#LIKE BITCH WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN

[fawnhart]

bambi and drew when they were a ‘situationship’ ! ˚ ᡣ𐭩. 𖥔 ๋࣭

Drew’s breathing is still erratic, the sex you just shared with him has left him gasping for air. You don’t say anything—just slip out from under the covers, the chill of the room hitting your skin. You don’t even look at him when you walk to the bathroom.

The door clicks shut behind you, but you can still hear him shifting in the bed, the soft rustling of sheets. You stare at yourself in the mirror, eyes wide, brows furrowed.

What the fuck am I doing?

You don’t even realize when he starts walking toward you. It’s like he’s always been behind you, looming over you even when you don’t want him to be.

The bathroom door cracks open, and there he is, looking confused.

“baby, what are you doing?”

You don’t even know why you’re still talking to him at all. You came over to talk about how you’re sick and tired of being pushed aside, sick of feeling left out anytime his freinds are around, not fitting in because they view you as young and naive. But like always you gave in and slept with him. You knew the conversation wasn’t happening, so what’s the point in staying?

“I’m leaving,” you say, your voice barely a whisper, but it feels louder than anything you’ve ever said to him.

His face twists into something you can't quite place—disbelief, anger, hurt, all mixed together. “Wh- Are you serious?”

You can’t even look at him. You focus on your reflection in the mirror, the way your shoulders sag, how defeated you feel and look. Mascara and lip liner smeared, your cheeks warm and sweaty.

“I’m serious,” you murmur. “I’m done.”

He takes a step closer, reaching out to touch your arm, but you pull away. His touch, once comforting, feels like a brand now. Like it burns.

“Bambi, you’re being ridiculous” he says, a laugh edging his words, but it doesn’t sound like he’s laughing at all. It sounds like he’s mocking you.

“I’m not being ridiculous!” you snap, spinning around to face him. You feel the words press against your chest, sharp and bitter. “It was a mistake.”

He scoffs. “A mistake? After everything? you’re really telling me this after what we just did?”

You bite your lip, eyes stinging. “Yes. Because you’re always so damn mean to me!”

The words hang in the air, thick with the tension between you both. Drew looks like he’s just been hit, but he’s not giving up.

He raises an eyebrow, his voice tinged with disbelief. “You don’t even know what you want half the time, Bambi. You change your mind like the goddamn wind. One minute, you want to be with me, the next, you’re pushing me away. How am I supposed to keep up with that?”

“You want to know why?” You’re shaking now, the anger bubbling over. “Because you make it impossible. You’re the one who’s always pushing and pulling me in when your little bitch isn’t in town. You make everything about yourself, and then when I need something—anything—there’s nothing, everytime you gain something I’m the one losing everything!”

Drew’s face hardens, and his voice lowers to something dangerous. “I’m not the one who doesn’t know what they are doing. You’re the one who thinks everything’s gonna work out just because you’re here with me. Newsflash! its not. Not everything is as simple as you want it to be. You’re naive to think it is.”

You feel your chest tighten, your throat burning. "Don’t call me that." You say as tears start staining your skin

He looks at you, unblinking. "You don't get it, You can't keep acting like everything's perfect, like we can just keep pretending things are fine when they’re not."

“It’s not fine, Drew," you say, your voice cracking. "That’s why I’m leaving.”

He just stares at you, his face twisted, his eyes dark with frustration. "This is stupid," he mutters, turning away and heading back to bed "I can’t keep doing this shit."

But you’re already over it. Your mind is made up, and you’re not going to let him talk you out of it. Not again. Not this time.

You grab your phone, your purse, and without a second glance, you’re out the door. The air hits you, cold and biting, but it feels better than the heat of the argument.

A cab pulls up, and you don’t hesitate. You climb in without looking back, your hands shaking as you close the door behind you. You don’t even know where you’re going yet, doesn’t matter anyway. You just need space.

The cab pulls away, and you stare out the window, watching the streetlights blur into streaks of yellow and orange.

Drew’s face is still stuck in your mind. His words, the way he made you feel small. He always does that, Makes you feel like you’re the one who doesn’t know what’s real, like you’re the one who’s in the wrong.

But you’re not wrong. Not this time. You know what you need, even if it hurts to walk away.

you wonder if Drew is standing in that dark apartment, staring at the door you just walked through, trying to figure out whether he wants you or not. Whether he’ll ever make up his mind.

Maybe, maybe not. But right now, all you know is that you need to breathe.

© 𝐅𝐀𝐖𝐍𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

[beautification-tales]

Co-Dependent

"You're just so... different, you know?" said Kara, eyeing Grace's lunch with a mix of amusement and disgust. She took a bite of her own burger, the mayo oozing out and staining the white bun.

Grace looked up from her salad bowl, a hint of irritation flickering in her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

“Like I heard you were popular back in high school. I mean all the boys from my class wanted to drive an hour to visit your school. Then I meet you… and you’re…” Kara gestured to the salad and then to Billie’s lanky frame, dressed in a vintage band t-shirt.

“Ordinary? Is that what you’re trying to say?” Billie spoke up, her voice a little sharper than she’d intended. The cafeteria buzzed around them, but it was as if the table had become an island of tension.

“I just don’t understand the hype.” Kara smirked, her friends snickering in agreement. Grace's cheeks flushed with a silent anger. “We decided being bitches wasn’t worth it. But how’s it working for you Kara?”

Kara’s smug expression faltered, and the room grew quieter as everyone leaned in to catch the impending drama. The smell of greasy fries and the sound of soda cans opening seemed to fade away. Grace's words had been like a pin prick to the bubble of tension. Billie felt a swell of pride for her friend, who had always been the calmer, more diplomatic one of the two.

“Sorry just asking. C’mon girls we’re leaving.” Kara stood up, tossing her half-eaten burger onto her tray. Her friends followed suit, their laughter trailing behind them as they strutted away, leaving Grace and Billie at the table.

“Is it really worth it Grace?” Billie whispered after the trio had disappeared into the crowd, her eyes scanning the room, expecting more glares or snickers. But the other students had already moved on, their attention grabbed by something else, leaving Grace and Billie in a pocket of relative quiet.

