the door, overcome with the strangest feeling of loss. He felt like he was witnessing something alien, the way people spoke when they did not have daggers drawn.

Levon pulled off of the lawn. The engine’s cacophony broke up the quiet morning, then was gone just as quickly as it appeared.

“It was nice of him to drop off clothes,” Apollo managed, the picture of civility. Delta slid into the chair by the pass-through, leaning his arms against the counter. He flinched as Kitty passed behind him, interpreting any movement he could not see as a threat. She just hopped up on the counter, swinging her legs a little.

“What’d he say to you?” She asked, a bit of the levity gone but none of the gentleness.

Delta bit his nails; it was a worse habit than the hair-twirling, but his hair was too short to do that now. He shrugged.

“…Asked what I wanted to do.”

“Oh,” she paused, “What do you want?”

He shrugged again. It was disrespectful. He should’ve stopped. It was just hard to speak.

“Hadn’t thought about it,” he mumbled. 

Because he hadn’t. He didn’t think it would matter, that anyone would even bother to ask.

He wanted to be useful, if he had to pick one. And he didn’t really want to kill again. Those two seemed at odds with one another. 

~~~

…………

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @vivulapom @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety @flowery-whump @littlebookworm69

@lordcatwich @human-123-person @paperprinxe @whomeidontknowthem

[scrollonso]

Fanboy — Pedroscar (Ft. Sargecchi)

Oscar had been pacing in front of Logan's hotel room for what felt like hours — though in reality, it had barely been five minutes. His mind raced as he replayed the same scenarios over and over, trying to figure out how to frame his request without sounding too desperate. Every time he thought he had the perfect approach, doubt crept in. What if Logan laughed at him? Or worse, what if Logan told Marco and then Marco told Pedro? The sheer thought of it made Oscar feel like a schoolboy with a crush, which, in a way, he kind of was.

Logan had been seeing Marco for a while now — well, kind of. They weren’t official yet, but Oscar knew it was only a matter of time. Hell, Marco already had a small tattoo on his thigh dedicated to the American, a tiny symbol that Marco swore was just for them. It was the kind of thing that made Oscar simultaneously cringe and feel envious. Logan had it all: a blossoming relationship with a MotoGP star, the perfect insider access, and now, by extension, a way for Oscar to meet Pedro Acosta.

Pedro Acosta. The name alone made Oscar’s pulse quicken. Pedro had captivated him from the first moment he saw him on his bike back in 2021, far before he got to MotoGP. The way he handled himself on the track, the sharp focus in his eyes, the post-race interviews when his accent was at its thickest — it was all too much. Oscar had tried to brush it off as a passing infatuation, but deep down, he knew it was more than that. And now, thanks to Logan’s connection with Marco, Oscar saw a golden opportunity he couldn’t let slip through his fingers.

Gathering every ounce of courage, Oscar finally stepped up to Logan’s door and knocked. His heart pounded in his chest as he waited, each second stretching out painfully. When the door opened, Logan stood there, fresh from a shower, hair slightly damp, looking as relaxed as ever.

“What’s up, mate?” Logan asked, leaning casually against the doorframe.

Oscar didn’t even bother with small talk. He was too wound up for that. “Logan, you have to ask Marco to get me a pass to the next Grand Prix,” he blurted out, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback. He crossed his arms, giving Oscar a curious look. “What? You’re not even into MotoGP like that.”

Oscar sighed, feeling like the weight of his crush on Pedro was the worst-kept secret in the world. “Look, I just really, really want to meet Acosta, alright?” he admitted, his voice dropping a notch. “You know I’ve had a crush on him forever.”

Logan's expression shifted from curiosity to amusement, a knowing smirk spreading across his face. “Oh, that’s what this is about,” he said, drawing out the words for effect. “You want me to get Marco to invite you so you can swoon over Pedro? You could’ve just said that, mate.”

“Yes!” Oscar’s desperation was fully on display now, his hands coming together in a pleading gesture. “I’m begging you, Logan. Please. You know Marco can get us into the paddock, right? Just mention it to him. Please!”

Logan snickered, clearly enjoying the sight of his normally composed friend unraveling like this. “Alright, alright, don’t get all dramatic,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ll talk to Marco, but no promises. Besides,” he added with a mischievous grin, “if Pedro notices you, I’m never letting you live it down.”

