#its not their fault. its mine. i feel so fucking guilty and i know ill never be her i cant be emough i cant even be her long enough to let

[preydefiler]

/////

[fenhonig]

wooo yay i love feeling like im ruining my own relationship because im terrible at comforting people so i cant help her which means im a terrible partner and dont deserve her

she saved my life but ill never be good enough to do anything even a quarter as good as that for her

i just want her to be happy and to keep loving me, she treats me like a prince and i could never even think of asking for anything more, but eventually i wont be good enough and i can feel it approaching with every part of myself

i always get abandoned and its always my fault. my god why would i ever expect it to not happen again

im so sorry. my fucking god im so sorry

[hardtoimagineblaireverchanging]

this could be the most incoherent string of text you have ever read but i want to try as hard as i can to sum up how im feeling, even though there are no words

i just sang through this is home and my voice sounded relatively deep, but not deep or masculine enough. i look down at my hands and they dont look like mine, they dont feel real, neither does my body, nor do i. im this close to using the pair of scissors i found on sunday, the ones i used to get my blades out of my sharpener, and my blades to just do my hair myself. knowing that its there is killing me. i want to cut my chest apart. i cant do anything to get it to look flatter. i never thought that i would want to but i really want to have top surgery, atleast now i do anyways. but the process is so long and its so expensive too. so is going on t. the only way either of those things would happen is if i go through private healthcare services, and that would be in a years time at least. i have the whole of two masculine outfits and ive been struggling to even wear pajamas because they all just seem so feminine. i hate every inch of my body and cant see anything masculine about it. i want to be toned, i want to have atleast slightly defined abs and muscles but its so out of reach for me because im fucking lazy, i want a v line, i want my collarbones and my jawline to be more prominent. i want my thighs to be thinner and more muscle rather than fat. i just want to look more like myself. i feel like im living someone elses life. people always say theyre ‘in the wrong body’ when they come out as trans but i well and truly am. i dont want this. i cant have this. its like a sick game and i want out. i dont know what other words to say. i cant find them. everything about me doesnt just feel wrong anymore, it is wrong. and it isnt taken seriously either.

im getting the worst urges in the world. i want to cut myself, burn myself, run away and make sure i dont get found. pack a bag, take everything i need with me, maybe take nothing at all. i know i wouldnt take my phone. id draw all the money i had out in cash, make myself harder to trace. or maybe i wouldnt take money. maybe id just disappear, completely. all i know is that im so tired, rhys, so fucking tired. you know the worst itll get is me harming myself, i wouldnt do anything worse than that, but i really want to. i cant cope with how real everything is. but it doesnt feel real enough at the same time. my thoughts are so conflicting and so confusing too, and all i want is quiet. youd be able to make things quiet. i know you would. i just want to sleep, lay with you. then ill stop thinking and itll be quiet.

my relationship with food is getting really messy again. part of me wants to eat and eat and keep eating until i start throwing up because i ate too much, part of me never wants to touch food again. i want to wither away. decay. i want everyone around me other than you to feel helpless, like this is their fault, because it is. the only person to help has been you, i wouldnt want you to feel guilty or helpless or responsible because you are the only good left in my pointless existence. i dont want to get out of bed or move ever again. i wont. things are really really bad this time. i think ive spent the best part of or atleast half an hour typing this out and i still feel there is so much more left to say or to explain but i dont know how to.

[pandoratheprocrasticreator]

*banging my head against a wall* willow park needs to have a mental breakdown in season 3! She needs to address her inferiority complex! She knows shes physically strong now and tries to lead everyone but when hunter lied to her in ASIAS and betrayed her instead of blaming him for lying like everyone else she immediately folded and was like "hhhhhhhhhhhhh this is all my fault actually i shouldnt be trusted to do anything ever" and just bc hunter turned out to be Good, Actually, doesnt make her issue go away! She was right about hunter but the next time she makes a mistake in judgement she'll spiral down that mindset again!(willow telling everyone to escape through the portal and them getting trapped in the human realm, anyone?) Her inferiority complex doesnt go away if shes only confident as long as she doesnt make mistakes ever! She needs to know her friends love and trust her even if she fucks up and will help her if she does!

Also her whole "team mom" thing is sweet but shes also doing it at the cost of her own emotional health! That scene where she comforts king and gets everyone to stop arguing? Her voice was shaking! She was scared out of her mind but shes ignoring it bc she thinks its her responsibility to put everyone elses feelings before her own! Its noble and all but a major theme of toh is "putting other ppls needs before your own to the point where it harms you is bad, actually" and willow needs to learn that lesson!

Willow could and should double down on the "everyone elses feelings matter more than mine" mindset in the human world! Especially since you can make the argument that since she told everyone to go through the portal its technically her fault theyre stuck there! (Literally no one but willow would make that argument but she would be feeling guilty over it!!!!) And her friends are going to catch on to that Mentally Ill Dude Behavior (idk if hunter will bc he thinks Mentally Ill Dude Behavior is just Regular Dude Behavior and luz and amity are a mixed bag but gus will at least!) and make her realize that its okay to fuck up and rely on her friends and still be seen as strong and reliable! They only have three episodes left so they wont have time to do an in depth character arc but they should! Cut out the collectors character arc to make room if you have to! Fuck!

[sunarinluvr]

|| haikyuu boys finding you asleep on the couch after an argument ||

includes: kuroo tetsurou, miya osamu, & oikawa tooru

a/n- hello! sorry for posting so late, but this has been sitting in my drafts for a while and i was actually in the mood to finish it so i hope yall enjoy! oh and im not really sure about how i feel about it,,, might take it down later we shall see.

warnings: none ( lmk if there’s anything! )

KUROO -

last night you saw a post kuroo’s “work wife” had made on instagram with her kissing him on the cheek, and it didn’t make you feel the best, so you decided to bring it up to him the next morning. and you did, just as he was getting ready for work you talked to him about it.

you were standing in front of him filled with anger arguing about how it made you uncomfortable, “can you please listen?! i dont feel comfortable with your “work wife” kissing you?” you yelled. “Y/N it was on the cheek its not a big deal!” and to be honest you just wanted to cry. 

finally, he walked past you and opened the door. “i don’t have time for this y/n, stop being so insecure! at least she wouldn’t argue over something so small!” and with that, he slammed the door and you stood there stunned. kuroo knew that he shouldn’t have said that, instant regret and guilt filled his gut.

 but he already said it, he can’t do anything about it now. with a frustrated sigh, he went to work. hoping to fix everything when he gets home. you stood there speechless, as you realized you still had work so slowly you made your way to the bathroom. 

after getting ready and grabbing a quick snack you were out the door with a heavy chest. once you get home, tired and feeling worse than before. you trudged to the couch and plopped down letting out a shaky sigh remembering the argument and the words he said repeating in your head. 

you broke down crying, and before you knew it, the exhaustion from today took over and you were sound asleep on the couch. kuroo got home an hour later, he felt guilty and was already practicing how he’d apologize to you as he walked in.“y/n? kitten?” no answer. 

he called out again, and was met with silence, he made his way over to the living room where he found you sleeping on the couch. gently walking towards you he knelt down, and saw your tear-stained face which made his heart sink. “i fucked up” he said to himself.

giving you a gentle kiss on your forehead he softly apologized and carried you to the bedroom. you ended up waking up when you felt his body weight dent the bed. “tetsu?” you said softly squinting at him. relief rushes through his body at the sound of his nickname. looking at you with guilt in his eyes

“im so sorry kitten, i shouldn’t have said that. i didn’t mean to hurt you” he said gently. at that tears started flowing again and he was quick to hug you and wipe your tears with his other hand. “it’s ok, i shouldn’t have been so insecure anyways” 

he shook his head with a frown “no it’s not your fault ok? i didn’t mean anything i said. i love you so so much and i’m so lucky that you’re mine” you look up at him and gave him a small smile “okay” before cuddling closer to him. giving you a soft kiss on the lips he hugged you tighter as you both fell asleep.

OSAMU -

osamu was just having a horrible day, his head was pounding and the customers he had to deal with today were just plain rude. then he had to do most of the work since one of his employees called in sick, and for some reason, everything just annoyed him.

you on the other hand did not know about his day at all and thought it would be nice of you to make a surprise visit. walking in with a huge smile on your face stopping midway when you realize he wasn’t at the counter. “where’s samu?” you asked sweetly to the employee

“he’s in the back, i think he has a headache,” she says giving you a small smile. you can tell something was off by the way she spoke but decided to just brush it off and make your way to the back. “hi samu! surprise!” you exclaimed cheerfully as you make your way towards him

he just kind of looks at you, which you thought was weird, but you decided to hug him anyways. when he doesn’t hug you back and groan, you pull away and look at him “baby i heard you had a headache. i didn’t bring any medicine, but we could eat first and i-” 

you couldn’t even finish your sentence since osamu just stood up. he was infuriated and had no clue why, usually loved listening to you but today he was just annoyed. “look y/n a don’t mean ta be rude, but a don't have the energy for this right now. please just go home.” he said coldly staring right at you.

“excuse me? i came here to surprise you and this is what i get??” you said in shock, voice a little louder this time. rolling his eyes “Oh wow am so surprised! now will ya please go home? a don’t wanna argue right now!” he yelled. with tears forming in your eyes you quickly wiped them and left. osamu knew he shouldn’t have said all that, but he was too mad to run after you in front of all the customers. 

you rushed home and sluggishly made your way to your room to change into something comfier, making your way to the couch, curling up into a ball allowing your tears to fall, and somehow falling asleep, after getting tired of crying. he gets home a few hours later, guilt building up in his stomach as he mentally slaps himself for the things he said. 

walking into the living room he opened the lights and you were the first thing he noticed. seeing you curled up into a ball on the couch made his heart drop to his stomach. you on the other hand woke up because of the sudden change of lighting. 

gradually adjusting your sight you see him and switch your gaze onto the floor when you saw him look at you too. seeing your puffy eyes he walks towards you slowly and sits beside you giving you enough space. “am sorry, a shouldn’t have taken my frustration out on ya.”

you look at him with watery eyes and his heart sinks “yea i was just trying to be nice, sorry i didn’t warn you before coming” he opened his arms and you instinctively scooted closer to him, he sighs “no a love it when you surprise me a was jus having a bad day a love ya so much ok?” finally hugging him “okay i love you too” giving you a quick kiss he offered to make you food and of course you said yes.

OIKAWA -

you love oikawa, and you’re very supportive and understanding especially when it comes to his career. but he has an awful habit of overworking himself and as much as you love him you can't bear the fact that you couldn’t even see him anymore.

he goes home late at night -as in you’re already sound asleep late- and when you do stay up to see him, he’s too tired to even keep a conversation. then the next morning he’s gone before you could even wake up. you’ve spoken to him about this many times, but alas nothing changed.

you woke up to an empty bed as usual, but today was different though, you’ve planned a dinner for about 2 weeks now. you were very excited because it’s been so long since you both spent some quality time together and he promised to come home early. 

getting up you send him a little text reminding him of your dinner tonight, with a smile you head on over to the bathroom to get ready for work. once work was over you made a quick visit to the grocery store to buy the ingredients you’ll need to make tonight’s dinner. 

quietly humming to yourself while going through each aisle, and double-checking your list to make sure you’re not missing anything while checking your phone here and there. oikawa still hasn’t replied “he must be busy,” you say to yourself as you send him another text about the dinner just in case. after about 30 minutes you get home rushing since it was already late, and immediately getting started on dinner. 

once you're done you sat down and waited, and waited, and waited. it's been 4 hours. dinners cold and still no sign of your boyfriend. you decided to call him pissed off that he couldn’t even show up to one dinner, “hello? y/n i can't talk right now i still need to practice” 

he said as soon as he picked up. “tooru? did you get my texts? what about dinner, we’ve made plans for this 2 weeks prior! i even-” you were cut off “look just eat without me ok? we can eat again somet-” now it was your turn to cut him off. 

“oikawa tooru, you leave the house while i’m asleep and come back when i'm asleep. i just wanted to spend time with you..whatever good luck at practice,” you replied as you hang up. his heart sank when he heard the crack in your voice rushing to his car on his way home to you because he knows he fucked up. 

buying your favorite flowers for you on the way home cursing himself and the world for making it traffic at that exact moment. when he got home the first thing he saw was the food and you fast asleep on the couch. he felt a pang of guilt about being late. 

“y/n chan?” he said while gently waking you up. you stare at him with red puffy eyes and he hugged you giving you the flowers “im sorry baby, i should’ve prioritized you and our dinner. i promise ill do better” you saw how genuine he was being so you accepted the flowers and hugged him tighter as he offered to reheat the food you made.

reblogs are highly appreciated!

[otp-holic]

Will this be the night? (ALSO IN A03)

A random piece of online advertising unleashes some movie memories of a Summer afternoon in 1932

1.5 Ks Fanfic + Pictures Inside. Part of the Never let us lose what we have gained series (AO3) Silly drabble born from my love of classic movies... that ended up not having anything to do with classic movies.

BROOKLYN'S KING'S THEATRE

Poster for Cary Grant's Retrospective. Printed paper 2025.

A poster for the upcoming month long celebration of the movies of Cary Grant to be held in Brooklyn.

Bucky is not expecting a vivid memory of the past to jump at him from a piece of online location-targeted promotion popping on his phone as he and Steve are wandering around the neighborhood on a random Friday.

But the 21st century works in mysterious ways and Google is kindly inviting him to check “Cary Grant: A Celebration”, a month-long chronological retrospective of all his movies taking place at a nearby hipster cinema starting… in half an hour.

He beams as a long string of memories of the both of them in different afternoons and movies plays in his head; how they counted the cents for the admission price, and how Bucky learned to sneak into the movie every time that did not add up to two full tickets.

“Buck, you’ve been smiling at your phone in silence for a whole minute,” Steve interrupts his daydreaming. “Should I be jealous? Worried?”

“Sorry,” he answers, still smiling about the memories. “I think I’m leaving you for Google, they see inside my one hundred years old soul; But I might give you another chance if you don’t mind a change of plans for the afternoon.”

“Lead the way, but can you give me some heads up?” Steve chuckles, more than used to Bucky’s ways.

He takes Steve’s hand to direct them towards the movie theatre and thinks about how much information he wants to share.

Although he is the one who still relies on the comfort of 30s and 40s movies whereas Steve keeps getting bolder with his options, Steve has always loved Cary Grant and Bucky thinks he’s going to appreciate his choice since this particular movie has a history (sad history, maybe) for them, so he debates on whether to tell him or not.