Grace looked through her eyeglasses. “You know why we agreed to stop.” She spoke so softly, Billie had to lean closer to hear. “But maybe we should show them who we really are, who we’ve become since high school. They can’t define us with their petty judgments. Besides, we’re not here to impress them or anyone else for that matter. We’re here to get our degrees and move on with our lives.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry” Billie replied. Grace took a deep breath, pushing her glasses up her nose, her eyes scanning the room for any signs of lingering malice. “You don’t have to agree so easily Billie. I’m not that bitch anymore.. I’m your friend and I care what you think ok?”

Billie nodded and went back to eating. "You know I don't care what they think, Grace. We've got each other." The two girls finished eating and attended class. They both took notes as Kara and her friends laughed and joked in the back. The class came to an end as Kara approached them. “You actually paid attention? How cute!” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Kara walked to the professor to flirt and fuck for her grade. Grace shook her head in disgust as Billie looked on in jealousy. “Let’s go Billie. We need to study for the test anyway.” Grace grabbed her books and stood up, her chair scraping against the floor.

Billie nodded, following her friend out of the classroom. They decided to hit the library early to avoid the after-class rush. The heavy oak doors of the library swung open, revealing the cool, quiet space filled with the scent of old books and the faint hum of the air conditioner. They found a table near the back, surrounded by towering bookshelves that offered them a bit of privacy.

They sat and opened their books. “I do miss how it was in high school. We should be running this place.” Billie said determined. Grace looked up from her book and sighed. “You’re talking like an addict. We agreed that.”

“You agreed! I just followed along like usual but I’m sick of bitches like Kara enjoying the lives we should be living!” Billie’s voice grew a little louder, echoing through the hushed library.

“Lower your voice you idiot!” Grace hissed, glancing around nervously. Billie bit her lip as her eyes rolled in the back of her head. “Mmm there she is! Now call me a pathetic slut and make eat your pussy as you plan to put Kara in her place.”

Billie put her hand on Grace’s arm, her eyes pleading. “No! I refuse to be that evil bitch again!” Grace’s eyes searched Billie’s, finding a mix of anger and fear. She took a deep breath, her grip on the textbook tightening. “Okay, Billie. We’re not going back to that. We threw the rings away remember?”

“Wrong!” Billie pulled out a ring an placed it on her finger. “Ungh … I missed this! I love being sexy!” Billie’s voice had changed, it had become more seductive and alluring. Her breasts, which were once small and unnoticeable, began to swell, pushing against the fabric of her shirt. Grace’s eyes widened in shock as she watched Billie transform.

“Don’t do this Billie! You’re a good person” Grace whispered urgently, her voice barely audible above the library’s white noise. But Billie’s transformation was already underway. Her once flat ass grew, the buttons of her jeans straining to contain the newfound volume. Grace felt a strange mix of horror and fascination, her mind racing with unanswered questions and a building dread of what was to come.

“Don’t you remember when we stole them from the Alpha bitches our Sophomore year? How fucking good it felt?” Billie caressed her new curves savoring her transformation. Grace put her head down trying to fight her arousal.

“Please Grace! I want this! I want you to be that legendary bitch again.”

Billie smirked, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous light. “Remember how we used to make those sluts beg for mercy? That’s power, Grace. That’s what we gave up, and now we can have it back!”

Without warning, Billie’s hand shot out and grabbed Grace’s chin, tilting her head up. Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, Grace could see the flicker of doubt in Billie’s gaze. But it was quickly swallowed by the seductive power that seemed to be consuming her. Before she could react, Billie’s other hand began to wander, gliding over the soft fabric of Grace’s shirt and teasingly grazing her nipples. Grace’s breath hitched, and she felt her body respond despite her mind’s protests. The warmth from Billie’s touch spread through her, igniting a fire in her core that she thought she’d left behind in their high school days.

“Don’t you miss making me please you as your slave?” Billie’s voice was a sultry whisper, her eyes dancing with a mischief that sent a shiver down Grace’s spine. She felt Billie’s hand squeeze her chin, guiding her face closer to those heaving breasts that had suddenly filled her shirt. “We were unstoppable, remember?”

Grace’s resolve wavered. She couldn’t deny the allure of their past power. The way they had strutted through the halls of their high school, feared and desired by all. But she had worked hard to shed that image, to become someone better, someone kinder. “Billie, we can’t... we can’t go back to that.”

“Last chance or I’m finding a new mistress. Kara seems promising.” Billie’s voice was playful yet had a hint of seriousness. Grace’s heart pounded in her chest as she stared at the ring on Billie’s finger. “I’m ten times the bitch Kara is!”

Her thoughts raced, the memories of their high school reign coming back in a flood. The power, the fear they had instilled in everyone, the rush of it all. "My ring give it to me." Grace's voice was firm, a command that Billie had not heard from her in a very long time. She felt a jolt of excitement, but also a hint of trepidation.

Billie pulled out another ring and slipped it onto Grace's bare ring finger. It fit perfectly, as if it had been waiting for this moment. The second the metal touched her skin, Grace felt the change begin. Her hair grew out, transforming from her mousy brown bob to a cascade of golden waves that fell over her shoulders. Her eyes, once a plain brown, turned a piercing blue that seemed to see right through people. Her glasses fell off, no longer needed, as her vision sharpened. Her cheekbones became more pronounced, her skin glowing with a newfound confidence.

“Fuck! The power…. I did miss it. I want it back!” Grace exclaimed, her voice laced with both excitement and trepidation. Billie's eyes widened as she watched the transformation take hold of her friend.

Grace’s body began to morph, her breasts swelling beneath her blouse, straining the fabric until buttons popped open, revealing the pale, creamy skin of her rapidly growing cleavage. The sight was mesmerizing, and Billie couldn’t help but let her gaze linger, remembering all the times she’d envied Grace’s ability to command attention. Grace’s ass grew too, filling out her pants until they hugged her curves so tightly that it was a wonder they didn’t split at the seams. The room around them seemed to shrink as the power of their former selves began to pulse through them.

Billie’s hand didn’t leave Grace’s chin, instead it slid down her neck, her fingertips tracing the line of her collarbone and making their way to her exposed chest. Grace’s breath grew shallow and quick, her moans of pleasure echoing through the library. Billie leaned in, her breath hot on Grace’s neck as she whispered sweet nothings that were anything but innocent.

