#and those that are going on spaces and saying they are are living in the same world where Larry are married with children living HEA

[traumatizedjaguar]

thegirlwhocrieddragon

When trans elder, activist, and organizer Miss Major was imprisoned in the 70s, she was put in solitary confinement. Also in solitary confinement at the time was Frank "Big Black" Smith, iconic Black Panther and organizer of the Attica rebellion.

Miss Major said of Big Black, “He’s the one that let me know that during things like the riot or getting justice done—stuff lke that—you can’t throw anybody under the bus. You can't leave anybody behind. And that’s become my favorite thing to say to people: I won’t throw anybody under the bus, and I’m not leaving anybody. It has to include us all, or it’s not going to work.”

It has to include us all, or it’s not going to work.

Sontarangaming

Also, on top of everything else, this operates on the same principle as retributive justice vs restorative justice, in that only one of these plans has a real endgame. Lateral violence happens because we view problems in relative terms—and there’s no way around that. And when you’re approaching issues by trying to eliminate the Bad Things, your brain has a way of making those smaller issues feel big, and it becomes cathartic to rip at that problem and feel like you’re doing your part. Issue is, if you don’t focus on the constructive side of your activism, you end up losing the plot in favor of that catharsis.

Two examples of this from different sides of Discourse would be transmeds, who spend time worrying about who is and isn’t trutrans, and the people harassing celebrities with queerbaiting accusations. In both cases, there are some legitimate grievances, and ironically enough, they’re shared grievances a lot of the time. Both are concerned with the ways that their community is othered and marginalized, and they want to do something about that. But in both cases, they focus on individual, small scale perceived issues, and try and tear down those accessible, small issues, rather than look upwards and see the shared enemy of heteronormative patriarchy that creates these issues in the first place.

In both of these cases, you can tell the issues with their approach by looking at their natural conclusions and seeing where they lead, which in both cases is queer spaces and identity being inaccessibly obscure and heavily gated. Comparatively, if a constructive approach is taken, the opposite happens: if, instead of gatekeeping transition to reserve it for the right people, you encourage people to experiment with their gender identity and expression for their own comfort, you solve the potential issue of people transitioning before they’re ready or certain, without the same shitty side effects. If you encourage people to present how they want, you destigmatize femininity and men and masculinity in women, which benefits everyone.

sealpup9

Also, if your goal is just "finding the next enemy" it's easy to get pulled into the mindset that there is always a scapegoat. And the step after that is literally rallying against groups of people... You see where this is going.

Our goals should always be to improve the lives of those around us. Treating people well and rallying with folks for better treatment. The "Us vs. Them" mentality will just cause damage in the long run and can get you into the habit of looking for enemies. When in actuality we all deserve rights and the ability to live life without issues. Doing little things to help people around you is a good place to start :)

I really do think an important component of activism is to make sure your motivation is based on a desire to help/improve things for the people being harmed by a system, and not hatred for the ones doing the harm. both for mental health reasons, and because either way you're training your neural pathways and it's gonna turn out a lot better for literally everyone if the question on everyone's mind after achieving a goal is "how/which people can we help next, what's the next step for improving things" and not "who do we need to attack next."

I'm not saying don't be angry, there are a lot of good reasons to be angry right now and it makes for an excellent kick in the pants, just don't define yourself by it or it's gonna poison you and potentially do collateral damage.

[boopshoops]

Heya!

Things are lookin rough right now, huh? But here are a few reminders:

Your blorbo will still be here tomorrow.

You have people who love and care and support you.

Policies and enactments will not all be immediate. Everything will not go to shit all at once.

Things getting harder doesnt mean they're impossible.

It's okay to be upset. It's okay to be scared. It's okay to cry. That does not make you weak.

I know there are some individuals like me who did not feel safe voting due to outside factors, like living with individuals who support trump or being disabled, do not blame yourself. (Excuse me for getting personal, yes I do want to move out. Very badly. Sadly my mental and physical health are not in a space to do so yet).

This is the last term he is allowed in office. After that, I can't help but think about how the more extremist supporters- would they even want to vote? Idk. But it's food for thought. Safe to say the voter turnout for either side was insane compared to previous years, if we keep that stride up, I honestly think and hope the democrats are almost guaranteed the next election. But this is just me blabbing.

Block tags you aren't in the mindset for seeing rn. It's okay, no one is going to villainize you when the election process is giving you a panic attack. If they try, ignore them. This is for you, not them.

We've survived through one term. We can survive through another. I know it feels difficult right now while thinking about things like access to healthcare or prices skyrocketing or job security, but we really have. Things will get better. We will push through.

Here are some ideas that might help with mental health right now:

Eat some of your favorite food

Look up pictures of your favorite animal

Watch some funny or wholesome videos

Go for a walk

Exist. Because sometimes that is enough

Positive affirmations

Schedule an appointment with your therapist if you have one

Drink water. Or dont! Maybe drink a different thing that you like.

Remind yourself that these feelings will pass.

They cannot steal your identity from you. Internally, you know who you are. Even if you're still figuring it out. They can't take your mind. Your thoughts.

To those like me dealing with finals right now. Its okay. Take that break.

I love u /p

[serendipitous-girl]

𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒈𝒏𝒊𝒛𝒆𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍

⊱✿⊰ summary: headcanons with bakugo and a black cat girl

⊱✿⊰ warnings: swearing, suggestive comments, fighting ig, idrk

⊱✿⊰ notes: i have had this request for like fifteen months lol but im finally doing it for my pookie's bday. Happy birthday ml 🫶 im posting it now so i dont forget lol

❀ he hates you at first sorry not sorry. bakugo just sees you as yet another one of those extras who happen to have an annoying tendency to fight with him. i feel like he might respect your tenacity but barely and he still hates your guts whoops

❀ on the topic of hatred, your other classmates half are jokingly shipping you and the other half are just wishing you two would stop fighting. mina is at the head of the shipping bandwagon especially after she read a book with rivals to lovers. todoroki might say he ships you guys only because he thinks it means he wants you two to get along lol

❀ your arguments would mostly be stupid shit like who rescued who, who did better on the assignment. you guys are rivals who also get into fistfights because why not.

❀ bakugo doesn't think much of your swearing problem because he's used to it by his mom. you're just another annoying person who happens to like using some naughty words all the time (him in girl form)

❀ i feel like the way you two get closer is kinda sad but also drama yay. basically mineta was being an S-class pervert and he was literally harassing you.

❀ and it made you uncomfortable so you started to fight back. bakugo doesn't find you until the aftermath, huddled in the corner of the dorm while trying to hide your tears

❀ he didn't know seeing someone cry could make his heart clench like that. But for some reason, seeing you all teary eyed and sad made him want to punch the living daylights out of whoever made you like that

❀ as awkwardly as he can, he tries to comfort you. His large hand patting your back, not saying anything since words have never been his forte. He was used to using anger to battle his sadness, he didn't know how to help someone succumb to it.

❀ you guys sit there in comfortable silence until you explain to bakugo what happened. he'd always hated the little brat but now he was wishing he had uraraka's powers so he could throw mineta into space. how was the creep still in the hero course?

❀ lets just say the nice day mineta looked more like a cranberry than a grape

❀ you guys aren't particularly close after that but he does tend to notice you more which means his respect for you goes up. you're in combat training and you beat deku? fuck yeah he likes you now. even if you don't hate deku like he does he still thought it was awesome seeing you beat the daylights out of him.

❀ the moment he realized he liked you was when he almost lost you. by now hanging out was pretty regular for the two of you, even if bakugo would rather die than admit that he sees you as a friend. and since you guys spent time together he was around for whenever you got crushes...and told him about it.

❀ most of the time he would shrug it off, especially since half of your crushes were fictional and why would he care? he's not jealous! however you started falling for a boy in class 2b which (for some reason) was a major no go for bakugo. why would you want to date a stupid extra when he was right in front of you

❀ despite what everyone says he isn't the most emotionally constipated. it takes awhile yeah but i imagine he started going to therapy during the course of the show so he started to understand what feelings went where and etc

and one thing was for certain: this feeling was love.

❀ he started being a massive asshole after that. he went right back to always arguing with you or ignoring you completely. he might understand his feelings but that doesn't mean he knows how to handle them

❀ he was so wrapped up in his angry emoness that he didn't know you had stopped talking to the boy from class 2b, forgetting him entirely. he also failed to notice the hurt looks you'd give bakugo before you snapped right back into your harsh comebacks.

❀ the reason you guys even talk it out is during a simulation where the both of you get stuck inside rubble. you were both exhausted, dehydrated, and heartbroken.

❀ you just couldn't help but ask, "why do you hate me?" which basically broke his heart into a million little pieces. he couldn't help the way he admitted to his feelings, the way he handed you his heart in hopes you'd keep it safe...and safe you did.

❀ if you two as rivals were bad you two dating is even worse. you guys are the ultimate power couple, able to tear anybody down with a few well placed sneers and snorts.

❀ everybody either loves or hates you guys. mina obviously loves you guys even if you two are constantly arguing still plus with the added of you two tag teaming one person. she loves when she manifests things.

❀ you guys still have that silly banter and with your tempers. but now you guys made up your arguments with kisses and cuddles

❀ you guys aren't allowed to get paired together for assignments because you are either bickering or making out. and aizawa is too tired to try to stop it.

lori © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything weird with my writing! i like reblogs and comments but please be kind as this was my writing.