“We are going to the movies. But the real ones, not that shit on Netflix you keep choosing,” he settles for half-disclosure.

“Damn, mister life in black and white strikes again. Embrace the 21st century, Barnes, I think you’ll like it!”, Steve laughs.

“Hey, I embrace it more than you do! At least I look the part of a mid-thirties man from it instead of a fifty-year-old hiding in fucking khakis. Albeit a very hot one, I’ll give you that.”

They both laugh. It’s not the first time these remarks fly between them and having a routine, running jokes, and running pet peeves is very soothing after everything they have gone through.

They’re getting closer to the cinema now, and Bucky can already see the Billboard announcing the retrospective and a small queue forming upfront. He takes a side look at Steve to see if he has noticed and he can certainly tell that his curiosity has peaked.

“Surprise! Call it a win-win, it might be up my alley, but you used to love Cary Grant movies,” Bucky smiles as they reach their place in the queue and glance at the program for the afternoon.

‘This is the Night (1932)’, the poster says, ‘Cary Grant's feature film debut on the big screen’

Bucky is deep in nostalgia, remembering a summer day of 32 when they were waiting in line for the same film and how the evening turned out, but when he looks in search of his partner’s reaction, it’s not what he expected at all.

“Steve, you ok?” he asks, worried at seeing Steve frozen in place.

Steve nods. His whole face is deep red, but at least he is responsive. He looks ashamed and Bucky is shifting from worried to curious.

“Jesus, this movie,…” he chuckles now.

“You seem to remember, then. I thought you might.”

It was not a happy memory: Steve had felt really ill halfway through, looking white as a sheet of paper and about to die on Bucky. They had to leave the unfinished movie and run home, as per Steve’s request. But as far as Bucky remembers, nothing to be ashamed of.

“Why are you acting weird? Oh my god, Steven, are you allergic to this movie?”

The silence before Steve answers is a little too long and the queue moves forward.

“Shit, this is not easy to say and I’m sorry in advance.”

“Duly noted, but could you try to explain? I’m lost and I didn’t expect a full-on confession of something to be sorry about when I decided to follow Google’s intelligent advice to an unfinished movie. I just thought it was a good excuse for a change of plans. And kind of closure.”

Steve takes a breath and starts talking.

“I wasn’t honest with you, Buck. Back then…” he stops, searching for words, nervously musing on his beard. “Ah, I cannot believe this hasn’t come up at some point, but there it goes. I absolutely lied to you that day: I wasn’t sick or half dying and I am very very guilty of using my poor health to run away from that place and that movie, but I did the only thingI could think of.”

Bucky is at a loss for words, he’s still deciding if he is angry, curious, or somewhere in between.

“But… but you were feverish and white as a ghost and you said you had palpitations!”

Steve seems to think for a moment again and the bastard laughs so loud they get a curious look from the people behind. And taking advantage of the queue moving up again, he gets really really close to Bucky who honestly thinks he’s going to try to kiss himself out of the situation since it’s a bulletproof strategy.

But he doesn’t: He goes for Bucky’s ear instead, and whispers.

“I had a boner like you wouldn’t believe.”

Bucky gasps loudly totally taken aback while Steve takes a step back and looks at him in the eye more amused and hungry than ashamed, but still blushing.

“But hey, not all lies! I was somehow sick. And pale since my blood was… otherwise occupied. And I was barely 14!”

Bucky laughs at the dork. His dork. But the information is still making its way into his brain.

“Oh my God,” he exclaims as it starts to settle, “You piece of shit, you pulled the poor sick child card when you were just plain horny. I was worried to my bones as we run to your home. Shame on you Rogers!”

“Me? It was your fucking fault! Yours and Cary Grant’s and your stupid grins and stupid chins, those clefts!” he’s screaming in whispers so Steve Rogers’ teenage boner doesn’t make it to the news, but he’s talking as if he was pronouncing an important speech to the UN, “What was a 14-year-old in the fucking 30s popping one upon seeing an actor who kind of looked like a very tall version of his very male best friend to do?”

He is about to say something, but Steve literally covers his mouth with one hand giving Bucky no other option but to stick his tongue and lick the palm.

“Gross, Buck. I’m not done!”, he dries his hand on Buckys’ shirt before he goes on. “I’m not done because as I was still processing all that, you kept brushing your goddamned hand with mine when you went for popcorn! Over and over and over. It was torture. I have palpitations now just thinking about it.”

Bucky full-on laughs. One of those real ones that come more and more lately and that he honestly thought he would never get to experience again.

They have reached the box office, so he doesn’t push it further. For now.

“Two tickets for `This is the Night´, please.” Bucky smiles at the box-office guy. “He is paying, tho. I paid last time we tried to see this one and he didn’t have the decency to stay until the end.”

He actually feels like a teen as Steve takes his hand into the theatre, as he very intentionally buys popcorn to share, and as they start full-on making out on their seats during the commercials once the lights are out.

“Wanna know another secret, Buck?” Steve whispers a few minutes later, eyes on the starting movie as he brushes Bucky’s hand with intention over the popcorn bucket. His flustered face and recently kissed lips bathed by dancing lights and shadows coming from the screen. “It’s a good thing we were already together in ‘38 when “Bringing up baby” came out because I was able to plan ahead and lure you into that memorable window fuck at our old apartment before the show, or we would have totally missed one of our favorite movies, too.”

Bucky hates Steve with the force of the universe. Or maybe not, but he’s not playing clean.

“Raincheck on the movie?” he manages to whisper back as he drives Steve’s hand to his already noticeable hard-on. Two can play this game.

“Oh, poor Buck. Do you have palpitations” Steve chuckles, lips wet on Bucky’s ear and gripping harder on his bulge instead of letting go. “Was that the memory of the window fuck? Or all the making out? Tell me so I don’t do it again.”

“You are a punk, Steve Rogers,” Bucky answers before standing up to leave, closely followed by a smiling Steve.

Argh, sorry for deleting and uploading again, but i had technical issues with this.... so here it goes again. I need to free myself from this one!

[rightnowyoucanttell]

Hi! Can you please do a steve harrington x henderson! reader fanfic with so much fluff. I don't care about the backstory it can be whatever you want it to be! Your account is lovely!

This account, @aesthetic-harrington is so so sweet, and understanding. I promised them several times that I'd post but life got in the way, I hope you like this 💕 I hope this okay, if not pleaseeee let me know.

Summary: Y/N and Steve have been dating for a year now. Dustin doesn't quite like it but he's not opposed, but a pregnancy was never in the contract...

- ⚠️ warnings ⚠️: mentions of teen pregnancy, angst, contemplation of abortion, eventual fluff!

Series???

