#i'm ashamed of myself but i don't regret anything

[foxtatodreams]

Me: Taking some hot photos at Grymforge 🔥👀

Shadowheart: "Lady Shar's judgment is upon you"

[benevolentvampire]

.

[stinkbeck]

words of wisdom: my profs are just kinda mean.

[webslingingslasher]

I know we’re all obsessed with frat!peter, but are there any instances where nerdy!peter gets a lil mean too?

for the first time ever, peter is ignoring your call. there are times he's unable to answer, but you know he's purposely watching his phone ring before he silences it.

he's actively ignoring you and you want to scream.

peter doesn't get mad at you. but he is. and it's making everything worse. you can't apologize if he won't talk to you.

it's been two days.

'if you don't call me back in an hour i'm coming over.'

'and yes, that's a threat.'

peter must be really mad. because he didn't answer.

'hi, is peter around?' you can tell may wants to shout the truth, instead she shows solidarity to her nephew. 'sorry, honey. he's out right now.'

you challenge her, 'can i wait for him?' may isn't playing your games, 'he didn't say when he'd be back.'

it's not may's fault, but you still huff at her. 'he has to talk to me at some point.' you see a flush of parent coat over her features.

'sometimes when someone is hurt, they need to think about how to react to it before it gets worse.'

you feel like crying, 'is he really that mad at me?' may slowly closes the door, 'i'm sorry, but peter isn't home.' you want to catch the door and bark out to peter, who you know is holed up in his room, but you respect his space and leave.

it was all your fault. you pushed his harshest barrier and you swear you didn't mean to, it was just the most hurtful thing you could spit out in a moment of fury.

instant regret. you swore you heard peter's heart break the second you finished. his crushing silence hurt more than an equal blow. he just calmly grabbed his backpack and left. and you let him, you were speechless, you couldn't believe the things that came out of your mouth.

you retreat with a few texts.

'i'm sorry, peter. i really, really am.'

'i won't keep bothering you, just talk to me when you're ready.'

'i love you. and i know you love me too, so you don't have to say it back tonight.'

and he doesn't. not when you check before bed and not when you wake the next morning. you've never felt peter's cold shoulder before, but it's icy and stings.

you'd see him on campus and he couldn't ignore you in person, right?

there was only one way to tell, and it was when you saw him sitting at an outside table. scribbling in a notebook while he looked over a textbook and some sheets, he never looked so pretty.

it's selfish, but you want nothing more than to kiss him.

'hi.' sitting backwards, your back hit the edge of the table. if he tells you to fuck off you'll make a quick escape. looking at his side profile he shows no reaction, he was expecting you to join him.

'hi.' peter doesn't share the interest to look at you.

'wanna talk?' you hold your breath, hopeful he'd say yes and you could do your best attempt at damage control.

'not really,' his calm nature unsettles you. you'd rather he spit in your face.

'can i talk?' peter didn't want to talk, but he might listen. you just wanted to make it okay, or try.

you think he agrees just to get you to leave quicker. 'sure.'

anxiety scratches your insides, you've never been so ashamed in your life. it was an odd feeling wanting to do nothing but hold peter close to you while you apologize, while also knowing he wanted nothing to do with your touch.

'i'm sorry. i've never been more sorry for anything in my entire life and i don't know how to make it right. i would do anything to take it back, if i could go back in time to stop myself i would.'

it's unfair, but the reality of the situation hits. tears prickle at your eyes. you just feel so bad.

'i don't know why i said that, and i regretted it the second it left my mouth. i could try to come up with a million excuses, but i said it and i'm taking accountability. i know it doesn't help, but, like...'

you close your eyes, when you open them a tear races down your cheek. you're quick to wipe it. it's not about you.

'i am really fucking disgusted in myself. i'm ashamed and embarrassed and i know i broke your heart. peter, i... i took the darkest part of you and weaponized it. i broke your trust and i am a really, really, really bad girlfriend.'

you deserved the silence. 'you're mad at me and that's fair. i can't say it enough, but i want you to know i'm sorry.'

the last sentence caught his attention, peter shakes his head and laughs under his breath.

'you see, the thing is, i don't think i'm mad. i'm just really fucking hurt. you told me ben was just waiting on someone to put him out of his misery.'

you wince. it sounded so much worse coming from his mouth, it was like the words burnt him and left a bad taste behind. they were seared into his brain. there was nothing in the world to justify what you did.

'you were right. you broke my heart and trust in one go. how do you fix it? i don't know, but i can't even look at you right now. talking to you feels like i'm pulling glass out of my skin.'

'i'm glad you're disgusted with yourself, because i am too.'

there was the blow. it wasn't half as harsh as yours, but it dug deep. you couldn't blame him either. it's entirely too selfish, but you need to know if there's something to work for.

'are you going to break up with me?' you sound sad but you wouldn't blame him if he said yes, you would only blame yourself forever. you don't like how long the silence was, it felt like he was actually thinking about it.

'i don't know.'

three words made you feel empty. the future of your relationship and happiness was a gamble all because you couldn't shut your mouth.

'okay.' it wasn't. 'i know it seems pointless now, because i already failed at it, but i'll never say anything like that ever again. i never, ever wanted to hurt you like this.'

for the first time in three days, peter looks at you. he looks tired.

'you did. that's why you said it. you were mad and i wasn't feeding into it, you got even more upset and said the most hurtful thing you could've to me.'

you're desperate, 'i know! but i swear it wasn't on purpose! i didn't know what i was saying until i said it, and i mean, c'mon peter, you know me. i've never said anything like that before, and i won't ever again.'

peter throws you a bone, maybe he really heard the desperation in your voice. 'i know you're sorry, i know you feel terrible and you wish you could take it back. but that doesn't make it okay. and i need you to understand that.'

you nod quick, 'i do! i understand, i promise.'

peter sees it differently. 'i don't think you do. if you did, you wouldn't be here begging for me to say everything's okay.'

his words make you pause, you see his stance in a different light. your apologies have done nothing but make peter feel like he has to accept them. may said he needed space and you haven't given him any, instead hounding him with texts or forcing him to listen to the same string of sorry's.

you stand, it's very clear to you what needs to happen. if you have any chance of reconciliation. you need to cut contact.

'you're right. i didn't see it like that, but you're right. the second i walk away, i promise i'm done. no more texts, no more surprise visits, no more bothering you on campus. nothing. you come to me when you're ready. no matter the conversation.'

you follow your word and do just that while trying to ignore the worst form of anxiety that crosses over your chest. walking away, unsure if your boyfriend still loved you, was a feeling you wouldn't wish on anyone.

it spreads the longer you hear nothing from peter. was he adjusting to life outside you? should you be doing the same? you didn't realize how much you wrapped peter into your life until he wasn't around.

you had to find a classmate to do revisions with. you had to plan lunch with friends instead of peter. you had to scroll past articles and memes he'd enjoy. you had to stop yourself from texting him a hundred times a day.

the closest you got was a glimpse at his face when he was talking to a friend across campus, he was laughing. you felt relieved knowing he was happy, until you noticed it didn't seem like he missed you all that much.

after four days and all hope lost, you decided it was time to wave the white flag. it was over, if you grieve the relationship now it won't be so bad when he tells you officially. you'd be able to walk away without a panic attack.

while wallowing to yourself in your room, you berate yourself internally for ruining the one true good thing you had. spider-man was entirely too calm when he entered your room right as you felt a tear race down your cheek.