[bullet-prooflove]

The Prettiest Damn Thing: Russell Shaw x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @claymoresofinfamy23 @mqdhvtter @bribow010 @encounterthepast

Companion piece to:

The War Correspondent - A mysterious phone call from a retired War Correspondent leads Russell on a journey he doesn't expect.

Home - Russell comes home to you after a rough day.

When Russell was working for Horizon, he used to call you from payphones on the road. He’d find an excuse to leave his team, usually a supply run and then head out to one he’d reconned earlier.

“Hey beautiful.” He’d always begin. “Just checking in.”

That feeling he’d get in his chest when he heard your voice, it gave him something to live for, especially on the darkest of nights, the ones where the job almost killed him.

After every call he’d dial a random number, usually a restaurant he’d clocked on the way through town before asking their opening hours and hanging up. It was another precaution, another way of keeping you safe because Russell, he’s never trusted Horizon and he certainly didn’t trust those assholes he worked with.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask, interrupting his thoughts and Russell tilts his head towards you.

You are just the prettiest damn thing, sitting in the passenger seat of the convertible, wearing that white, lace dress. There’s flowers threaded through your hair and you’ve stolen a pair of his shades you from the glove compartment.

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen a more beautiful bride.

“That payphone back there, it made me a little nostalgic.” He says, his gaze fixing on the road once more. The silver ring on his finger glints in the light from the sun as his grip tightens on the steering wheel, the way it always does when he thinks about his time with Horizon.

“Do you miss it?” You ask him and Russell shakes his head.

The months apart, the secrecy, the paranoia. Always looking over his shoulder, always worrying about the fall out. No, he doesn’t miss a damn thing.

“I like what we have.” He tells you, his hand reaching for yours across the gear shaft. “The security firm we’ve built, it gives me that adrenaline without the PTSD.”

After what happened with Doug he couldn’t stay with Horizon so he’d defected. The two of you had taken a trip out of the country for a while, spending a little time on a beach while he recuperated. Those few weeks had given him the space he needed to take a beat, to reevaluate his options.

“I have an idea.” You had said one evening when you were curled up on a hammock together. He’d been half asleep, listening to the sound of the ocean and you’d been draped across his chest, his fingertips combing through your hair. “Come work with me.”

“Honey, I think you get to boss me around enough as it is.” He’d mumbled against your hairline. “Besides it’s a little too domestic for me.”

The truth is, he worries about getting bored. The way he was raised, the life he’s led, cheating spouses and lost cats are not going to be enough for him. He’s an adrenaline junkie at heart, he needs something that challenges him, that gets his heart racing.

“Russell.” You say, tilting your head up towards him with that knowing smile of yours. “You have no idea the shit I get up to when you’re not around. Think less creeping in the bushes and more Magnum P.I.”

You can’t be serious he thinks, it can’t be that exciting but it is. It’s reclaiming stolen paintings, breaking into restricted spaces to detect security flaws, it’s tracking down a cult because they’ve been disappearing people and the police can’t help. The two of you work together just like one of his black ops teams and Russell enjoys every single moment of it.

Which leads him to where he is now, in the convertible with his new wife racing towards a DOD black site because his brother’s gone completely off the reservation.

“Colter’s gonna like me right?” You ask, your fingertips tapping a rhythm on the car door, your gaze fixed firmly on the road.

“Honey, we’re about to break him out of one of the most secure facilities in the country on our wedding day.” Russ tells you as he shifts gears and puts his foot down. “Trust me, he’s gonna love you.”

Love Russ? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[piecesintoplaces]

you could have stopped at "i'm not american" btw. because "risky" is not this way of thinking, "risky" is the people you're supposed to live with, go to school with, go to work with, share a community with actively voting against your interests and livelihood and then sharing those spaces with you the next day and for the next four years. "risky" is those same people now feeling even more emboldened to spew hatred in their words and actions. "risky" is that even further right candidates will know they can and will get away with being even more hateful and running even more prejudiced campaigns.

if somebody thinks gas prices are more important than someone else's fundamental rights, i think that's pretty fucking extreme, wouldn't you say?

however this ends up it should never have been this close. it is so repulsive to think half of this country thinks our rights and lives are dispensable. the person next to you on your ride to work could (or probably even does) think you're less of a person because of who you love, or how you express yourself, or what you look like, or what organs you were born with. it's actually insane to think we're supposed to just move past that.

[who-is-page]

Greener Grasses and Fossilized Paw Prints: Where (and Why) the Greymuzzles Go

Author: Page Type: Essay Words: 1,229 Summary: Page's personal experience as an adult canine psychopomp, and how it applies to the dearth of older otherkin in general alterhuman community spaces. Answering the question of: where are all the older otherkin? And why do people always seem to eventually leave? Author's Note: The term "greymuzzle" is used within the scope of this essay's title to reference older otherkin who have been active in alterhuman spaces for extended periods of time (a nod to the word's original definition within furry spaces), and is not referring to greymuzzle's most frequent definition in alterhuman groups as a community-given term denoting an individual with noteworthy activity and contribution.

[Part of the Sol System’s Alterhuman Writing Project for 2024. If you don’t want to see these posts, block the tag #inkedclaws]

When I was a young otherkin, bright-eyed and bushy tailed, I found it difficult to conceptualize why there was such a dearth of older community members, especially those 30 and above. I could understand the theoretics behind the disparity, of course— social media platforms, as we all know, tend to skew towards younger audiences due to generational differences in technological proficiency/preference. Established adults with working lives and families don’t necessarily have the same amount of free-time that young adults or teenagers do, either. But even with all that taken into account, it seemed like the number of otherkin aged 13-21 in comparison to the number of otherkin aged 30+ was less a gradual decline and more an unfathomable chasm of difference. The community had been around for decades at that point, with plenty of ghost town groups and abandoned forums to demonstrate that fact… and unless the Veil was secretly age-restricted, those people hadn’t up and disappeared into thin air. So where were people going? And, more importantly, why?

It was a question I’d never been able to answer in a way that felt satisfactory as a teenager and later as a young adult. But now, feeling the call of the void myself, I finally do have an answer and an understanding that I never could have achieved five or ten years ago: why the fuck would I be online when I could be playing video games or having sex with my hot partners instead?

It’s a crude and simplistic way to put it, but just hear me out. As an established adult, I have access to funds, stability, and freedom that I never had as a teenager or even as a young adult who still felt at the mercy of an uncaring universe’s slightest whims. My support systems in high school and college suffered from the same sort of financial and social precariousness that come with the territory of navigating the world as a young adult, but my support systems now are made up of other established adults; while I’ll never say that everything is always perfect for all of us, it’s much easier to get on your feet and stay on your feet when your arms are linked with people who are more firmly rooted in one way or another. I have access to a type of freedom that I could never have imagined as a teenager, because it was literally outside of the range of what was possible for me and my peers.

And more than just that freedom is the fact that I, as an adult, have a family! “Having a family” has, in my experience, some shitty, heteronormative connotations. As a teen, I always took it at face value as juggling bills, kids, white picket fence, other boring responsibilities that eat up your time, etc. But as an adult, now I know that having a family can be anything you make of it, and I make it extremely, obnoxiously queer. In my case, it’s living with people who understand me on a deep, foundational level, and who love me not in spite of who I am but because of who (and what) I am. It’s not passively being around those people; it’s actively, enthusiastically spending time with them because it’s fun and because I love them too and because they’re my people and I picked them and they picked me. As a kid, I’d never consciously recognized the difference between people you’re passively around because you have to be versus people you intentionally choose to be around and who intentionally choose you right back. In part, this is because as a kid you often don’t get the option to make that choice, while as an adult you have more control over your environment. Too often online environments feel like the former, rather than the latter, even if being within them is, technically, a choice. But here, now, I have people in my household who will go out of their way to intersect their daily lives with mine and ask, “You wanna walk to the park?” “You wanna grab a coffee?” or “You HAVE to see this YouTube essay I’m watching and no I don’t care that it’s 4 hours long on a topic you know nothing about, just trust me!!!!!” and that’s such a radically different and wonderful experience.

As an adult, I live with a group of people who make being alive more fun than I could have ever imagined. I have the ability to make my own fun in ways I couldn’t as a kid, for a variety of reasons. I don’t have to feel like an anxious purse chihuahua 24/7, agonizing over my existence and every possible thing that is liable to go wrong if I frivolously spend money on so much of the thought of a hot coffee. And I finally, finally understand why older otherkin disappear off the face of the Earth. It’s because being an adult nonhuman-identifying person is amazing in a way almost no one ever talks about: the euphoric experience of being known and loved, and of knowing and loving yourself.

There are so many exciting and wonderful things I could be doing in the meatspace with people I have actively chosen to spend my life with, and who fully accept and understand me as someone who’s queer, plural, and nonhuman. There’s so many enriching ways I could be engaging with my hobbies, the environment around me, and my local community. With this all in mind, why the fuck would I ever be in public online spaces where people try to argue with me about whether or not I exist, or if my experiences are real, or if I’m using the right and latest lingo to describe my experiences? Why would I subject myself to that when I could just roll my eyes, close the laptop, and go be a beloved canine psychopomp in the comfort of my werehouse instead?

That’s the crux of it. As adults with families and support networks, we have the option to not subject ourselves to the morifying ordeal of being known by asshole strangers online if we don’t want to. We can stick to just our families and our friend groups, and we will still have people around us who understand and who acknowledge and interact with our alterhumanity. The alterhuman community isn’t the only or even most important place for being our authentic selves; rather, it takes a backseat in the day-to-day life. It’s still something that’s fulfilling and worthwhile to engage with, but only on our own terms (terms that are quickly becoming incompatible with the ways Internet culture is evolving). But more often than not, there’s just more fun things to do.