NOT MY GIF

~~~~~☆☆☆~~~~

“Henderson...your so beautiful..” his hands ran over your cheek gently, your boyfriend of a year, Steve, laid tiredly across from you. He was still in his clothes he wore to work. His hair messily scattered. The two of you were suppose to rent a movie and then watch it once he got off, but changed.

“You..are soo tired Steve Harrington. You work so hard babe.” You hands removed some of his curls away from his Forehead before coming back to your side. He hummed lightly at your touch, your warm hands touching his cool skin.

"I worked my ass off. Thats why" you both laugh at his remark, he pulls you closer so your torsos are touching he brings your arms to wrap around his body.

"Ohh wow, you rented movies to teenagers who probably just came there to see you, soo hard.." you tease drifting as your fingers twirl his dark brown hair.

Soon, Steve’s chest heaved slightly his body overcome with a heavy sleep, you however were overcome with a strange wave of nausea. It was strange and out of the blue, it was 9:00 at night, this never happened.

You sat on the edge of the bed quietly, glancing over your shoulder to gaze at Steve. He was tired as hell, working late shifts at family video again. That, and having to pick up your brother from his friends, Dustin, before even getting a break after work. You sighed as a brief smile crossed your face. He was so peaceful. So calm. You kissed his cheek. Leaning over the bed without getting up. You got up and went walked down the hall to go to the kitchen, passing Dustin's room.

He wasn't supposed to be up this late but, he was reluctantly accepting of you and Steve. When you first told him he was indeed, 100% pissed. The two of you snuck around for months nearly getting caught, but you felt guilty hiding your brothers friend from him. You definitely owed him one. You kept it shut and continued down the hall.

When you reached the kitchen, you got a glass and filled it with water from the tap. You mused out the window as you took a sip, rasing it to your lips before lowering it soon after.

Then it made sense. You didn't want to admit it but, you were going to have too. The dreams, the neasous feeling that never left, and the continent unprotected quickie in Steve's car 2 months ago...

You were possibly pregnant.

The glass in your hand slipped as the nerves overwhelmed your body, your frail fingers felt the glass falling to the floor. And the tiny pieces shattered on the floor, you looked out the window.

What were you going to do? What the fuck were you going to do? How would Steve react?

"..Y/N!" Dustin's voice shook you frome your mental spiral. He stood on the opposite side of the glass, "what you do that for!" He motioned to the glass shards on the floor.

".. it was an accident, you should be more than familiar with the term. Just-" Steve’s figured groggily appeared in the frame of the hallway he frame against the wall, rubbing his eyes," go to bed. Please, ill clean this up."

"Fine." Dustin pattered down the hallway, this time, shutting his bedroom door behind him. The light disappeared from down the hallway.

"What did you do this time, Henderson?" He chuckled. You watched him circle you grabbing the dustpan from under the counter and going to work on his knees, cleaning the glass. You were in shock, how could have this happened.

"Steve?" You asked kneeling infront of him. Placing your hands in your lap, trying to seem composed.

"Yeah?" He responded still scooping the glass pieces from the tile to the pan, ever so gently.

"I -i think im pregnant. And if I am- i don't care if you leave, im keeping it."

Steve stopped sweeping. And eariee silence filled the dim light kitchen. Your mom was at work, Dustin in bed, the only sound was you breathing. Steve kept his head down, a tear formed at your cheek. His lack of response worried you.

"..is it mine.." He slowly started sweepig again. You were shocked. Of course it was his, who's else would it be.

"I'm not even sure there's an it, yet Steve. But, yeah, of course it would be yours who else am I sleeping with," you whipped a tear from below your eye.

"Y/N, this shouldn't have happened, we were careful, right? I mean. Ah what am I saying, its both of our faults. I love you, so much so that I will do anything possible for this baby. Baby or no baby, im never, " Steve finished sweeping the glass and set the pan on the small table without leaving the floor," ever. Leaving you."

He scooted forward to cradle your face in his hands. Caressing your damp cheek, "i love you. " he said quietly before pressing his lips to yours.

"Love you more, Steve. You know.. youd make a pretty sweet dad.." you drifted off patting his shoulder as you attempted to stand. He just smiled and took your hand as the two of you walked back to your bedroom, to sleep the recent events away, to only be greeted by them in the morning.

Agh idk!! I wanna continue this but idek if this is good

[marvel-sluts]

please don't go.

request: Can I request prompts 3. Please don't go & 16. Enemies to lovers with Tom Holland? 😊 - @palna (sorry it won't let me tag you)

prompt list

pairing: Tom Holland x reader

warnings: swearing, emotional abuse, angst, fluff

summary: you worked with Tom on set and ever since the first day he hated you. one day he overhears a phone call between you and your Dad, making him feel horrible for how he treated you.

a/n: im planning on making a masterlist soon so look out for it! anyway, enjoy lovlies!

***********

you opened the door to your apartment after a hard day at work. flopping onto the sofa and turning on the TV, not really paying attention to the six o'clock news.

that bloody Holland kid thinks he has the right to make your life a living hell. from the moment you met him he hated you.

you walk into the room flashing a smile to the people in there. you had been chosen to play a part in the new spider man movie. having quite a few successful movies under your belt you were well known.

you went round shaking hands with people, each one of them greeting you with a small smile and a hello. that was until you reached a certain individual.

"hi, I'm y/n" you say holding out you hand.

he looked you up and down with a grimace and looked at your outstretched hand, taking it in his and shaking it roughly.

"Holland, Tom Holland."

the buzz of you phone wakes you from your trance and you looked down to see your best friends name flash on the screen.

you quickly answer the phone and her voice can be heard throughout the room.

"sorry to bother you like this y/n but can we go out tonight? I had a shit day at work and need someone to take my mind off of it." she said.

"you read my mind, where do you want to go?" you ask, relieved to have an excuse to leave the house.

"how about the bar down the road from your house?" she said.

"sure, let me get changed out of my clothes first."

"okay I will be at your house in half an hour." she said hanging up the phone.

you run up the stairs and put on a black skirt and a pink shirt, touching up your makeup from filming and pulling on a pair of boots.

a few minutes later b/f/n (best friends name) rings the doorbell of your apartment and you go to greet her.

you reached the bar and grabbed one of the only remaining tables.

"so, what made your day so shitty?" you asked taking a sip of your gin.

"just my dickhead of a manager. he has given me about 5 projects and is expecting them all done by next week." she sighs rolling her eyes at you.

you snort into your drink "like your gonna get all of that done in such a short amount of time." you say.

"I know right. anyway whats going on with you?" she asked, knowing something was up. "is it that Holland guy again? I swear to god I will punch his nose in if he's done anything to you." she said, knowing how much he bothers you.

"there is nothing that you can do. he just gets on my nerves. I don't know what his deal is with me." you say.

"what does he do?"

"glares at me alot, won't speak to me unless its to criticise what I'm doing and just overall makes my life miserable." you say with a sigh.

"and you dad...?" b/f/n asked.

"same as usual, he still hates me and continues to tell me how much of a failure I am." you say rolling your eyes. your dad was a dick, you and him had never gotten on.

"I know, you just have to ignore him. he just doesn't see how amazing you are." she said smiling at you.

"I guess..."

after a few hours of talking and forgetting your problems. b/f/n drove you home.

after getting undressed you collapsed on your bed, exhausted. falling asleep within seconds.

******

you woke up with a start and checked your phone. shit. you had slept through your alarm and you were going to be late for filming.

quickly pulling on clothes and fixing your hair and makeup you ran to your car and got to set only 15 minutes late.

"oh here she is, finally decided to show up did you?" came a chastising voice.

you sighed, knowing immediately who it was, choosing to ignore the comment you walked to your trailer.

the hair and makeup team quickly got to work on you, making you look amazing within minutes.

after throwing a quick thanks over your shoulder, you rushed to set and got told what scene they were filming and where to stand.

half an hour later you heard a "and cut, great job guys. go and get read for the next scene."

you quickly checked your script and realised that you were needed for the next scene, opting to go to your trailer and wait to be called.

suddenly your phone rang, making you jump. you picked it up before checking who it was, assuming it was b/f/n.

"oh you've finally decided to stop ignoring my calls have you?"

shit, it was your Dad. "hey dad, and for the record I wasn't ignoring them. I was working."

"yeah, what job again? that acting thing of yours? how many times y/n, thats not a job."

"okay" you whispered quietly, just wanting this to be over.

"your such a worthless bitch you know that? even your Mum thought that before she died. it was probably you who killed her. admit it y/n. you killed her." he said, trying to press your buttons.

"how many times Dad, the doctors said that she died of a heart attack. it wasn't me." you say.

"pfft, your just covering for yourself. how about you buy me a new house to make up for it?"

"Dad, I just bought you a new house, and a new car. surely you can't need anything bigger." you say, knowing he is just using you but feeling guilty for saying no nevertheless.

"well I want new house, maybe somewhere by the sea. or some big mansion." he said.

"but Dad i was planning on giving some of that money to charity and the rest was going to s/n (siblings name) school fund. so that they can go to a good school."

"fuck s/n, I want a new house. and if you don't then you really would be as fucking annoying as your mother. your no good for anything." he said, hanging up the phone.

a tear trickled down your face. you should have known all he wanted was a new house, new car. why not get a new fucking kid while he's at it. you bought him a new car last month and a new house the month before that, surely he doesn't need another one.

a knock was heard on the door of the trailer that you had accidentally left open. you spun around to see Tom, worry etched across his face. he walked into your trailer.

"hey y/n, are you okay?" he asked, putting a hand on your arm.

"get off of me" you say, shrugging him off. "why would you care anyway, you've had this grudge against me ever since I started here."

Tom's face fell. "I'm sorry y/n I didnt mean to treat you like that."

"then what did you mean to treat me like because it was pretty damn obvious that you hated me. everyone saw it." you said.

"it wasn't you." he said looking down shamefully.

"look if this is about what you overheard with my Dad, don't worry about it. don't tell anyone and continue treating me like shit." you say, turning away from him again.

"no y/n what I overheard made me feel really guilty for treating you how I did. what I did was wrong and it wasn't your fault for how I treated you." he said, grabbing you and forcing you to look at him.

"then why did you do that to me?" you asked, confused.

"just before we started filming me and my girlfriend had broken up, she was toxic and would hit me and scream at me." he said, tears clouding his vision. "the day we started filming was the day I ended it with her, so I wasn't in the best mood. but when you walked in I could of sworn it was her. your hair and eyes are similar but your face is completely different."

"so from a distance I looked like her?" you asked, beginning to put the peices together in your head.

"yes. you had such a kind personality, always caring about others and everyone else loved you. but I couldn't get it out of my head. I guess that's why I treated you so badly, because you looked so much like her."

"Tom you could have just said something, I would have understood." you say, looking at him.

"I know I'm sorry." he said. "how are you, what happened with your Dad?" he asked.

"he keeps asking for new stuff, I just bought him a new house but he wants another one, and he wants a new car when he has the newest model. but at the same time he's always telling me how worthless and stupid I am, and how this acting thing isn't a proper job." you say, "maybe I'm just being selfish."

"no y/n, your not being selfish. I heard what you wanted to put that money towards instead of buying him stuff that he doesn't need. a selfish person wouldn't give to charity and help with paying for s/n schooling."

"are you sure?" you asked, doubt seeping in.

"very sure." he said, "is there anything you need, I could say that you are ill or something, give you some time to think over what happened with your Dad?"

"no I'm okay." you say.

"how about you come round to mine after work, we could talk everything out."

"yeah okay, I'd like that."

******

after filming was over, you drove over to Tom's apartment. he answered the door quickly and let you in.

you sat down on his sofa and admired the little things he had "borrowed" from the sets of different movies.

"do you want a drink?" he called from the kitchen.

"can I have a f/d (favourite drink) please?" you call back.

"sure."

he came back in with your drink and a coke for him.

"look about what happened today with my Dad, I never meant for you to overhear that and I would appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone." you say, looking down at your drink.

"your secrets safe with me, and if you don't mind me saying. your Dad is a bit of a dick." he said, smiling kindly at you.

"tell me about it." you laughed. "he's been like that ever since I can remember, he's always favoured my siblings over me." you say bitterly.

"well don't tell them but I prefer you." Tom said, trying to cheer you up a bit. "and I'm glad I overheard that conversation, because it made me think about I had treated you. and I'm starting to think that there was maybe another reason I didn't like you." he said sheepishly.

"and whats that?" you ask.

"I kind of liked you. I still do. after what happened with my last relationship I was scared I guess but I don't want to fuck anything up. I really like you y/n, I never meant to treat you like I did but I was pushing you away so that I didn't fall further than I already have." he said, blushing furiously.

"well Tom, maybe I like you too. thats why it hurt so much when you were horrible to me." you say. "do you just like me because I look like her?"

"no no no, that's not it at all. I like you because you have this sort of aura around you, people love you and your so nice to people." he said. "I like you because of your personality, the fact that you look slightly like a toxic ex has nothing to do with it." he added as an afterthought.

"aura?" you asked, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

"yeah, people sort of want to protect the innocence you radiate. your aura makes everyone love you and it's how your smile brightens up a room and how you look when the sunlight hits your features." he said, gently placing his hand on your cheek, forcing you to look up at him.

"I'm sorry for how I treated you, and it's my fault, but maybe we can start again?" he asked.

"okay." you say smiling up at him. before pulling away from his hand and sticking out your own. "y/n y/l/n, nice to meet you." you say.

"Tom Holland, pleasure." he said shaking your hand.

you turned around as the shrill sound of your phone broke the brief silence, checking the called ID this time you saw Dad appear on the screen. you look over at Tom in fear, showing him the screen.

"answer him y/n, maybe he wants to apologise. and I'll be right here with you" Tom said, flashing you a reassuring smile.

"okay" you said picking up the phone and putting it on speaker so that Tom could hear better. motioning to him to be quiet, him nodding in response.

"hi Dad." the fear in your voice evident.

"how's the new house you were going to buy me coming along? don't forget I want a big one." he said.

"actually Dad, I've thought about it and I just bought you a new car and house. the money is going towards s/n schooling and charity. I don’t think that you need anything else." you say, smiling weakly at Tom who gave you a thumbs up. egging you on.

"I don't care what you think, I'm your parent and you should listen to me. you are such a selfish bitch I don't even know why I bothered with you." he spat down the phone. "you are just a waste of space and I don't know how you made all of this money, who would ever want to employ you?"

"Dad you're not guilt tripping me into buying anything for you like you did last time. I'm not doing it." you say, tears beginning to cloud your vision. Tom noticed this and put his hand on your leg gently. in order to calm you down.

"you're such a fucking bitch. I never want to see or hear you again." he spat, hanging up.

as soon as he had hung up the phone, tears started falling down your face. Tom reached up and wiped away some of your tears before pulling you into his chest.

"hey hey hey, it's okay calm down." he said kissing your forehead and pulling you back into his arms.

"he hates me and its all my fault." you choke out before collapsing into tears again.

"its not your fault, your Dad is just being selfish and is only using you for your money. don't listen to him." he said, stroking your hair to comfort you.

"do you want me to go and get you something? ice cream maybe?" Tom asked.

"no, please don't go. I need you." you say.

"okay, I'm right here love. don't worry I'm not going anywhere." he said.

eventually you fell asleep, with his arms around you and your head on his chest. before Tom drifted off he kissed your temple and whispered "I'm so sorry y/n, I love you."

[bipolstar]

Fucking, idk bro I’m going through it?? Theres a lot? I’m gonna put it under a read more bc fuck me this is long lmao

