#...oh wow

I think it would've been so funny if Steve had never grown in size after getting the serum. Just barely like, five three Stevie, everyone's like, aw, look at the tiny guy, and then he punches them into next week.

just-

Red skull: HAh- you think this tiny puny man could ever-

Steve Rogers, standing as at a proud five three, barely a hundred twenty pounds soaking wet: *rips off a car door and beats his face in.

*finishes tying your wrists and moves on to your ankles*

-Ran

Long missions inherently made for long nights. And long nights made for interesting conversation.

Renji fingered the rim of the rough ceramic saucer in his palm. "Would you ever consider it, Rangiku?" he asked quietly, voice barely audible over the campfire. Even after only one cup, the nightcap he had taken was already loosening his tongue and allowing his mind to bring to light his carefully kept thoughts.

His responsibilities as a lieutenant left little room for companionship, and if anyone could as easily understand the same frustrations, it would be the woman sitting across from him. The reputable establishments in the Rukongai were fine, he supposed but impersonal which still left the redhead wanting.

"It wouldn't have ta be anything serious, I wouldn't ask that of ya." Renji sighed and ran a hand through his loose locks. "But maybe just ta pass the time, with someone you know. I wouldn't normally ask but--" A subtle flush appeared in the man's face. "Figured it wouldn't hurt ta try, I s'pose."

There was something about sweat-coaxing duty calls, ending with multiple shots of well-earned fancy booze shared between all parties involved that seemed to endorse further means of taking one's mind off whatever conscience-shaking measures they'd had to abide in the name of being efficient subordinates prior. Most of the time, it required nothing deeper than a little heartfelt chit-chat; possibly over a chaotic session of karaoke or truth-or-dare to help suppress whatever sappy, overflowing emotional mumbo-jumbo they would've spilled uncontrollably otherwise.

But in the world of a famed blonde bombshell like herself, trifling collisions of naked skins followed with unapologetic exchange of bodily fluids were the staple of such expedients. Then again, she was the Matsumoto Rangiku—and no man with healthy covetous needs would ever be shamed for their moment of weakness once the goddess' feminine charm had them bewitched. Not that she'd agree to just about any offer, however; she had a reputation to maintain, after all—and surely it was not without a reason that many remained eager to test their capability to get the beauty, quite literally, down on her knees.

"Would I ever consider it, he said," she chuckled; lips teasing the edge of her own saucer as drops of alcohol languidly trickled down the container and eventually down her throat, giving the lining of her aperture its lustful redness back in the process. "I mean, look. You are the Abarai Renji of the 6th Division. We both know men and women alike would absolutely die for a chance to see how far down your glorious abs those legendary tattoos go and watch them dance as you commit the devil's tango."

Despite the generosity of her compliments, the vixen would be lying to say she didn't find the turn of events remotely odd, given the two lieutenants' long-enduring platonic history—yet his justification didn't sound all that nonsensical for her to go hellbent about giving the bid an immediate no, either. Still, to say the brevity of his persuasion was nowhere near enough to convince her to succumb to her rawest desires would be an understatement—especially when the sight of their friendship at stake was too blatant for her to drown the pleading voice of her hardly-fuzzy morals.

But the thing is that it wasn’t just single instances. Sure, I talk the most about the time my fbf choose to dance instead of helping me through my first anxiety attack. Or when she grabbed my throat when we were dancing and didn’t apologize. Because those are some of my most vivid memories, and the easiest to tell people so they understand:

She wasn’t good for me. And it’s much harder to explain how she looked down on me when we discussed things, or she constantly made me feel guilty about my body or that I felt bad.

As for my ex, she knew I suffered a lot from guilt issues and rather took the pain on myself than hurt someone else. She’s the one who named me altruistic. So the things she did, overstepping set boundaries and blaming me and not communicating... Yeah, that’s not something you can defend. Not to mention how she disregarded my sexuality and gender.

And my father’s just. Unless you’ve grown up with your favorite guardian suddenly displaying unnerving behavior because of a mental illness, please don’t judge. Because when he drank he became someone else. And his constant verbal slaps to me and my mom, and all the threats, hollowed me out. Sure he can seem like a harmless old man now, but he broke me. He’s why I have performance anxiety and codependency and am so fucking terrified of even the smell of alcohol.

I know I sound bitter when I talk about them, and you probably think I should leave it behind, and I want to do that. I want to move on, but the thing is that they’re still in my head, just like some of the bullying I went through.

This really is my paranoia talking, because no one has said anything. I just needed it out of my head, because people have disregarded my experiences my whole life. Told me others have it worse, that I’m over-thinking, that I’m too sensitive, that my gender identity isn’t real.

Please, please, please don’t disregard what a person has gone through, since you can’t judge. What seems petty to you can be a trauma to them. More often than not, there’s much more to the picture than they’re telling you.