In some ways, it’s kind of a relief to have had this epiphany. People haven’t vanished from alterhuman community spaces because they collectively ‘grew out of it’ like some anti-otherkin insist, or because the various generations of otherkin are so extraordinarily different from one another as to be oil-and-water. People vanish from online alterhuman spaces because offline life as an adult alterhuman is awesome. As an archivist it’s frustrating, but as a nonhuman, I find it a specific type of happiness that’s worth celebrating in its existence and prevalence. It’s an assurance that life only gets better as you get older: isn’t that grand?

[genericpuff]

Pretty much recovered, still got a bit of congestion and an on-and-off cough but well enough to be back in working order. Wish I could say everything else is on the upswing but uh... nah, the state of everything going on right now is undeniably garbage.

But we press on. We must.

To all my American friends and viewers, please, hang in there. Keep fighting. Despair is a deep and dark pit to fall into, and incredibly hard to crawl out the deeper you fall, but there are others all around you making the climb and offering you helping hands. You just have to keep climbing. What you're climbing towards can be as grand as seeing the fall of this new legislation, or as small as watching the third Sonic movie when it comes out. Whatever it is, keep it in your sights, and keep pressing forward.

I don't normally share much in terms of politics around here as I personally like to keep a space that's free of political discourse for the sake of viewers who are looking for an escape from the nightmares of the real world. That said, I'll be reblogging some great posts over the next few days that sum up better than I ever could the steps you can be taking both to protect yourself and to fight back. I hope they can give you knowledge and confidence in the journey ahead.

This isn't the first time America's found itself in the grips of white supremacy and fascism, and it's not going to be the last - the cost of freedom is constant vigilance.

If you're reading this in the swarm of posts amidst the doomscrolling - please, give yourself the grace to protect your peace. Yes, many will call it a privilege to be able to just 'log off' and not look at the news, and to an extent, I agree with the sentiment of that statement; it is still something you should do if you have the opportunity to do so. The 24 hour news cycle is designed to wear us down, make us feel helpless, give us the sense that the world is "over" when it still exists all around us and can still be saved - we can't fight this fight if we're burnt out and miserable, and that's by design.

So please, take care of yourself. Resist the urge to doomscroll. Don't allow yourself to get sucked into rage-bait arguments with trolls on the Internet, your pain is their gain. Drink lots of water. Sleep. Rest. Watch your favorite comfort shows. Reach out to your communities, both online and local. Build and nurture your support networks. Ask for help from those who are able to offer it; pass it forward to the next person seeking help when you can. Look to your local legislation, get yourself out there, whether it's volunteering, rallying, protesting, whatever you can do to get yourself involved in your community because it's on an individual level that change begins.

Worrying is a drug that impedes progress and destroys lives. None of us are immune to despair - but we are all above it, so long as we keep fighting to find the strength to overcome it. Forgo despair for hope. Forgo despair for resilience. Forgo despair for resolve.

Keep breathing. Keep living. Keep fighting.

Kesalul.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

This post is coming from me in my space of panic and resignation that I have been in all day, but I just. I felt the need to say anything at all.

Please do what you can to survive. This week, for the next few years, maybe forever. Please do what you can to survive. We cannot give up, we have to remain unified and continue supporting each other. That is all we can do. I don’t know what the future will look like, but we should be prepared to handle anything.

If you are like me, a female, I wish you so much support. With the rights we are about to lose, please keep yourself safe. Look into birth control if you can, especially IUDs or implants, I’ve been doing that myself. Please only surround yourself with people that you know are trustworthy. I’ve seen lots of women saying they’re going to be joining the South Korean 4B movement (not dating, having sex with, marrying, or having children with men), and honestly I encourage it. Even if you’d like to be a mother, it’s not safe anymore. If something goes wrong with your wanted pregnancy, there’s an incredibly high likelihood that you will not be able to receive care. That is a horrific reality, but it’s something we need to be aware of. If you are in a safe, loving relationship I am incredibly happy for you and I wish you the best. If you are not, or if you are single, do whatever you can to get to a safe place, please.

To any of my LGBT+ followers, please remain safe. Please, please, please be careful, with what you say, with who you talk to, with how you present yourself. I can’t even imagine how terrifying things might become, but I don’t want any of you to be ashamed, to stop being who you are. Just please be safe in how you do so. I wish you all so much luck and love because you all deserve to be free to express yourselves, to live as who you are in freedom and not be so heavily judged and prosecuted and punished. Please have safe spaces, and safe people to surround yourself with if you can. This blog will ALWAYS be a safe and inclusive space for you. I see you, and I accept you, and I support you so much. Please take care.

My support goes out to everyone who is about to be effected, because it is about to be more than just women and LGBT+ members, but I wanted to touch on those two specifically because they are the ones closest to me. I love you all. I’m sorry that this is how things turned out, but we need to keep going. We need to stay strong. We need to keep fighting and surviving because they want us to give in and we can’t do that. It might get incredibly tough next year, in the next four years or even longer, but you cannot give them the satisfaction. You have to outlive them, to prove to them that you can survive and that you deserve to be here.

I don’t particularly care if anyone thinks I’m being dramatic about this and I’m not trying to fearmonger. I don’t want anyone to be scared, but I can’t hide the fact that I’m scared. That I don’t know how things are going to look moving forward. But I care about each and every one of you.

Continue living with airport rules right now (doing whatever it takes to get to your destination of the future). He’s not in there yet. We are still safe right now. Please do what you can to prepare and to steel yourself for any outcome. But, for the next couple weeks, please just take care of yourselves. Indulge in activities you love, eat food you love, sleep as much as you can, take care of yourself as much as you can. You are not alone in this. Everyone that voted for her, we are all in this together. We cannot forget that.

I love you all so much. Please be safe. Know that you are not alone. Be strong, and be proud of what you fought for and who you are. You deserve to be here, and you deserve to be who you are.

[a-kind-of-merry-war]

Hey gang, so yesterday was a fucking shitshow, and even here across the pond I'm still reeling from it. I'm scared of what's gonna happen next, and I can only imagine how horrified everyone over there is. Support and love to all of my followers who are going to be suffering from whatever utter bullshit trump decides to do. Queer and trans people, people of colour, disabled people, women - everyone who isn't a cishet white man. I see you. I'm here for you, even if all I can provide is snogging books and cat photos.

Saying all of that: I am so, so thankful to everyone who reblogged this post (and others like it), who bought All the Painted Stars, who talked about it, and those who started following me this past week. It's been a horror show, and I'm so grateful for people who found a little bit of space for my sword lesbians amongst the mess 💖

Things are horrible, and I personally am terrified about the future of queer publishing in the US, but it makes me feel so hopeful to know that people out there want my books, no matter what the orange shithead in charge tries to do.

Stay strong. Don't let the bastards get you down. Live. And if a man who thinks he gets to tell you what to do just because he's a man tries to stop you, threaten him with a sword.

the problem with having a book out the same day as the US elections is that it's like..... hey, so, i see you're struggling through the unending horrors. can i offer you some nice sword lesbians in these trying times? 😬

[thrashkink-coven]

“Will my practicing demonolatry affect my loved ones and friends?”

This is one of the most common questions I hear from beginners, especially from those who are still in the broom closet and live with conservative or religious people. Will reaching out to Lucifer or Bune affect the people around you, either negatively or positively?

The simple answer is yes. The complicated answer is still yes but not in the way you think.

Although it is probably very possible, I’ve never had anyone close to me report having dreams about or seeing my demons/deities when I work with them. Your demons for the most part will not make their relationship with you known to outsiders. People have however, parroted direct quotes from my demons, or acted in accordance to what they say.

Is it a coincidence that my partner is suddenly obsessed with me and wants to be intimate after I invite Lilith or Astaroth into my space? Is it a coincidence that he suddenly wants to talk about music theory after Prince Cerberus asks me to study the power of sound?

When Leviathan tells me the winds are changing, and my partner absent mindedly says he feels like starting a new project, I can silently affirm that message.

Demons more often than not, communicate with us through our mundane lives. The people around you will not know that they are being used to deliver messages and lessons to you. My roommate isn’t aware that Lucifer is teaching me the power of empathy when she suddenly comes to me with her problems and needs a friendly ear or support. When I go to my altar and express to Lucifer that I feel ugly and unloved, and my boyfriend comes home with a bouquet of roses and tells me how beautiful I am, he doesn’t know that Lucifer is working through him, but I do.

Likewise, if my parent is being abusive or mean to me, I can’t say that my demons won’t cause some misfortune upon them. If my coworker is giving me a hard time, I won’t be too surprised if Lucifer reports that they’ve been fired or got demoted. The people who interact with you will be interacting with your demons as well, and because those demons are there to protect you first and foremost, it is very possible that those people will be seen as a threat or obstacle and dealt with or removed.

Sometimes demons give us adversaries to push us towards action. My boss being a major dick while quoting Belial: “If the work must be done, it should be done now”. Might just be the push I need to quit this dead end job and find something better. When that toxic family member is parroting every intrusive thought Lucifer told me not to listen to, maybe it’s time cut them off and find a better family.