'why are we crying?'

you sit up, you've never been so happy to see the masked hero. until you piece together why he's there, you weren't pre-maturely crying after all.

sniffles around your words, 'cause we broke up.'

the mask is off in a second, 'who said that?' you shrug, the answer is in front of your face. 'isn't it obvious?' peter sits next to you, 'we're not broken up.'

you still don't feel comfortable, 'are we going to be?' peter rewords himself, 'i'm not here to break up with you, no.' 

‘then why are you here?’

peter exhales deeply, a tired excuse of a laugh. ‘i can be upset with my girlfriend and miss her at the same time.’ for just a second, you brighten. ‘you miss me?’

‘yeah. of course i do.’ you almost explode when peter pats your knee, ‘you’re my best friend.’ it’s enough to make you want to cry. you fall into him, an awkward hug, he doesn’t say anything.

‘you’re my best friend too. i missed you so much, i’m so, so, so sorry, peter.’ you melt when a gloved hand rubs your back, it’s not even his skin but you’ve missed his touch so much it’s enough to settle you.

‘it’s okay.’

the words you’ve been looking for, your heart soars. digging your fingertips into his shoulder blades, you hold him tight. ‘is it?’ you don’t want to force him into it.

‘it is.’

except when you remember your words it still doesn’t feel okay. you’re not sure if it ever will. you wonder if that’s what peter was waiting on. 'i don't know, peter. i don't want you to resent me.'

'hey,' you're held at arm's length, peter wants to make sure you're looking at him. 'i took time away so i wouldn't resent you. you really, really hurt my feelings, staying away helped me protect yours.'

you can't imagine the strife you placed on peter, you know actions speak louder than words, but it's a promise to yourself that you will never do anything like it again.

'i'm so sorry, peter. i feel terrible.'

a hint of a smile, 'i know you do. watching you squirm has been a little fun.' you drop your jaw, the nerve. 'oh, you're so mean for that!'

peter cleared his throat, you weren't out of the fog yet.

'but, seriously. that fucking killed me, i mean, i really thought i couldn't breathe. i was just... shocked. shocked more than mad or sad or... i'm not sure.'

you open your mouth, peter stops you, he knows what you're about to say. 'and i don't want you to keep apologizing. it happened, we worked through it, and it doesn't need to keep being mentioned.'

'okay.' it's quiet, you understand what he means, but you feel like you can't explain your sympathy enough.

'ben was one of the most important people in my life and i opened up to you about it. i know it was in the heat of the moment, but you can't use those things against me. it will make me feel like i can't share anything with you.'

'i'm-' peter cut you off with your name, you held your lips closed.

'you're not a bad girlfriend either. you tried. you reached out, you stopped by, you apologized, you stayed away. you did everything you could do to prove how sorry you felt. even if i ignored you, that didn't go unrecognized.'

peter takes a deep breath, 'so,' his hands cup your face, thumbs brush your cheek bones softly. 'i love you, i'm not breaking up with you and it's okay.' peter rubs his nose against yours, 'okay?'

peter isn't saying it's okay because it's fine you talked to him like that. peter's saying it's okay because he sees your imperfections and loves them. peter's saying it's okay because he's said some things he doesn't believe either.

peter's saying it's okay because we're all allowed to fall from grace from time to time.

you want to say sorry, instead you smile and push against his face with your own.

'okay.' 

'good. now give me a kiss, i've been dying for one.'

[inkdrinkerworld]

ahhh i love chubby!reader and spencer!! what if she overheard someone talking about her weight in a negative way and when she runs into spencer he instantly goes into his own kind of awkward comfort mode bc he secretly has THE biggest crush on you and any other time he would be VERY proud that he managed to get you to hug him but now you’re crying and oh no he doesn’t want you to be sad especially not over the way you look!!

It’s gross. To hear people make comments about your body behind your back in the way you do.

It’s all snide, backhanded comments disguised as compliments. Your stomach rolls because none of your team is near enough to hear them and you don’t feel like making a scene.

Your mind changes when you hear, ‘And it’s so obvious she likes him but what would he do with a girl like her? He’s less than half her size. She doesn't deserve someone like him.’

Your blood boils and you flick away imaginary dust and lint from your clothes before making yourself known.

“You might not like the way I look but you’re much more unattractive than you find me because that’s just vile. You should be ashamed of yourselves. It's none of your business but Spencer and I are dating.”

The local officers blanch and you walk off ignoring their stunned silence and stutters for an apology.

Your hands shake as you sit next to your team and you’re silly for thinking Spencer wouldn’t notice it. Spencer noticed when you had dusted the ends of your hair a week ago.

"Are you okay?" he asks, voice so low it's barely a murmur. Spencer's eyes remain trained on you as you nibble on your lip trying to decide what to do.

"I've been better," you say and Hotch saves you from more questions by instructing, "Y/N I need you to speak to the local police and get every name they have for people who came in."

No one else notices the way your back stiffens as you stand. Spencer does, "I'll go with her, and we'll call Garcia."

Spencer takes you to a secluded hallway and tips your chin up, "What happened, sweetheart?" it's cruel for him to whip that out at work, but it has the same effect it does when you're at home curled in his lap while reading.

"The locals were saying things about me- which is fine, I'm not everybody's cup of tea. But they were extra mean and rude about it." you debate whether to say the rest, but it comes out before you come to a real decision. "They said they don't know why I think I deserve your attention and they said you're too small to be with someone like me."

Spencer gasps like you've burnt him. He feels heat searing his chest as he replays your words. He doesn't know exactly how to comfort you without his words being hard and rough.

"But I stood up for myself," that eases some of the pressure in his chest. "I told them they should be ashamed of themselves and that I wasn't just some girl pining after you and we were together."

Spencer presses his forehead into yours. "I'm glad you stood up for yourself, but you shouldn't have to defend yourself at work or in general. You're amazing and stunning and you're more than anything I could've dreamt up for myself."

His words are soft, sweet and it melts the remaining worry in your bones that even though Spencer loves you, he had regrets.

"They're fucking assholes," he deadpans quietly and you laugh. "But we have a job to do so we'll be civil for the rest of the time we're here but the second we're done, we're messing with them."

[ombresdemaquia]

How people discover kylux

Most people:

Watch Star Wars: The Force Awakens

See the character dynamic

???

Start shipping

Me:

Browse ao3 for bdsm fics

Find a really well written long fic

"Oh, it's in the star wars fandom, but it's a modern au so I'm fine right?" (I don't know anything about star wars)

"wow, the plot and character dynamics are so goooood, i want more"

Start looking for fics in the kylux tag, but only modern aus to not spoil the original story

"maybe i should go watch the movie before i spoil myself completely"

"bruh it's the 7th movie in star wars??"

there's only one thing to do now

watch allll the star wars movies, starting from ep IV: A New Hope. Also get friends to watch it with me. this is how i'm diving in the fandom and i am not ashamed.