Like a common theme in my life is occasionally being disgustingly jealous of passing pain in people’s lives. Be it stress from school/work to mental illnesses that can go away (in theory). With those kinds of things its more acceptable to rant/complain about it because it will go away if that makes sense. Like other people can listen to that because they know it won’t last, in terms of listening to it/worrying about that person. It’s fixable and even if it isn’t fixable, it will eventually go away. I can’t fucking do that?? Like I don’t want to talk about bipolar because it won’t go away and they can’t fix it, so it leaves that person like aaaaaaaaaa what do I do?? And thats not the same for everyone with bipolar but specifically with me I tend to find someone I trust (not common!!) and talk to them about it and it becomes too much for them. I Do Not Want That To Happen Again. Combine that with the not-going-away and not-fixable thing and it’s just not something I can talk about, and its just!!!!! I’m disgustingly jealous of my flatmate for being able to talk about her problems and I also feel insanely guilty for that because it’s super fucked up to think that. I want to do that but I can’t. I absolutely adore her with every part of my being like she’s my absolute bestie, I would likely kill someone for that gal, and she’s perfect to live with because she doesn’t take responsibility for me and knows when to pass me on to the professionals. But since living with just her I know why?? Like she cares about folk obviously but she’s very her-centred? I just told her that I was ending things with this guy which she knows I was vv scared about, and she says “two minutes” which is valid bc she was sorting out work stuff. But she comes back in and doesn’t ask about the call just starts ranting about the work stuff. Idk I know I should have brought it up again if I thought it important but I find it hard to do that and it’s not her fault at all because I didn’t bring it up again but idk. I’m jealous of her problems because they can go away and I can’t talk about mine because they won’t essentially. 

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

Somebody Sweet to Talk To ❁︎ 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

Pairing: Harry Osborn x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 6k

Gif credit: @mayahawkes

Summary & Warnings || Series Masterlist

Extra warning for this chapter: reader shows some signs of anxiety/mood changes.

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐨

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐨

❁︎ ・・・・・❁︎ ・・・・・ ❁︎ ・・・・・❁︎

Monday arrived too soon, and you dreaded it more than any other week from the school year. Entering the library, you had walked directly toward your usual table and took your laptop and headphones out in order to do homework but everyone around you was staring, almost impatiently, and it was extremely distracting.

It didn’t matter if you finished early or not, Tony had given you the entire week free and changed your working schedule to only Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday unless there was too much to do or emergencies. Seeing as it was better than not having a job at all, you didn’t dare fight him when you knew he was trying to favor you.

The therapy thing... that was different. Maybe you had taken advantage of the fact that Tony and Bucky were mentally ill too by reminding them how cruel medical professionals tended to be toward their patients and even more so when the patient was a fat woman, and maybe you could’ve approached the topic in a more neutral way to not make them feel so damn guilty; yet you didn’t think about it at that moment, too scared of going back to hear that you would never get better, or that you were a problematic person, or therapists simply denying you treatment until you lost weight.

A hand encapsulating yours took you out of your self-absorptive episode. You didn’t need to look to know it was Harry, the slight warmth from his palm that was so different from any hand you had felt on you was becoming familiar.

That was a problem. You spent the entire Sunday going through it and pondering on telling him it would be better to knock it off. You still decided you could tame your newfound feelings and keep faking being in a relationship with him in exchange for friendship.

Snatching your headphones off, you did turn to look at him. He was seemingly analyzing you, “are you okay?” his question was made in a whisper.

“Yeah, I’m just... struggling to focus.” You nodded upward at the now black screen from your computer. You had definitely lost more time than you thought.

“I know, I finished my homework already.”

Looking down at your wristwatch, you realized Harry had gotten there an hour ago. “Sorry, I—“

“It’s okay,” he interrupted, giving your hand a squeeze before moving to store his supplies. “Pete told me you had a tough weekend.”

Humming, you stored your supplies too just to entertain yourself. You hated when people talked about your health without your consent, it was extremely intrusive and made you feel vulnerably uncomfortable. Had Peter told Gwen too?

The answer didn’t take long to come. Fingers intertwined with Harry’s, you left the library to where Peter and Gwen must’ve been waiting for the two of you. The blonde looked at you with empathy, almost pity, and flashed one of those smiles that unknowingly made you feel worse.

Your fake boyfriend must’ve processed it the same way or felt you tense because he ran his thumb over the back of your hand soothingly. He then breathed a smile, making you turn to inquire what was going on. He nodded upward to gesture at the front crystal doors and it was like you could breathe properly again — it was raining.

The smell enhanced your senses as the four of you abandoned the building, Harry’s steps slowed down in contrast to Peter’s hurried ones. You could have cried as consistently as the sky was doing, Harry was being thoughtful and extremely kind to you by allowing you a relaxing moment and you hadn’t even asked for it.

He threw his keys at Gwen, telling her to not wait for you because you would walk to The Compound. It was a bad idea, walking under the rain when the season was about to change, yet you didn’t dare say no — you couldn’t when as much as you knew the water falling onto you was cold, you felt warm inside.

There was no need for Harry and you to still hold hands, or to stroll so closely to each other — both of you knew, both ignored it. Having a friend was nice, someone to go to the movies with, talk about everything and nothing, bake together, walk down the rain in silence with slow strides to relish into the aliveness only nature could grant.

Walking slowly didn’t bother him this time, getting soaked didn’t either. He had never seen the face of a person look younger so quickly, he had never even paid attention to those things before and now wondered why when it was so satisfying to watch. In that case, the satisfaction could’ve come from the fact that he was part of it, not an important one in his mind but it was something. You were starting to relax beside him, the frown you had been carrying since he got to the library long gone as your upper body slumped a little. He had helped achieve that, and for a split minute, nothing else mattered until he thought what would his father say if he knew Harry’s biggest accomplishment up to that day had been relaxing his —fake— girlfriend.

“We don’t have to get in if you don’t want to,” he whispered, almost hopeful so he could be in you relaxed and consequentially soothing presence for a little longer.

“I don’t want you to get sick,” you said, softness oozing from your tone in an attempt to show him you were more than grateful.

Either of you wasn’t wet enough to be soaked, both made the observation in distinct ways. His hoodie, in fact, was wet, just like his hair, but his jeans looked almost dry — your hair looked different due to the water, your jacket seemed darker, and there was a waterdrop on top of your right eyelash that he couldn’t keep himself from wiping.

Dropping your backpack onto one of the sofas, you peeled your jacket off. Harry did the same with his book bag and took his hoodie off. Before he could drop it, you took it from his hand.

He tilted his head. You chuckled, “I’ll put it in the dryer so it doesn’t get ruined.” He blinked rapidly, a nod being the only answer he could give.

He watched you walk away, heart dropping as you disappeared further into the hallway and made a turn. God, what was happening to him? He missed the warmth from your palm already, irradiating into his even though yours was smaller, and filling his entire system with a feeling he had never experienced; a week had taken him to become needy for your touch, that attention you gave so selflessly when he spoke, your wise and poignant comments that you always seemed to finish with an interested question of his opinion, your soft lips that made everything around him fade away.

“Here,” you whispered, almost bashfully. He focused his eyes on you again, realizing he had been staring at nothingness. A piece of clothing was being offered by your right hand as with the left one you made signs at someone behind him. “It’ll fit you loosely because it’s mine, but you’ll be warm.”

Fuck. Harry had never met a kinder person than you. He couldn’t believe Peter and Ned had said you were everything but, it was impossible for them to be talking about the same woman. He took the soft fabric in his grasp, sliding it down his head before slipping his arms in — it fitted him better than both of you had considered.

Peter was horrified to see his male best friend in a familiar blue sweatshirt, eyes wide as he and Gwen went back to the living room after spending time alone in his bedroom. His two best friends were sat almost flushed against the other, you type in your laptop as Harry slanted his head to read whatever you were redacting.

Gwen was worried, she thought Harry would keep his distance after the conversation they had. But now, watching him give you all his attention and hearing him ask about your homework like it was the most interesting topic someone could talk about, she realized there was no point in tearing you apart. Her boyfriend thought otherwise, and it worried her too — Peter, being Peter, was getting obsessive.

When you were done, you uploaded the essay to the school’s interface and closed the laptop. Standing up, you arranged your backpack in the way you liked and then did the same with the laptop case.

“Does any of you want something from the kitchen?” you asked, surprising them.

Gwen nodded, bashfully. “Camomile tea, if you can.”

“Of course,” you nodded too.

Harry followed you toward the kitchen, not wanting to be under Peter’s annoyed gaze that he honestly didn’t understand anymore. Snorting when you started peeling the gigantic orange he bought for you once the kettle was on the burner, he sat on a stool.

You offered him some fruit, the ghost of a smile appearing on your face when he took half of the orange. It was surprisingly tasty, you hadn’t expected that from its size.

Endearingly vexing was a good way of describing oranges, he had to agree. Harry avoided them most of the time because of how changing their flavor was, but now he was starting to think they weren’t that bad — they would never beat apples, though.

Tony poured himself some coffee, watching you comfortably eat fruit. He also saw Harry’s sweatshirt and couldn’t hide the teasing smirk from plastering on his face when you turned to gaze at him. He was happy you hadn’t ended things with Harry, no matter what Tony thought of Norman he knew the kid wasn’t at fault — he also suspected Harry was mistreated by his dad and couldn’t help but be biased.

“Does Gwen like sugar in her tea?” You wondered out loud.

Harry shrugged. He didn’t know a lot about Gwen even though she was his best friend, the blonde didn’t make him part of everything. You ignored him and carried the teacup in a hand and the sugar bowl in another, making him once again inwardly question why everyone thought of you as a heartless person.

And because you weren’t what people said you were, he grew more nervous about introducing you to his father. Norman tended to treat people who weren’t Harry with respect and even empathy, but what if he didn’t like you? What if he found you to be dumb for supposedly dating his son? Harry didn’t want to put you through one of his dad’s weird episodes, but he didn’t want his dad to laugh at him if he said you had an emergency to take care of either.

He saw you try to smile warmly at Gwen when handing her the cup and decided it would be better to warn you the next day when the mood wouldn’t be soured.

“We’re watching Footloose when Pete finishes his homework, do you two want to join us?”

“Sure,” both shrugged and said at the same time. Sharing a look, something that in the week you had been close had become second nature, you saw each other’s brows twitch in curiousness.

Too focused on the movie to pay attention to whatever couple-y thing Peter and Gwen were doing, you sat with your shoulders brushing. Harry shifted to rest his head on the arm of the couch, his hand brushing yours so you’d get the hint. Your head dropped onto his arm as you shuffled to make sure you would squash him, none of your eyes leaving the screen.

Tuesday brought mountains of homework and a scorching sunny afternoon. Wednesday was the opposite, that morning Harry found himself staring at the blue sweatshirt laying on his desk chair to decide if it would be a good idea to wear it again. The fabric still smelled of the softener you used, a custom one Stark bought for you every few weeks — there was a slight sweetness under the freshness of the scent and he marveled at how suiting it was.

Caving in, he snatched the sweatshirt and hoped Peter wouldn’t react like the other time. His best friend was getting distant, he got annoyed easily too — Harry thought him to be jealous, confirming his theory of Peter having feelings for you; Harry also thought himself to be envious of the finding.

Peter always got what Harry wanted, but this was different. This time he had put himself in that situation, almost begging to be thrown to the side when he wasn’t useful anymore. The day was approaching if the pattern wasn’t broken, and it didn’t hurt him because his dad would laugh or because he would probably still see you every day, it hurt him because he had never felt so safe in someone else’s presence.

He took a whiff of the sweatshirt as he slid it on, the memory of the first time he got to smell the scent coming to his mind.

It had been a while since he put a foot in the university. Harry had hit rock bottom, an overdose almost took his life and the worst part of it was how badly he wished it had. Out of spite, because he didn’t think he should let his father win every single battle, he decided to get help. Rehabilitation centers weren’t pretty, nor comfortable, and their usefulness could be up for debate; but Harry learned many things about himself there: his needs and dreams, his potential that he didn’t believe in most of the days, the fact that if he tried and wanted hard enough he could be a good person and a successful professional.

Peter was with Ned outside of the building when he arrived, waiting for someone that wasn’t him. Their greetings were effusive, brotherly, he felt good in their arms when he allowed them to hug him. But the feeling was nothing compared to the somersaults his stomach made when something he could only describe as hot cocoa on a winter day filled his nostrils.

You were dressed in casual clothes, he remembered them perfectly as he swung his backpack over his shoulder. Dark jeans, skater vans, a yellow sweatshirt that made you look radiant even though your eyes were sad. You greeted them three politely and Peter introduced you briefly, after that you made your way through the door and into the crowd — Harry couldn’t stop staring at the spot you had disappeared from, and Ned caught it so he said, ”been there, not even got to try and do that.”

Warnings came. Your reclusiveness, the way you closed off when a loved one did something that mildly upset you and how easily you got upset. Peter said you were like a sister to him, that not even he could get your shell to crack. ”She’s shyer than me, and I’m not even sure if she likes people,” Peter had sighed sadly.

Your career paths didn’t have anything to do with the other, not a single class was shared. Free hours you did share, but Harry followed his friends’ advice because it was simple curiosity and he needed different things, he didn’t need to fix people because he couldn’t.

But now, now he wished he had tried like Ned didn’t. He didn’t understand why he was feeling like that so soon, and he didn’t want to understand — it would be useless. Maybe all this time he had harbored a crush, or maybe it was the particular enticement that only the forbidden could provide, or maybe —just maybe and that was all— he was falling easily for the first person to be unapologetically themselves around him.

Harry knew that Peter held off, Ned always followed what Pete and Betty did, and Gwen was scared of him because of his past. If you explicitly knew about it and had lied when he asked, you were a master at masking it, and if you didn’t know about it he was sure you wouldn’t react badly to the news.

You would probably praise him again for learning to not lash out at people, he could picture your neutral semblance upon hearing all about it as he entered the classroom to take his first lecture of the day and a sigh slid past his lips.

Bouncing your leg, you slid the collar of your hoodie up to the bridge of your nose in exasperation. Harry’s cologne made you sigh heavily against the soft fabric, a part of you regretted having put it on while the other marveled at how the smell had clung to the fabric just by being against his arm. The grey material was comforting enough, but his smell was the real treat and you hated to know it, you hated not being able to help it.

Thoughts of Peter still swarmed around your mind, you still felt pangs on your chest when Gwen sat on his lap or when they kissed in front of you. But they weren’t constant anymore, you were too busy between getting your master’s degree, your wavering mental health, and Harry’s deep voice. At that, you would have to add your job next week, but you’d manage. You were almost as good as Tony at multitasking, writing nomenclatures down while craving your fake boyfriend’s presence would be aced — you even were sure you could get a doctorate on it and the thought chilled you to the bone.

You assumed you were thinking like a teenager — you hadn’t even thought like that when you were a teenager! You had been too lost into your self-hate and problems at home to have the time to behave like a teenager or to want to be one... Not wanting to think about it anymore, you focused on your homework for the day.

A shadow was cast on your notebook, prompting you to look upward. The sight of Harry in your sweatshirt made your heart skip a beat. “Peter left early,” he whispered to not be kicked out of the library, cellphone in hand. “He took my car.”

You nodded, aware of his eyes being on you. “I’m almost done.”

“Want me to ask for an Uber?”

“I can walk,” you assured him, scribbling down the answer you were halfway through. Gloomy days had never bothered you, they were common for you.

You waved at Ned goodbye as you walked across the hallway, the shorter man lifted an eyebrow upon realizing Harry and you were truly holding hands. You had to keep the act up, of course, people would talk about a supposed break up otherwise. You cursed, making Harry worriedly gaze at you.