Grace looked at her companion and partner. Dark thoughts filled her mind as she thought of how to rule.

“Mmmm we’re back bitch.”

[calcifermovesthecastle]

Sharing a Moment

Tooth Rotting Sanji Fluff. Hurt/Comfort. Whole Cake Island spoilers if you squint.

2460 ish words

Warnings: Panic attacks, mentions of past trauma, mentions of burns, mentions of Slavery.

This is actually an excerpt from my self insert one piece google doc, but I turned it into a reader insert. Character is afab, uses she/her pronouns, and is described with breasts. I do not shy away from "controversial" topics and do not censor any of my work. this does not mean that I condone or agree with the things that I write about.

This is what I do instead of therapy lmao.

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Sharp, uneven breaths pierce through the silence that surrounds you on the island. Your transponder snail sleeps peacefully on the ground, your hands trembling too violently to pick it up. 

Your head swims, and each new breath you take is shorter and sharper than the last. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, scrambling backwards on the forest floor. 

"I'm gonna find you, bitch!" The words aren't real, but they echo in your head nonetheless. You press your back up against the large tree you're under, clawing at the collar of your shirt around your neck. The night seems to close further in on you. 

You weren't lost. Not at first. You started out on the beach, picking through shrubs and bushes to resupply Chopper with some fresh herbs and plants. The rest of the crew's voices had faded away, dispersing in their own searches, leaving you alone in yours. The deeper you got into the woods, the darker it got, and the more anxious you felt. The more your mind began to race. 

Suddenly, you weren't a straw hat anymore. Suddenly, just like that, the shackles tightened around your neck and wrists, and your master calls after you, screaming all of the horrible things he'd do to you once you were found. 

Your transponder snail continues to snooze on the ground in front of you, a mocking reminder that you can call for help at any time, if you could just get out of your own head. 

"When I find you, I'm gonna gut you like an animal! You'll fucking wish you were dead when I'm done with you!" 

Oh, how you wish you would breathe quieter. Your head throbs and your vision swims, the lack of air and the blood pounding in your ears making you lightheaded. At this point, passing out seems like a blessing. 

"Do you want your hands set on fire again?! Or would you rather I stick them in boiling oil?" 

"No!" You manage to gasp out. You claw more at your shirt collar, ripping the fabric apart down past your breasts. A heavy, loud sob bursts past your lips, and all you can hear is your own rapid heart beat. 

Then, clear as a bell, you hear someone say your name. 

Your eyes fly open, chest heaving as you look around for the source, and stare up at Sanji, who's rounded the tree and is staring at you with eyes just as wide. Your voice gets caught in your throat, but your body almost buckles in relief. 

You cant seem to calm yourself down, though, and your throat constricts again, the ghost of that awful collar tightening around you. You pull your torn shirt even further away from you, your hands trembling so violently you have to grasp at it multiple times. 

Sanji crouches in front of you, shrugging his blazer off, not breaking eye contact once. 

"Sweetheart, would you like to go back to the ship?" 

You nod, bawling loudly. Sanji nods, never breaking his eye contact with you. He looks at you as if you'll run from him at any second.

"Okay, I'll take you home. I need you to calm down first, okay?" 

"I cant-" You choke out, taking another short, sharp breath in.

"Okay, I'll help you." 

Ever so gently, Sanji reaches out and pulls you close, resting his chin on top of your head. He takes your hands in his and squeezes, taking slow, steady breaths that you're supposed to mirror. It takes a few tries, but finally, your breathing returns to normal and your head stops swimming. Though you're still shaking, you're back to reality, and you know that you're okay. 

"Are you ready?" 

You had no idea Sanji's voice could sound so tender. Your lower lip trembles as you nod, and he gently pulls you to your feet, draping his blazer over your shoulders. 

When he pulls his hands away, you reach out to him, your voice breaking. 

"Don't go away." 

That's funny, you meant to say "Don't let go." Sanji's eyes widen briefly, but they soften just as quick, and he wraps his arm around your shoulders as soon as he's picked up your transponder snail and put it in the blazers pocket.

"I'm not going anywhere, Sweetheart," He says quietly. "I've got you." 

Slowly, he guides you through the woods back to the Sunny. You lean heavy on him, gripping the fabric of his blazer in your hands as tightly as you can to feel grounded. 

"Please don't tell the others," you whisper. Your eyes swim with more tears as shame blooms through your whole body. Sanji squeezes you firmly. 

"I wont. If they ask, I'll just say you got lost and called me to come get you." 

"Thank you," You rest your head against the side of his chest, listening to his heart beat. 

Another wave of relief floods your body when you finally land eyes on the Sunny. Sanji helps you up the first few rungs of the ladder, then starts climbing up after you. Once on board, you follow him to the kitchen, sitting at the table. 

He doesn't ask why, doesn't prod more information out of you, he just sets a warm mug of tea in front of you, ruffles your hair, and gets started on dinner. 

The warm lighting in the kitchen helps to soothe your frayed nerves, so you sip on the tea, mindfully taking slow, deep breaths. Sanji's company proves to be very grounding as well, so while he cooks, you slip your burn gloves off and stare at your hands.

Chopper has done a phenomenal job repairing some of the scarring. He's also helped you gain a ton of function back. But the flesh is still mangled badly, and the nerve damage is majorly irreparable. You can grasp and hold things, but your fine motor skills are gone. There's no getting that back. You open and close your fingers, grateful for the movement you have gained back. 

But the damage is still there. The pain of it is seared into the back of your mind forever. you frown, lost in thought. 

"Your tea is getting cold, d'you want me to heat it back up for you?" 

You jump, looking at Sanji with wide eyes. His eyes go from your face to your hands, and you can see his brow furrow behind his hair. He puffs on his cigarette and sits down next to you, reaching out and grasping them before you can pull away. 

Since they've been burned, nobody has touched your bare hands. You've always kept the gloves or bandages on, for fear that it would hurt too much otherwise, or trigger a bad reaction in you. 

But Sanji's hands don't do either. They feel cool, and the pressure is comforting. You stare wide eyed down at where your hands are, your heart stuttering in my chest. 