(they don't know i'm shipping kylux tho)

keep reading fics, spoiling myself more in the process

(i'm still not at ep 7)

accidentally sees fanart of Hux in a fic: "WAIT, that's what he looks like?"

for a long time i didn't know the first order uniforms are black, so i just imagined he wore white or something. also i thought his hair was longer

accidentally sees gif of kylo: "WAIT, that's what he looks like??"

kylo is a straw colored name, so i thought he was blond

i'm STILL not on ep 7, and i've probably read 600k+ words of fic.. at least

tumblr in a dark alley: hey kid i heard you want some kylux fan art. i have a lot of vintage stuff here, from 2016. all i need you to do is dedicate your heart and soul to this trash ship and jump aboard.

me: i regret nothing o7

[danpuff-ao3]

One day, maybe soon, my works will be available again. But they may not always be.

Sharing works can be such a scary and vulnerable experience. Putting that creation one spent so much time on, put so much hard work into, what you're so passionate about; putting that out into the world for everyone to see, and judge. Not knowing how it will be received, how people will react.

It can be scary to put yourself out there, let alone leave yourself out there.

For me...I go through phases where I want to delete everything. Where I hate my work. When I'm embarrassed and ashamed, and when I wished I were better. Better on a technical level, better content, etc. Days when I wished I didn't have so much hurt inside of me, so I didn't have to craft such angsty stories. Days when I feel like the odd duck out, because my vision doesn't align with what other people want to see.

It's insecurity, yeah. I can admit that.

I've deleted works before, and regretted it. People had been quite mean on some stories, and I'd been so hurt and so humiliated, I deleted what I thought were the "worst offenders." Even if they weren't good, I still regret it. They were still part of my story, still part of my history.

And so...the collection.

In times when it's overwhelming, or I'm in an especially bad period, I have an escape. I can lock my works in a vault and keep them safe and protected and for my eyes only, until I feel prepared to share them again.

It's all quite complicated. For all that I at times hate them, there's a reason I share my work in the first place. I care so much about what I do, and I want to share that with people, and connect with people. But creators also don't owe their works to anyone. And though I'm sorry if people miss their favorite stories when they're hidden, I do have to take care of myself first and foremost.

The collection means that, in the worst times, I can lock everything down so I can breathe again. It also means I won't delete anything when it all gets to be too much.

People can think whatever they like about me because of this, but I hope that you can all understand why.

I'm a sensitive lady. That might make for a good story, but it can also make for bad times. Especially when outside factors come into play.

I hope to be back soon. Love to you all 💛

[msprojects]

I'm still in denial

I was still feeling the burn from TVXQ's breakup when I came across One Direction, so I told myself I wasn't gonna get invested and give my heart to another group that'll just break it. Boybands don't last forever generally but you always keep hoping they would. So I told myself I was only gonna be a casual listener.

But it's been a week and I'm still kind of reeling. There's never going to be a reunion with all five of them. Liam's voice won't be starting most of 1D's songs ever again. I think I really loved them as a boyband more than I let on to myself. I followed them in secret and felt so happy with all their antics and loved their music as a guilty pleasure. I wish I could have just admitted I was a huge fan.

I think I'm always going to have that little regret of giving away the concert tickets I bought on a whim. I should've just gone and not felt ashamed for liking another boyband. Because here I am anyway *sad laugh* I should've just let myself have fun and say fuck it to whatever anyone thought.

When I loved them, everything felt giddier and brighter. It's reminding me of the times back then.

It kinda hurts. I put one of Harry's new songs on my playlist a couple months ago and found that I liked it. I keep thinking I should've seen that as a sign to check up on the members and see what they were up to. But I was still too proud. I had already moved on, I thought.

This is all happening with huge changes irl that I just needed to vent this out.

I still can't believe he's gone. I keep thinking there must be some sort of conspiracy and he's actually alive somewhere.

He was supposed to be in a new show. He was getting better. Despite the setbacks, there was still something for him. Even Zayn got dropped from his label before. I don't know if they were in contact at all, but I... I don't know, it's nothing I can wish for because nothing can be done now.

I wish I could have checked up on them sooner and maybe joined one of his lives and sent a message of encouragement. I listened to his songs too and the sound was very reminiscent of early 2000's pop. I could have told him I wanted to hear more of it. I don't know if it would've helped. But anything to cut through the negativity he received.

I hope there's no more pain where you are Liam. I hope you're in a better place. You led the boys with impeccable professionalism and loved the fans truly. From where you are, I hope you could see that all the love you gave is coming back a hundred fold. Rest well.

[ronearoundblindly]

The Dignity of His Choice (abridged ending)

Speedy version of Reflections Part II & III (see previous or series) Steve Rogers x wife!Reader

Alright, this may not be conventional, but I'm crippled by guilt over this story. There are so many elements that hit brutally close to home based on a personal experience this past year (arguably this past decade but whatevs), and so I have sifted through 28 A4-sized pages, front-to back, and 17 smaller pages, front-to back (save one sheet), as well as a typed-up 7k, in hopes of grasping this magical redemption arc that exists in my mind and falls flat everywhere else. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of loving this story so much that nothing is good enough, and I'm sick of hoping to offer a conclusion that never f***ing comes. Welp, today you can know the conclusion--or the gist of it at least--because that is my Christmas gift to myself. I'm washing myself of the guilt. -> What follows is an extremely unedited and maybe slightly poetic summary of the finale. God, I hope you enjoy it, but really, I just want to feel like I *can* finish something. Sorry if that's dramatic; that's just...the situation of 2023.

Thank you in advance for your understanding, and I hope this serves up some sort of holiday cheer! (No real warnings because smut is reserved for the full-length version. This tale, as always, is 18+ due to very heavy themes.)

The thing is Steve doesn't regret his choice. How can he regret anything that ensured you were here, alive and happy, by his side? That's not an achievement he'll ever be ashamed of; there's no guarantee in the multiverse that he could have done better.

You spoke of being lucky. You felt guilt that of all the servicemen and women to lose their lives, yours came home in the end.

Steve doesn't see it that way. Yes, you and he are very, very lucky, but overall, Steve won.

In every war, there are battles. In battles, there are fights. In fights, there are shots taken, punches thrown. You don't need to land every punch to win a war. There are always losses.

Steve Rogers tends to win because he understands this.

He knows the value of strategy. He knows the value of hope. He especially knows the value of planning for the worst.

And so he's surprised--as he often is with you--that he hasn't lost more.

You accept the loss as well as the win. You endure more gracefully than he ever imagined possible during those long months alone and away.

His sacrifice may have played a factor in your safety, but in the end, it just came down to you. You fought for yourself. You battled for your beliefs. You warred for your convictions.

Steve can understand that. He admires it.

He plans to make this dreadful mess up to you, he hopes for the time to do so, but before he can strategize how, your bubble of isolation is burst by a knock at the door.

"Open up, Rogers. Please," Sam Wilson requests anxiously over F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s speaker.

He could simply mean you since you are a Rogers and neither of you have heard the okay that the world knows Steve's alive. Although, Steve still doesn't have a phone again, and you haven't exactly been checking yours during recent...activities... (Not to put too fine a point on it, but Bucky's little gifts aren't going to miraculously last eight days and nights.)