“You’ll have to carry my cellphone this time around,” you explained. “These pants don’t have pockets and it can crack in my backpack.”

He extended his free palm for you to place the device on it. Sliding it into his pocket carefully, he continued walking.

The first two minutes of walk toward the compound were silent until he took his AirPods out. “Wanna listen to some music?”

“Sure.” You stopped so he could choose a playlist in his phone as you slipped the AirPod he had offered in your ear.

His musical taste was as pleasant as his company, as mixed as his conversation. It made you wonder why Peter and Gwen didn’t spend more time with him. He wasn’t like everyone said at all, it was true he was distant most of the time and even more when he didn’t know people but you found that natural, he had many qualities and peculiarities that made him so unique... you had met many people in your life, you were good at reading them all and you got bored easily of them because of that. Harry wasn’t easy to read, and knowing him meant getting more interested in his intellect and how different it was from the people around you. He wasn’t dumb, and although a genius either, but he was knowledgeable enough in many topics, he had a way with words when he got comfortable and his opinions were quite radical for conventional expectations, he was sensitive and patient, — you utterly adored that about him, much to your dismay.

Humming to the songs both knew, you swung your clasped hands a little bit. Upon approaching the compound your steps slowed down to finish the current song, something that had happened so often throughout the walk that his car was already parked outside.

“You came here on foot in this weather?” A familiar voice screeched as you closed the door.

You stopped abruptly at that. Fuck, fuck, fuck, this was worse than liking Harry. “Dad,” you greeted through a small smile, letting your fake boyfriend’s hand go. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I texted you an hour ago.” Your dad’s eyes were on you, brows lifted in expectancy of an explanation.

Harry handed you your cellphone so you could check. Pressing the button to look down at the screen you found a photo of your own self as a lock screen. It had been taken earlier, and you had to admit he was right when he said he was good at taking photos, the lighting in the school’s library wasn’t ideal and still, the angle was so good you didn’t look as bad as you often did and the way you were looking up —surely at him— made your eyes shine.

“Sorry,” Harry apologized behind you, “I gave you mine.”

You turned around to face him, “didn’t we talk about... that?”

He nodded, taking his cellphone from your hand and placing yours instead. “We said I wouldn’t put (Your Favorite Artist) in a plaid shirt as a lock screen.”

“We said you wouldn’t put me.”

“We said you wouldn’t send me a photo of yours to put, never that I couldn’t take it and put it.”

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, you nodded. He was right, you should have been more specific. The short conversation wasn’t helping your case, now your dad knew something was going on between you two and you didn’t want him to; it was fake, and you didn’t want to introduce your dad to a fake boyfriend when the relationship wouldn’t last more than a few weeks more because of its nature. To be fair, it would last only a few weeks even if it was real but the point stood, strongly.

You felt so small you could’ve scurried off and in your mind, no one would even realize. Both men stared at each other with curiosity, your dad was trying to intimidate Harry and it would have worked if he hadn’t been Norman Osborn’s son.

Gwen, God bless her, cut through the slight tension. “Your dad was telling us you liked to play doctor as a ki—“ the blonde’s eyes widened as she stood in front of you when your dad moved out of the way to look at her as she spoke, the sight of Harry’s attire wasn’t one she had expected. “Did you wear... your girlfriend’s clothes to school?”

Harry cleared his throat, “out of coincidence.” He nodded to make emphasis, avoiding looking at anyone in particular.

Peter called for Harry. “Can I talk to you in private, Har?”

The tallest young man nodded, casting you a sideways glance. You blinked rapidly, too nervous suddenly. There was nothing wrong with sharing clothes, and Peter knew the reason why you had lent Harry a sweatshirt in the first place — why did you feel like you’d get an anxiety attack at any moment?

Peter leaned against the closed door, crossing his arms against his chest — he knew Harry wouldn’t be intimidated, but he had to get the point across of how serious the topic would be. Harry lifted his eyebrows, signaling for Pete to start talking.

“What are you doing, Harry?” Harry just stared at his best friend. Peter set his jaw. “I told you to stay away from her, and now you’re wearing her clothes to school!”

“She’s my girlfriend,” Harry defended his actions. “You share clothes with Gwen, why can’t I share clothes with (Y/N)?”

“That’s not the point! The point is you shouldn’t be dating her.”

’Here we go again’ Harry thought. Peter had annoyed him with that every time he stared at you, even when he didn’t do it on purpose. “Why, Peter? I’m not forcing her!”

“Because it’s weird! You’re like my brother and she’s like my sister, I know the two of you very well and I know you’re not right for each other.”

Harry huffed, pinching his nose to keep himself from rolling his eyes. “You and Gwen keep saying that but you never say why!” He exploded. “Peter, I adore you, man, but only (Y/N) and I know how our relationship is like.”

“I’m worried,” Peter hurried to explain. It was clear he didn’t mean to offend Harry. “Maybe at least take it slower? She needs a lot of patience, more than we can give her.”

Harry didn’t really get why Peter was telling him the same Gwen did days ago, but he nodded in understanding. His best friend pushed himself off the door and opened it, letting him out of the room first.

The living room was dead silent. Harry observed you weren’t there, but your belongings were. Gwen nodded upward, toward the hallway you had guided him through after your first ‘date’. Seeing him tilt his head, she withdrew her cellphone. His own device buzzed in his jean pocket.

Backyard

He found you with your back against the wall, cornered near the outdoor table. As he got closer , he saw the slight shake of your upper body. Harry silently sat beside you, trying not to stare too much so you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. From the corner of his eye, he caught the tremble of your lip and how you bit down into it — he hated that you were trying not to cry in front of him.

You were angry. Gwen had tried to apologize for her impressed state but it was of no use, your dad asked why didn’t he know about your boyfriend which angered you, he hadn’t called in a month — how could you say anything if he didn’t contact you? Your cold answer had been that the relationship was very new, but instead of moving on your dad had to make a comment about how it seemed like it had been longer.

It was like everyone was trying to decide how you should live your life or how you should develop your relationships. You understood that it looked like Harry and you were moving fast, but it wasn’t real — it wasn’t real and it bothered you which made it more fucked up.

The cataclysm was the inquiry that came before that. Your dad had asked if you were happy, prompting Gwen and Tony to perk up to stare at you. All that focus on you had made you nervous, so you explained you were comfortable. It hadn’t been enough for your dad who insisted on speaking about your happiness.

You hadn’t expected him to push it, and you didn’t know where the question had come from when he implied the relationship was too volatile due to its newness. His severe look as he reminded you how fast you were moving had been too shocking, and so you exploded, done with the stupid conversation already, saying you didn’t know if you had ever been happy.

Your own comment had dawned on you like an ice-cold water bucket poured harshly onto the head. It had soaked you in sudden anguish, adding itself to the list of things that chilled you to the bone although this one felt deeper, it seeped into every fiber of your being and still had enough composition to leak in the form of tears.

Harry got closer to you, wrapping an arm around you to pull you even closer. “It’s okay,” Harry murmured. His free hand slid up to trail up and down your back.

You shook your head, it was everything but okay. You didn’t dare to tell him and prayed for the first time in years that no one in the living room had.

The memory of the last time you prayed only worsened your state. You did the only thing that came to your mind and threw your arms around his shoulders, with your face hidden in the crook of his neck as you continued crying.

He massaged the nape of your neck softly with the hand that had been on your upper back. Harry wasn’t very good at consoling people, he was only doing what he would’ve liked someone to do with him. Feeling you sob, he tightened the arm around you to muffle your cries.

“Harry, let me calm her down,” Bucky, whom Harry hadn’t heard come outside, muttered, “she can get angry and it’s not—“ he interrupted himself when the young man shook his head.

Your hands started shaking at Bucky’s words and Harry didn’t think to let you go would help. He realized that when Gwen told him you had deep issues she had meant anger issues or something of sorts by the way Bucky was staring at your back as if you would explode at any second.

Slowly shifting to a kneeling position on the concrete, he flushed your body to his, your face fell onto his shoulder and slid to his chest. He rocked you lightly, only enough for the movement to be processed by your brain without startling you. He knew it would work, he had seen you rock yourself sideways a few times.

As your sobs simmered down, the shake of your hands did too and you placed them firmly on his shoulders. Parting from him to sniff comfortably, you avoided his eyes.

He kissed your forehead, shushing you from apologizing. He would’ve done that at least, and the thought of you doing it almost broke him there. He withdrew an arm off you, tightening the other one so you wouldn’t move. Taking his cellphone out, he texted Gwen again so his friend would bring him his backpack.

Gwen hurried to do it, holding it for him to open it.

“There are Kleenex in the front pocket, give me a few?”

The blonde worked quickly, withdrawing the pocket-sized pack of Kleenex and retrieving a couple from it. Harry took them with his free hand, wiping your tears slowly to not hurt your skin. You giggled nervously when he tried cleaning your nose, snatching the Kleenex from his hand to do it yourself.

You mumbled that you needed to wash your face, prompting him to nod as he moved his arm away from your body. Harry followed you inside, telling you he would be back in a few minutes as you made your way toward the elevator to get to your room.

Washing your face wouldn’t be enough. You needed a hot shower and a Xanax. For the second one, you would have to eat something first but that could be fixed later. The hoodie you took off carefully, laying it softly on the bed. Kicking your sneakers off, you peeled yourself off the remaining clothes quickly, desperate to feel clean again.

The sense of dirtiness didn’t have to do with Harry, or with anyone downstairs. The realization that you had never experienced happiness, that realistically your chances of ever doing it were pretty low... it was too much. It made you feel less than nothing— dirty for once thinking you could be normal, have normal relationships like everyone else did.

One thing, out of the multiple ones, you had always enjoyed of taking showers was its sound and how it could be confused with rain if you closed your eyes tightly enough. Opening the shower, you got in immediately and allowed yourself to breathe slowly.

You were getting dressed when someone knocked on your door, presumably to check on you. Hurrying to get into a pair of shoes, you left the walk-in closet, crossed the bedroom, and swung the door open.

“Hi, so...” Harry scratched the back of his head, worriedly examining your face. “I don’t know which soup is your favorite and I can’t make your favorite soup if I don’t know which is it, can I?”

You stuttered, confused by the fact that he wanted to cook for you. “Uh— you don’t have to.”

“I want to, tell me.”

Sighing heavily, you lifted a hand only to slap it down against your thigh and simply told him what to add and how.

“Got it!” He assured, turning on his heel to go back downstairs.

Harry trotted down the stairs quickly, skipping a few steps. He could feel Peter and Gwen staring at him, sat around the dining table to have a better view. It should’ve made him feel nervous but he felt confident he would do it fine, the instructions were clear and he wasn’t stupid.

What compelled him to make soup for his fake girlfriend who had cried her soul out while clinging to him earlier was a mystery. A mystery as scary as welcomed. He was starting to enjoy showing more of himself to you and in consequence to the people involved in your daily lives — a sharp contrast to what he felt on Saturday. Aware of that, he wondered if he should say something about it.

In three days you would be sat in front of his dad. In three days you would be scared off. In three days he would be back to feel alone. He would lose the warmth and scent he liked so much, the complicit looks, the music recommendations, the intellectual stimulation, the hope for everything to be okay one day.

He wished there was a way to keep it from happening, but the odds were against him. His only chance was that you’d be willing to keep faking it, and how fine he was with just that startled him.

You hesitated going downstairs when you were summoned but ultimately decided to do it so Harry wouldn’t feel bad. Gwen lightly patted your thigh as you sat down in a kind gesture that you realized meant she was glad you were feeling better. She didn’t tell you anything directly, but she very nicely started speaking to everyone around the table so they wouldn’t bother you while you ate.

Harry sat to your other side, participating in the conversation and sporadically giving you his attention to making sure you were okay.

“I think your soup is better than mine,” you communicated to him when you walked him out.

He breathed a laugh, looking down so the blue-ish light wouldn’t highlight his blush. “I’m glad you liked it.”

You nodded, “thank you for going through all that trouble. You didn’t have to.”

He lifted his gaze, leaning more comfortably on the hood of his car. “It wasn't troubling at all.” Harry then added, not able to help it, “are you feeling better?”

No, you weren’t. There were so many things wrong, you would have to face your dad as soon as Harry was on his way home, an explanation as to what was going on with you would ruin everything you had built in the past months, and then... then there was something you could’ve avoided — you were sure you had a crush on your fake boyfriend, also sure he didn’t have a crush on you; you were certain he was into Gwen and had the suspicion the fake dating thing was his attempt of making the blonde jealous. You didn’t blame him, even you thought Gwen was perfect.

“Yeah,” you faked a tight smile. “Nothing a good cry can’t fix.”

He nodded, slowly moving his head. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Harry cursed himself for sounding as unsure as hopeful.

“Have a good night,” you wished him, turning on your heel to get back into hell on earth.

That was an exaggeration, yet you didn’t care because it would feel just like it. But your reality hadn’t changed, you still didn’t know if you had ever felt happiness, you still felt like something was wrong with you, and you still felt there was a piece missing in your life — you had lost so much already that you couldn’t put your finger on what said piece could be nor where could it fit. You just knew you wished it wouldn’t matter.

[dolphin-enthusiast]

bună seara, dragă mea 🌹🌜✨ ahh i hope i wrote that correctly,, another romanian friend of mine taught me that haha, he teaches me romanian phrases in exchange for me teaching him bits of italian ☀ ah, so much to address no? well, i'll just start off by saying i wasn't expecting my friend to expose my problems like that,, i'm not mad at all, just surprised. let me first say that i am okay as of writing this. i have eaten and hydrated and have been taking naps all day, i am stable. (1/9)

"my older brother and other siblings have been taking good care of me, and two of my friends came to sneak me out of the house for a bit and bought me food. so i am fairly calm right now (2/9)

now then, about that person, it was just some texts i woke up to that caught me off guard, my friends are apparently planning to go after this person, even though i insisted on not making this a big deal, and frankly i didn't wanna worry you all either, i feel bad when i do. (3/9)

sadly i hear a lot of horrid things directed at me on a daily basis, so this is quite ordinary and there's not much i can do about it, i cope by trying to stay positive for others and be as kind/loving as i can since i usually don't have people to treat me that way, you're quite the exception, what i thought of as a stupid question blossomed into something i could never imagine, and i was shocked to see how everyone, including you, took to me quite quickly (and not in a joking way either) (4?/9)

i'm not used to it at all, so i mean it from the bottom of my heart when i say that everything you guys say and do means the world to me, i get overwhelmed with positive emotion when you all treat me so sweetly, i truly couldn't ask for anything more. that being said, i wasn't planning to open up about my mental health on this account (since i don't wanna talk about these dark subjects when trying to brighten other's days),, (5/9)

but i guess it's warranted now so hopefully you all can understand me better and not worry as much, i suffer from multiple mental illnesses, two different depressive disorders, an anxiety disorder, and body dysmorphia, some from genetics and others from trauma. i try to keep it on the down-low to not bring down anyone's moods, so i be as cheerful as i can. i'm professionally treated for it, so please don't fret. it really went downhill during the start of this pandemic and declined since (6/9)

i was absolutely miserable, and having dealt with many s*icid*l tendencies, self hatred, and lots of destructive habits, i was truly falling apart my sister introduced me to your blog sometime in january, and even though i did not have a tumblr, i still greatly enjoyed checking it everyday with her and requesting things from time to time, it's a nice escape from the world i live in, and after months of checking your blog, i decided to interact a bit more with that silly ask of mine. (7/9)