Now, this doesn’t mean that you have to live in fear that every negative interaction you have with people will result in their lives being ruined. Demons aren’t here to destroy all of your relationships. But it also shouldn’t be too surprising when things do happen.

If you’re looking for signs that your demon is near you, pay attention to the subtle signs that show up through your interactions with others.

[hillbillyoracle]

When I talk about the situation for marginalized folks in the South being dire, I want to be very clear that the biggest threat is from legislators.

I think this is a concept that a lot of urban and northern folks struggle to grasp but conservatism exists on a spectrum. I live in a rural southern area. There is no way to avoid knowing, working with, or being friends with conservatives.

Let me give you an example of how it's complicated here.

My partner and I are moving into a new house (renting from my parents) in the same neighborhood. The house previously belonged our neighbor of over 20 years before he passed, a conservative Catholic man. His long time girlfriend, also a conservative Catholic, specifically wanted to sell the house to my Dad since he helped during our neighbor's cancer knowing that he was going to rent it to my partner and I. She even met us both and showed us the place.

Several times when we've been out in the yard working on it, people all up and down the road have come over to introduce themselves and get to know us. Every single one of them has voiced relief upon finding out that it's two quiet lesbians with a connection to the neighborhood moving in. One of the last people to move in, a loud MAGA conservative who regularly shoots loud rifles and hosts loud parties is near universally disliked and we are considered far more preferable.

I cannot count the times I've been over to people's houses with my partner and they've sheepishly confessed they've started voting democrat but don't want people to know. They're incredibly fed up with the culture war bullshit. One woman I know who's been loudly conservative my entre life left a position with a job placement nonprofit when they dropped a woman from the program upon finding out she lived with her girlfriend. She was livid with them and has actively worked against them since.

What I'm trying to say is that the biggest threat to me and my partner are often not the people I live around. It is the people in power. Those that would ban HRT for my partner - something a lot of conservatives I've talked to actively oppose because it opens the door for more government in medicine. Or those that would ban queer community spaces - something a lot of conservatives I know oppose because it opens the doors for states to decide who gets constitutional rights like the right to assembly.

TL;DR: Southerners are not a monolith. The reason we're in such a precarious position are the legislators and their funders. Actual community interactions are often super nuanced.

[bluu3berry]

Flowering Heart.

{CW: Disease, Heartbreak, Graphic depiction, Hanahaki Disease.} Enjoy ~!

Please read, or atleast reblog I spent so much time on this...

Sans stared into the mirror… a new day in the underground. Today was special! No humans have fallen recently and I got closer to the lady behind the door. In Fact, he learned her name! Toriel. He was never one for lovey-dovey stuff but over the years of talking with her, he got to know her. She used to care for children, she loves cooking, she is a very clean person and other hobbies of hers! It grew to the point that surprisingly he found himself catching feelings for her… to the point he was able to get echo flowers from Waterfall just for this occasion!

He adjusted his red bowtie which was tied to his normal clothing, as he smiled a bit wider than his normal grin. He sighs as he stands up and “shortcut” from his room to the door of the ruin.. doing the secret knock which indicates who it is.. he hears Toriel coming quickly. 

“ Sans! Sans! Hah, I found a joke book and I have so many things to tell. However.. you came earlier than usual! Anything different?” The lady spoke softly with sweetness.. he thought of words to tell the monster behind the door for this occasion. “ Why yes Tori is uhh got some good news for ya- or well me. I think I got something for ya “Sans spoke back awkwardly as he grinned at the door awaiting the response.

“ Oh- wait what is it? A joke? Another one of your hotdogs, I do need to still try to make those don’t you agree? “ Toriel said giggling afterward as she finally sat down at the door… sans paused as he thought for a moment “Ehh nah… it's something more alive huh? I thought you would like your Into flowers right?” He said slightly nervous for her reaction.. he sat on the snow before grabbing the echo flowers and pushing them through the door.. a few petals being slightly shaved off due to the tight gap “Oh? Echo flowers.. sans I haven't seen these in such a long time! It's a wondrous gift! But why flowers, I never asked for these?” She spoke slightly confused as sans sighed and waited for the echo flower to speak for itself. “ You should. maybe listen to the plant, huh?” Sans said softly as Toriel nodded

Toriel picked up the flower and held it close to her floppy ears as the echo flower glowed whispering into her ear “ Could we go to Grillby’s… “ the echo ringed as another picked up the sentence. “ You are a good friend to me.. but.. “ it rang as Toriel knew what was to come.. she froze hearing the third one. “ Could… it be more. “ Toriel was shocked! The echo flowers glow went silent, as Sans on the other side of the door fidgeted quietly.

“ Sans... “ Toriel spoke in a slightly deep and upsetting tone.. sans paused listening to what Toriel had to say “ I am.. not ready for more than this. I haven't even seen your face. I'm sorry but I don't think I'm ready for a relationship. Besides, I don't think I could even live out of the ruins. Everything would be so new! I don't know how much it would have changed.“ She spoke softly to let him down easily.. Which didn't work. She slid the flowers back out a couple of the petals ripping off as the flower's glow slowly disappeared into nothing “.. heh- that's alright Tori ignored it, what was that book about anyways? “ Sans said awkwardly and distant but not to the point of tears.. But they started to roll. Why? He heard no response to his question.

It was just the soft padding of feet leaving the door. Toriel needed space after such a thing, knowing the monster beyond the door? Interested in her.. that changed how she viewed sans. But she was too kind to tell him that. He tapped the door on his knock again, listening for the feet to return. “ Eh? Toriel didn't know you were going somewhere. I'll wait for ya. “ He said softly as he pulled his bowtie off and wrapped it around his stitched jacket.. zipping up the coat and laying in the snow waiting for her to return.. after hours, and hours of waiting, no response. But he didn't leave, besides! He still had hope for Toriel to return. It was getting colder and colder on his bones.

What surprised him the most was the flowers blooming in his eye.. the echo flowers covered the left side of his face quickly. “ Hn.. eh? Ah, flowers? Wonder if I got seeds in my skull again hah.. "Sans spoke as his voice was weary.. his hand reached to his face grabbing a flower and pulling in it slightly.. usually they come out right? Nope.. he jolted out of the snow still tired but in a panic, shock of pain was sent throughout his head. "A-AGHH-!?" He *screamed as the pain bloomed from his eyesight. He clawed at the echo flower trying to rip the source of pain to subside. He was able to tear out a few strangling blue petals, which fell onto his fluffy coat rim and sleeves. He thrashed around trying to yank out more of the flowers, tossing and turning in the snow, causing more snow to pile on top of him. The cold slowly replaced the pain, numbing the harm caused as he curled into a ball. Watching as a snowstorm started to form in Snowdin.

“ I feel so.. wea-.. hah.. ah. “ His panicked voice was overtaken by an exhausted gaze and becoming too weak to move. His pupils disappeared from the only eye available as the echo petals slowly formed in between his hand.. and in the gaps of his neck, not being fully flowers yet but the petals sure didn't help with the cold.“ It's.. so.. chilly.. “ he spoke as the flowers and petals seemed to be feeding off his magical energy and his form… his eyes turned glassy his vision blurring all he could make out was the familiar red scarf of his brother quickly approaching as he slipped into unconsciousness. @anon-coke @scramble-eg @thelunarsystemwrites @superbfirnacho @the-second-reason < Thanks for pure review

[twig-tea]

Water Bottles in the Fridge as a Relationship Metaphor [Eps 5 and 6 of LITBC]

I sobbed after finishing Episodes 5 and 6 of Love in the Big City and I have been trying to find the words to articulate why but they aren't coming. So instead I'm going to talk about this relationship, focusing on the image that stuck strongest in my mind: The water bottles. [No book spoilers, this is all just reaction to the series].

After Gyu Ho moves in, Yeong comes home from a really draining day at work late because he's been writing in a cafe, only to passive-aggressively spray the drying laundry to mask the smell and stare at the empty shelf in the fridge where their stash of water bottles should be. He goes to his laptop to write more of his novel, while Gyu Ho behind him puts the laundry in the dryer and fills up the fridge with water. There are at least two other times when Gyu Ho fills up the fridge with water after one of their fights; the other one that stood out to me was Gyu Ho putting water in the fridge after coming home with his suitcase rather than moving out/leaving permanently. That relatively small but repeated chore stuck with me as an embodiment of Gyu Ho's tip-toeing that Yeong mentions in his voiceover.

If you've ever lived with anyone else, you know how the tiniest things can become massive irritants, especially when you are depressed or stressed, but it's true anytime. And you also know that those massive irritants do not mean you love them any less. I was blown away by how well these episodes, especially episode 6, captured a long term relationship's ups, downs, and mundanity. The palpable tension between Yeong and Gyu Ho, mixed with the easy dissipation of that tension and back to life as normal, radiated from the screen. Even when they fight, like in the cafe where Yeong is writing, they are fighting about how they want good things for each other. They just have different ideas about what that looks like and how they get there. I loved the tiny moments like Yeong, frustrated after the fight, walking home and hearing a stranger cuss out a cat, and smiling to himself because it reminded him of the 'Crabby Tabby' nickname Gyu Ho gave him.

[This is a bit of a sidenote, but the difference between Yeong Su's 'I'm moving to New York, did you think what we had was love?' and Gyu Ho's 'Come to Shanghai with me, I won't go without you' is so massive it's still sitting with me days later.]