Oscar’s eyes lit up, his earlier anxiety melting away. “You’re a legend, Logan. Seriously, I owe you one. I’ll do anything.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Logan said, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “Just don’t embarrass me in front of Marco or his rider friends. I’ve got my own reputation to think about.”

Oscar nodded eagerly, already imagining what it would be like to finally meet Pedro. The thrill of being in the paddock, seeing Pedro up close, maybe even having a conversation with him — it was almost too much to handle. But for now, all he could do was hope that Logan’s connection with Marco would come through.

A few days later, Oscar's phone buzzed with a message from Logan.

"Marco’s picking us up at 8. Be ready."

Oscar barely slept that night. His mind kept replaying the scenarios — meeting Pedro, what he’d say, what he’d wear. When his alarm finally went off, he was already wide awake, pacing again, but this time in his own apartment. He double-checked his outfit at least three times before heading downstairs to wait for Logan and Marco.

Right on time, Marco pulled up in front of the building, the rumble of the engine making Oscar’s heart jump. Logan was sitting in the passenger seat, his window down and a grin plastered on his face.

“C’mon, mate, let’s go!” Logan shouted, motioning for Oscar to hop in the back.

Oscar slid into the backseat, immediately hit with a mix of nerves and excitement. Marco glanced at him in the rearview mirror with an easy smile. "Ready for your big day, Oscar?"

Logan chuckled before Oscar could respond. "Oh, he’s been ready for days now. Can’t stop thinking about his beloved Acosta."

Marco raised an eyebrow and laughed, the sound light and teasing. "So that’s why you were so eager for me to bring you to the race." He glanced over at Logan. "You didn't tell me your friend had a thing for Pedro."

Oscar felt his cheeks flush instantly. "I- it's not like that," he stammered, trying to sound cool, but failing miserably. "I just, y'know... respect his racing skills."

Logan snorted, twisting in his seat to look back at Oscar with a wide grin. "Mate, you were literally begging me the other day. 'Please, Logan, you have to introduce me to Pedro!'" He teased, reaching over and shaking Marco's arm as he mocked the Aussie.

Marco chuckled again, shaking his head as they started down the road toward the track. "You’ve got good taste, I’ll give you that. Pedro’s a great rider. But I hope you’re ready for all the chaos that comes with the paddock. It's not just racing; it’s a circus. Especially with him. "

Oscar let out a nervous laugh, trying to play it off, but inside, his stomach was in knots. "Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine. Just... don’t, you know, mention anything about the crush thing to Pedro."

"Oh, don’t worry," Logan said, his tone dripping with mischief. "We won’t say a word." He paused for dramatic effect. "Not unless it comes up."

"Logan!" Oscar groaned, burying his face in his hands. "You promised!"

Marco laughed again, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Don't worry, Oscar. Pedro's a good guy. Besides, he'll probably be too focused on the race to notice anything."

"Yeah, focused on winning, not on some random fanboy," Logan added, earning a glare from Oscar.

"I’m not a fanboy," Oscar muttered, slumping back into his seat. "I just... appreciate talent."

"Sure, mate, sure," Logan said with a wink. "But hey, if Pedro does notice you, you better be ready. MotoGP riders are a different breed." He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows as Oscar's face scrunched up.

Marco nodded in agreement, his voice soft but teasing. "And if he doesn't notice, you’ll have to try harder. Maybe bring a sign next time? 'Pedro, marry me!' or something like that?"

Oscar groaned again, his face now a deep shade of red as both Logan and Marco burst into laughter.

As they neared the track, Marco shot Oscar another playful glance in the mirror. "Don’t worry, we’ll take it easy on you — at least until you meet Pedro. Then all bets are off."

When they pulled into the paddock area, Oscar felt his heart rate pick up again. The sight of the gleaming trucks, bikes, and riders milling around was almost surreal. It was a dream come true, but also terrifying now that he was so close to meeting Pedro Acosta.

Marco parked the car and turned around to face Oscar, who was still gripping the seatbelt tightly. "Alright, we're here. Just breathe," he said, his tone now a bit more reassuring, though the teasing glint in his eyes hadn't fully faded.

Logan hopped out of the car with his usual easygoing demeanor, but as Oscar stepped out, he felt the weight of his nerves pressing down on him again. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but his stomach still felt like it was doing backflips.

