aita?

[insertusername]

am i the asshole?

Life isn’t always black and white. Sometimes it’s hard to tell who’s really at fault, and no one wants to believe they’re the bad guy. Sometimes you need an outside opinion. Or several.

Tell your side of the story and crowdsource an honest answer to the age old question; Am I The Asshole?

Top Level

with your character explaining a situation where they might have been the asshole.

Comment

with your hot takes. Anon or IC.

Comments

[pawper]

[The silence stings more than the shouting, stretching out and out and out. Lys stares resolutely at the far wall, not turning around, refusing to, clinging to the dregs of her anger and righteous offense—and then those feelings were gone, burning themselves out like an overloaded electrical wire. Despair fills the emptiness left behind and then flows out again. What was the point? This was exactly why she shouldn’t be honest.

Sighing, Lys rolls over and reaches out to gently touch 6O’s elbow.]

...sorry. I'm sorry, 6O. I shouldn’t have said that.

[dreamofrain]

I... shouldn't have pushed so firmly, either... [ 6O sighed, shifting her arm so she could reach for Lys' hand. Just that, only that... for now. It was all she felt she could manage, in the state they were both in. ]

I think... I think I understand where you're coming from, in all of this... [ She really hoped she did. ]

More than anything... I just want you to feel comfortable, safe, and happy with me. And that... shouldn't need you to disclose everything, all the time. I need to have faith that you'll tell me what I need to know, when I need to know it...

[ She took in a deep breath, the exhale leaving through a shiver. ]

I love you, Lys... I don't need you to be perfect, because I love you, no matter what... I need you to have faith in that, too.

[pawper]

[Now it's Lys' turn to not push, gently taking 6O's hand but careful not to squeeze it, keeping their fingers unlaced, letting the smaller girl decide how much she wanted to be touched. Emotionally drained, there's nothing left to do but allow intuition to guide her.]

...I'm trying, 6O. For you. I'm trying really hard. And I think...I can try sharing a little more, without you needing to ask me.

[She doesn't want to. She doesn't want to. The most frightened and cowardly part of herself cringed away from the very thought, the pain and humiliation it could open herself up to. But for 6O, she'll try.]

But it's not a weed you can just pull out of me. Okay? I have to be ready to say it...whatever it is. [A soft sigh that's not quite a surrender.] But I'll say it eventually. Because I love you, and I want you to be comfortable and safe and happy with me, too.