Steve stays in the corner of the kitchen, drying his hands from the dishes you two were washing together, while you answer the door.

It swings open in the direction that still hides Steve.

"Hey--" Steve hears the soft pause in Wilson's voice "--I think...I may be out of line here, but Stark ordered personnel to vacate the compound."

You cross your arms over your chest, nervous. "Do we need to leave? I--As in, you and I? Are we included in that?"

"No," Sam says flatly. "It's just...suspicious--look, can I come in?"

"Sam, wait!" You push to make a wall in the doorway, meaning Steve can no longer see you or what's happening while a silence, an extremely pregnant pause, stretches.

Afterward, there's a whisper.

"Is he here?"

Your reply is only a stutter of unfinished words, but that's enough. Sam's stepped past and halted a few feet inside before his scanning gaze lands on Steve.

Steve's not sure what he expects his friend to do. He's misjudging reactions left and right these days, so he can't presume that--

"Gym?" Sam ticks his arm, thumb pointing back out to the hall. "I'm going for a run."

He has to convince you and Steve that the whole place really has been cleared before Steve changes clothes.

The string-light and garland-lined corridors remind Steve that his apartment remains devoid of any festive touches. You two have been too distracted to realize it's the day before Christmas Eve, so the 'evacuation' will likely draw no attention from the average employee.

Stark is just adamant they have the holiday for family. That's all. The only people who live there are Avengers.

The smell of the rubber floor when they walk onto the track spikes nostalgia in the back of Steve's brain, and in his utter joy to be there again, he starts sprinting like old times.

His blood pumps and his lungs stretch, but it's too hard, too fast. His blood thunders in his ears and makes his head swim. His lungs burn fiercely and seize. He collapses, gasping through his weakest asthma attack yet, but it still happens.

Things are almost, almost the same. Things are still different.

Without taking the opportunity to gloat (too much), Sam uses his powers, skills he's had all along, to divine Steve's real fear:

Steve changed things, and he may have changed things so much that it's all ruined. He can't go back to being Cap because he showed his colors: he chose you over everything else. What if you can't go back to being his wife because of that same choice?

Sam helps Steve off the floor.

"You walked the same circle for a long time, buddy. Instead of getting off the track entirely, try one lane over. Baby steps."

Steve snorts. "Ya know, she said something similar."

"Yeah, well, some of us filled in the stoic charm while you were gone."

"Comes naturally to you, doesn't it?"

Wilson turns to walk backwards, flashing pearly whites. "The outfit is growing on me, and I think the press were just about to stop calling me Black Cap." He playfully punches Steve's shoulder. "We'll see how far this sets me back, huh?"

After realizing he has to take it easy, Steve enjoys a long, mostly quiet run beside his friend, never once passing him. Though Steve asks about returning tomorrow, Sam has to decline. Christmas Eve is for Sarah and her boys, and Sam's sister will raise hell if crossed.

Just before leaving the gym, Sam hugs Steve, the length and intensity of the embrace telling Steve all he needs to know. Sam--like everyone else who knows so far--is happier than he is hurt, and that stifles Steve in a torrent of humility.

He doesn't deserve the strength of this family built around him, but he is grateful.

Steve also doesn't expect to find Natasha and Bucky in his apartment when he returns. He was hoping to put up some decorations with you, bring a touch of joyous spirit to that place you've been emotionally entombed for months, but he outright frowns when seeing the box they brought.

Between you and Nat sits the bin of intel the Keepers gathered on you and left behind at a raided facility. You're pouring over the dirty details of horrible intrusion to your private life, both you and Steve's, and he can't help but watch your face closely.

You do look horrified. You look furious for minutes on end, file after file, until you finally ask, "who's had stuff like this on you guys?"

That's the thing. That's the part eating away at Steve's shame. It's why he can't be beyond a superficial level of sorry for what he's done.

"The Red Room," Nat replies softly.

Buck shrugs. "Hydra...among others."

Steve knows what that intel could have been a precursor to; they could manipulate more than just him. You could have been used, you could have been changed, and it would have been his fault. Extremes are most of his life, so Steve goes to extreme measures to keep his life separate from all of that.

Blurring those lines--bringing you closer to the fray of this scary and violent world feels irresponsible.

You continue to ask candid questions about what Nat and Bucky were doing this whole time. The response is grueling, a complex web of taking out targets without signaling an ulterior motive, every interaction carefully executed to seem natural, all the while knowing that Steve waited to come home and you waited for...well, the truth.

The way Natasha describes it makes Steve sick to his stomach.

He never wanted this, but he has to live with the consequences.

You thumb over a few stalking photographs in your hand and simply say, "that was quite a commitment."

Something triggers in Steve, and suddenly, his next move is crystal clear.

"I'll--I'll be right back," he blurts.

All three of you startle in confusion, sat around the coffee table like it's the most normal thing in the world to share so much. You've had top clearance for twenty-four hours. You're already a pro, and that makes Steve's idea that much more perfect.

He races through the building, glad he doesn't have to hide, and pounds on Tony's door.

As soon as Tony opens up though, Morgan rushes past his legs and lets out a blood-curdling cry that ends in a sobbing, "you're alive."

The little girl flings herself into Steve's arms, refusing to let go the entire time he asks Stark--all the Starks--for a favor.

You wake up the next morning to find a note from Steve and a dress of yours hung by the tree you put up after a long meal with Nat and Bucky.

Important errand, the note reads. Expect Tony to come by at 11. Wear this, please. I love you.

It's the dress you chose for your first date with Steve, the date that kinda never happened because the compound was invaded and you had to kill a guy. Odd memory to resurrect, but you do adore that dress.

You're not surprised when Tony arrives in one of his signature suits, nor when he makes a show of walking you through the halls on his arm. He has the uncanny ability to chat about nothing using the maximum number of words. He's delightful that way.

Your first real clue is Morgan, standing outside some double doors to one of the flex rooms, like the ones changed for training different abilities, like the ones used for therapy circles. In fact, it's the same room, the exact same double doors as years ago.

The girl looks fit to burst, clearly told to keep her cheers to a minimum as she clutches a wicker Easter basket in her hands, crouching as if ready to spring into action.

Pepper stands close by. Nat and Bucky whisper conspiratorially a ways down the hall.

Then you notice.

Tony has on a black suit with red pin-stripes, Pepper a blue dress with a white belt, Natasha a red dress with a white belt, and Bucky a navy suit with a black-shirt underneath.

"We did our best on short notice," Tony rambles off, guiding you to a stop in front of the party.

"This is for you," Morgan squeaks, ripping a colorful bundle of pipe cleaners out of the basket. There are buttons woven to the tops of each 'stem.'

Pepper quickly adds, "wild flowers were...a bit scarce, as you can imagine."

You brave a single question.

"What's going on?"

Everyone just beams at you, falling into a pattern of pairs behind Morgan before Tony winks and tells you to follow his lead.

The doors open, and there, at the end of the aisle, stands Steve--your Steve--in his old Captain America outfit minus the cowl. His hair is still long and darker, but his beard is properly trimmed.

All you can think is how you'll tease him about that.

You pinch at the leather sleeve in curiosity, and Steve leans over.

