peep partners

I’m not afraid of realism in threads. I’m not afraid of those moments where your character is less than gentle. I’m not afraid of threads where my muse may catch yours on a bad day. I’m not afraid of fallouts, ugly crying, rejecting kindness that they may need and grudge-holding because; who says that’s where our character’s relationship has to permanently stay?

I don’t want every thread with everybody to be happy and come with peaceful resolution. I live for complexities. I don’t want to interact with someone who’s afraid of making their character be natural around mine. In fact, I’d be horrified to know if someone is bending their character just to appease me. Or if they can’t be themselves around me.

So do you. Write out those moments of your character that you know would go down. Hit up my IMs so we both know what to expect. But basically, write your character the way your character is. And be consistent with OOC communication too: don’t just have shit hit the fan without saying a peep to a partner. Annnnd if you can tell somebody doesn’t want it to go this way.

Just dump ‘em man.

This is a reminder that baby mama/baby daddy have become racialized terms that are used to casually demean Black people (usually Black women) and their relationships. Peep how white partners in a relationship are often referred to as “wife/husband, girlfriend/boyfriend, or father/mother of his/her child”. See also: When Michelle Obama was called Barack’s “baby mama”.

Good day, and thank you for your time.

anonymous asked:

Why do you call then your boyfriend and girlfriend instead of you partners like most poly people.

because we don’t work at a law firm 

it’s hard to call someone ‘partner’ when you’ve watched them dance around in their underwear at 2am or held them when their soul was tearing apart

Forget || Open RP to relationships

The nightmares didn’t seem to go away that day, since he woken up, through lunch and into the afternoon Yancy couldn’t stop the anxiety, couldn’t stop the memories. He just wanted it all to end. 

The Becket marched to his room and pulled a bottle of pills from his closet and grabbed a beer from the mini fridge. He took more pills then prescribed and downed them with half a beer.

With the drugs and alcohol foggy his mind he didn’t realize he had left his door open, or the fact that someone was standing in it staring at him.