The SUV was huge and unnecessary. Just like the 18 inch rims, tinted windows and customised Bose sound system. But Jiwon wanted him to have it so he just had to live with it.
“My tunes need to sound good when you’re playing them!” Jiwon exclaimed at the garage. “Chanwoo will hook you up with some fresh sub-woofers.”
He had thrown his hands in the air and surrendered the keys. It was nice though, seeing Jiwon rolling up his sleeves and helping his old garage workmates pimp out the ride.
He really doesn’t see the point of sub-woofers though. Not when he plays Barney and Friends or Sesame Street all day long anyway. The baby seems to like it and if there’s one thing that he hates more than driving, it’s driving in a massive car with a screaming baby. He’ll do anything to maintain the peace.
Sometimes, when she’s feeling generous, she lets him turn on the radio.
“Hey, kiddo. It’s your dad’s song. Just ignore all the swearing.” He says, looking at her drooling all over the plastic starfish toy. He wonders if she recognises Jiwon’s voice yet. She probably doesn’t. She doesn’t even recognise her own reflection.
“Daddy is better than Barney right?” He asks, pausing for an answer because his sleep deprived brain gets the wild idea that she understands him. Maybe she does. “Barney can’t even rap.”
She gives him a gummy smile and the Snoopy onesie that was clean 5 minutes ago was now completely ruined again.
“You’re just as messy as him. Did you know?” He says, reaching to clean her face for the tenth time this morning. “I know it makes no genetic sense but we’ll just blame him okay? You didn’t get all these nasty habits from me.”
Loud. Messy. Drives him absolutely crazy. But there is nothing on earth that he loves more.
I don’t have to pretend to have a horse, because it is a horse. Like the Fjord it’s an old breed (the Fjord is an ancestor actually), and they were horses before “tall” horses even were a thing. Their strong build and bone-structure are another reason why it’s fair to call them horses, for they can easily carry adults. Just like a Fjord horse. And there’s the simple naming factor: if I look in any horse encyclopedia I’ll find both the Fjord and the Icelandic with a ‘horse’ behind the name. Same with Wikipedia. Not pony. Horse. So excuse me if I call them by their breed name, Icelandic horse, and sorry that I and many others with me do consider them horses. There’s nothing about them that makes them lesser compared to taller breeds.
OMG you guys thank you for 400 followers!✨I only had this account for like… I dunno, five months (?) and I honestly thought it would flop. I don’t even know why you people follow me, I’m like so bad at posting stuff 😂
Also I’d like to tag @house-of-galathynius and thank her because she was my first fwend on this site and for being suuuuch an amazing person. ✨💕💕 aaaaand she listens to Fall Out Boy ahh (actually she’s my *only* friend here and the only person I’ve talked to for quite a long time but don’t judGe omg I’m a shy person) (welll I wasn’t until anxiety decided to pay me a visit, the little shit)
(sidenote: As I’m typing this, there’s some weird ice-cream truck music outside the house and I’m getting creeped out because it is not going away ahhhh) (wait nvm it’s gone now) (I’m)(using)(so)(much)(parentheses)
“you don’t get to call yourself gay, you’re bi” but it’s the gay community, gay rights, gay pride parade. when they hit me, it was for being gay. when i look at myself i try to measure the parts of me that fit into the slot; i’m 80% gay even on a straight day. when i kneeled to pray it was begging away the gay part. when i do something wrong, it’s gay.
when she was dating me, she was terrified of me leaving. “you’ll marry a man,” she said, “you’re bi, none of you are really gay.” when i left her for a man i felt those words like red nails inside me. when another of us commits suicide, a gay boy and i stand outside the funeral and he spits before going inside. “this is because y’all can’t make up your goddamn mind. he couldn’t even decide if he wanted to stay alive”. when i stand and hold hands with a trans boy at a pride rally, someone throws dirt at me. “go home, hetero,” and i feel like it’s better just to leave. “i just feel like shelters shouldn’t let bi people in. they can go to the straight ones. leave the shelter space for a real gay person.” my friend is out on the street at sixteen because she’s bi. in four years, she is dead. “bi people are untrustworthy” “bi people are slutty” “bi people don’t exist” “being bi is a sign of mental illness.”
too gay, i guess, for straight people. but not gay enough to call myself one. not gay enough, even when any other word i use to define myself comes with “slur connotations.” even when they beat me for it. even when i know people who died for it. even when.
“i don’t know why bi people get upset we don’t make gay rights about them” a sigh, long-suffering, “you guys have no idea what kind of trouble we’re in.”