Logan tossed an arm around Oscar’s shoulders, grinning like a kid in a candy store. "You alright, mate? You're looking a bit pale."

Oscar swatted his hand away, trying to act casual. "I'm fine. Just... excited, I guess."

Marco joined them, adjusting his jacket before nodding toward the pit lane. "Alright, let's go find the others. I’m sure Pedro’s around somewhere."

At the mention of Pedro, Oscar’s heart gave another lurch, but he forced himself to keep it together. He couldn’t make a fool of himself in front of Logan and Marco — or worse, Pedro. As they walked through the paddock, Oscar’s eyes darted around, taking in the sights. Mechanics were bustling around, riders were in various stages of preparation, and journalists hovered nearby, trying to catch interviews.

Marco waved at a few familiar faces as they passed, and soon enough, they spotted Pedro’s bike being prepped by his team. Oscar’s heart stopped when he saw Pedro standing nearby, deep in conversation with one of his mechanics.

Logan elbowed Oscar gently, smirking. "There he is, mate. Your knight in shining leather."

Oscar swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. "Yeah, I see him," he muttered, trying to sound calm, but the anxiety was creeping back in full force.

Marco leaned in closer and whispered, "Now’s your chance. You want an introduction, or are you going to stare at him from a distance all day?"

Oscar hesitated, feeling like his feet were glued to the ground. "I— I don’t know," he stammered. "Maybe I should wait until after the race? I don’t want to distract him."

Logan shook his head with a laugh. "You’re hopeless, Oscar. Pedro’s a pro. He won’t even bat an eye."

Before Oscar could respond, Pedro turned around, noticing Marco, Logan, and Oscar standing nearby. A bright smile spread across Pedro's face as he walked over to greet them, his relaxed confidence making Oscar’s nerves spike even higher.

"Hey, Marco!" Pedro called out, clapping Marco on the back before turning to Logan. "Logan, good to see you."

Then, his eyes landed on Oscar, and for a split second, Oscar forgot how to breathe. Pedro extended his hand toward him, smiling warmly. "And you must be Oscar, right? Marco’s mentioned you before."

Oscar blinked, his brain short-circuiting as he took Pedro’s hand, trying not to let his palms sweat too much. "Uh, yeah, that’s me," he said, forcing a smile and hoping his voice didn’t crack.

Pedro chuckled lightly, his grip firm but friendly. "Nice to meet you, man. Hope you’re enjoying the paddock."

Oscar nodded dumbly, still trying to process the fact that Pedro Acosta knew his name. "Yeah, it’s... amazing. Really cool."

Logan, clearly enjoying the whole situation, smirked and leaned in toward Pedro. "Oscar’s been dying to meet you, mate. He’s a big fan."

Pedro shot Oscar a playful glance, his smile widening. "Is that so? Well, I’m glad I could make your day."

Oscar felt his face burning with embarrassment, but Pedro’s friendly demeanor was starting to ease his nerves — just a little. "Yeah, I’ve followed your career for a while," Oscar admitted, managing to find his voice. "You’re, uh, incredible on the track."

"Thanks, man," Pedro said, sounding genuinely appreciative. "I’ve still got a lot to learn, but I’m doing my best out there."

Logan, ever the instigator, couldn’t resist one last jab. "Careful, Pedro. Oscar might ask for a selfie and then frame it on his wall."

Oscar groaned, glaring at Logan. "I hate you," he muttered under his breath.

Pedro laughed, clearly amused by their banter. "Hey, no worries. I’d be honored to be on someone’s wall," he said, winking at Oscar.

Oscar’s heart nearly exploded at the gesture, but before he could respond, the sound of engines revving nearby reminded them all that there was a race to prepare for. Marco clapped Pedro on the shoulder. "We should let you get back to it. Good luck out there."

"Thanks, Marco," Pedro said, giving a quick nod to all of them. "I’ll catch you guys after the race. Enjoy the show."

As Pedro walked away, Oscar let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, his body finally relaxing. Logan and Marco both turned to him with matching smirks.

"See?" Logan said, clapping him on the back. "That wasn’t so bad, was it?"

Oscar shook his head, a dazed smile on his face. "No," he admitted softly, "not bad at all."