"You have beautiful hands," He says quietly. Your eyes fly to his face, but he doesn't look at you, he just studies your hands, turning them over in his own. 

"Don't lie," You whisper. It's barely audible, but he shakes his head. 

"I'm not lying. They really are beautiful." He says it with such conviction it makes your heart clench. 

"Look at you, you're fucking worthless, you pig bitch. You can't even serve me right with those fucked up hands of yours. Clean this fucking mess up and get the fuck out of my room so I dont have to look at how disgusting your hands look." 

"The scars on them don't mar the way they look," He continues. "They're quite striking." 

He sits and admires them for a few more minutes, and you stare at him, your eyes as wide as dinner plates, your face flushed red. 

You can feel butterflies in your stomach as he runs his thumb along one of the longer scars, humming. When he looks up at up at up at you, he smiles. 

"I guess I just never noticed." 

"Nobody," You whisper, for fear that your voice may break again. "Has ever said anything so kind about my hands." 

Sanji tilts his head, puffing on his cigarette. When he speaks again, his tone is tender. 

"Sweetheart, you should stop worrying so much. Nobody is ever going to hurt us again. Not like this." 

He squeezes your hands, ruffles your hair again, and gets up to check on dinner. 

Us?

Wait. Us?

"Sanji, what do you-" 

"Did you want me to reheat your tea?" He asks, as if he didn't hear you. You blink, glancing down at your cup. 

"Uh, sure. That would be really nice." 

Humming, he reheats your tea for you, then pulls some vegetables out. You put your gloves back on and pull his blazer tighter around your body. 

"Sanji?" 

"Hm? What is it?" 

"Could I have a cigarette?" 

He turns his head towards you, frowning. He sees how tense you are, how shaky your breath still is, and closes his eyes. 

"Just this once. These things are bad for you, you know." 

"I know," You smile slightly. He jerks his chin up once. 

"They're in the left pocket in my jacket. Just one, ya hear?" 

You heed his words, thanking him when he lights it for you. The first few puffs you take are followed by very harsh, loud coughs, but the next few burn less in your throat and lungs. It's a nice distraction. 

The rest of the crew still isn't back by the time you finish the cigarette, but you're not ready to be by yourself just yet, so you stay in the kitchen with Sanji. You finish your tea, and eat the food he puts in front of you, and when they're still not back after you've finished eating, you rest your chin in your hands and watch as Sanji continues to work in the warm yellow glow. By the time Luffy bursts in demanding dinner, you've fallen asleep at the table. 

"Hm? What's she doing here?" He asks, prodding at you gently. Sanji smacks his hand away, shooing him out of the room. 

"She got lost and called me to find her on the transponder snail. You get out and go sit in the lounge with everyone else for your dinner. She already ate." 

Luffy looks at you, frowning slightly, but concedes to letting you sleep for now. He bounds out of the room, yelling for everyone to go to the lounge so they can eat. 

You jerk awake sometime later, the shadow of a nightmare fading from your mind, leaving in its wake a sense of uneasiness and the deep seated need to not be alone. 

There is no light coming from the porthole, but the swaying of the ship tells you that we're back to sea. You stand up, steadying yourself with the table, and exit the kitchen. 

You hold Sanji's jacket tightly around you, climbing the ladder up to the crows nest. The smell of smoke tells you that that's where you'll find Sanji. 

Sure enough, he's standing with elbows resting on the ledge of the crow's nest as he stares out at open water, tapping his cigarette against the ashtray perched next to him. You walk straight over to him and wrap your arms around him from behind. 

He doesn't say anything, but turns slightly so he can wrap one of his arms around you. You press your ear against his chest, searching for his heartbeat. When you find it, you close your eyes and focus on it. 

For a while, the only noise is your breathing, his heartbeat, and the sounds the ocean makes. You're grateful for how expertly Sanji seems to handle you when you're at this low point, how he seems to know exactly what you need. How instead of fawning over you, he stays collected and steady and oh so kind and tender. You tighten your hold on him, closing your eyes. 

"I'm sorry," You murmur.

"What for?" He responds, just as quiet. You breathe out, tears welling up in your eyes. 

"Being such a fucking mess." Your voice breaks, and a quiet whimper escapes your throat for what feels like the umpteenth time tonight. "Sanji, everything came flooding back. I'm not strong enough to pretend I'm okay, and I don't know how I'm going to hide it from everyone. I don't want to be a mess. I don't want my past to control me but it does. Just when I think I've got a good handle on it, something triggers it, and I don't know what to do to stop myself from shutting down. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." 

His hand reaches up to stroke your hair as you cry, and after a while he pulls away from you, squeezing an arm in each hand and crouching to your eye level. 

"Sweetheart, you cant change what happened to you. And it's still so recent for you that of course you're going to have days where it's harder for you to feel normal. You're going to have days where it feels like it's all a dream, and you're still stuck in those shackles. I saw you, that first day. Remember?" 

You nod, weeping openly. 

"You may not think so, but you are doing so much better than you were. He cant hurt you anymore. Say it." 

"H-he can't hurt me anymore." 

"Again." 

"H-he can't hurt me anymore." 

"That's right. He can't. But it's going to take time, right? You can know that there is nothing he can do to get to you. You can know that you're free. But it's going to take time for you to believe it. That's part of healing. So don't be sorry for your bad days. We understand, more than you could ever know."

Something distant clouds Sanji's eye, but it's gone before it takes form. Weakly, you reach your arms out to him, asking for a hug. He pulls you close, careful not to hold you too tight. 

"He can't hurt me anymore," You blubber. You feel him nod. 

"That's right." 

"I'm safe." 

"That's right." 

"I'm free." 

"You're free, love." Sanji tightens his grip on you for a moment, exhaling. "Would you like to lie down in bed?"

"Mhmm" You sniff. Truthfully, you'd rather stay awake with him as long as possible, but your body is so tired that you know there's no fighting the sleep that's coming. "But please don't leave me all alone up here." 

"I'm not going anywhere," Sanji says. A sharp wind blows by, causing both of you to tense. You shrug his jacket off, holding it out to him. 

"Since I'll be under the covers," You say hoarsely, "I suppose you could have your jacket back." 

He laughs, taking it and putting it back on. "I'm honored."