It's clear that they're both trying, and at the same time, that they both are holding or held back. Gyu Ho is not a pushover and does hold his own in these arguments, and does make his mark on the space by e.g. putting up curtains, but he keeps backing down in the end; and Yeong continues to keep him at arms length even after trusting him with his biggest secret and deepest shame, and even after inviting him to live together. It's clear that sharing knowledge of Kylie does not free Yeong from shame about her. He asks Gyu Ho multiple times where he sees him as 'dirty', and Gyu Ho's response that he's the dirtiest joke is, I think, a loving attempt to say no in a way that Yeong can hear.

The scene on the train to the airport near the end of the episode captured their dynamic perfectly; Gyu Ho is willing to stand in order to spend time with Yeong, and Yeong is unwilling to let him. And Yeong is fundamentally correct that the circumstances of their lives (especially his life, with Kylie) mean that he would be holding Gyu Ho back, and Gyu Ho in the end makes the choice to listen and leave Yeong when he's told to rather than continue to fight him on it.

Yeong noticed and got annoyed by the water shelf not being refilled one time, And Gyu Ho filled it every time since, even when he was furious and barely wanted to be there at all. And Yeong noticed, but didn't know what to do about it, the same way he noticed how Gyu Ho always slept silently, and would constantly check his breathing (and even made snoring noises to himself to fill the silence), and took that as a sign that Gyu Ho did not feel safe or fully settled. He was unclear how much his own behaviour vs. Gyu Ho's personality were to blame:

"I wonder why you sleep in utter silence, like you're constantly on tip-toes. As if you're never home, no matter how long you've lived here. Is that my fault? Or is it your fault? Or maybe it's simply an inevitability."

I think it's the fact that these two love each other so much, and were both so reasonable and tried so hard, still could not make things work, and how fucking unfair it all feels, that made me sob. I don't know that I'll find better words than that.

[alloalouette]

It’s pretty clear that the men in my life, even the ones who oppose trump, think it’s just going to be another shitty four years filled with “stupidity”, merely.

They genuinely do not comprehend the immediate threat to safety and mortality this new era is to women, to any person who is non-white and non-conforming to conservative christofascist nationalism.

They can still go about their lives relatively unscathed if they don’t say much and just make it through what they perceive to be four years of drudgery. As much as they are concerned, and care about me and the other women in their lives, they have not grasped the deadly seriousness of the situation.

They genuinely have not perceived the future that will come soon and, once things are set in motion, will decline with extreme rapidity. Just like with roe v wade: there one day, gone the next, and life-saving care just vanished all over the country and women started literally bleeding out in parking lots.

Open misogyny and assault will become the normative social behavior, more than it already is in online right spaces, because the punishments will be few or dismissed entirely.

Men who secretly are intrigued by or even love the idea of controlling and harming women will behave with what appears to be “mob mentality”—once it is permissible they will let it all out of hiding. Just as we saw ugliness we did not dare to believe existed in family and friends come out unhindered and without shame during the first term, we will be shocked, just as we were then, at the way trump et al. will have changed, broken, people we thought we knew. The same will be true for any person with social privilege turning on anyone they deem beneath them, unworthy of dignity or safety or care.

The legal frameworks that in that past would have kept men like trump, Fuentes, Elon, and everyone they are shouldering up with from doing what they already have done to arrive at this moment—frameworks that should have been used to prevent this, their integrity having already been crippled by not being applied to stop him et al. from advancing—those remaining scaffolds of decency he is going to dismantle swiftly.

In every instance of autocracy and fascism throughout history, again and again is the shock and awe at how rapidly democratic norms, public institutions, and acceptable human behavior just unraveled.

Do not — DO NOT — imply to women, to non-white and non-conforming people in your lives that the next “four years” are going to “suck”. If that is your belief, your feeling, your impulse to say or think, hush.

Read project 2025, thoroughly.

Watch Walsh, Fuentes, and those adjacent to them, to hear their glee at owning women, at controlling and ruining, at smashing their faces into brick ceilings (gloating in their abuse and suffering, and their delight at being the hand that delivers it metaphorically and literally).

Listen to the people who are terrified. Fucking remember what trump did in four years when it was a “fluke” and everyone with a shred of decency left was scrambling to hold everything together through tenuously and wide-spread grasping fingers, futilely in many cases. Fucking remember.

Read Sarah Kendzior, Jared Yates Sexton, Heather Cox Richardson, Dave Troy, and anyone they retweet or quote. These are historians and analysts, experts in political history, especially fascism and autocracy. They are the ones running out of the mines shouting that all the canaries are dead. Pay attention.

If you want to know what to do next, start reading Octavia Butler, George Jackson, James Baldwin, and expand from there. Start listening to indigenous people and reshaping your concept of social bonds, social cohesion, and how we survive this.

It’s not how you think, men in my life. It’s not how you think, those of you who think this is reactionary and extreme. Indigenous communities that are still here today have survived every empire, for good reasons. Learn them. Learn from them.

For the rest of us, and those of you who make the inward journey and meet up with us, cultivate resistance. It begins in your heart and mind. Existence is resistance. Joy is resistance. Empathy is resistance. Anything that supports freedom for others (which will always come back to you), is resistance. Get after it.

[kanagenwrites]

So. Tuesday sucked.

We've all had a chance to come down from the "what the fuck" of it all, and we're starting to see the usual circular firing squad. Lots of lib centrists are doing everything they can to throw trans people, minorities, and basically anyone who isn't a finance bro under the bus, as is (very tiresome) tradition after both victories and defeats in the Democratic Party. I will be 42 years old in a few months, so this is far from the first time I've seen it, and sadly, I'm sure it won't be the last. To the lib centrists and those carrying water for them: This never works. Please stop trying it. Trans issues were not a major motivator; I'll get into that below. Sit down, kids, it's time for Auntie Kana's Fireside Dialectics.

One thing I've noticed is that a lot of my followers are significantly younger than me. (Imagine that, an audience that skews young on Tumblr.) A lot of you folks probably haven't been following politics for very long, and you've been able to participate in them for even less time than that. For some of you this is probably your first election as an adult, and it kinda feels like everything blew up in your face, doesn't it? I was about your age for 2000, when the election was nakedly stolen by George W. Bush, and not much older for 2004, when despite his disastrous presidency Bush the Younger rode a wave of 9/11-brained racism to the last popular vote victory the GOP had prior to (likely) this year. So I get it. I really do.

If you're living in the USA you have probably had a subpar education in politics and civics. This is largely by design - education is horrendously underfunded and there is a sustained attack on the ability of teachers to even discuss things like the Civil Rights Movement, the legacy of slavery in the United States, the genocide this country was founded on, and so on and so forth. Economic education isn't much better; you very likely got a short lecture on basic supply and demand and an argument-from-authority that "socialism doesn't work." All this combines to leave a lot of folks totally baffled as to how something like this election happens.

But it's pretty simple. It's just material conditions. That's it. What the media isn't telling you (because there's no profit in it, and the media is nothing but a clickbait engine when they aren't open propagandists) is that there has been a massive anti-incumbent wave of elections across the world. How massive? Japan's LDP, which has held power almost uninterrupted since the establishment of Japan's postwar democracy, managed to lose their recent election.

And why are material conditions so shitty? That's a complicated question, but a lot of it is the fact that we had a lengthy period of low inflation followed by a period of extremely high inflation due to the absolutely botched response to the Covid-19 pandemic. A bag of Doritos used to be 2.50, and now it's like 6 bucks. That's worse than all the inflation (and naked price-gouging, because there's a lot of that going on too) I experienced in my life prior to 2020, squeezed into the space of a year or two. This smacks everyone in the face every time they buy groceries, and while the government and the Federal Reserve were doing everything they could to manage inflation (and understand what a big deal it is for me, the anarcho-communist, to say that the US actually did an extremely fucking good job of doing it, because every other country on Earth had it worse than we did), they did fuck all to actually improve the material conditions people were experiencing. Wages were not keeping up with the cost of living, and price-gouging wasn't being dealt with.

Remember the 600 bucks Joe Biden still owes you? The American electorate sure the fuck does. Invisible backrooms liberal wonkery does not connect, regardless of whether it works or not, but going back on a promise? People remember that shit.

It's a rare incumbent that could win in an environment like this, especially when tied to a track record of doing exactly fucking nothing to actually help people from the perspective of the vast majority of the population. Kamala Harris was not that incumbent. She was a singularly uninspiring candidate who failed to connect with voters so thoroughly that she was on track to lose her home state in the 2020 Democratic primary. Nobody liked her (except a few very eager and very loud fans in the K-Hive), and speaking as someone who lives in California, I am not surprised she ate shit. She was a terrible choice for VP and a terrible choice of successor for Biden, but because Biden('s handlers) insisted on pretending he wasn't obviously declining before our very eyes, Harris, a singularly uninspiring candidate, had three months to build and run a campaign.

And it was still weirdly close.

Now, there's two possibilities: Either she actually ran an amazing campaign and it's incredible that it was even this close, or Trump is just so loathsome that even in a massively anti-incumbent environment he didn't bring anyone new to the table. Given that Trump is on-track to receive less votes this time than he did in 2020, and how many of those votes seem to have been cast for Trump and no one else down-ballot, I think it's more of the latter than the former. Trump brought the usual suspects, while Kamala successfully drove away voters that even Joe fucking Biden and Hillary fucking Clinton were able to bring home. Not on the left, not in minority demographics, but across the board. After all, if things are horrible and you're being promised that "nothing will fundamentally change," (literally an early-presidency quote from Joe Biden, whose agenda Kamala Harris 100% aligned herself with) and keeping in mind that the average American voter is not nearly so plugged into the minutiae and the day to day of politics (as evinced by the sudden peak in google searched for "Did Joe Biden drop out?" on Tuesday), why the fuck would you bother to vote?