As Pedro disappeared into the crowd, the hum of the paddock returning to its usual buzz, Oscar felt like he was floating. The nerves had faded into a dizzy sort of euphoria. He’d just met Pedro Acosta. He shook his hand. And Pedro knew his name.

Logan leaned against a nearby barrier, still grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "You look like you just met the Queen or something, mate."

Oscar rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. "Shut up, Logan. I’m allowed to be excited."

The race was a blur of excitement and tension, and by the time it was over, Pedro had finished third — an impressive podium finish considering the tough competition. The crowd erupted in cheers, and Oscar felt a sense of pride wash over him, even though he barely knew the guy.

As they started making their way back down to the paddock area, Oscar’s phone buzzed with a text, an Instagram notification. He glanced at the screen and felt his heart skip a beat.

"Hey, if you guys are still around, come by the garage. Would love to chat."

Oscar stared at the message for a moment, disbelief written all over his face. "Logan…"

Logan peered over at Oscar’s phone, his eyebrows shooting up. "No way. Pedro just texted you?"

Marco smirked. "Looks like you made quite the impression, Oscar."

Oscar couldn’t even process what was happening. He barely remembered how to breathe. "He wants us to come by his garage…"

Logan clapped him on the back. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go see your new best mate."

With Logan and Marco in tow, Oscar made his way from the VR46 garage to the KTM one. The excitement in the air felt even more electric now. When they reached Pedro’s garage, the young rider was waiting, still in his racing suit, talking to a few team members. His face lit up when he saw them approaching.

"Hey!" Pedro greeted them warmly, stepping away from his team. "Glad you guys could make it. What’d you think of the race?"

Oscar, still starstruck, fumbled for words. "You were… incredible," he managed, trying not to sound too overwhelmed. "Third place is amazing."

Pedro smiled, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Thanks, man. It was a tough one, but am happy with the podium."

Logan, ever the smooth talker, chimed in. "Oscar here couldn’t stop watching you. You’ve got yourself a loyal fan."

Pedro laughed, glancing at Oscar with a wide grin. "Well, I appreciate that. Always good to know someone’s got my back."

Oscar felt his face heat up again, but he managed a sheepish smile. "You’ve got a lot of fans, not just me."

Pedro shrugged, still looking at Oscar with an amused glint in his eye. "Maybe, but not all of them get a personal invite to the garage."

Oscar blinked, stunned for a moment. Was Pedro flirting with him? He couldn’t be sure, but the way Pedro was looking at him felt… different. Before he could spiral too much into that thought, Pedro nodded toward the bikes.

"Want to take a closer look?" he asked, his tone casual but kind.

Oscar’s eyes widened. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, come on," Pedro said, waving him over.

Oscar followed Pedro toward the bikes, feeling like he was in some kind of dream. Meanwhile, Logan and Marco exchanged knowing glances behind him, smirking as they watched their friend live out his wildest fantasy.

Oscar's excitement was palpable as he approached the bikes. Pedro's demeanor helped calm his racing heart, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this moment was something special, even if he was acting like a highschool girl.

Pedro stopped in front of one of the bikes and gestured for Oscar to come closer. "Alright, let's get you on it," Pedro said, his voice gentle but firm. "I'll help you mount it."

Oscar nodded hesitantly, he'd watched Pedro ride hundreds of times but he'd never thought of even sitting on a bike himself. Pedro placed a steadying hand on the bike and carefully guided Oscar into position. With a practiced touch, he helped Oscar swing one leg over the bike, ensuring he was seated comfortably.

"How's that?" Pedro asked, his proximity making Oscar's pulse quicken.

"Good," Oscar managed, his voice barely above a whisper. He adjusted his position, trying to get a feel for the bike beneath him.

Pedro’s hands lingered on Oscar’s waist for a moment longer than necessary before he pulled away. "You look like a natural. You look good sitting on my colours."

Oscar nodded, his face flushed with both excitement and a touch of embarrassment. "Thanks, Pedro."

Pedro gave him a reassuring smile. "Anytime. And hey, if you ever want to learn more, you know where to find me."

Logan and Marco watched the scene unfold, their smirks widening. It was clear to them that Pedro's attention to Oscar went beyond mere courtesy, and the way Oscar was responding made it obvious that the connection was mutual.