You smile back, getting cozy in bed. Sanji watches you, turning back around when your head finally hits the pillow. It's not long until you're out, your soft snores falling on his ears while he watches the night sky.

[ray935sworld]

~ 2025 season Marmarc snippet ~

This is a first draft cause I wanna write and share my writing but uni is a bitch so no editing and/ or real introduction but somehow it got longe enough and now it's an actual story and not but who cares. 🐢, this is for you, my dear. 🙃

"Alex is pretty stressed" Marc said as he sat down next to Bez on the bed. The young man looked at him with tired eyes. He blinked a few times, clearly trying to let the conversation continue.

They hadn't seen each other for the whole day. And it had been a long and tiring day for both of them.

Softly he asked. "Oh no, is he okay?" "Yeah..." he reassured him. "It's just - Nadja said he's supposed to finish in the top 5. That's a pretty big ask. I mean, I believe in him but Aldeguer got a better deal. I mean, he's asked to be rookie of the year. He only has to beat a fucking aprilla and a Honda. That's not really hard and-"

"The fuck you just said?" Marco interrupted and sat up with an angry glance. His until then half closed eyes went wide. Marc blinked in confusion about to ask what was wrong when he remembered that his boyfriend was no longer riding a Ducati.

He felt the heat creep up in his cheeks, embarrassed to be caught like that. He stared at Bez, realizing how deep his words had to run and he knew he had fucked up. "I - No, baby, that's not what I meant-" he said quickly, reaching for the younger one, hoping the physical contact might settle his anger.

"A rookie on an aprilla. Not you. No, never you. A rookie on a aprilla isn't that big of a threat to a Ducati but you-" Bez scoffed. He had turned away, not leaning into Marcs touch. Something he had never done before. The rejection broke a small part of the Spaniards heart.

He watched how he turned his head away to avoid his touch in his cheeks. He saw how he pulled his legs away as if Marc's touch would burn him. "You know what? Go fuck yourself." he said and stood up.

He was already up when Marc grabbed his arm. He hung onto his wrist. He felt his skin and for a moment he felt settled. "No please. Listen, I-" But his boyfriend moved his hand away.

Marc wouldn't force it, so he let go. He stared at him, begging silently. He knew he had fucked up. He knew his phrasing could have been better. He knew it. But he had been to tired to realize beforehand. But at least Bez turned around. "I believed you when you said that aprilla was good... You know how anxious I was about the decision and you lied!"

The Ducati rider swallowed. He did remember the discussions they had about the younger ones move. At first it was just a theoretical question but at the end, Marco spoke openly about it. And Marc had encouraged him.

"I didn't!" he reassured him. "You did!" "I didn't! You asked if it'd be the right choice. And I always said yes because-" "And that was a lie!" "No! I honestly think it's the right choice... For you. I mean - look." He took a deep breath.

"You weren't happy in the last year. Like - not at all. The team didn't make you happy anymore-" "Do NOT talk about them like that. They are my friends!" he shot back, anger lingering in his voice. Mentally Marc took a step back. "I'm not saying they aren't." he said softly. He hoped a soft tone might calm him down.

"I'm just saying that maybe... You know... You wanting to make them - especially Rossi - proud wasn't excatly helping." "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" "Marco, I really don't think it's my place to-" "Say it, Marquez, or I'm walking out of here."

He felt his anxiety rise. No. He couldn't let Marco walk out of here, angry, sad. Maybe he wouldn't come back.

"I'm... I'm saying that as your boyfriend, who loves you like crazy, not as a rider, okay?" He looked at Bez, begging him to understand. And he did. The Italian looked at him and replied, slightly calmer "Okay." So Marc explained.

"You weren't happy in the team. You wanted to make them proud because of what they did for you. You felt you were obligated to archive something because you know how happy they were in 2023 and you couldn't do that in 2024. Or at least not in the same amount. You became desperate and angry at yourself and helpless. And I couldn't find a way to help you - until - well until you told me about that offer for Aprilla."

He remembered all the times Bez had stormed into the motorhome and growled something about 'this fucking bike' just to then bury his head in Marc's chest. Sometimes he had cried. Sometimes he had just laid there, pretending the world wasn't there. Marc hated it every time.

He wanted his boyfriend back. The one that came skipping in, a big grin on his face. He didn't care if it was because of Rubik or because of a podium he had scared but he needed that smile back. But during the last season it was like nothing really bought Bez joy, like his whole happiness was swallowed by his fear and anxiety and not even Marc could do anything about it.

"So yes, I said that it was the best decision for you. And maybe - yes it was selfish that my support was mainly based on the fact that I didn't want to see my happy, cheerful boyfriend go down the same rabbit hole as last year."

He felt tears in Hi eyes as he recalled the past.

"But fucking hell - I thought I'll lose you." he said in all honesty. "You can't seriously expect not to encourage you to take a way out. Yes the aprilla is worst than the Ducati. But that's a fact. You knew that when you took the offer. I didn't say anything against that. So yeah - as a rider - maybe you should have stayed on a Ducati because at the moment they are the best"

He saw teh way Bez eyes widen for a moment. But they both knew he was just stating facts.

"But the bike wasn't working for you. And maybe the 2024 or 2025 bike wouldn't work for you either. And I highly suspect that and I'm sorry for that. But maybe the Aprilia works better. I'm sure it will. Marco, I believe in you. You're one of the best riders on the grid. I know you can succeed... But it's not worth your mental and physical health. You can't ask me to actually support that when it's unlikely that it will work"

Marco looked at him, the anger in his eyes gone again.

"And if it doesn't work? If I lose the seat and no one's wanna take me?" "Than they are stupid idiots. Who cares?" "What if that moves destroys my career? Would you-" "If you ask me if I'd still love you if you weren't a motogp rider, I'll throw a cushion in your face. Of course I'd still love you. I love you like crazy. Don't tell me you can't see that? Please, don't tell me I've been that much of a bad boyfriend that you don't even believe that I love you regardless of what you do?"

Finally Bez sat down again, this time right on Marcs lap, which made the older one laugh.

"I'm sorry. I'm an idiot. I shouldn't have jump at you like taht because of it" Marco mumbled, his face hidden in Marc's shoulder. He just leaned against him.