Hopefully you have a better idea how we got here now. The question, of course, is where do we go from here? I will probably continue posting about this from time to time, especially if there's interest, but my advice is this:

We are still here. We will be here tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that, and so on. Plan accordingly.

Things will get fucked up. Things will always get fucked up. That is the nature of things no matter who is running the government. Plan accordingly.

Organize. Develop parallel structures of power and assistance, because the government is likely going to be even more useless to directly assist you than it already was. Our greatest strength is each other, and our ability to care for and help one another.

I have been here before. You will be here again. It always feels like it's the worst thing ever to happen. That never really goes away, but your ability to deal with it, to plan around it, to endure it, and to rise up again on the other side of it and say "No, fuck you" is entirely under your control and within your capabilities. And you will get better at it as you do it. And you are not doing it alone. None of us are.

Do not give up. Do not surrender. This isn't the end, or the beginning of the end, or even the end of the beginning: it just is.

Now go watch a video of a cat doing something cute, or read some smut, or whatever gives you joy. You can't take care of others unless you take care of yourself. That's General Order #1: Take care of yourself.

Solidarity, y'all.

[amethystarachnid]

Hey! If your taking requests, I love your work so much and I had an idea I would really love to see how you execute it.

So it would be with Tony Stark, and if its okay Male!Reader, but not romantic, the reader is a teen who is a product of some old fling Tony had and after being poorly taken care of by his mom (whatever that inclines you to write, abuse, bad boyfriend, alcoholism etc.) She dumps him off at stark tower with a note and what little belongings the reader has and his birth certificate to Tony for him to take care of. And the rest of what happens from there is up to you! Basically heavy on the found family troupe, and a little angst with some good fluff. The reader can be from 16-18 still in high school. He has Tony's sarcastic humor and smarts, but he nodes his intelligence because his mom never really helped him appreciate it, basically one of those kids that gets straight A's without seemingly trying and looking kind of stupid, the reader is quiet and a bit cold but that's because of how he was raised, and isn't one to share how he's feeling. If you can do this I'd be so thankful, if not its completely understandable, I hope I gave you enough creative liberty to make it fun, I know it'll be great if you do write it! Again I love your fics so much and I can't wait to read more of what you have!!💜☺

LEGACY

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x male!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: platonic!, a lot of angst and some fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: normal request

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 5.5k

ᯓ★ Summary: literally what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of abusive household and rader feeling like people keep abandoning him

ᯓ★ Thank you so much for your request and for liking my work! <3

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

Your whole life, you��ve never known stability. The cramped apartments, the ever-shifting walls painted in hues of desperation, are as familiar to you as your own skin. You’re seventeen now, but you still feel like you’re stuck in this never-ending carousel of uncertainty and survival. Your mom—who’s always been more into herself than anyone else—has a way of shoving her problems under the rug, sweeping you along with the mess until you’re barely holding it together.

Her boyfriend—if you could even call him that—is the latest problem. Travis is the kind of guy who doesn’t need to say much to make his point clear. It’s in the way he takes up space, fills every room with his presence, making himself the center of your lives as if it’s his right. He started coming around when you were fourteen, and it’s only gotten worse. You know he hates you, and he doesn’t even try to hide it. To him, you’re a nuisance, some extra baggage he never asked for, and he’s got no problem reminding you of that. Your sarcasm and quick wit, the things that make you, you, are just more reasons for him to snap, roll his eyes, or call you ungrateful.

Your mom’s always been…complicated. You’ve known that since you were little, watching her go from one relationship to another, always searching for some kind of validation she never seems to find. She calls herself a free spirit, but it’s like she’s just drifting, lost in a fog of her own making. She can be fun, sure, when things are good. There were even moments when you thought she really loved you. But as time went on, you learned to read the signs: the distant glances, the subtle irritations, the way she avoids looking at you for too long, as if you’re some kind of mirror she doesn’t want to face.

It’s your intelligence that bugs her the most, you think. You see through her, every lie, every excuse, every careless decision. And she knows it. It’s like looking into a warped mirror—she can see pieces of herself in you, but you’re everything she’s never been: sharp, observant, with a mind that doesn’t let things slide. And it grates on her.

The fights get worse as you grow older, each one escalating faster than the last. Your sarcasm is your armor, your way of dealing with the endless cycle of disappointment. But every quip, every clever retort, only makes her angrier. You can tell she hates that she can’t control you, can’t manipulate you the way she does with everyone else in her life. She calls you difficult, a burden, a mistake she should’ve never had. You don’t let it show, but each word leaves a scar, another reminder that you’re on your own.

Then one day, it’s too much. Travis and your mom are fighting—again. It’s loud, voices echoing in the small apartment, and you’re in your room, trying to block it out like usual. But this time, you hear your name. You’ve been in this situation enough to know that’s never a good sign. So, you stay quiet, waiting, listening.

“You know he’s not even mine, right?” Travis snaps, his voice dripping with frustration. “Why do I have to put up with this kid? He’s not my responsibility!”

“You think I don’t know that?” Your mom’s voice is strained, like she’s barely holding on herself. “I’ve tried—God, I’ve tried—but he’s just…he’s too much. I can’t handle it anymore.”

There’s a pause, and for a second, you think maybe she’ll say something else, something that makes it sound like she cares. But the words never come.

“Then get rid of him,” Travis says, so bluntly that it leaves a chill in the air. “You’ve got the kid’s birth certificate. Drop him off at his real dad’s. He’s rich, isn’t he? Let him deal with the brat.”

You don’t move. You barely breathe. But deep down, you already know this is it. There’s no fighting it this time, no clever comment to deflect what’s happening. She’s made her choice, and it’s not you.

The next morning, she’s silent as she hands you an envelope. There’s no apology, no excuse, just a look that tells you she’s already gone, checked out of whatever shred of motherhood she once claimed to have. You don’t even ask where you’re going; you know the answer as soon as you see the address on the piece of paper.

Stark Tower.

It feels like a final act of cruelty, really. The man she’s always refused to talk about, the one figure in your life who’s only ever been a name, and now he’s your last option. Tony Stark. Genius, billionaire, Avenger. And, apparently, your father.

You stand outside Stark Tower with a single bag of your things and that stupid piece of paper—the birth certificate that’s somehow supposed to mean you’re his problem now. You feel like you’re stuck in some cosmic joke, a punchline to a story you didn’t even know you were a part of. There’s no going back, though. That’s clear enough.

So, you take a deep breath, adjust your bag on your shoulder, and walk through the doors.

Tony doesn’t even get a chance to process it at first. One moment he’s sipping coffee in his lab, deep in the flow of something unnecessarily complex that’s keeping his mind busy, and the next, Pepper is calling him down to the lobby. She sounds irritated, stressed—like maybe it’s his fault, which Tony wouldn’t be surprised by, honestly. He heads down, muttering about "another hero here to tell me how to do my job."

Then he sees you.

You’re leaning against the glass wall, wearing an expression that’s somehow familiar yet entirely alien to him. It’s not hard to recognize the mix of defiance and exhaustion in your eyes; he’s spent years perfecting that look himself. But the shock doesn’t really hit until you hand him the birth certificate. Your name and his, right there in black and white, unavoidably real.

For once in his life, Tony Stark is speechless.

“Seventeen years,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “And now you’re here because…?”

You shrug, clearly unimpressed. “Mom didn’t want me anymore, and apparently, you’re my dad. So… here I am. Congratulations.”

You’re blunt, almost cruel in the way you say it, like you don’t expect anything from him and don’t care if you get it. But he can’t look away from you. For the first time in a long time, he’s out of his depth. He’s had seventeen years to know this was possible, maybe even inevitable, but standing in front of you, he realizes he’s never prepared himself for this. He’s never thought about what it would mean to actually be a father.

Yet here you are, standing in front of him with your mother’s words still hanging over you, and he can see the weight you carry in the way your shoulders are always tense, the way your eyes don’t quite meet his.

“Well, kid,” he says after a beat, plastering on his most confident smile, “looks like you’ve officially joined the Stark family. There’s no going back now.”

Over the next few days, Tony throws himself into fatherhood with all the enthusiasm of someone tackling a new, challenging invention. He’s reading parenting books, taking advice from anyone who’ll give it, and trying desperately to crack the code of how to be a “cool dad.” He lets you explore Stark Tower freely, offers you access to his entire workshop, and even builds you a custom tablet, “Stark-style,” he brags, with enough advanced tech to impress even the most skeptical teenager.

He talks to you about science, testing your knowledge and realizing with a mix of pride and horror that you’re nearly as sharp as he was at seventeen. He tries to make jokes, throwing out sarcastic one-liners he assumes will win you over. Sometimes, he even manages to get a smirk out of you. But that’s as far as it ever goes.

Every attempt he makes is met with your icy wall, a defense mechanism built after years of disappointment and neglect. You listen, nod occasionally, but never laugh or even show interest. The most he ever gets out of you is a dry, deadpan “cool,” which is enough to keep him going but never enough to satisfy him.

Tony tries not to take it personally, but it’s hard. You’re right there, his kid, yet you’re worlds away, keeping him at arm’s length as if he’s just another adult you can’t trust. He catches glimpses of the sarcasm, the intelligence, but it’s wrapped up in layers of resentment and guarded detachment. You’re always cool, always distant, and he knows why, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

One evening, he sits you down with a grin, tossing a shiny, compact device into your hands. It’s sleek, metallic—one of his newer designs.