it really is a miracle that we formed such a bond, it's truly the best thing to have happened this year, i love having such a meaningful connection and getting to experience some positivity everyday i am completely serious when i say that you and the followers give me something to look forward to everyday, and you all have helped me to stay a little longer on this planet. i owe you all so much for that, so i still plan on popping up everyday to cheer you all up,, (8/9)

i could never thank you all enough, you all truly do mean the world to me 💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗 i can't wait to come back tomorrow with something more lighthearted, so please keep being extraordinary, because i'd hate to lose connection with any of you - from the bottom of my heart and soul, with much love, your local waifu xoxo 💘 ps: i can't wait to hopefully meet someday morgy darling, there's lots i'd love to do, so that's another reason for me to stay alive a little longer 💞 (9/9)"

Dear this is quite alot so i'll just start by saying that im flattered u greeted me in romanian😳✌️ i dont wanna pull a ghiaccio but although dragă does exist in this context it would be more like "bună seara dragA mea" but it really doesnt matter bc my wig is snatched and i was n o t expecting this ddhxhddj

Trivial matters aside, you shouldnt feel pressured into opening up on here even though some things surfaced but you did it nonetheless and im proud of u bc i myself would rather y e e t than talk abt myself and personal issues🤡🤡🤡 but aNywAyS let me start off by saying that again, you shouldnt get used to horrid things being said to u. Its fucking tragic that u get treated like this meanwhile all u do is be kind and care for others, but them treating u like that is entirely THEIR fault and u should never feel guilty for it. And keep telling others if shit happens (including us if u want) since we're all gonna do some good ol' as whooping @ the ppl that talk shit😤👋

I wont reveal much but just so you know i completely understand what you're going through and felt what you described in ur letter on a spiritual level, although i know just saying "i relate" doesnt really help. Its unfortunate and unfair ur goin thru this and yes i agree the pandemic did only worsen things (even for myself) and its really shitty🗿🗿im glad u at least had siblings that took care of u and made sure u felt better in no time doe

As always seeing u say that me and my blog cheered u up and motivated u to go on truly is smth like...w o w i never expected any of this to have such a major impact on anyone when i first made this blog as half of a joke lmao hdhxxhdj but im glad it helped u and other ppl so that means i'll just have to keep on running it😳😳😳 you really dont have to thank us for anything since we enjoy brightening up ur day and i have to ageee it IS a miracle how all of this came to be but thats exactly why its goddamn wig snatching ahsydjdkf

Also bro to say u have another reason to stay alive just to meet me....😞😞 Take care of urself bro

[fairycosmos]

chloe i agree 1005 w your post about makeup. its so fucking stupid and we all know why we feel the need to wear it (hardly ever fun purposes) but i wear it everyday when i go to public places and i feel so guilty but i just honestly get treated with kindness from boys now and they used to bully me so im so conflicted what i should do bc makeup has become a shield to protect myself :( anyways i wanted to ask u how do u deal with this? do you wear makeup? love you

to be honest i still haven't found an all encompassing answer but!! i think if you look at the relationship you have with your body as a mentality that has been ingrained into you from a young age, and not as something you need to feel guilty for, then it's easier to come to terms with your insecurities. the world counts on your self hatred just as it counts on mine. it's not your fault that girls are only seen as human if we meet a certain standard and it's not your fault that sexism exists. i don't blame you at all for wanting to live a peaceful and happy life, for wanting validation. when you're a woman, how you look seems to determine whether or not you experience those things. :/ but ultimately the blame is not on those who wear makeup, it is on those (companies, influencers, cooperations) who dehumanise us - even indirectly, even just through implications - simply for existing in our natural state. yeah i wear it, even knowing it's a whole scam. because the years i spent being taught to literally despise myself have not disappeared just because now im old enough to comprehend the logistics behind it. the shame runs deep, intercepts with other factors such as lack of money n mental illness. they set it up that way. it is malicious, we should be upset. being aware of it is a good place to start but it doesn't solve everything.

that being said here are a few things that helped me a bit:

a. try to remain bare faced at least two days out of the week. familiarise yourself with your natural appearance n acknowledge that it is nothing to be ashamed of, nor does it define you.

b) periodically remind yourself of the extent of consumerist and makeup culture. you're just another customer in the eyes of those who make u feel bad. it has nothing to do with how you look and everything to do with making money. recognize that. understand how truly ridiculous it is to be expected to buy this shit/meet these ideals. it's very freeing. they want it to seem like contentment is impossible, so you keep buying. that's their business model.

c. control your online space. try not to follow people who are simply walking advertisments. there are thousands of artists and cool creators to focus on instead. if you're constantly being fed these falsified images of performative life styles, your existence will never feel up to par because it is real and unedited.

d. work on self neutralisation if self love is too hard. your mouth is unconcerned with beauty, it's there so you can eat and breathe. your legs don't care about being slim, they're getting you from one place to the next. your body is working hard to keep you healthy, to carry you through the world. it deserves some appreciation for that. it's not just your friend, it's you as much as your soul is you. try to go easy on yourself even if it feels like a lie.

e. self reflect. if you catch yourself thinking less of someone bc of how they look, examine where that urge comes from n try to deconstruct it.

anyway this got too long and it's very messy but im so. tired of being marketed to, shamed, consumed, sexualised, scorned etc and i believe......if we just take back control in any way we can, even through the smallest of efforts, then we will notice a difference. apparently just leaving the front door with a fresh face is a radical act. and even if at the start you can only manage to do that a few times a month, at least you're trying. we'll spend our whole lives purging ourselves of toxic messages bro. it's ok for it to take time. the dualism of 'i want to be hot' vs 'i want to feel comfortable being myself' is something a lot of people struggle with, but the latter will win if you want it to. because there is no choice but to accept yourself when you realize this is a cultural game we're supposed to die trying to win. boys and the world will have to suck it up. literally WHAT is the alternative

[charlieism]

i hate the fact that i feel numb to the absolute knowledge i have that in my lifetime im most likely going to see the world end. ill live to see fish disappear from the sea, to feel the earth become hotter, to watch frost melt and the ocean become warmer and more acidic and fossil fuels to become even rarer. i hate the fact i cant do anything to stop it: i hate the fact that corporations and conglomerates, billionaires and companies are blaming me, one person, a single person just trying to live, for destroying the world because i ate meat, or bought a plastic drink bottle, or don’t have an electric car. i hate the fact that they dodge the blame by making me feel guilty and change my ways even though that will have no real effect on the world because they dump billions and billions and billions of tons of pollution, plastic, waste, toxic chemicals, gases and rubbish into the ocean and into the atmosphere every fucking day, week, month, year, despite the fact that they drill finite oil and mine every last piece of coal and burn it all. i hate the fact that capitalism and corporate greed, the desire to have every last coin no matter what it takes, what it costs other people, what it costs the world, mean it’s seemingly impossible to fix the mess that they caused.

i hate that billionaires have enough money to clean up the garbage patches of the ocean and they dont, that they have enough to end world hunger time and again and they dont, that its more important to them to be wealthy, to collect money and never let anybody else have it ever and never spend any of it so it keeps adding up, than it is to save the planet, the only one we have. i hate the fact that there’s a ticking clock, a countdown we’ve known about for years and theyre still not doing enough, not doing anything, and companies and countries can pull out of any deals made just because it might cost them some money. as if money is more important than our world. what use is money when the world is ending? how do they live knowing they could help, could clean and fix and repair the broken, dirty parts of the world, the parts that are suffering and in danger, and they just... dont? 

i hate that im growing up hopeless. i can try to stay optimistic, say that there are agreements in place and people are working on it, but the fact is that im growing up almost certain that im watching the end of the world happen right before my eyes. no other generation has truly had to deal with this before. im watching capitalism, corporations, and greed ruin the only world we have. our planet is being destroyed: everyone who has ever existed, every story thats ever been imagined, ever building ever built, every famous artwork, every scientific discovery, every king and queen and rich man turned to dust and forgotten, every single animal that has ever existed, all of Earth’s history from the beginning, every piece of knowledge we have, came from this one place, and im watching it die, and its our fault (and again, i hate that i feel guilty even though i have the tiniest effect on this planet and its not actually my fault that its being destroyed). i want to save the environment and i can’t. forests are cut down, oil is spilled, species are destroyed, habitats are ruined, the ocean is polluted with trash and plastic, ice is melting, weather patterns and breaking down, and no matter how much i protest and rage against it all the people responsible, the people with the ability to reverse and change it, aren’t. doing. enough.

ill live to see the people who destroyed the planet die, and ill have to deal with the aftermath, and ill die knowing i lived on a destroyed planet anyway. fuck this. im numb when i should be terrified, or panicked, because the world is literally ending, but ive known this for so long, lived with it for as long as i can remember being taught about climate change, thats its just a fact to me. a sad, hopeless fact.

but alongside being numb, i feel angry. im furious. i love this planet: i love all its fragile ecosystems, its people, the only life we know for sure truly exists, the natural wonders it holds and carefully curated over millions of years. im angry people take, and take, and take even though they know its hurting Earth. im angry that they wont give back and help reverse the damage already done. and i will always be enraged about it, but its so tiring to constantly drum up anger about it. i cant be seething all the time; the anger is a background thing because ill be exhausted already if i have to constantly feel the fear and fury over watching my world die and knowing there are people who could save it.

2035 seems to be the point of no return. if we cant sort it out and make a gigantic change to society and how we live by then, then its all over. there’s no fixing it. at this rate, thats not going to happen. we have maybe 15 years. maybe. sorry to be so negative but this is really, really fucking getting me down tonight. i wont even be middle-aged by the time global warming is irreversible. i really will live to see the planet on its deathbed.

[darkcherrywitch]

Behavior Exercise

Hi girls, guys and non-binary pals <3 

This is the scond fanfic i write, this one is inspired in a movie called The Road Within and hopefully my first series so please let me know if you want me to keep posting it, maybe is not as good as i think it is haha i’d really appretiate some feedback, also, english is not my first lenguage so please be nice i’m trying :( 

WARNINGS: 4k+ mentions of drugs, alcohol and mental illness. This fanfic contains sensitive topics like anorexia, OCD and drug addictions if you feel triggered by any of this topics please do not read it. 

“Nineteen, twenty, twenty one, twenty two, twenty three” You could hear Robert whispering a number for each mug whilst cleaning one per one with an anti-bacterial microfiber cloth he just bought yesterday. You take another sip of your non sugared coffee already cold keeping your gaze in your roommate who was onto an old baby blue wooden chair, his favorite, because it was easier to clean than the other ones “Twenty four, twenty five…twenty fiv-five” he stutters with a low voice almost like a secret he can only hear.  You put your mug down on the table knowing what is coming next, like every other morning, he just hated odds numbers.

“Five- twenty fiv-five” He keeps repeating walking back and forth all over the kitchen with his hand scratching his head pulling his blonde curls. “Hey, good morning” A deep British accent stops you from standing up and walking towards Robert making him stop as well. He looked at both of you just to switch his gaze feeling the pressure in the air as he continues to grab an empty plastic cup from the kitchen bar assuming he could get in trouble if he gets anywhere near the mugs shelf.

“Morning, did you have a good rest?” You greet with an awkward smile on your face. Harry moved in just a week ago so it is understandable he’s not fully used to Rob’s breakdowns as you are after nine years. You know Rob since secondary school; a catholic schoolhouse in Portlaoise where special and difficult teenagers were sent by his parents to make them better, doesn’t work pretty well if they ask you.  Robert and you shared some classes and weekly group’s therapy meetings, however, you only knew him as the schizo boy just to find out, years later, he does not suffer from schizophrenia but a severe ODC and constants paranoid episodes, it all got worst four years ago when he came home to find out his mom had left a day before the graduation  night, all she left was a note saying how sorry she was, a load of cash, a blue tuxedo he was supposed to be wearing at the dance and an empty home.

Four years ago

You lost count of how many minutes, maybe hours, you have been staring at the old pink dress your dad had bought you for tonight’s dance, it would be better if he could actually share the evening with you but it was too much to ask, you thought. It had stopped raining some hours ago but a loud splash outside your window snaps you from your deep thoughts about tonight, a rowdy cry followed the splash “SHE LEFT ME, WHY DOES EVERYBODY BLODY LEFT ME?” You ran to your window to see what was happening, and then, you saw Rob on a puddle wearing anything but his underpants and his navy blue tuxedo in his hands all covered in mud, just as him. He was  crying and screaming while Miss Gillen held him helping him for hurting himself  “MY DAD IS DEAD AND MOM HATES ME, I-I ‘AVE NO ONE, NO ONE FUCKING CARES ABOUT ME” He yelled at the sky escaping from Miss Gillen’s arms slapping mercilessly his face and pulling his blonde hair roughly.

You have spent almost a decade in that hypocrite househole where religious people pretended to know what was good and bad, and even worst, pretending they care about all of you. You knew people were lonely back there, after all, most of you were abandoned by your families, they just gave up on most of you and you were aware of that. You knew everyone there was ill, was broken and alone, new people came and then they left, some people have been taken to the hospital after a breakdown and they have never returned, it was hard to live in a place like that were you could share breakfast with someone just to wake up the next day with their bed empty and another casket full, that’s why you decided to not make any friends, carrying with other person’s problems could destroyed you just as much as losing another loved one, but when you saw him all covered in mire when just yesterday he cried in the middle of the cafeteria because he spilled a drop of tea in his pants something changed in you. You almost didn’t recognize him; it was the same guy who couldn’t even walk outside his bedroom without latex gloves, however he was there outside your room, broken and scared. He had no one and you knew that feeling.

“Rumor has it you have your own place now” You said having a sit next to him in cafeteria two days after the dance. He looked strange at you “do yo-do you eat?” He answered you sharply but those comments didn’t bother you anymore. You smiled at him taking a sip of your water bottle “so, is it true?” You insisted “‘s not mine, ‘s me mums” he mumbled cleaning the spot of the table you just removed your hand from. “But she left” you say abruptly making him look at you, finally getting some strong eye contact, he kept silence trying not to cry, you leaned closer to him and whispered “when are we escaping this hole then?”.

Now

It’s been four years since you convinced Rob to leave that place, four years since you’ve been living together in that house his mom had left for him, and four years of the only caring human interaction you both have; you take care for each other and you could say it was the first time in ages that you haven���t feel lonely.

“Could been better if I’m honest” Harry replies with a cheeky smile “Of course it could have been better, it could have been better if you just would stop yourself from snoring the whole night” Robert cuts Harry off “Did you know he goes to sleep without taking a shower? and WE have to share room it’s just unacceptable, unaccepta- unacceptable” You can see Rob’s face turning red and his eyes looking at you almost popping out at the memory of last night.

“Oh I’m sorry, did my snoring muffle that boring music you sleep with?” Harry says without looking at him as he pours some orange juice to his cup “It’s not my fault you don’t appreciate quiet music you cheap ass Mick Jagger” Robert spits roughly making Harry giggle as he decides to stop the argue blowing him a kiss. He was cheeky and irreverent and you like that, Harry was like a new specimen like a new world you wish to explore, it was something you have never seen before, neither you or Rob haven’t met anyone like Harry, you feel excited about this new experience even though now and then you feel guiltiness for making Rob go through this, you know he’s not looking forward this as much as you are, in fact since Harry is living with you Rob’s stress levels has been higher than usual.