"This is the last thing I'll ever do in it," he says before kissing your cheek. "Promise."

"Says the guy who's stolen it twice," Tony mutters from his place on the other side of Bucky.

"He has a point," Nat chimes in.

The poor priest clears his throat and bellows, "dearly beloved..."

He keeps his promise.

At a press conference just before New Year's, Steve is announced as one of those rescued from "an enemy base" in an undisclosed location.

The crowd of reporters erupts in a chaos of inquisition, but all Steve will give them, standing there in a simple sweater and slacks, is his official resignation of the title Cap.

"What do we call you then?" someone shouts from the back.

"Just Steve. I am Steve Rogers, that's all." He looks to his left for the comfort of your face. "And this--" he grabs your hand "--is Mrs. Rogers, my soulmate."

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @fangirl-swagg @georgeweaslysgirl @austynparksandpizza @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @claireelizabeth85 @patzammit @supraveng @1950schick @jamneuromain @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @spectre-posts

A/N: and yes, the full-version will be written eventually.

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[iridescentpull]

Letter from Anthony to Ian (August 24, 2017)

**NOTE: There might be a few spelling mistakes so I apologize! This is a transcript of Anthony's letter put together for your reading!**

------------

Ian,

Hello old time friend. I have a lot to say to you that has remained unsaid for many years.

First, I want to thank you for being such a great friend to me in my very fragile teenage years. I came from a broken home with very little money and no means to explore the world outside of suburban Carmichael. You introduced me to your loving family, who welcomed me and loved me with open arms. They helped me travel and showed me a way of life that I hadn't been exposed to. You personally were supportive and overall were a very good friend to me who I felt could share anything with. 

I'm not sure why, but something changed. I feel our best friendship ended around 2009, and a resentment started growing between us. I started feeling a judgment in the tone of your voice. A sense of hostility in your actions. Did I do something that upset you? Did I treat you poorly? Did I make you feel insignificant- downplay the importance you had in our company and imply you were not as responsible for our success as me? 

I know I struggle with many things, and I'm so sorry if i ever put you through emotional turmoil in order to fulfill my own quota of self-importance. I always wanted everything I made to be just that- something I "made" with your help. I considered smosh to be something you only tagged along for, and I'm deeply sorry if I ever made you feel like you didn't deserve as much credit as me. You may not have done some of the heavy lifting I did in the early days, but definitely encouraged us to keep going and you kept things light and full of laughs as we did it. We accomplished so much and I am now just realizing how important you were in making that happen. 

I have so many things I have treated that I regret and so many things I wish I could apologize to you for doing- I really wish you would give me a chance to speak with you. There are also so many things I wish you would explain to me. 

Why have you consistently made me feel ashamed to be myself in front of you for so many years? The time I asked you what you thought about my shoes when we were seventeen and you told me you thought they were hideous- and I could tell you only said it to hurt my feelings. The time you talked shit behind my back on facebook to the girl we were friends with that I introduced you to. The amount of things you said behind my back to our high school friends about me and my relationship. The snide remarks you made about me being vegan. The times you made me feel stupid for making any content whatsoever that was not directly smosh-related. The snide remarks about anything I made that put my true emotions out there for the world. I just wished you were better at communicating.

I know I'm not any better but i feel like i tried with you. I tried to break out of my comfort zone and talk about things that made me feel uncomfortable. When we were in New York for our "Ghostmates" tour we got drinks and I opened up about how embarrassed I was that my previous relationship was so obviously bad to the outside world and how naive I was to think I would actually marry someone like that. I was vulnerable and breaking down all my walls in hopes you'd return the favor. But nothing. The conversation was once again one-sided.

Am I just horrible to open up to you? Have I made you feel uncomfortable to open up around me? Have I made you feel all the ways you've made me feel? Are the ways you treat me nothing but an echo of how I treat you? Am I the one at fault here? Did I create a problem that went way further than the point of no return? Is this all because of me? 

PERHAPS.

But I don't think there is a point of no return for friendships as deep as ours was. I am reaching out to you as an ex-best friend. I want to talk about things and lay them all out there so we can possibly mend things. And if we don't become friends again, at least we can say we tried. But why avoid trying all together? 

What are you afraid of? I know I've been callous in the past, but please give me a chance. I've changed and I'm now a more understanding person. All I ask for you is for you to stop being a fucking asshole. Just kidding. I had to say it. I just want you to treat me with respect again.

After everything I've observed in the past few years, I'm starting to truly believe you may not be a good person anymore. Do I even want to know the bitter, grumpy, vengeful person you've become? Is it better that I keep my distance to ensure I don't get even more hurt by you in the future? 

I feel like you've become the bully. You are so upset by so many things but you keep it all to yourself. No one knows what's really going on inside your head, but you take the easiest route and put a fake smile on and walk around like you have a life to envy, but deep down inside you're hurting. There's more going on than you even know, All things that slowly come bubbling up to the surface through your skin, they boil under the surface and fester until they finally burst with a shitty loaded comment or a passive aggressive outburst. 

I feel like I haven't known the real you for so many years. Does anyone know the real you?

Do you know the real you?

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Would I (early 20s nb) be the asshole for "rushing"/taking over the responsibility my partner(early to mid 20s f) took to rehome a cat we adopted together?

🐉🐱 <- so I notice myself

Tw for cat death

I know this sounds terrible just from the title but please read the whole thing. I'm just so emotionally done at this point and it's getting dangerous for us. This is also long lmao and please don't post this to YouTube or TikTok, I don't wanna deal with it, even if I changed names and a few ages.

So I've been living with my partner and her family for almost 3 years. I moved 10 hrs away from my home state to live with her because my parents were abusive. We dated for about 2 years prior to me moving. My partners family are equally abusive just in different ways. My family had some verbal and emotional/mental abuse while her family has constantly threatened physical abuse and lots of mental and verbal abuse.

Either way, I was screwed but I'd rather at least be able to come home to the love of my life instead of only being able to text her. I should mention here that my partner works full time while I'm working to get on disability for mobility issues so I am with our cats every day. I bring a little income with commissions on my crafts but it's not enough to soully sustain us.

When I moved in, my partner had 2 cats, let's call them Salem and Vector. Salem was a 10 yr old male cat and Vector was 2 yr old male cat. About a year after I moved in, in the beginning of 2022, Salem died suddenly from kidney failure and we were devastated. Salem wasn't originally my partner's cat (she'd gotten him from a friend only a year prior to me moving in) but we still loved him deeply. He was the first pet I ever put down and I'll never forget my partner's sobbing. About 2 and ½ months later, we got a kitten, lets call him Arthur, a 3 month old male. We shouldn't have but my partner wanted one, I thought I was ready and Vector was very very lonely and depressed.

I named Arthur and Arthur was feisty from the very beginning but he was sweetish. I told my partner, in a panic late at night a week after getting him; that I wasn't ready for a new kitten, i regretted getting him, we werent bonding, etc etc and she told me to just relax and breathe and give it time so i did. I gave it a full year and a half and... I'm ashamed to say I still don't feel that love connection with him. It started out small; chewing and destroying wires, food aggression (not like he'd bite us if we went near his food, more just got very excited and would painfully climb us to get to our food or any food) and because he was so jumpy, he'd freak out over every sound and rip us up trying to jump off of us.