“Mini reactor prototype. You’d be the first to use it.” He says it with pride, like he’s giving you something no one else in the world could get.

You look at it for a moment, then at him. “Cool,” you say again, but your voice is flat, unimpressed. You set it on the table between you without another glance.

Tony’s grin falters, and he lets out a frustrated laugh. “You’re a tough crowd, you know that?”

You just shrug, giving him that practiced blank stare he’s come to know well. He’s finally reaching his breaking point. “Y’know, I’m trying here,” he says, exasperated. “I’m trying to… I don’t know, connect. Be… whatever it is you need me to be. But you’re acting like I’m just another stranger.”

You pause, considering him for a moment, and something shifts in your expression—like maybe, for just a second, you see his effort. But then your face goes neutral again, back to that familiar shield.

“Maybe that’s because you are,” you reply, voice quiet, almost too soft for him to hear.

Tony feels the blow, but he hides it with a forced chuckle. “Fair enough,” he says, though there’s a sting in his voice. “I can’t change the past, but… I’m here now. I’m not gonna just… walk away.”

The words linger between you, both of you knowing the weight they carry. You’ve heard promises like this before. You’ve heard them from your mother, from people who were supposed to care, and each one of those promises had turned hollow, leaving you more alone than before. So, when Tony looks at you with genuine sincerity, with a hope that you’ll give him a chance, all you can do is nod, burying any flicker of vulnerability.

As the weeks go on, Tony keeps trying. He brings you into the lab with him, walks you through his latest projects, even lets you experiment with some of the tech yourself. He drags you to burger joints at midnight, tries to coax out stories about school, hobbies, anything. Sometimes you let your guard slip, offering a sarcastic remark, a comment that makes him laugh—but the moment always passes too quickly, and you’re back behind that wall before he can push any further.

He’s persistent, though, and there’s a part of you that almost wants to give in, that wants to believe him. But your trust is a muscle you haven’t used in so long, it feels impossible to start now. So, you keep him at bay, deflecting his kindness, giving him just enough to satisfy his efforts without letting him in.

Tony doesn’t quit, though. He keeps showing up, every day, every night, and for the first time in your life, you don’t feel like someone’s just waiting for the moment they can leave.

Every morning, Tony insists on driving you to school, and it’s nothing short of a spectacle. He shows up outside Stark Tower in one of his many luxury cars, honking loudly, practically begging for attention. It’s become a routine, one you can’t escape no matter how many times you roll your eyes or tell him he doesn’t have to do it. He’s always got some snarky excuse, saying things like, “It’s my job as a dad,” or “I just want to see the kid off,” as if anyone believes he actually cares about high school protocol.

And everyone notices. Whispers trail behind you as you walk the halls, classmates you’ve known for years suddenly gawking at you like you’re a different person. They don’t know you as you anymore; they know you as Tony Stark’s kid. It’s suffocating. You’ve spent your entire life trying to stay unnoticed, to blend into the background. Now, no matter where you go, everyone’s waiting for you to crack a joke like him, to show off some kind of Stark-level genius.

Only one person seems to still see you, really see you—your best friend, Sam. You’ve known him since middle school, back when everything was simpler, when no one knew or cared who your dad was. He’s the only one who doesn’t treat you any differently now, the only person you actually trust enough to talk to about any of this.

One afternoon, you’re sitting outside on the bleachers with Sam, trying to ignore the fact that Tony’s car is already parked by the curb, waiting for you. The other students eye it like some exotic animal they don’t quite understand, but you keep your head down, just hoping the day will end without any more awkward questions or judgmental stares.

Sam nudges you. “So, uh… you still giving the old man the cold shoulder, huh?”

You sigh, avoiding his gaze. “I’m not giving him the cold shoulder. I’m just… keeping my distance.”

He rolls his eyes. “Dude, I see you with him every morning. The man looks like he’s about to recite the Gettysburg Address just to get a smile out of you. And you’re over here acting like he doesn’t exist.”

You shift uncomfortably, crossing your arms. “He’s only doing it because he feels obligated, Sam. It’s Tony Stark. He doesn’t actually care about me.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “You really believe that? You think he’s the kind of guy who’d waste his time on someone he doesn’t care about?”

You don’t answer, but you can feel Sam’s eyes on you, cutting through all your defenses. He’s always been able to read you better than anyone, and right now, that’s the last thing you want.

“He’s trying, Y/N,” Sam continues, his voice softer. “Like, really trying. And I get it. I get that you’ve been burned, but… maybe give him a chance? Just talk to him. It’s not like he’s gonna run off if you tell him what’s going on.”

You look away, jaw clenched as you try to shake off the knot of emotion tightening in your chest. You don’t want to admit that Sam might be right. Letting someone in, giving someone a chance—that’s always been a dangerous game, one you’re not sure you can afford to play again.

That night, you’re lying awake in your room, staring at the ceiling, Sam’s words playing on a loop in your mind. The silence around you feels heavy, pressing down on you, and you can’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, you owe Tony more than you’ve been giving him. You’ve seen his effort, the way he tries to connect with you, even when you push him away. He’s there, every day, waiting for you, and no one has ever done that before.

Something shifts in you, a kind of tired resignation, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you get up and head downstairs to his workshop.

Tony’s hunched over a table, tinkering with some gadget, and he barely notices you at first. It’s only when you clear your throat that he looks up, surprise flickering across his face before he masks it with a smile.

“Hey, kid,” he says, setting down his tools. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You shrug, suddenly feeling the weight of what you’re about to say. “Yeah, I just… I wanted to talk to you about something.”

He raises an eyebrow, a mixture of curiosity and concern on his face. He gestures to a nearby chair. “Go ahead. I’m all ears.”

You sit, staring at your hands as you try to find the right words. For a long time, there’s only silence between you, the air thick with tension. Finally, you take a deep breath, forcing yourself to speak.

“I know I’ve been… difficult,” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I know you’re trying. It’s just… it’s not easy for me.”

Tony watches you intently, not interrupting, his expression softer than you’ve ever seen it. You look down, focusing on your hands, the words spilling out before you can stop them.

“When I was a kid, my mom was all I had. I thought… I thought she cared about me, even if she didn’t always show it. But she changed, especially after she started seeing this guy. Travis. He wasn’t… he wasn’t a good person, Tony. He… he made sure I knew I wasn’t wanted.” Your voice breaks slightly, but you push through it, feeling the old wounds tear open. “He told me I was a burden, that I was just in the way. And my mom, she… she just let it happen. She barely even looked at me by the end.”

Tony’s face darkens, his jaw clenched as he listens, but he stays silent, letting you continue.

“I learned not to trust people,” you say, voice wavering. “Every time I thought someone would stick around, they didn’t. So I stopped… I stopped letting people in. I told myself it was easier that way.”

You look up at him, and for the first time, there’s no mask, no shield—just raw vulnerability, something you haven’t allowed yourself to feel in years.

“And then I showed up here,” you say, your voice barely a whisper now. “And you… you keep trying. You keep showing up, every day, like you actually care. And it’s… it’s confusing, okay? Because part of me wants to believe it, but the other part…” You trail off, wiping away a tear that slips down your cheek.

Tony doesn’t hesitate. He reaches over, placing a hand on your shoulder, grounding you, letting you know he’s there. “Y/N,” he says softly, his voice rough with emotion. “I can’t change what you went through. I can’t go back and fix it, as much as I wish I could. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”

You meet his gaze, and there’s something in his eyes that you’ve never seen before—a fierce, unwavering resolve that feels almost foreign. You swallow hard, feeling the weight of his words sink in, feeling the tiniest flicker of hope spark to life.

“It’s not easy for me,” you murmur. “It’s… it’s hard for me to trust people. And I know I’m not the easiest person to be around. But… I want to try. I want to believe you. I just… I need you to be patient with me. I need you to not give up on me.”

Tony nods, his hand still resting on your shoulder, steady and reassuring. “Hey,” he says, his voice breaking a little. “I’m not giving up on you, kid. Not now, not ever. You’re my son, and I’m here for the long haul. However long it takes, okay?”

The words settle around you, a warmth you haven’t felt in years. You don’t have to say anything; he seems to understand, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before he lets go. And in that moment, something in you softens, just a little, like maybe you can let him in.

For the first time, you allow yourself to believe him, to believe that maybe he really won’t walk away. And even though the walls around your heart don’t come down all at once, you feel them start to crack, piece by piece, letting a little light seep in.

After that night, things start to change. It’s slow, gradual, like thawing ice, but there’s a noticeable shift between you and Tony. You’re still guarded, still wary of letting him all the way in, but he doesn’t push. He just keeps showing up, every day, every night, just like he promised. And slowly, piece by piece, you let him in.

The first time you ask to work on something together, Tony practically beams. You’re sitting at the kitchen counter with your physics homework in front of you—normally a breeze, something you’d get done in a few minutes. But today, you’ve left a few problems untouched, hoping he’ll notice.

Sure enough, Tony glances over your shoulder and raises an eyebrow. “Need a hand with that?” he asks, and there’s a careful lightness to his voice, like he’s trying to keep things casual, so he doesn’t scare you off.