"No you're not. It's okay. I love you. I love you so, so incredible much" "I love you too"

[jaempanini]

002 Mark, where did you go?!

☆ warnings: nsfw jokes, cursing, haechan falls on the floor face-first, this chapter is partly written

☆ word count: 0.5k

You smile at your phone before quickly switching it off and pocketing it, turning around to look at Mark. Your brother sighs exasperatedly as he hauls all three of your suitcases up the stairs.

"I thought you were joking when you said you'd be bringing three suitcases... Aren't you only staying for a week?"

You shrug. "Where else am I supposed to fit my Versace shirts?"

"You are staying in an apartment with two college boys, where the hell will you be wearing Versace?"

You raise your eyebrows at him, before reaching up and flicking at his forehead. Mark flinches and stares at you, eyeing your new set of nails.

A moment passes before you roll your eyes and sigh out a short and simple: "You're such a man."

"That- that doesn't even mean anything, dude!"

"You shower once a week, I'm not taking advice from you. And you smell like a fucking pinetree"

"Bro! That's my new cologne!"

You and Mark finally make it to his floor, with you walking readily to his apartment and your brother awkwardly shuffling behind you, struggling with your baggage. You pause at one of the doors. "Your apartment is number 27, right?"

Mark looks up at you, taking some time to process your question before calling out a weak "Yeah."

You nod, but don't move to open the door.

Mark finally reaches you and lets out a huff as he sets the suitcases down, immediately shaking his hands and whining. You side-eye him. “Girl… I know that was not that fucking hard.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Mark exclaims, pouting and making big wide eyes at you. You stare back at him, before once again reaching up and flicking at his forehead, grinning in a satisfied way as you see him yelp and quickly cover the spot with his hand. Mark, in a defeated tone, tries to defend himself: “Come on… I'm older than you, technically I'm supposed to be the one making fun of you.”

You smile at him. Despite your pleasant expression, your voice is tense. “You know damn well I'd break both of your legs.”

Mark smiles back at you, nodding. Some sort of mental sibling-to-sibling connection happens, and Mark just sweetly replies, “Yeah.” (Renjun would say that "mental sibling connections" don't exist. You know he just doesn't understand your insane ability to be on one mental wavelength with Mark.)

You both break into a small fit of giggles, before Mark finally moves to open the door.

Mark, as soon as he swings the door open, he looks alarmed for a split second, and you hear a gasp, followed by the patter of feet, followed by a guy showing up in the doorway, who makes brief eye contact with you, before tripping over absolutely nothing and falling face-first onto the floor as Mark side-steps him.

You hear his body make a dull sound against the ground, after which he goes completely still. For a moment you almost become concerned, until he slowly lifts his head up and his face morphs into an expression of absolute, undeniable horror.

You can see Mark struggling to hold in his laugh in the corner of your eye, as the poor boy stares up at you with what you could only describe as pure dread.

“Donghyuck…” Mark begins, coughing in order to mask his giggle, “... this is my sister Yn…”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, the boy — Donghyuck, or whatever, — starts stuttering, and you can see his face start to turn bright red.

previous ☆ main post ☆ next

synopsis: What? Mark has a sister?! Donghyuck wasn't exactly sure what exactly he expected when he was told that Marks' sister would be visiting. Maybe he expected a girl who's as nice and goofy as Mark, or maybe a girl who's shy, but what he didn't expect was Yn Lee, who's apparently a biomedical engineering major, a part-time model, and also a bitch.

TAGLIST: @mmjhh1998 @haechology @413ktz @nia197 @keilover @hyukisf @pluggtalkk @chan-yeoldelling @txpxwxk @xrminarlert34

[ilikekidsshows]

Let's be real, what weight does being called a salter by most Marinette stans even hold anymore? I'm not trying to be a bitch, I'm serious. What does that even mean anymore?

Marinette stans are more often than not very transparent with their priority being defending their made up version of Marinette. So their arguments barely ever hold up when put to the test because they don't care for what actually happens in Canon.

So why should I be offended by being called a salter and awful person by people who switch the moral approach of their argument on a dime flip every time a new episode drops? One day prior they chew you out for saying that Marinette will act jealous and sabotaging again because she never learned shit, and next day with the new information they turn around bending over backwards to justify why Marinette still acting that way is actually totally realistic and no problem at all.

Excuse me? How am I supposed to take you serious after that?

Or the way Marinette stans before Kwamis Choice swore and yelled from their self claimed moral high horse that Ladynoir will totally get fixed in season 5 and that Cat Noir was only sidelined so much because now season 5 will have Marinette dedicated to making it up to him and returning the partnership to one of equals again as Ladynoir becomes canon as pay off. Only for that to NOT have happened at all, so suddenly Marinette stans pulled a 180° and suddenly go on bout how there was nothing to fix anyway, and that accountability shouldn't always require immediate communication and effort to fix the unfair treatment. It's fine if that only happens in season 8 or 9, that's "realistic" and its what makes Adrien's support so "great". Because he understands that redeeming oneself shouldn't need to include... accountability... though of course only when it MARINETTE. Everyone else and Adrien in particular taking all accountability is just him being mature and fair to her uniquely stressful and soul crushing circumstances that make it unbearable for her to do the same in return.

She cries about being awful once or twice so no need for her to apologise or acknowledge or fix what she did wrong if she isn't comfortable with it yet. Don't you see how awful and cruel you are for saying that redeeming yourself needs of you to redeem yourself now? Dont you see that Adrien understands that Ladybug can't give anything right now and that his love language is selflessly serving her and wants nothing in return because that's the right thing to do in his position? She still loves and respects him so much, he just understands that she shouldn't need to show it if she needs to heal first through Adrien taking care of her.

Do you even understand the beautiful DEPTHS of redemption? And how long it takes sometimes to do so for a broken complex individual like Marinette? Seriously, in my made up season 10 all of that will have played out in a way where non of that will ever have been a problem, just stfu you don't GET it like I do 😒

This is an actual paraphrased conversation I had with a person who's opinion I once respected a lot and I wished my paraphrasing made it worse but honestly, that's exactly what they said. And I'm still taken aback that they said that. But they sure weren't the only Marinette stan I found saying things like that.

What the FUCK am I supposed to take from that besides the revelation that they just do not apply any kind of moral baseline to Marinette's character? What is there for me to respect?