We got Arthur from a cat colony being watched over by my partner's coworkers however he was born indoors, spent the necessary time with Mom and was handled from day one so he wasn't feral. He'd wouldn't beat us up but anytime he got excited to play or get pet or get wet food or anything we got scarred. His destruction has just gotten worse the older he's gotten, hes very very loud all the time (we like vocal cats but he screams) and he's not affectionate at all. He's not mean but he's just not interested in any cuddling or pets or anything. I don't want a rug I have to feed and clean up shit after.

About 4 months later, we ended up with, let's call her Coral. Coral was another kitten, female this time, when she crawled up in my car. She was feral from the start but she quickly became very loving and cuddly and sweet. She still very much so is. I wanna say, although I never grew a particular fondness for Arthur like my partner has, I've never mistreated, abused or neglected Arthur in any way. I've never yelled at him or treated him differently from our other cats. He got the same cuddles and attention Coral and Vector get, the only difference is that Arthur is crated at night so he doesn't make us lose an eye from some hard zoomies or get into food or dangerous things when we can't watch him. He's out all day and is only crated from 12 pm to 7 am when my partner gets up and let's him out. He's got a bed, food and water, a few toys and a small litter box in his crate so he's covered and he can see us and his siblings the entire night so hes not have separation anxiety.

Now onto the hard part. I'm done with Arthur. Emotional and physically, I don't want Arthur anymore. I'm exhausted from being constantly ripped up and screamed at and having important things destroyed by Arthur the spider cat. No amount of clicker training or treats or sprays of water or redirections can stop him from ripping the room apart(said room is a small apartment, not a normal small room). He gets played with by us all the time and he's got 2 energetic siblings who play with him, we don't know why he acts this way. I could handle Arthur's antics for a bit longer if needed but 2 new issues have made me finally put my foot down about Arthur's further residence with us.

1. Arthur is constantly trying to dominate Coral to the point of hurting her and fur flying fights and scratches. It should be noted that all three cats were neutered/spayed the moment they were of age to do so so it's not a male cat thing. Arthur wants to be higher in the hierarchy but Coral won't take it and thus, some nasty screaming hissy cat fights. Almost very other time they are fine it's just when he gets humpy. There is also a near weekly occurrence of him not reading her " I don't want to play anymore" signals and fights ensue. I'm not gonna stand my cats hurting each other and Arthur is the constant instigator. He tries to fight with Vector too but gets put down immediately, he picks on Coral and not in a playful way. I'm not playing favorites because I love Coral and I'm not connected with Arthur, if Coral was aggressive, we'd take the issue just as seriously but Arthur is the aggressor and Coral is smaller and younger than him so she can't stand up for herself.

2. We need to get out of this house. Her family's abuse is worsening and they constantly joke about hurting our pets and their own pets (the pets have never seen each other, different floors of the house so Arthur's aggression has nothing to do with them). We could barely afford an apartment in the current housing crisis and can barely find ones that allow 1 cat, let alone 2. We have never and probably will never find one that allows 3. All this ignoring the fact we'd lose our deposit instantly from Arthur's destruction.

All in all, Arthur needs to go. I'm noticing myself getting more and more stressed and frustrated and short with a Arthur and he doesn't deserve to live with someone who doesn't love him. Even if he's treated no differently, I'm sure Arthur can tell and even if I feel justified in my lack of love for him, I know he's not trying to hurt us or destroy things maliciously. I'm not nor will ever hurt him but I'm just done with constantly flinching cause he jumped on the bed or dreading letting him out of the cage in the morning because it was so peaceful before then.

I told my partner about 8 months ago (June of 2023) that I was fully done with Arthur and if we ever wanted to leave here, he'd have to go. I told my partner I wanted to start this process in Sept and hopefully have him either rehome or in a no-kill shelter by the end of Oct. I know my partner gets very attached to her animals so that's why I gave her 3 months to process things and a month to rehome him. I was very gentle but stern about this because it would be what's best for him and best for us. My partner agreed but asked if she could do the rehoming and to not talk about it until Sept. I obliged.

Sept, as you can see, has long come and went and now it's Jan of 2024. I've been asking my partner about once a month about the rehoming process and how it's going with mixed results. She made a pet profile on a rehoming site but when I read the description, she didn't really "sell" him well aka mentioned every possible bad thing about him and didn't mention any positives. It felt like she was sabotaging it but I let it be. She showed me a list of 40 no-kill shelters in Dec but she had only checked off 4 of them. She promised me he'd be rehomed by the end of 2023 and he's still here and we are no closer to doing it.

I don't want to wait till the week we move out to rehome him, the stress of the move and changing of the household will be too much stress on us and on Coral and Vector. I don't wanna wait for kitten season to swing back around and we'll never find a place for him. I know it's hard for her but she's breaking a promise for a cat she's admitted herself she's starting to hate. I know rehoming is a process but it's not moving and I feel like my say on his continued residency is being disregarded. I'm not trying to rush my partner but she's broken a promise, it's been 8 months since she could start preparing for this and 5 since she's "started the process" she's dragging her feet intentionally.

So, my idea is that I'll take over the process. I'll offer to help and find the places and get things in order so we can get one less stressor in our lives and Arthur can live in a home with the attention and patience he deserves. I wanna ask her if she wants my help but I don't want her to feel rushed to do it and get upset with me for doing what she promised she would.

I feel like she's waiting for me to just give up and give in and let him stay but she's not the one who has to deal with him all day every day and we don't make enough to find a bougie apartment to take in 3 cats. He'd need to be rehomed even if we got attached because we can't take them all. So, would I be the asshole for taking over the rehoming process for a cat me and my partner no longer like because my partner is intentionally dragging her feet on it or am I justified?

(to note, my partner brought up the possibility that Arthur has a mental illness/possibly be inbred due to the cat colony situation or that we could get him professional training. The issue is we live in a very rural area without a lot of money, 1. We would not be able to afford any mental illness controlling medicine for the long term when we can barely afford our own meds and 2. Classes to train animals are very expensive and the places that could train Arthur are at least a 3 hour drive away. Its not feasible for us, especially when I don't have a license/might not be able to drive on my own due to my disability. If he was properly sheltered, they could get him that help/training or his new owners could afford to but we can't. We can't put him in a kill shelter for moralistic reasons either.)

What are these acronyms?

[crepes-suzette-373]

Germa's Ancestors

(+ Shandora connection?)

This is a kind of long theory post. I feel like at some point it would make more sense to narrate this as audio/video, because I think people don't like walls of text.

Anyway, bear with me for now, this is a long post.

I want to begin by analysing this scene:

To my knowledge, the phrase 無念の魂 is very specifically only applicable to the souls of the dead, and you can't use it to say souls/spirit in a euphemistic sense. E.g "put my soul into my work", or something like "the spirit of the age". I did my best to check various examples of usage, and far as I can find it really just means dead people.

In that case, then the dialogue about 300 years in the raw would mean "To think that I entrusted you with 300 years' worth of my kingdom's regretful souls".

"Regretful souls" is, as it says, the souls of people who died with a lot of regrets or resentment. It's quite a different sense from "longing".