[writerwrabbleswords]

The worst (Part 2) | [Worst] Wolverine/[Male Iron Man variant] Reader

So many thoughts, and each one makes him feel worse.

  Quick Notes :  Hello! Here is a continuation of my [Worst] Wolverine/[Male iron man variant] Reader drabble/oneshot! This one was a bit harder to figure out the tempo of, especially considering the first one was only about 800 words, but I believe I made a satisfying continuation! There is room for another continuation set after this one, but I think I will only continue this story if it is requested. Simply because, I want to focus on other possible drabbles/oneshots without fully leaning into one idea. Of course, if a continuation is requested, I’ll write it!

  Story Details :  Roughly 1200 words, Deadpool & Wolverine spoilers, Male Reader is referred to as ‘You/Your,’ implied tragedy (Reader), Cliffhanger ending

You didn’t want to join the resistance’s efforts in attacking Cassandra. Logan knew why, of course - to lose the people you cared about twice over would drive anyone mad. He’d watched you for most of the night within the void - watching as you fiddled with your repulsor gauntlet - until at one point, Wade woke up. The mutant waking up caused both you and him to sigh heavily, but at least you didn’t outwardly show your annoyance. 

  With Wade awake, he quickly attempted to drag you into the resistance’s scheme, but you shot him down so quickly and harshly that even Logan was surprised.

  “I’m not going. You can face Cassandra with the others,” you stated bluntly, your fiddling coming to a stop as you flexed your fingers within the gauntlet you wore. They moved slightly, drawing the mans’ attention as he watched your face twist into one of bitterness. There was more to the story, and both he and Wade knew it.

  Of course, this was Wade, and that meant both you and him were well aware that the mutant wasn’t going to leave you alone. A scowl etched your lips, the repulsor gauntlet covering your hand letting out a sudden spark when you moved to clench your hand into a fist. You sighed heavily, and for a split second, Logan almost felt bad enough to try and help. He didn’t, of course, but he thought about it for longer than he normally would.

  “Come on, you’re a Stark, aren’t you?” Wade piped up from beside him, the mutant suddenly well aware of how close they were as he tried to keep his focus on you - on your reaction to the mans’ prodding words.

  What you said next, however, wasn’t what Logan would have guessed. Hell, if you’d given him a million years he couldn’t have guessed what you’d say.

  The scowl on your face deepened, your free hand picking up the screwdriver once more as you tried to force it between the plates,

  “Not anymore.” Bitterness coated your words like honey, though they were anything but sweet, “I don’t claim the name Stark, and I never will after being dropped in the void.”

  Logan felt his eyebrows raise, his gaze flickering to Wade as he noted the fact that his fellow mutant looked just as surprised as him. When Wade moved to open his mouth, he cut him off,

  “There a reason for that, bub?” 

  You paused, your hand stilling for a brief moment before returning to its task of pulling apart your repulsor gauntlet and shoving wires back into place. It was clear you weren’t keen to discuss your reasoning, your movements jerking as you tried to keep the anger clearly simmering below the surface at bay.

  Instead of answering Logan, you turned away in your chair, resting your gauntlet on one thigh as you dug in between the metal of it. The base fell silent once more, Wade glancing at him before patting him on the shoulder in some sort of silent bid; Logan shrugged his hand off.

  Both the mutants could sense you were done with the conversation, and reluctantly, both Wade and himself chose to depart to their designated sleeping areas, exchanging glances that said more than words could. Logan had spent most of the night speaking with you - learning every little thing you offered him - and an odd pang quickly filled him when you’d all but dismissed his question. He knew he shouldn’t take it personally, he was similar in that way, but he couldn’t help it. The desire to know why was all that seemed to bounce around in his mind.

  Logan didn’t get much sleep that night.

  When the resistance departed the next morning, you remained at the base, still working on that infernal gauntlet like it was the only thing left for you. He wanted to say something, anything to convince you to come along and help, but the mutant knew it would be useless. A trait carried across Stark’s was they were stubborn - even if you didn’t claim that name anymore - but it showed loud and clear in everything you did. You were stubborn, already half a genius if Logan had to guess, and from the small things you’d told him, you knew your way around the void more than you let on. He wanted to make you come along, but he knew better.

  Logan tucked himself into the trunk of the car, giving the base one last glance before the door was closed. From one window, he could see you watching, the look in your eyes one of eternal hatred - or perhaps a sense of bitterness - before you turned away and returned to your spot at the table. 