You shrug, trying to act indifferent. “Sure, if you’ve got time,” you say, even though both of you know you could solve this on your own without breaking a sweat. But Tony doesn’t call you out on it. He just grabs a chair, pulls it over, and sits down next to you, leaning in to look at your work.

For the next hour, the two of you go over formulas and theories, his explanations coming with a few sarcastic quips and exaggerated hand gestures. Every so often, he goes off on a tangent, telling you stories about his own time in high school or sharing a strange fact he thinks will help you remember a concept. You listen, half-smiling at his antics, and eventually even throw in a few of your own sarcastic comments. You can tell he’s trying not to make a big deal out of it, but there’s a spark in his eyes that tells you he’s thrilled to be here, helping you, no matter how small the reason.

As the days go by, you find yourself spending more and more time in Tony’s workshop. It becomes your safe space, the place where you don’t feel like you have to hide or put up walls. Tony lets you explore, handing you tools and explaining how they work, guiding you through his more complicated inventions. It’s like learning a new language, one he’s eager to teach you, and he’s a surprisingly patient teacher.

One afternoon, he’s working on a new suit upgrade, and you’re watching, silently impressed by how smoothly he moves, how every action is precise and practiced. You’re deep in thought when he glances over at you, smirking.

“Thinking of joining the family business?” he jokes, tossing you a wrench. “If you’re interested, I could always use an extra pair of hands.”

You catch the wrench, feeling a rare, genuine smile tug at the corners of your mouth. “Maybe I will,” you say, feeling a rush of warmth that’s unfamiliar but not unwelcome.

He shows you how to tighten a piece of armor plating, explaining each step with a casual ease that you find yourself getting lost in. There’s something oddly comforting about the way he talks, like he’s sharing a secret only the two of you understand. And as you work, side by side, you realize that you actually look forward to these moments, the quiet companionship that comes from working together on something you both enjoy.

One evening, you catch yourself staring at your chemistry textbook, pages open to a particularly dull section on thermodynamics. Normally, you’d power through it on your own, but tonight, you feel the familiar tug of loneliness creeping in, and before you know it, you’re on your feet, heading down to Tony’s lab.

When you reach the doorway, he looks up, surprised, then quickly wipes the expression off his face and pretends to be engrossed in his latest project. “What’s up?” he asks, as casually as he can manage.

You hold up the textbook, pretending to be annoyed. “This stuff is terrible. Thought maybe you could explain it better than my teacher does.”

Tony raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Well, I’m honored to know you think so highly of my teaching skills.” He gestures for you to sit down, and as you do, he starts flipping through the pages of your book. “Thermodynamics, huh? You sure you’re not just here for the riveting conversation?”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But you both know the truth, and there’s an unspoken understanding between you as he dives into the material. He doesn’t just lecture; he makes it a story, breaking down each concept with analogies, acting out scenarios, and throwing in enough jokes to keep you both entertained. You throw in questions just to keep him talking, just so you don’t have to go back to your empty room just yet.

And somewhere along the way, you realize you’re not just learning about science. You’re learning about him—about his quirks, his sense of humor, the way he lights up when he’s talking about things he’s passionate about. He’s not just Tony Stark, billionaire genius, Iron Man. He’s… Tony, your dad, someone who, against all odds, actually seems to care about you.

Over time, you both fall into a rhythm. Tony starts waiting for you in the mornings, holding out a cup of coffee or hot chocolate, claiming he needs company on his drive to work. You never say it, but you look forward to those mornings, the way he fills the car with stories about his latest projects or about old college pranks he pulled that make you laugh in spite of yourself.

One day, you’re both hunched over a set of schematics in his lab, tossing ideas back and forth as you brainstorm a new design for a stabilizer that could potentially improve flight control in his suits. You’re getting so into it that you forget to be guarded, throwing out suggestions, bouncing thoughts off each other in rapid-fire succession.

At one point, Tony stops, leaning back in his chair to look at you with a smirk. “You know,” he says, a touch of pride in his voice, “you’re pretty damn good at this. Got that Stark brain for sure.”

You feel a warmth spread through you, and for the first time, you don’t brush it off. “Maybe,” you say, smiling despite yourself. “But I guess it helps when you have a good teacher.”

Tony chuckles, but there’s a glimmer of emotion in his eyes, something raw and unguarded. “Yeah, well… you’re not a bad student either.”

There’s a moment of silence as the two of you look at each other, an understanding passing between you that doesn’t need words. You know he’s trying, and somehow, that knowledge makes the walls around your heart crumble just a little bit more.

A few days later, you’re working on homework in the living room when Tony walks in, holding a set of blueprints he’s obviously excited about. But when he sees you bent over your books, he pauses, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

“Hey, need some help?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You look up, raising an eyebrow back at him. “With calculus? Pretty sure I’ve got this covered.”

He shrugs, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know I was quite the calculus prodigy back in the day.”

“Oh, yeah?” You smirk, half-teasing. “Care to prove it?”

Tony grins, and before you know it, he’s pulled up a chair, leaning over your work with the same intensity he brings to his inventions. You pretend to need help with a few problems, and he’s more than happy to guide you through them, throwing in jokes and sarcastic comments the whole way. Every so often, he nudges your shoulder, grinning like he’s just scored a victory when he catches you smiling.

Eventually, he lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Well, I think we’ve both learned a lot today,” he says, stretching dramatically.

“Yeah,” you reply, smirking. “Like the fact that you’re worse at calculus than I am.”

Tony gapes, clutching his chest in mock hurt. “Unbelievable. Betrayed by my own son. This is a new low.”

You chuckle, shaking your head, and for the first time, it feels easy. Comfortable. Like maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to keep fighting him off.

“Hey,” Tony says, his tone shifting to something softer. “Thanks for letting me in. I know it wasn’t easy.”

You meet his gaze, feeling that familiar vulnerability creeping in, but this time, you don’t shy away. “Thanks for not giving up,” you reply quietly. “I know I’m not the easiest person to deal with.”

Tony chuckles, reaching over to ruffle your hair. “Nah, you’re a piece of cake. Besides, I’ve got a lot of time to make up for.”

You smile, a real one this time, feeling a warmth settle in your chest. For the first time, you allow yourself to hope that maybe, just maybe, things are going to be okay.

It’s supposed to be a routine mission. Just another intel-gathering run, in and out, with minimal risk. Tony had waved it off as no big deal before he left, throwing you a smirk and saying, “Just another day in the office.” But that was hours ago. And now, as you sit in the dim glow of the living room, watching the news report blaring on the screen, dread twists deep in your gut.

You watch the shaky footage of Iron Man fighting, and this time, it’s different. He’s outnumbered, missiles tearing through the air, beams of energy slicing through the smoke and chaos. The news anchor’s voice breaks as they report the intensity of the fight, how Iron Man was last seen plunging out of the sky after a heavy hit. For a terrifying moment, you catch a glimpse of him falling, his suit battered, smoking, before the feed cuts out entirely.

Your heart stops, and a painful tightness fills your chest. The hours that follow are a blur of pacing, every second dragging longer than the last. You’re used to him going out on missions, used to the danger that comes with being Tony Stark’s son. But this… this is different. This isn’t the usual playful bravado, the usual cocky promises that he’ll be home for dinner. This is life or death, and for the first time, you’re faced with the horrifying thought that he might not make it back.

After what feels like an eternity, the front door finally opens. You spin around, heart pounding, and there he is, looking worse for wear but alive. He’s moving a bit stiffly, his armor scratched and dented, his face smudged with dirt and a few new cuts. But he’s here.

Before he can say a word, you rush toward him, the flood of relief hitting you so hard that you barely register the fact that you’re moving, throwing yourself into his arms. Your grip is tight, like if you let go, he’ll disappear. You don’t even realize you’re trembling until you feel his arms close around you, holding you just as tightly.

“Hey, hey,” Tony says, his voice soft, touched with surprise but warm. “I’m okay, kid. I’m here.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, your eyes shining with unshed tears, and he’s looking at you with an expression so full of gentle understanding that it makes you feel like a kid again, vulnerable and desperate. Without thinking, the word slips out, raw and unguarded.

“Dad…” you whisper, voice breaking slightly, “don’t ever… don’t ever do that again. I thought… I thought I was going to lose you.”

Tony’s face softens, his own eyes welling up. He’s silent for a moment, as if he’s savoring the word, the weight of it finally hitting home. His hand comes up to rest on your shoulder, his grip firm but gentle, grounding you.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. “I didn’t mean to scare you like that. But I’m here, okay? I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

You nod, the tears slipping down your cheeks now, and Tony pulls you in again, holding you tightly, his hand running gently over your back. It’s the first time you’ve let yourself fully embrace him, the first time you’ve allowed yourself to lean into his strength, to accept the warmth he’s been trying so hard to offer. And as you stand there, held in his arms, a sense of peace settles over you, soft and comforting, melting the last of your walls away.

After a long moment, he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, a tear slipping down his own cheek as he smiles, eyes bright. “You called me ‘Dad,’” he says softly, his voice full of wonder, as if he’s just received the greatest gift in the world.

You give a small, watery smile, wiping at your eyes. “Yeah, well… don’t get used to it,” you mumble, but there’s no heat behind the words, only affection, only gratitude.

He chuckles, pulling you back into a hug, and you feel his hand rest on the back of your head, his grip firm and reassuring. “I’m already used to it,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “And I’m not letting you go, kid. Not ever.”

In that moment, you realize that this is what home feels like—right here, safe in his arms, with nothing left to fear.

I'll never get tired of familyman!Tony I swear.