Also another thing, he says 合わせる顔もない about the dead. This isn't "disgracing their memory". This is "I'm so ashamed (of myself/my failure) that I cannot face them", hence the "I despise myself" dialogue that comes after. It didn't really specify a word for "direct ancestor" so I assume he meant all people of Germa of the past.

So... this could be either/or, but if failing to restore Germa = regrets, and supposedly people there have been dying in regret for 300 years, then it sounds like wanting to restore Germa was the people's dream ever since their destruction.

Though, that is still open to interpretation. It doesn't have to mean "reconquering North Blue" really was the goal that was passed down through generations. Maybe actually the ancestors just wanted to have some land again, but over the years that goal becomes corrupted and twisted.

Or all of that was just crazy talk and the ancestors never actually wanted this. Who knows?

(I do apologise to anyone who really don't like Judge for putting this stuff on your dash, but he's kind of the only one who ever actually said anything substantial about Germa history, and for analysis purposes he has to be in there)

Also a little conspiratorial bent.

The dialogue text said that the souls cannot return to their homeland, it strongly implies the land is just completely obliterated. It's similar to how the Shandians said that their ancestors no longer has a place to return after the sacred trees were cut down.

Germa, or at the very least Judge, has a similar attitude towards the ancestors as the Shandians. Perhaps not quite to the point of worshipping them as gods, but Judge view the past dead of Germa with deep respect.

I feel like it's hinted that "Moon = high technology", as shown by the robots on the moon that Enel saw in the cover story. I've made theories before speculating that Germa is thematically connected to the moon, but maybe they actually literally are related to the moon via one of the moon tribes that descended to the Earth.

I'm not sure how canon it is, but one of the Data Books had said that Skypieans don't actually have wings. Their wings are just costume/decoration.

Assuming this is real (Data Books and Vivre Cards are sometimes wrong), are there humans in the world who are actually descendants of Skypieans? After all if they literally have no wings, then they would look no different from regular humans. Skypieans didn't really have an obvious strong ancestral worship like the Shandians, but perhaps there is some shared culture that we don't know.

That, or possibly somehow the Shandians' wings are also fake. In the moon murals you can see that the Birkans' wings are differently-shaped from the other two. If the Skypiean wing is fake, who's to say that the Shandian one isn't?

Also, an interesting thing is that the Shandian ancestor seems to be the one making the robots, while the Birkan is either observing or giving instructions. So the Shandian ancestor is at least some form of engineer. Curious.

On that note, the people of Wano also deeply respect their ancestors, as real Japanese people do. They have curious Princess Kaguya hints, as well as strong prevalence of moon symbols all over.

As I noted in my analysis of honorifics, Skypieans, Wano, and Germa all share the 上 honorific usage. This is an unusual honorific that no other kingdoms in the world seem to use. Aside from the above 3, only the merfolk royalty and the Tenryuubito use them.

It could be that it's simply "archaic language" even in the One Piece universe, and it just fell out of use in most of the kingdoms. It still makes me wonder if there are actually a lot of humans who have blood ties to the moon tribes that isn't revealed yet as well.

I've also previously mentioned that young Judge has a "Kabuki face" that reminds me of Kin'emon, but I didn't consider that Kalgara also kind of looks like that too. It might just be design coincidence, but maybe it actually means something, I don't know.

[crmsnmth]

Like An Open Book

I don't hide my past Not the things I regret Not the things I'm deeply ashamed of The person who existed in this body before me seem to be racing to the grave

I am honest about what I've done because I know that bad people can grow hearts The apathetic can suddenly feel empathy Even a cynic can fall in love

Nothing you do is truly permanent Tomorrow is another day Another chance to get this right and we've got forever to slow down so let's hit this wall of concrete full speed ahead

I share everything I am and that means everything I've done from lying my way to whatever wanted a master manipulator, a king con artist to stealing anything I could sell from any house to being wraithful with a temper to match

My record is not perfect It's filled with horrible actions It was never my intention to hurt anyone But I did I never wanted to make anyone feel broken But I did I did and there's no real way to take it back

Forgiveness of self is a skill that I just never took the time to learn But when I saw I'm trying, please understand that I am but self-taught is harder than people have to beleive I will make an example of myself so no one ever rides this coaster without warning

Ask me anything and I won't lie My tongue healed from its fork I don't want to be the person who existed in this body before me I want to be better I want to be better

[brothermoth]

the left wing of the ostrich

You know what? This is the fault of young people being so fucking stupid and unable to educate themselves with the vast fucking resources they have available. I don't give a shit how good or bad your formal schooling was. The internet is free and you can learn these skills entirely on your own by simply not being a goddamn reactionary fool.

You're not a fucking anarcho-communist or a Marxist leninist feminist or whatever the fuck y'all are spouting now. You're an uneducated shitheel who thinks calling yourself the most left sounding thing is going to make you better. You've never read Marx or Engles and I doubt half of you even understand the theory you claim to follow.

I'm not blaming this on anyone with a learning disability who has difficulty accessing educational materials by the way. This is about people who make a willful choice to be radicalized online. This is about people who do not have the common sense to pull their head out of their ass.

Gen z (I fucking hate generation labels but it is largely people 18-30 that this problem comes from) is one of the least educated groups of people with some of the lowest reading levels since public education became widely available.

These are people without an ounce of fucking kindness or goodwill in their heart who feel so much apathy toward any one group of people that they are not even willing to do anything but stare like a fucking fool and let shit happen.

Radfems get off your high fucking horses—you had a hand in this. If your feminism isn't based on basic human fucking empathy then you're nothing but a shill doing absolutely fuck all for women or anyone else for that matter. You're a bastardization of feminism and you should be fucking ashamed.

Anti voting cunts? Genuinely I want you to sit and spin. Your fake empathy is pathetic. You don't get to put myself and everyone I care about in front of the bus so you can get on your moral pedestal about being against genocide. Your hands are stained with fucking blood. You're an idiot and your stupidity and your silence is murderous. You had a chance to get off your ass and DO something that fucking mattered for the people in your own community and you basically told us we are not worth it. The man who wanted to shoot protestors will absolutely be beneficial for Gaza. Right.

You're such lukewarm activists that you believed misinformation about Kamala Harris that was so easy to just fucking verify. (No she did not imprison people for weed. She was in fact supportive of lessened sentences and education for prisoners so they can find jobs when they're free. She has done a LOT for people and she was put in a very difficult position where she could not risk losing the large pool of moderate voters.)

Hey "activists"! Do you know how your own fucking government works?

THE VICE PRESIDENT CANT DO SHIT. KAMALA HARRIS HAS LITTLE TO NO SAY ON WHETHER OR NOT WEAPONS GO TO ISRAEL.

Hell, BIDEN doesn't have much sway over that decision. Congress is red and they make the majority of foreign policy decisions you fucking stupid cunts.

Trans Americans will never forgive you. Black Americans will never forgive you. Poor Americans, disabled Americans, Latino Americans, Native Americans, Asian Americans and all the others.

I hope you regret the choices you made. Christ, I hope it fucking haunts you. Trump voters were always going to vote trump without hesitation but you? You had to play leftist and call every marginalized person who pleaded with you a liberal. You're pathetic. If I could spit on you via internet, I would.