When you left the clinic you decided come up with a plan to keep both of you sane, you knew Rob’s money it wasn’t going to last more than a few months and his disability allowance was not enough for both of you, so you decided to get a job and attend to some free therapy session at a community center near Rob’s house, and that’s how Harry came into your life.

One month ago

What it seemed like a normal summer rain predicting its end becomes a dreadful storm within minutes. You make you steps larger covering your head with your old jacked which is completely useless as you try to rush Rob who is a couple steps behind you freaking out because his boots and the bottom of his pants are all covered in mud. There’s only a couple of blocks left to the community center where both of you attend to the weekly sessions that keep yourself sort of sane. You arrive to the center soaking wet and just in time to the session, however, you spend a few minutes taking care of Rob helping him to clean himself.

Both of you take a seat in the circle in the middle of the huge cold room; the therapist, Arthur welcomes you with a big smile understanding the weather was not something you could control or change. “So now that we’re complete…” he stand up and says looking at Rob and you “Are you okay, Robert?” he asks kindly to what Rob just nods “great, now I want to start this meeting introducing our new member, he comes all the way from London so I ask you to be nice and make him feel welcome”.

You were too busy taking care of your friend and cursing at the wind that you haven’t notice the new member of the group; a tall white guy with silky curls, they seem recently wet as well even tho he doesn’t look bother about it. Your gaze travels his figure from bottom to top; he’s wearing some old used boots, a pair of blue jeans and a grey hoodie. You notice his big and strong hands as he says hi to the group with one of them; both decorated with multiple rings, It’s not until your glance meets his big emerald eyes ornamented with some bags under them that you realized you are probably staring too much, as you try to look somewhere else you see he offers a smile at you; not yet a malicious one, not yet a kindly one, it was more like something in between; a cheeky lovely but arrogant smile.

“Hi, I’m Harry, Nice to meet you all” He says briefly without taking his eyes off of you he looks at the rest of the group smiling still just to sit down again. You could hear some distant and slow claps, probably your partners are just as confused as you; most of the introductions were followed by a whole crazy story of why are they there and even some tears and breakdowns but never just a cheeky smile and a breathtaking glance. “You probably want to tell us why you’re here Harry” Arthur says looking at him.

“’kay, if you want me to” He says rubbing his palms on his thighs looking at the ground until he speaks again “…I’m a sex addict” he looks up staring challenging at Arthur chuckling. Arthur looks quite annoyed he probably knows what the newbie’s here for, you’ve shared these sessions with some sex addicts they only last two or three weeks top, but you are pretty sure he’s just joking. “Probably just another junkie” Rob speaks up louder than he expected. The whole room is filled with silence for a couple seconds even you fell Harry deep gaze on Rob “Wanna bet pretty boy? can show you”

“Harry is here because he’s trying to keep himself sober and we’re to help him, okay?” Arthur interrupts quickly “He’s new in town so if you know about some apartment available for him would be a great favor”. The rest of the session keeps going pretty normal even though you can’t focus on any of your partners, you are too confused yet intrigued about the whole new guy situation; after that interaction you can tell Rob has been tense since then, on the other side Harry seems cool about it, you were expecting him being an asshole with the rest of the group as they share their week with you, but instead he listens carefully, looking attentive to each person who stands up, he even shares some advices with them, good advices. Robs is kind of right, he is a junkie, still he is not just another junkie, there was something different about him and you want it to find out.

“Hey, so the new guy is looking for somewhere to live” You say to Rob who was cleaning the snack table of the therapy room. “There are a lot of bridges he can live under” He replies without looking at you, he was too focused stacking some water bottles carefully. You take a piece of fruit and a bottle of water as you feel Arthur Gaze on you “I was thinking he can live with us, we have a spare room” Robert stops abruptly his stacking process just to give you a perplexed look “are you seriously suggesting me to offer my house to a bloody drug addict we just literally met just because he’s hot?”

“C’mon… I never said he was hot” Rob turns his face back to the table cleaning something else you don’t even see “That’s not the point, I’m not letting a stranger sleeping under my roof”  “You let me sleep under your roof, beside, we can actually use some extra money” you say looking for the new guy in the room “and he seems fun” Robert grunts rolling his eyes at the sight of you looking for him. “Robert, Y/N, we’re about to the closure would you please join us?” Arthur says from a distance. “take it as behavior exercise” You insist Rob with a begging look with both of your hands together “I’ll think about it” He cuts the conversation walking away from you.

One week ago

You make your way into de kitchen to find Rob finishing his cleaning routine; you overslept this morning understandable after keeping yourself with almost anything but water for the last three days. “Morning babe” You said weakly to your friend as he quickly reach a chair for you to sit “Hey, I made you some breakfast” He says as he opens the fridge taking out a plate with fruit and oats “There’s no need Rob, I’m going to be late to work” You say as you try to stand up  but he grabs your arm in order to stop you from getting up, you look at his hand wrapped around your arm and look back at him in shock; his germophobia doesn’t let him have any physical interaction with other people, he never touches anybody and freaks out when somebody touches him. Is the first time in years you’ve feel his touch; even though he’s wearing latex gloves as usual you can feel the warm emanating from his big and soft hand.

“You might take care of me most of the time but I’m not stupid Y/N, I know you haven’t eaten a full meal in four days, so please, sit down and eat your breakfast” He finally releases your arm as he walks to his room to probably change his gloves. The whole situation leaves so speechless that you don’t have any other choice to do what you’ve been told. You can’t remember a time when Robert has ever touched you or at least without having a crisis, definitely your relationship has grown a lot in those couple years and now it seems like he cares about you more every day and part of you couldn’t just let him down.  

As you keep eating your meal and thinking about your relationship with Rob a knock on the door snaps you out to reality and you hear Rob rushing to the door “no, no, you can’t leave the table until you finish”. He reaches to the door and takes a big breathe before open it just to find a pair of emerald eyes looking at him “Oh Hi, nice to see you again Pretty boy” Harry says after finishing his cigarette and stepping on it “Oh it’s you, what do you want?” he asks hiding half of his body behind the door. Harry smirks and shows him the black suitcase he was holding. Robert knew what he was there for he just forgot about it when he looked into his eyes. Today is the day that Harry moves into the house; after a couple endless nights convincing Rob of letting him stay today you got yourself a new roommate.

“Oh, right, come on in, I guess” Rob says opening the door wider for Harry to come in. “Take your shoes off” Robert adds without looking at him walking towards the kitchen “Normally I only accept to take my clothes off after a couple of drinks but for you pretty b..” “We don’t use shoes inside the house, that’s the first rule, it’s not a joke” Rob cuts Harry off abruptly facing him again “Okay, take it easy they’re off” Harry says without erasing his cheeky smile of his face “I think we didn’t even say hi properly ” Harry adds offering his hand to Rob, he has heard that he’s quite special to interact with but there’s no person in the world that Harry can’t just win over, he’s irrelevant and funny and just full of natural charm, everybody likes him and he’s aware of that but there is something in Rob Harry just feels attracted to, he likes to push his buttons it’s like a challenge and he has always loved a good challenge.

Robert stares at Harry’s Hand for a moment “I don’t do that” he adds looking back into Harry’s eyes “you don’t do handshakes?” Harry replies chuckling at Rob’s weird affirmation; who doesn’t do handshakes? “I don’t touch people” Robert replies almost yelling at Harry; his face started to turn red and his breathe is getting harder to catch. Harry’s afraid maybe he went too far but it was not his intention at all, he like to mess with people but not like that. “Hey, it’s fine, hi Harry”

You rushed to finish your plate as soon as you heard Harry’s deep voice coming from the door not because you feel excited but because you’re worried about Rob’s reaction, after all they didn’t have a great first meeting. You follow their voices that lead you to the living room; Harry was wearing some regular skinnies and a black t-shirt somehow on him that simple outfit looks like the most complex combination of clothing, a bunch of tattoos covered his arms making him look cooler than the junkie you see every Friday night. Robert raising his voice makes you stop staring at your new roommate and actually talk to him.

“Hey, N/Y, morning” Harry answers with a big smile on his face, you don’t remember his skins glowing as much as it does today it is hard not to stare at him. “Are you ready to move in?” You ask nicely as Robert tries to calm down adjusting his gloves and taking deep breathes “Yep, pretty much” Harry says pointing at his suitcase. You show him the place; is not too big it’s only a small one floor house with three bedrooms but it’s a way to make him feel comfortable. As you show him around Robert starts telling him the most important rules of the house and Harry only nods at both of you.

“So this would be your room” you say finishing the house tour opening the door between Rob’s bedroom and yours “As we told you before It’s not habitable right now, we need to fix the roof and most of the walls they’re almost ruined by humidity, we were thinking maybe with the deposit and probably your first payment we can like fix it meanwhile you can share room with Robert if that’s okay with you” You say showing him where the humidity has damage the roof “Sure, it’s going to be a pleasure” Harry winks at Robert who seems bothered enough already. You can see how annoyed Rob is by this new roommate situation, however, you know if he wouldn’t agree with this he would tell you, besides somehow it seems like he’s more anxious that bothered about it; he thinks you didn’t realize but you saw him cleaning his room twice last night a strange way to say he’s excited about the next day. Maybe both of you are excited about sharing your life with someone new, someone as special as Harry seems to be, maybe it’s just attraction, maybe it’s just Harry’s aura that makes everyone go a little bit crazy about him or maybe it’s only your mind playing tricks on you but at that moment you realized something in your life is about to change drastically and you quite like that.

Now

“C’mon Y/N you have to finish it” Robert says with his elbows on the table resting his head on both of his hands, you’ve been struggling to finish your meal for almost an hour now and Robert is more than exhausted now, you can see it and you feel bad of seeing those lovely green eyes so tired because of you but you just can´t finish it. “I can´t Robert I promise” You say pouting your mouth on a failed attempt of leaving the table. Harry just appears on the kitchen and watches the scene grabbing an apple “take it as a behavior exercise” Rob adds with an exhausted voice. “Behavior exercise? what’s that? Harry asks with his mouth full of the bite he just took.

“Back in the schoolhouse we had exercises to learn how to deal with our illnesses; they made us do things to get tour limits and they just acted like nothing was happening at all” you say playing with the food on your plate. “Once they made me walk with dirty trousers for a whole day!” Robert continues giving Harry an indignant look. Robs turns back at you pushing your plate closer to you.

“Interesting” Harry responds taking the seat in front of you; he search for your gaze and looks right into your eyes getting your full attention as he usually does whenever he’s near you. “C’mon Y/N you’re better than a plate of food, are you gonna let a couple of vegetables defeat you?” the room is filled with silence as he smiles at you and leaves the kitchen making his way out to the porch. If anyone else would say that to you you would throw the plate at them with no hesitation, but the way those words left his mouth like he knew everything about yourself plus the way he looked at you just made you believe every single of them. You look back at Robert who was already falling asleep on the table and continue to finish your meal.

Once your plate is empty you help Robert to go to bed and clean your dishes as you always do. You remember Harry’s outside and decide to make him company smoking your nightly cigarette as usual. He was laying half of his body on the wooden bench of the porch. He looks so lost in his thoughts you almost feel guilty about interrupting because as soon as you step outside he turns and smiles widely at you “How was your behavior exercise?” he say probably joking or probably actually concerned you never know what his intentions are, that man was a complete enigma to you. “Beat the fuck out if it” you say quietly as you stand beside him lighting the last cigarette of the pack. He chuckles loudly in responds.

After that you just stay there enjoying the silence and the smoke coming out of both of your cigarettes; the night is particularly quiet, the stars are shinier and the wind juts take the bunch of your thoughts and concerns with it. It’s nice to spend time with someone who’s not constantly asking if you have washed your hands already or telling you how disgusting is the habit of smoking. None of you feel the need to fill the lack of conversation at that moment; you are so focused on enjoying the moment that you almost don’t realize that out of nowhere Harry decides to break the silence with a question.

“Why did you let me stay in here?” He asks with a husky voice keeping his eyes on his cigarette “Robert thinks you’re hot” you respond after a couple of seconds and even though you are looking at the sky you can feel Harry smiling at your answer. “yeah, well, I don’t blame him” he says annoyingly turning his body towards you “but I’m sure that’s not the only reason why you guys let a good-looking junkie staying at your place, and if you do I’m quite concerned, I must reckon” you face him narrowing your eyes at his smart ass answer.

“Robert and I have this weird dream of make a sheltered for people in need, people who have been abandoned by their families like us, we saw a chance on you” you say letting the smoke of you cigarette fill your lungs and letting it out. “It’s like the biggest behavior exercise you ever had then?” Harry says with an adorable voice, one you’ve never heard before “You might say” You say smiling at him just to continue enjoying the clear sky above you.

[myheartbeatskids]

Remembering the conversation with Caramel about them being forced gays...

Today, I have one thing to say about being in love:

You can choose who you fall in love with, by force. Like Leah tries to do to me.

Or you can actually fall in love.

There's a major difference.

Lets look at my previous marriage.

I wasn't in love but i liked Michael. Initially i had a serious bad feeling about getting serious with him. He was really someone i should not trusted. I knew that.

But he wore that down by allowing me to trust him. Like feeding me, buying me stuff, things like that. Plus i could stay at his house and he was never home.

So i had peace and no adult worries.

I was barely 22 and he was already in his 40s.

Then one day all his bull shit shined its light. Like how he was still married and I couldn't get on his insurance until after the baby was born.

But by then i was pregnant. I ignored every single warning sign like an idiot. Because it was easier.

Plus i had alot of pain and sickness. I was sick with inflammation, infections, auto immune diseases and even seizures.

So my priority was taking care of my and my kid's body.

Now, I know it was so that some rich douche would just paid Michael off and put me in a healthier place in the world. Just like it happened again and is currently happening.

Im not just saying that cause I know a rich douche, but i know someone who's taken care of me like my whole life and knows all my health conditions that I didn't and still dont know about.

Like, how i had a brain surgery when i was 6. Because one night at the bar, i saw my mom then started having serious seizures after that. And they had to remove a small tumor that had Since grown back. But as an adult, surgery isn't recommended unless the tumor creates other problems. Since I rarely have seizures its actually a non-issue.

Yes in the 80s, kids could go to the bar. Still can today in a more casual atmosphere such as chili's or Applebees.

We would go see the bands play at night.

And so back to non-falling-in-love...

I was taking care of our bodies, mine and my kid's. And that was the focus, for me.

Apparently my ex didn't care either way since he was cheating on me and claiming i cheated on him at work because that's one place where he was cheating.

I was crazy angry and impatient with him, though. Like if I told him what to do and he totally wasn't fast enough or acknowledging, i got crazy pissed.

He was annoying. Not my anger at him. Now i find anger at people annoying. Which is why i wait to write about people being stupid and annoying until i know there's really no other choice. It may not seem that way to many readers, but i do put up with a lot without saying anything publicly. Which is why I'm so stubbornly hard about it. And why i don't back down.

I take more time than necessary to whip someone's ass.

Because for one im not going to second guess myself later. For two, once i do it, I am not going to take responsibility nor care if im wrong. And thirdly, because I need help. Or they need help and my only solution is violence.

And my ex and my mom are those reasons why my only solution is violence, because they are violent and selfish and extremely greedy. And those are the people i complain about in my writings.