Marinette stans say they are against bullying until Marinette does it or benefits from it. Then they openly romanticise and defend it with the only argument being "that wasn't bullying, Marinette wouldn't do that!" as if that changed what happened on screen. All it reveals is that Marinette stans' words don't mean anything, their moral standards are entirely dependent on who is doing it and benefiting from it. Thats not a moral standard, that's a biase you don't owe up to.

Marinette stans say they are against violence and abuse of power until Marinette does it or benefits from it. Then they will defend hypocrisy with whatever random excuse they come up with in that moment that more often than not is either "that doesn't count cuz I said so" or "it's fine that Marinette benefits from sexist double standards and a clear main character biase bc it is her show". Once again showing that they don't actually draw any kind of line moral wise for Marinette's actions and the writing, their opinion of said morality entirely depends on what works best for Marinette. And then they get angry when that gets called out.

I won't lie, I do think that some people in this collective therapy group here ARE to harsh sometime, but I can definitely respect that alot of them make it clear where they simply draw the morality line and they won't budge on their core beliefs the show is shitting on.

There is a massive difference between simply salting Marinette and angrily speaking up against something you think is genuinely morally wrong or harmful in a kid's show like this.

Alot of people I see around here say that they wished they could go back to liking the show, Marinette (or whatever character) the way they were once used to but simply can't because the show keeps on making whatever problems they had worse.

I don't necessarily always share the points of no return but I can fuck with the reasoning because it's a consistent angle they always stand by that goes beyond the complaint that their fav is simply not getting the special treatment or has hurt feelings. I can trust most Adrien stans I see who dislike or salt on Marinette to form a proper argument and a whole pov that stays consistent when you bring up other parts of the show.

I can't say that I've had the same experience with Marinette stans and for me it's obvious why. Marinette stans were never forced by the show to take a step back and lay down their core principles they won't budge on because Marinette always gets put first and that's what they care about the most.

They can say however they like that they don't support bullying, ableism and abuse, they are absolutely doing so with full chest voice for their Marinette biase, they are just not willing to reflect on that bc that would reveal to them that their made up Marinette isn't real.

They have no coherent moral baseline in their arguments, they're proudly hypocritical, and then get angry when you call them out for going back and forth on their moral "standards" in a discussion about moral principles.

What is there to respect anymore? Being called a salter by them has long started feeling like a compliment because for me it became synonymous with "isn't changing their option on a fucking whim the second a new episode dropped". And if that makes me a salter, then so be it. I'm not throwing my moral principles out of the window for a cuddled protagonist who's became the poster girl for harmful white feminism on kids tv.

---

The irony, when I went to my inbox to read this message I saw that a Marinette stan had also sent me an ableist insult. Some Marinette stans have no convictions or moral standards even for their own behavior, and the extreme individuals in the Marinette fandom never fail to prove the criticisms of them correct in a single harassing message. Like, of course they’re gonna excuse Marinette bullying people, they themselves would most likely do the same for petty reasons. I can be petty too, but my pettiness takes the form of me feeling immense moral superiority whenever I delete one of these little hate messages. Like, I might be a jerk about a fictional character, but at least I’m not a pathetic anonymous troll in someone’s inbox.

Marinette stans lie when they say they don't support bullying, because they excuse it when Marinette does it as well as when they themselves do it. Like, I’m not saying they’re all like this, I get these messages so rarely that there’s no way the entire Marinette fandom is full of assholes. Still, this isn’t the first time I got an anonymous message from some random hater right after I posted something spicy about Marinette and it isn’t the first time such a message included at least one example of ableism. It's just a fact that a lot of Marinette stans are hateful liars who spout ableism as soon as they can do it anonymously, so, like, why should we take anything they have to say seriously anyway? Every time a Marinette stan says: “I don't support bullying or harassment” there’s a high chance they actually mean: “until someone says something spicy about the flawless queen Marinette, then I’ll use bullying and harassment without hesitation”. We really shouldn’t care one bit what these people have to say, because they’ll say whatever suits their agenda of the day.

When I say I don’t support bullying or harassment, I mean it and I live by it. I don’t do it, because I don’t think anything can be solved by sending people hate mail, nor would I get any satisfaction from it. I don’t even want to encourage anyone else to do so. That’s part of the reason I invite people to send their gripes to me; this blog is already a Miraculous-negative space, so here people can put their grievances into words without anyone who’s just minding their business getting harassing messages, even when people send me stuff clearly inspired by a specific person or group. Like, Marinette stans can make a fuss about how we’re terrible people for discussing our gripes amongst ourselves, but we aren’t the ones harassing other people here.

Although, since I’m being honest here, I have to say I do agree on the harshness. I don't always agree with everything the anons who message me say 100%, but I try to focus on the parts I do agree with or have something to add to. I’ll even admit I sometimes look over a response draft and wonder if I’m being too harsh, but often I’m just not motivated to watch my tone. I know from past experiences that Marinette stans don’t care how you’re wording your criticisms, just the act of criticising Marinette makes you the bad guy.

[multifandomer537]

people are always like "When you cook yourself breakfast instead of having something basic, it means you're healing! ✌️😜" like NOT FOR ME

AND I'M GUESSING NOT FOR ANY OTHER PEOPLE WHO STRESS BAKE/COOK EITHER

I COOK AND BAKE BECAUSE I FEEL LIKE SHIT

I SWEAR DOMINIKA IF YOU SAY THAT I'M HEALING BY COOKING AND JUST OVERREACTING RIGHT NOW, I AM GOING TO BASH YOUR SKULL AND ROAST YOU OVER AN OPEN FIRE

[sergle]

what I was talking abt earlier. we have fully looped back around and away from feminism, societally, whereas before it was very Feminism 101 to acknowledge that many parts of existing as a woman in a misogynistic society are painful and upsetting. not that being a woman is Inherently Negative in a bubble. but that living on this earth, in the conditions we're living in, is hostile to women. and that gender is a performance. that many of the Staples Of Femininity as accepted by society are things that you have to create and perform and mold artificially and aren't inherent, that COMPLAINING about day to day difficulties of existing as a woman is something that you're allowed to do. acknowledging these basic, again, feminism 101 things, that something tied to womanhood is more time consuming or more expensive or more dangerous Because Of The Problems. does not CREATE the problems. that when women complain about having to perform femininity, they are not, in fact, oppressing themselves. the call does not come from inside the fucking house. saying that you HAVE suffered does not fucking equate that you believe you SHOULD have suffered.