  Electra’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, the woman adjusting her weapons before the car lurched forward and the group was off.

  “He’s always been like that, you know,” Logan looked towards her, noticing Wade’s glance as well, “He’s been here for years, and he never leaves the base. We’re lucky if we can get him to go find food.”

  A frown tugged at her face, Electra’s brows knitting together in some unnamed emotion; Logan couldn’t tell what it was.

  “He’s always working on that damned repulsor gauntlet, and I don’t think any of us have seen him with his full suit before,” Blade added coolly, cleaning the rocket launcher he held in his lap.

  Logan gave a quiet huff of annoyance, his gaze focusing on the quickly fading base. What kept you from leaving? More importantly - at least in his eyes - why were you the worst Iron Man? He knew he was the worst Wolverine, that had been made abundantly clear by the fucker from the TVA, but it was hard to believe an Iron Man could be the worst at, well, anything.

  “He got a reason for that?” The mutant asked after a pause in the conversation, leaning back in the trunk as he crossed his arms, “Or ‘s he just rough around the edges?”

  None of the resistance spoke, and that was answer enough for Logan. 

  His thoughts drifted back to when he’d met you the night prior - when you’d been almost obsessively tearing into your repulsor gauntlet - how you hadn’t told him your name, only the term you’d been called. It made him wonder who’d called you that enough for you to seemingly believe it. The thought made his stomach twist uncomfortably, much to his annoyance. 

  Logan zoned out from the conversation Wade was having with the others, unable to hide the vague worry that had begun to fill his chest. He shouldn’t be worried about you - he barely fucking knew you - but the feeling just wouldn’t go away. Before he could mull on it further, the mutant was pulled from his thoughts.

  It was show time.

[shan-yee]

𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝

Daryl Dixon x younger!fem!reader ๏𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 = 950 ๏𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 = death, gun, reader lost her sibling and her parents, reader lost her sanity, age gap, Daryl saw the reader grow up. ๏𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢 = Sometimes you have to do things that you don’t want to for the sake of your loved ones. ๏𝙰/𝙽 = I KNOW I HAVE REQUESTS TO DO, but i rewatched TWD and damn Daryl… ๏𝙰/𝙽 2 = English is not my first language, please let me know if you see any mistakes ! Enjoy ✨

Save me from the nothing i’ve become

Daryl had never believed in love, that is, if this « love » concerned him directly. He had always been happy for his people when they found the boot that fit them. But the idea that he could one day find someone who would accept him for who he was despite his damn character and his many emotional wounds, still open, was inconceivable to him.

And if one day someone had told him that he would indeed find love in a young woman whom he had watched grow up and protected for a good part of his life, he would have laughed out loud. Even more so if this said person had told him that he would also be the one to take the young woman’s life.

He didn't understand how everything could have taken such a turn, was it too much to ask to have a happy and simple life, in a house with blue walls and a garden, with his family.

Accepting the fact that he loved someone much younger than him took courage but he did it. And when he was finally living a somewhat normal life in this apocalyptic world, he now had to take the life of the woman he loved to protect his found family.

When Rick told him about it, he refused, he even got angry and shoved his friend before storming off. Then he thought, really thought, about what Rick had said to him.

Looking at [Y/N], sitting towards the many graves that the inhabitants had dug, with a blank look and the skin of her lips bleeding from the many open wounds they had, he realized that maybe, maybe it was the best solution.

Daryl understood that after losing the only living member of her family the young woman might be devastated and need time. But there was something else behind this sadness, a feeling that Daryl had only seen in his father. Such destructive hatred that he came to shiver every time his gaze met that of his beloved.

She had never been the type to always be full of energy or cheerful, how could you be when death lurks near your house every day, but this look had nothing to do with her usual detached and grumpy morning look.

So finally, he accepted. It was out of the question that anyone other than him would do it. He had gripped the grip of his gun with a trembling hand and that same evening he had found the young woman in the garden, where she spent most of her time, looking at the flowers that Carol was growing with disinterest.

When he got close enough to clearly see the outline of her body, he stopped abruptly, like a stake. And the [H/C] haired woman seemed to know he was there, why he was there.

He saw her turn her head slightly and glance at his weapon before turning it around and returning her attention to the many flowers.