Put your fucking head back in the sand. You can stop pretending to care now.

[south-of-heaven]

Charlynch x reader (heel Becky ig)

Beckys just stormed backstage and she’s angry after her match,she’s not thinking straight and snaps at reader,reader gets really scared and upset and that’s when Charlotte comes backstage,she calms down Becky and cheers up reader then they all help each other and cuddle

Snap || Becky Lynch x Reader x Charlotte Flair

Summary: Becky snaps at you after losing her match. You get upset and Charlotte has to play peacemaker.

The tension in the arena was palpable as the match came to an end, leaving Becky visibly frustrated. As the crowd roared around you, you immediately rushed backstage, concern etching your features. You knew Becky's fiery temper well, but you also knew that behind it all was a vulnerable side that needed comfort.

"Becks, hey," you called gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Her response was swift, a snap that caught you off guard. "Can you go back in time and make sure I win that match? No? Then just leave me alone."

The anger in her voice was unexpected, and it stung. Your eyes widened, and without another word, you hurriedly turned and headed towards the locker room. Alone, your emotions threatened to spill over, a mix of hurt and confusion clouding your thoughts.

Unbeknownst to you, Charlotte had witnessed the scene from a distance. Concerned for both you and Becky, she approached her girlfriend with a no-nonsense attitude.

"Becky, what the hell was that?" Charlotte's tone held a hint of frustration as she confronted her fellow wrestler.

Becky sighed, her anger deflating slightly under Charlotte's stern gaze. "I know, I shouldn't have snapped like that. It's just... I'm so pissed at myself right now."

Charlotte's expression softened. "I get it. We all have our bad days. But you can't take it out on the people who care about you."

She guided Becky away from the bustling backstage area, leading her to a quieter corner. Their conversation was intense, but eventually, you saw them both heading towards the locker room you all shared.

As they entered, you looked up, your eyes meeting Charlotte's. The tension in the room was palpable, but Charlotte's reassuring smile offered some solace. You sat in a corner, still feeling the sting of Becky's earlier outburst.

Charlotte gave Becky a pointed look before turning to you. "Hey, come here." She opened her arms, inviting you into a comforting hug.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you nestled into Charlotte's embrace. She held you tightly, offering the comfort that you desperately needed. Becky lingered awkwardly at the doorway, regret evident in her demeanor.

Finally, Charlotte released you from the hug, her gaze shifting between you and Becky. "Becky, you need to talk to her."

Becky hesitated before taking a deep breath and stepping forward. "I'm so sorry, lass. I shouldn't have snapped at you. It's just that... I was angry at myself and I took it out on you."

You wiped a tear away, meeting Becky's eyes. "I get it, Becky. But you don't have to go through things alone. We're here for you."

Becky looked ashamed as she nodded. "I know, and I shouldn't have pushed you away."

The tension began to ease, replaced by a sense of understanding. Charlotte smiled, content with the progress. "Alright, we're all good now. How about we get out of our gear and head back to the hotel?"

Becky nodded and you waited as her and Charlotte changed out of their wrestling attire. The hotel room felt like a sanctuary, a place where emotions could be freely shared. As you settled in, cuddled up on the bed with Becky on one side and Charlotte on the other, you felt a sense of unity.

Becky leaned over to press a gentle kiss against your forehead, her expression softening. "I'm really sorry, love. I promise, next time, I won't let my temper get the best of me."

You offered her a small smile. "And I promise to be here for you, no matter what."

Charlotte wrapped an arm around your shoulder, drawing both you and Becky closer. "See? We've got each other's backs."

As the evening unfolded, laughter and warmth filled the room. Cuddles turned into shared stories, and affectionate kisses were exchanged. In the end, you all found solace in each other's company, the bond between you stronger than any momentary frustration.

[crescentmoonlupin]

If you need help, I'm here to listen..

There are days that are easier than others. When you have depression, you tend to feel like the world is against you and it just feels like a constant battle that no matter how hard you fight, how much experience you have with it, it just never seems to be enough to throw at the problem. And of course, giving up is never ever an option cause once you do, the monster you are battling just gets bigger. Bigger to the point you just must live with the drooling, foaming beast.

I’ve had depression for a number of years, as of 2024, it’s been about 14 years since I was originally diagnosed, but about 17 since it first manifested itself within my mind. It's never been an easy beast to live with. I’ve tried destroying it by destroying myself. I held it down, but the bubbles never stopped coming up. I tried to drown it in sex, making it seem like the reason I was upset so much was because I was alone and needed the company to get me through, I cut myself so I could hold some sort of “control” over it but, of course that never works. Eventually it becomes an addiction that you don't realize you started, and it takes everything in you to stop. Years even.

To this day, I am still self-destructive. Some days, I wish I could still continue hurting myself, but I know its counterproductive, it’ll never solve anything. It just hurts everyone else who happens to catch it when the wounds are fresh. Cutting myself didn’t make me feel better in the sense I thought it would, it just gave me a false sense of control over something I didn’t have control over. The chemicals in my brain didn’t do what they were supposed to when they were supposed to, and I suffered the consequences.

I wanted to blame everyone else for my problems. My mother, my father, my stepparents. Sisters. Everyone who wasn’t me. “You made me do this!” I’d say, when really, I was the one who put the razor or knife to my skin and pulled. I made it count, I counted every mark, and it’s not a pretty number. Not only did I cut but I carved words into my skin, so I would remember why I did it in the first place. So many initials. Failure. Perfect. HIT ME! I’M NOTHING! Sorry :] Smile. And the list goes on from there. Now it’s just a bunch of scars.

I’m not ashamed of them, and I don’t really regret them, they’re part of me and it was what I thought I needed at the time, ultimately, I was wrong in the end, but teenagers never listen, do they?

I do wish I could go back though, and just talk to myself. Tell myself it does, eventually, gets better. That things do start going right, years down the road. That it’s not worth it to be so angry all the time, and to learn to love myself sooner so I didn’t have t struggle as badly as I am now at almost 30, because yes, we do make it past the age of 18, as surprising as that is for me to even believe to this day. Eventually we meet a man who loves us in his own special way, and we have the most beautiful son to raise together. And he loves that little boy as if he was made from his own blood. He reads him bedtime stories and helps him learn to walk. He teaches him to ride a bike and plays in his sandbox with him, the one he made him for his second birthday.

Things do get better, but you have to fall down so you can get back up, so you can grow up the way you need to, because it is necessary. Because as soon as you heard that little boy’s heartbeat for the first time, you know, you just knew, that everything was going to change and you knew that you would do anything for him, even if it meant changing everything so he could grow up better than you did. So, he can go farther than you ever got. So, you can make sure he is actually stable and doesn’t have to recover from his childhood. Make sure he is okay and knows he is heard.

I just hope I’m doing the right things when it comes to that little boy because I don’t know where I’d be or who I would be without him. There’re days where I struggle and all I want to do is to curl up into a ball and cry till I fall asleep. But I have this little boy watching me every day and I just have to keep going to make sure he has everything he needs to grow into a respectable human and a caring man. Fight for what’s right but know when to step back as well.