like I could talk about this for hours. how braindead and one-dimensional the Takes are getting. "being a woman is looking in the mirror and going fuck yeah i'm a woman" damn. I guess any negative experiences you have by living in a misogynistic world... are your fault if you are anything but positive? "you don't actually want liberation" we've fully gone back to telling feminists "you WANT to be oppressed" when anything negative about our society is pointed out. it's not real until I say it out loud, I guess, and then I'm actually the one who caused it. if anybody expresses any unhappiness with how they're treated or the status quo or the language and culture surrounding womanhood and femininity. they've created it, right that second. they invented it just now. it wasn't a problem before somebody complained, right? also trans women aren't braindead zombies who just follow the flow of whatever cis women around them say. I am pretty fucking sure they are very much aware of pain, and are MORE than aware of the swirling torrent of misogyny and standards of femininity than anybody else. actually. and I am pretty sure someone complaining on tumblr that being a woman means always putting on a performance is going to make someone change their mind about transitioning. also "performing femininity" as a necessity to being treated well as a woman is not fucking NEWS to your Local Trans Woman. I AM PRETTY SURE SHE GETS THE CONCEPT. using trans women as a scapegoat for this braindead perspective on gender politics is spineless, meritless, and pathetic.

[lloydfrontera]

my biggest gripe with the manhwa rn is that they made javier more of an asshole than he is in the novel and then took away most of the scenes where we see him being kind and soft with others.

javier can be an ass, he is a brat and he's especially annoying when he's with lloyd, but above anything else he is kind and loyal and selfless and good. i cannot emphasize enough how good javier is. he's the kind of person who cannot see someone in trouble or danger and do nothing about it. he's the kind of person who would sacrifice his life for total strangers and no hope of any reward. he's the kind of person who can't even enjoy a lavish party without feeling guilty because he'd much rather help people in need with that money.

he's so fucking good, lloyd is a little annoyed by it because he keeps getting dragged into life-threatening situations because javier just won't stop helping people they don't even know. mind you, lloyd is also endeared by this and would not want him to change but god can it be frustrating in his endeavor to keep them both alive.

there's this particular scene that i just. i'm so sad it was cut. where javier is helping around the refugee camp, going without sleeping and eating so he can focus on helping as many people as possible and then he spots a little kid that got lost on his way back. so he decides to help him.

and he's so gentle with this kid.

Javier walked over to the kid and called him. The flustered boy looked up. Javier strove to put on a warm smile on his face. "Are you lost?" “...” The boy nodded, his eyes all wet. Javier carefully stroked the boy's head. "I think I can help you with that. Why don't you let me help find your tent?" suggested Javier. “...” The boy nodded again. "But why didn't you eat the food? It's going to get cold. Are you not hungry?" "I am… hungry," the boy finally said. But what he said next caught Javier by surprise. "But I won't eat it," said the boy. "Why not?" "My mother is hungrier." "Is that so?" "Yes." “...” Javier wondered why this kid came out to take the food when he had a mother. There must be a reason, he thought to himself. He held out his hand. "I will hold the tray for you." "..." "I won't spill it. I promise." "Okay..." Javier took the tray and wrapped the boy’s hand with his own.

like. god. javier is not a naturally warm person. he's very reserved and stoic and sometimes outright cold, but he still tries so hard with this kid. because he knows what it's like to be him. he knows what it's like to be a child and be scared and hungry and without a home. and he remembers how much it meant for a kind adult to reach out a hand to him and help. and he wants to be that to others too.

everything he does, he does because he genuinely believes it's the right thing to do and therefore his obligation. and even when it doesn't come naturally to him, like being warm and gentle to a child, he still tries his best to do so.

and like that wasn't enough, when they finally find the kid's mom, javier finds out she's blind. recently blinded actually. that she used all her strength to get her child to safety and now she has to depend on him to take care of them because she can't do it anymore. her blouse is smudged with porridge.

so javier kneels down and explains who he is, why he's there and that he wants to help. he lifts up a spoonful of food and slowly and carefully starts to feed her himself. she's a complete stranger and javier doesn't hesitate one second to do this for her.

this is who javier is!! this is who he is at his core!! he's kind and he's selfless and he's above all else good!!

if your audience can't imagine javier comforting a child, then you failed your audience. you missed the point of his character.

[yuwuta]

twin aus are fun bc sukuna is sooooo ugly and yuuji is soooooooo pretty and beautiful and lovely <3 completely understand why sukuna ends up the deliquent loser twin bc why would anybody choose him when <3yuuji<3 is right there

[piratesmyass]

Still so soft about Izzy trying his best to comfort Stede but not knowing what to say so he turns to physical touch, that is so autism of him to do (yes im projecting, this is my blog, fuck you)

[crimeronan]

probably i SHOULDN'T migrate elsewhere if tumblr goes belly-up. i just scrolled thru my dash for 20 minutes and in that short span i could feel myself transform from a mildly tired 27-year-old butch into an active serial killer.

[maxcatz]

why on earth do people hate on polyamorous people so much

[sukugo]

OK BUT SO U'RE TELLING ME

1. with yorozu, we learn that love goes coupled with the specific solitude that comes with unparalleled strength. she finds herself fit to teach sukuna love bc of this

2. sukuna reveals that he does know love already

3. gojo is the strongest sorcerer in present time, notorious for his loneliness due to this position

AND ALL THIS ALREADY HAD ME SCREAMING BUT THEN IN THE LAST CHAPTER THEY JUST

HELLO??????? SUKUNA FOUND LOVE IN GOJO?????? SUKUGO CANON?????

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

home from work

[threnodians]

the way that i desperately do not want to go to work tomorrow night, i am genuinely so over it for the first time ever (at least it’s only 3hrs but i am probably going to have to stay late which seems to be a recurring thing nowadays but hey extra money am i right)

anyways ily all and i appreciate you all and i hope that you’re all having a lovely day/night/whatever it is where you are 💕