—I’m tired. She whispered, her voice raspy, as if she hadn't slept for several days.

—I know. He answered her, his eyebrows furrowing as he felt like he had never blinked so much in his entire life.

—I’m sorry.

—I know. he repeated.

The young woman's shoulders sagged before she slowly stood up, Daryl's gaze following her every movement with an eagle eye. He knew she wouldn't try to run away and deep down he hoped she would, that she would hit him before running away at full speed. But she wouldn't do it, even if he asked her.

She approached slowly and Daryl was able to admire her one last time, she didn't smile at him, she hadn't done so for a while, but he saw a certain tenderness in her eyes, a tenderness that she always reserved for him and their friends.

Decided, the man took her in his arms, her head against his chest and she let him do without saying anything, her eyes closing.

—You’re not going to kiss me one last time ? She asked him with a touch of humor in her voice.

But he didn't answer her. She knew that her question was selfish, she was going to rest forever but he would have to live with that, live with the act he was going to commit and the distant memory of a woman he had loved but could not save.

—Will it hurt ? Her voice resonated like a sweet melody in the older 's ear.

—I don’t know.

—That’s the only thing you didn’t know tonight. The young woman laughed without any real amusement.

He wanted to tell her that she was wrong, that he didn’t know what he was doing right now, that his action was surely going to be the biggest mistake of his life, but he didn’t. He decided to keep his feelings to himself, tonight was not about him but about her and for his peace of mind he was ready to bury everything.

She finally felt the soft coldness of the muzzle against her temple before taking a deep breath, she felt ready, ready to finally find her family in the afterlife and stop this infinite race against death.

—I love you Daryl, i really do.

The corners of his mouth twitched and he held her a little closer to his chest as if to reassure himself.

—I love you. He murmured in the corner of her ear, leaving aside his usual disinterested tone before pressing the trigger.

Daryl never spoke of that night again, refusing even to pronounce the first name of his former lover and no one ever found the young woman's body.

[dnbrainrot]

I FUCKING FORGOT TO POST ABOUT THIS YESTERDAY BUT I HAVE BEEN BLESSED BY @poofmalyakaet MY LAWLIGHT SOCKS SHOWED UP

IM INSANE I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

They also came with a few little prints WHICH I ALSO LOVE AND HAVE IMMEDIATELY PUT ON MY WALL

Thank you poof for bringing these into existence I will cherish them until the day I die <3

[imaybe5tupid]

if you see absolutely anything that has kabru in it. And are unable to stop yourself from making it about L/abru (even when Laios doesn’t even appear or is irrelevant to the content in question!) and reduce kabrus entire deuteragonist-level character into wanting to fuck laios. I’m stealing something out of your house!!!!!

disclaimer: If you ship l/abru and gaf about kabru and don’t do this then this post isn’t about you 🤓

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

All I’m going to say I think now that my brain remembered part of what it was thinking is that Taylor and Joe went through a lot together (good and bad) and regardless of how it ended or what led to it they both seem to be determined to keep that private and not throw each other under the bus and in the end they’re just two very, very different people whose outlooks in the long term were just never going to align and never has that been clearer.

[emotinalsupportturtle]

the main reason I will always be obsessed with David Tennant is that fundamentally, we share the same mental illness

[shrekyaoi]

Both intimidated and intrigued by how Price is worse than Ghost and Makarov

i’m gonna be dead fucking honest i think price killed his dad

[roseworth]

i think cass and duke both have (different) complicated relationships with whether or not they see bruce as their father (or even the bats as their family) but we’re not allowed to talk about that bc people would just use it as another excuse to exclude them

[a-passing-storm]

I did too much drawing and writing so I’m writing with my left hand now, and I’m reminded of how weird it is that I’m ambidextrous.

[camgoloud]

today. i have experienced the HORRORS (opened laptop for morning meeting while seated between boss and coworker; was greeted with ao3 page i forgot to close last night)

[calenhads]

act 2…. done?

[goldensunset]

on tumblr you can type an entire vent post that’s clearly very personal to your experiences and isn’t supposed to be a universal proclamation and some account you have quite genuinely never seen before in your life will assume that by posting it you are making a submission to r/aita to be judged by the world and will inform you that they think you are in the wrong for the way you feel