I'm not selfish nor greedy. And in my old age i have realized some people don't really deserve to live. If someone's sole focus is harming as many people as possible for no real reason, then why should they be allowed to do that?

I see and know the justice system does not work and so the only alternative to remove those people from society is death. That's my only answer.

We are all innocent till proven guilty. And we don't have to go to court for that. Facts prove guilt. Lies hide facts.

Anyways.

So i knew not to love my ex because i felt i had to. I appreciated him and took care of him. Buying food, a house, cooking dinner, cleaning.

When i was unhappy in my marriage i tried to make it better. Like having sex, initiating it and conversations and etc.

But it began to prove that he was one of those go to work and lay in bed having his dick sucked and not caring about maintaining a relationship. He wanted it to be one sided. Where i did all the work.

Well first off. I quit liking him early on the relationship when I couldn't get a break from the baby to clean because just him touching her would make her scream.

Warning sign from Hell i didn't know how to handle or what exactly it was that gave me extreme anxiety.

He wouldn't even do anything fucked up.

But I didn't understand why... I didn't realize her insight, infinite wisdom was deeper than I could have imagined.

Now i understand.

Most intellect kills natural intelligence.

Ill skip over her abuse because I don't want to go there.

I have a friend who is unhappy in her marriage and all the time she tells me. I tell her, give an honest try and see if you can be happy. It doesn't matter what he feels, id he can't make you happy then he never will. Just be open to what your relationship really is. Like is he trying but you're not noticing?

I did that with my ex. And good thing i did. Because as soon as i announced I was getting a divorce all my single friends said i was a stupid bitch. My dad said he would not take care of me and my mom acted like cunt.

Everyone turned on me. I told my friends, you like him so much, ill divorce him and you can marry him. We can still be friends.

I told my mom to burn in Hell and shut up and I told my dad i didn't need him to take care of me.

I got my divorce.

I thought I got married for love, for family.

I did. But the person i married, didn't.

He wanted a perfect 22 year old wife and he got what he wanted. But he didn't deserve it.

He gave me his entire paychecks every time, rarely ASKED for his own money, except when he needed gas or for the football pool or lotto ticket pool.

I had every single dime he made.

And it wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth him telling me my daughter whom had her own kitchen cabinet and set of dishes that she used an "adult" plate and left it and other random dishes under the couch.

Or how it was her fault that she put her sippy cup in the sink without rinsing cause he told her to put up in the sink (she had to throw it because she was so little) because he was too lazy to get up and rinse the cup.

Duh she would give it to him for a reason. Or how he would make 5 sippy cups of juice in one day instead of reusing the same cup.

Like it was all shit I could tolerate from a guest that was there like once a week at most.

Or if he just used adult sentences and explained with compassion instead of acting like a goof ball idiot that didn't care about shit.

It hurt to wash dishes. I did them everyday so they wouldn't pile up and we never used paper. Not even if we had dinner guests.

So fucking care. How hard is that?

You create a Hell of a lot more work when i have to scrape your nasty crust off a plate or have to soak and worry about a sippy cup having bacteria.

I can hear genuine in a voice.

And if you say sorry 40 times for the same thing, obviously you're not.

(I've never said sorry to you, Leah. Shut up, stupid bitch. Yeh, cool. Lie about it. Doesn't change FACTS)

And it wasn't just the dishes.

He was abusive to my kid.

He wasn't a good husband. Sure he put the dishes away the same day i told him, to. Sure he helped fold the laundry or just folded it himself.

But those are things he would had to do if he lived alone. I washed them. Switched them. One third was his. One third was mine and the other his kid's. So he was responsible for half his kids and his.

I even unloaded the top of the dishwasher when he started to become a lazy dick. And he was too scared not to unload the rest. Because I would use my adult words and explain I couldn't.

He didn't believe me but if the dishes piled up, I would refuse to wash them and so he would have to.

I did dishes everyday which was actually washing them by hand then putting them to sanitize in the dishwasher when it was full. Maybe 3 times a week.

I didn't care about his money. I cared about,the respect I got from him for my daughter and myself

And we got more money than respect, which we,got very little of.

How can someone not love themselves so much they would allow themselves not to be cared about in a proper manner?

That wasn't going to happen in my house and it wasn't going to happen to me or my kid.

I couldn't be forced into love.

Love exists between people. Or it doesn't.

There's a huge difference

Never sell yourself short.

I won't.

He rented my time but he never bought me.

I chose who not to love so I could fall in love

Not be pushed into it.

[absolutely-legit]

Number 1

Warnings: Angst, Completely false and unmedical protrayal of what could be considered Mental Health Problems. Maybe. It’s just angst.

~*~

Youngjae knows he fucked up. It’s evident in his posture, his face, his eyes. He knows he fucked up, but he doesn’t back off. He went too far and that’s unique. Youngjae never goes too far, not in this way. Jaebum doesn’t know how to react. He’s stunned beyond words, stunned into silence and he’s not alone. Everything is completely quiet.

Jaebum doesn’t know if it’s good or bad. Doesn’t know why. Why now. He should be glad, something in the back of his head whispers, that now at least he knows. It’s better if he knows, so he can do something, even if he doesn’t know what.

But then again, Youngjae never snaps. He never did before and Jaebum can’t help but wonder what happened. What has been so bad that he lost it. Or –and that thought is worse- how many things Jaebum has missed. How many signs did he not see so that it would come this far.

And he wonders, deep down and yet absolutely apparent.

If it is his fault.

Jinyoung is brave. He’s calm even if hanging on by a thread. He’s not the kind of person to snap either and Jaebum silently prays that he’ll keep it together.  That he’ll remember. That he’ll be able to see past it.

Jaebum has so many things to worry about, he can’t really think about how Jinyoung’s cheekbone is going to be blue and purple by tomorrow. Bruises heal, he tries to soothe himself, because he knows he should worry about that but he can’t.

He’s too occupied staring into Youngjae’s face, trying to decipher what’s going on, trying to remember what could have lead up to this. Because unless he knows, he can’t show an adequate response.

You should scold him, something in his mind nags at him and, yes, he should. But then there’s another part in him that says he should wrap Youngjae in a fluffy blanket and soothe him and pamper him and hug him tight and whisper.

Youngjae needs to be scolded, because he can’t just walk around and punch people. Not slap them, like he usually does when he’s excited or sometimes when he’s playfully upset. He can’t ball his hand into the fist and throw it into Jinyoung’s face out of nowhere so knuckles collide with skull in a painful noise and everybody is left in shock. Youngjae can’t do that, no matter how angry he is, but what if he has a reason? No matter the reason, nobody should retort to violence. But this is Youngjae after all and Youngjae has a reason and Jaebum is confused.

He’s insecure, because he has to make a decision and it has to be the right decision. The one that is best for everyone. And he won’t be able to do that. The realization seeps in slowly, while he stares at Youngjae’s face, guilty, but fired by a desperate determination. Jaebum knows he’ll go through with it if Jaebum decides to fight.

Finally, someone moves. It’s none of them, a staff member wets a towel and gently presses it to Jinyoung’s bruising cheek.

Jaebum stands up from his seat and holds his hand out in a peaceful manner. “Youngjae. Sweetie.” He speaks as gently as possible. “Come. Let me drive you home.” He wonders if Youngjae was coherent enough to wait for the fan meet to be over before he blew up. Or if it was a coincidence. To his immense luck Youngjae does not resist and his manager hands Jaebum the car keys on their way out.

Youngjae is quiet and calm and obedient as soon as it’s just the two of them. Jaebum thinks his decision was right. Thinks that it’s better this way. It’s better than if Youngjae hides. When he’s alone, instead of getting angry he gets lost. And when he gets lost. Sometimes he goes really far and Jaebum is afraid that one day Youngjae will be so lost, he won’t be able to find him anymore.

Youngjae thanks him politely when they arrive at his place and Jaebum only has a split second to react. He hisses in pain when the door collides with his foot that he shoves through the crack just in time before Youngjae can slam it shut in his face.

“Not like this, young man.” He scolds sternly, in his best ‘strict parent’ impression. Youngjae doesn’t laugh. His face is dark, his brows knitted. There’s a storm brewing. Maybe him hitting Jinyoung in the face was not the end of something but the beginning.

It’s obvious that Youngjae wants to say something. He makes a few noises, but he swallows them all back down and turns around. He lifts his foot off the ground and before Jaebum can react he lashes out with his foot, kicking the nearest potted plant off its stand and it shatters on the ground. He hears a frightened wincing noise somewhere in a corner and is glad that Coco is smart enough to hide away so she won’t get kicked also.

Youngjae paces. He walks here and there. He kicks at things and punches them and some things break and Jaebum is helpless. Aggression is such a novel emotion for Youngjae and it’s scary, but Jaebum doesn’t want to interrupt it, because if he does, he can imagine Youngjae spiraling downwards instead, falling down a pit Jaebum can’t reach him anymore.

So he stands and stares and waits.

It was wrong. But he only knows that when it’s too late. He wishes this was a story. Wishes it was a movie where he’ll accidentally make the right decision, where he knows how to do what. But it isn’t and he’s not a superhero and he tries, but he can’t make it right.

Youngjae breaks down in the middle of the living room. What Jaebum tried to avoid happened anyways, maybe worse and he could have stopped him from destroying his interior. He squats down next to him on the hard floor and pulls him into a hug, because this is a place he’s been to before.

Youngjae cries like an infant. Loud and obnoxious and maybe it’s because a little bit he’s just that. And Jaebum pets his hair and rocks him and knows that it doesn’t do anything good. He knows he’s not getting through, but he does it nonetheless.

He makes Youngjae get up. Pulls at him and tells him to come to his feet. He drags him to the bathroom, sits him down on the toilet and carefully begins wiping the Make-up off his face. He wipes tears, too but more follow and Jaebum’s own eyes sting and water.

He’s done this a few times. Brushing out the hairspray, pulling off his sweater. Putting Youngjae into his sleepwear and tucking him into bed. He knows it’s no good. He’s not even sure Youngjae notices what he’s doing.

“Are you gonna tell me what about Jinyoung made you angry?” He asks, fingers threading through Youngjae’s soft dark locks, head resting against the side of his thigh where he’s sitting against the headboard. Youngjae doesn’t answer.

“Jinyoung.” Jaebum says again to lure him out. “Have you seen his face?” He asks, faking a chuckle. “He looked like he’s been struck by lightning.” Youngjae stirs. “Funny.” He grumbles as fake as Jaebum’s amusement. Relief floods his being over the single word. “Thank god, you’re still here.” He mutters and asks himself whether he should’ve not said that.

That’s the thing. He doesn’t know what’s the right thing to say or what isn’t. He doesn’t know how to talk to Youngjae, he doesn’t know how to fix him. He’s not a goddamn magician. If he’s ever honest to himself he’d admit that Youngjae needs professional help, but then he’s fine long enough that Jaebum chases that thought to the back of his mind.

Youngjae snorts. “What for?” He asks, sarcastic enough to prove that he’s present. Maybe, Jaebum thinks as he remembers how long it has taken before to get to the point where Youngjae becomes spiteful, maybe punching isn’t so bad after all. Though, he doesn’t want to risk being so lenient with Youngjae that he can do whatever he pleases and blame it on his illness. If it is one. Jaebum isn’t a fucking psychiatrist.

“Why Jinyoung?” Jaebum asks, ignoring the previous question. “I hate him.” Youngjae simply states, wrapping cold, hard fingers neatly around his heart and pressing down. Not enough to crush it, but enough to hurt. Jaebum swallows thickly.

“Why?” He croaks quietly, soundless. He knows he shouldn’t press too much. He knows he can deal damage beyond repair if he handles this poorly, but in the past Youngjae’s dislike was usually directed towards “them” or “everyone”.

Youngjae sits up abruptly and Jaebum regrets the loss of warmth against his thigh, even though his pants are damp with late-spilled tears. Youngjae’s eyes have time to narrow for a little, having Jaebum’s heart miss a beat in fear of the returning anger. But he gets rescued by a cute little whimper and scratching and scuttling and a fluffy white fur ball springing onto the bed and nuzzling its wet nose against Youngjae’s hand. His posture relaxes, the knittings on his face ease.

“I’m sorry.” Youngjae mumbles and even though he doesn’t really make it clear if it’s directed towards him or Coco, Jaebum accepts the apology.

Jaebum takes the time Coco gave him to search his brain for an explanation. Eventually he speaks up, carefully.

“Does Jinyoung have something that you don’t?” He asks gently and witnesses a small nod, even though Youngjae doesn’t look up from where he’s petting Coco. The dog is the best thing that ever happened.

“Something you want?” Jaebum does his best to keep his voice soft and warm, not show the anxiety he feels. This time he gets more of a shrug than a nod. Poorly phrased.

“Something… he doesn’t deserve?” Youngjae twitches. “You deserve it more, don’t you?” He concludes to his own surprise. “’course I do.” Youngjae mumbles, gradually returning. Jaebum rummages through the last couple of weeks. He told himself over and over again that he will not let Youngjae’s condition influence his decisions concerning matters of the group and their music. If it is about that again?

“It was mine.” Youngjae explains before he can come to a conclusion. “The show, it was mine. It was the one thing I had and he takes it!!!” His dangerous voice has Coco jump off the bed and cower in fear. Something within Jaebum clicks. A faint memory of a beaming Youngjae years ago, relishing in praise. And a recent one, supposedly unimportant. A memory of how Youngjae was ‘sick’ when they had planned to watch the second episode of King of Masked singer together.

“He gets everything.” Youngjae spits and Jaebum notices that he will probably rile himself up enough to spill everything he kept inside. He braces for it, because he knows that there’s going to be a lot of bullshit in between. Because Youngjae will exaggerate to the point of ridicule, but he also knows that it is real when it feels real for Youngjae.

“He’s the actor already.” Youngjae turns towards him to look at him while he speaks, as if he needed to search for confirmation. “Why does he have to have everything?! It’s not fair. He can be in a drama and I am on the show and it’s NOT FAIR. I was on it and now he gets to be, but it was mine. I was there first!” He says it as if Jaebum didn’t know. “I’m never first.” Youngjae repeats that so often, the word ‘first’ gets stuck in Jaebum’s mind. “I never get to be first. I never get to be it. But he, he goes anywhere and gets to be in everything! It’s not fair Hyung!”

Jaebum sees the tears dwell up again, Youngjae’s eyes glassy and his nose runny. “I’m not first in the group. I’m not first in the family. I am nobody’s first choice, Hyung.” He grabs the blanket and throws it off the bed in such a childlike manner, Jaebum is startled for a moment. “He’s the first in handsome and the first in talent and the first in acting and in singing…. He gets to sing all the good parts and there’s never me who’s first, really!” Youngjae follows up with his whiny voice and Jaebum concentrates to not put it off because of that. Youngjae sometimes babbles, but there’s something and Jaebum knows it, he just has to find it. Peel off the layers and find the real threat.

“I’m always just there. Always behind. Always just one of the others. Never the one. I’m just… >>Oh and also, Youngjae.<<” It’s the part where he loses it. His voice breaks, he sobs. A tear rolls down Jaebum’s cheek, because he imagines the pain he must feel and it hurts almost physically. He knows it’s pointless, but he says it anyways. “It’s not true. You’re important…” Youngjae cuts him off, rudely shouting “Shut UP!”

He pulls up his nose and narrows his eyes. “This isn’t something you can talk away!” He spits. “This is facts. I always get what’s left over; I always AM what’s left over. Find something I’ve ever won, something I’ve ever been first in. There’s none. You can’t put this off as me just making it up, just feeling this way, because I can prove it.” His tears stop for a moment, but he’s visibly distressed. “Everyone has favorites I am noone’s!” He states matter-of-factly. “I am nobody’s first choice.” He says again, voice wavering. “I’m not your first choice.”

And over the pain in his voice and his hazel eyes brimming with tears and his quivering lips, swollen from crying Jaebum understands.

He thinks he can see in slow motion in his head how Jinyoung takes a blow to the face the very moment he leans in to giggly press a wet kiss to his cheek. Youngjae’s anxiety and insecurity is nothing new. It’s what pulls him down an endless hole of fear and depression that Jaebum doesn’t know how to cure.

But the anger. The anger is new and it’s burning and it’s triggered by something that Youngjae didn’t feel before. He’s feeling inappropriate, yes, but he also demands. He demands to be taken seriously. Demands to get whatever he feels he’s not getting.

And Jaebum thinks this is so much easier to deal with. A feeling so basic, so easy to understand.

Jealousy.

“You’re my number one.” He answers and leans in to brush his lips over Youngjae’s wet cheek.

“Prove it.” Youngjae chokes.

He’s very certain he will regret the consequences, but right now all he can think about is to finally make Youngjae feel better. Even if only this once.

He cradles his head and closes his eyes and their lips find each other in a tender kiss.

~*~