tbh for a long time i really resented the advice "pick a partner that you would want to raise kids with" because i don't want kids and i hated that all relationships had to come from this place of procreation-first. what about toxic friendships, after all.
it took me a really long time to realize it's a bastardization of good advice.
many of us are recovering from being raised by parents/caregivers that were in toxic relationships or were toxic themselves. we learned behaviors, thoughts, and patterns from these people, and we spend our adult lives untangling and dismantling the harm done to us.
the advice should be - is this the person you'd want a child to emulate? is this a person you'd want a child even around? is this a person you can trust alone with a kid - any kid, mind you - and know that the child is safe, looked after, loved? is the relationship you're in one you'd want children to see and repeat in their adult lives? or is the relationship one you hope they won't follow, after all?
to be honest, i knew when i was in a bad relationship. i'd tell people - i know, i know, i should break up with him. i know, i know. she's not actually a good friend. but the reality was that it's incredibly difficult to escape the-devil-you-know. it was easy enough to train myself to be okay with it; i have very little regard for the-self and the process of cutting people out was simply too threatening for my mental state.
but i wouldn't put a younger version of myself through the same thing. i'd picture her in the same situation. i would tell her, broody as she is - leave, you're happier outside of it, never let anyone talk to you like that, you're worth more than this. i'd tell her when you let him cross your boundaries, the fault is his, but you need to understand you're rewarding bad behavior if you don't do something about it. i would wish, fervently, i could restart the relationship and do it all differently, be-young-again.
and then i realized: i am the younger version of myself. a future version of myself is begging me to leave. to take my happiness seriously. i am a kid to fifty-year-old-me. and i need to take my own advice. it's okay if that sets me up to grieve.
pick a partner that you would trust a younger version of yourself with. pick friends you'd want your younger self to grow up alongside. pick love that makes you feel like you want everyone to experience in their life and feel with others, something magical and shareable and full of mist. pick a love that feels like you can grow in it. pick a love like: i will be proud of this.
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#3 for wolfstar? (if u haven't done it, I'm new and still need to get through ur whole blog twice before I know what's up, lol) thx! <33
Hi Nonnie and welcome!! I haven’t done 3: Nose kiss, so thank you for leaving this prompt! Lol yeah I got an unexpected amount of prompts, which is fantastic since this has been tons of fun and I really wanted to focus on developing my skills to build up to kisses! I think I should have used a tag for these fics but honestly, I wasn’t expecting more than two or three prompts. You are all amazing.
(And honestly, I hope everyone knows I normally don’t write this much/this fast but next weekend I start a new job so I might as well make the most of the writing time I have now)
With that being said, I hope you like this kiss! I think this is going to be the last one for today, so I hope it’s decent! There’s an absurdly cheesy joke here at the end. I hope you enjoy it!
As everything posted for this, this is unbeta’ed! please forgive my English!
“Look at this mess,” Sirius says sternly as he hangs his cloak on the kitchen’s chair. He frowns for about two seconds before starting to laugh heartedly.
Harry runs to him, yelling “Padfoot!” and throwing himself at Sirius’ arms.
Sirius picks him up on the run, his fancy black robes smudging with white. He turns in place until Harry is laughing too.
“Hey, Harry. What you two have been up to?” he asks, and Harry scrunches his nose adorably and shows his doughy hands, wiggling his fingers.
“We were baking!” Harry answers and then starts wiggling until Sirius puts him back down on the floor.
“I see that,” and Sirius whistles appreciatively, eyeing the kitchen counters covered with every kitchen utensil they own. Every spoon, fork, knife and plate they own is in the sink. There’s cake mix on the floor, on the ceiling, and on the hair on the back of Remus’ head. Eggshells lie on the counter like abandoned cars in an apocalypse, and the light blue walls have been redecorated with splatters of pink, purple and white.
Remus looks over his shoulder and gives Sirius a luminous grin that makes Sirius’ daily fatigue almost disappear. Remus is crouched on the floor, looking into the oven. Harry walks back to his side, throwing himself to lay on the floor by his side, his head on his hands and his small feet tapping up and down the floor.
“Is it ready, Moony?” Harry asks, accommodating his glasses on his nose, leaving them half-covered with the mix, half-covered with fingermarks.
“Not yet, Harry. Why don’t you keep an eye on it for me? You can let me know when the circle on the top turns brown,” Remus says standing up. He passes his hands half-heartedly over his trousers and apron, but they are all covered in flour, so in the end, he sighs and leaves it like that.
Harry nods solemnly, his eyes fixed on the small glass door.
Remus turns to smile at Sirius. Sirius smiles back.
“Do you remember the kitchen safety rules, Harry?” Remus asks then, as an afterthought, turning to look down at Harry.
“Hmmm?” Harry says, his feet going tap, tap, tap against the floor.
“Kitchen rules, Harry. Look at me,” and Harry does, looking over his shoulder, green eyes bright and attentive. “Not touching the oven’s door. Calling one of us if you see fire. If something bubbles or spills, you don’t try to fix it on your own, but you wait for one of us to come.”
Harry nods and goes back to look into the oven.
Remus sighs again and shakes his head, but then turns, walking towards Sirius.
“Hey,” he says with a big smile when he gets closer. He looks so young and domestic that Sirius’ heart does a weird somersault.
Hey, you,” Sirius says, and then he laughs. “You have a bit of flour there,” he says, making an encompassing movement with his hand over Remus’ face, and Remus snorts.
“Yeah, I think some of it even got under my pants,” he says with a grin. “Can you watch Haz as I go to change?” he asks, once again batting at his trousers.
“Sure,” Sirius says with a nod. Remus smiles again and starts to walk towards the bedroom. He doesn’t get too far, because as he walks by Sirius, he softly grabs his arm to stop him. Remus turns, and Sirius ducks to leave a kiss on his nose, short and sweet.
“The only place that’s not covered in flour,” Sirius says with a grin, as he moves his hand up and down Remus’ arm.
Remus laughs and looks back at him, fondly.
“Oh, shush, like you mind me being all dirty,” he answers in a low, soft tone. His eyes are bright and full of mischief as he grabs Sirius’ robes to pull him into a proper kiss.
Send me a kiss from this list and I’ll write a short scene!
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This is pretty niche so feel free to ignore but I really can't get the thought of Maria Clara! Petra out my mind
(but... maybe the badass, I-won't-take-any-of-your-shit type 😭 girl can probably man a rifle shoot me pls petra ral)
I just want to see Petra in a baro't saya* ok even tho she doesn't look Asian at all.
and of course she fucks her grumpy Katipunero* boyfriend even tho she'll probs get judged for it.
"lol modesty? being a dalagang pilipina*?
fuck society's rules.
i'm gonna sleep with my handsome duwende* before he leaves to fight against the colonizers"
- Petra Ral, probably. circa 1861
Art by Peng-Peng on Deviantart
^she can totally kill with that big-ass fan i don't make the rules
I MEAN LOOK ME IN THE EYE AND TELL ME THIS 👇 DOESN'T FIT PETRA FUCKING RAL.
"Ready to fight for my country's independence but MAKE IT CUTE":
Art by Ellieknorcubes (ellie) on Behance
Katipunero - a rebel member of the KKK, which was a Philippine revolutionary society that fought for PH independence
Dalagang Pilipina - translates to "Young Filipina lady" but it's usually used to refer to a Filipina woman who's shy, reserved, prim and proper.
Baro't saya - translates to "blouse and skirt". traditional Filipino clothing
Duwende - Levi Ackerman a dwarf/elf
Laban (in the 2nd photo) - translates to "fight"
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