#strong statement coming from someone who was too scared to say this without the anonymous label

[daveys-sister]

gotta unfollow for harry potter posting. come on, man.

Coolio

[delightfulfics]

The Visit (Loki X Thor X Reader)

A/N: Sort of got carried away from this. But, I am happy with the end result. Thank you for the request! Another is coming soon. Hope everyone is well and safe :)

Anonymous Request: Thor and Loki are visiting the Avengers Compound and the reader is being cheeky and playful so the pair decide to tickle them as revenge.

It was a beautiful day. The temperature outside was hot but not too hot, everyone in the compound was in a great mood and the atmosphere was relaxing. This was one of the days where no one had to go risking their lives or fighting big threatening creatures from another universe. So, all of you were trying to make the best of the peace and quiet. You, Steve, Tony and Wanda were waking outside near one of the fields that surrounded the building when two figures appeared in the distance. You were alerted along with everyone else. Feet planted to the ground and high on alert, you reached behind you in your back pocket to reach for a knife. Steve was the first one to move towards the figures. You tried to follow but Tony was fast enough to block your way, shaking his head and giving you a “not yet” look. Your attention turned back to Steve who was engaging conversation with them. You were to say the least very confused as to how Steve to go from “i’m gonna kill someone” to “oh hi! wanna become friends?” You soon became relaxed with the others as you recognized the two figures that were walking towards you. Thor and Loki Odinson.

You were very close with Thor like everyone else in the Avengers Compound even though you didn’t see him often. You were very relieved and surprised that he showed up. You were more surprised by the fact he brought his (adopted) brother, Loki. Both men were like your siblings and you were very happy that they showed up. A bright smile lit up on your face as you made eye contact with both of the gods.

“Lady Y/N!”

You couldn’t handle your excitement so instead of waiting for Thor to approach you, you jumped into his arms and held onto his cape as he stumbled back with a grunt, quickly regaining his balance.

Thor chuckled, “It’s nice to see you too!”

You hopped down from his arms and gave him a sweet smile.

“And hello to you too, Miss Y/N,” you rolled your eyes and tilted your head towards Loki. He gave you one of his charming smiles and opened his arms. “Well, am I gonna to recieve one as well?”

You giggled and hugged him tightly.

“Don’t worry I missed you the most,” you whispered.

“Excuse me, little one. I heard that!”

After the small reunion you all went your separate ways. Leaving you, Thor and Loki to adventure on your own.

“So, Future King of Asgard, how is your kingdom?”

“It is not his kingdom.”

“Not yet brother,” hearing that comment, Loki rolled his eyes.

“Well, are you sure you are still fit to be a King, Thor,” in response Thor paused in the middle of the hallway and faced you.

“Yes. In fact, it was who I was born to be.”

You smirked. “But, how could a buffoon like yourself be King?”

Thor looked at you with huge eyes. Behind him Loki had silently started to chuckle.

“Loki, you shouldn’t be laughing either. You are as much as a buffoon as Thor is,” Loki’s face then shifted from amusement to confusion.

You started to laugh hysterically as you examined their faces.

“I don’t see the humor in either statements.”

“Boys, it is called a joke.”

“That is a joke?”

“Yes. You know when you say something and-“

“We know what a joke is.”

“Oh. I shocked you even know what that is since you both are so old fashioned.”

“Old-fashioned!” Loki looked like he could murder you on the spot You wouldn’t be shocked if he did. “My dear, I advise you to stop insulting us.”

“I am not insulting you. I am just sharing the truth,” you said giving them both huge smiles.

“Little one. I wouldn’t mess with us.”

You chuckled. “What are you gonna do? Hit me with lightning? Or ouu, scare me with your illusions Loki? I think I would be scared shit-less if you did that.”

You should’ve stopped. You should’ve known when enough was enough but you couldn’t. You also didn’t want to.

It took a couple seconds but Loki thought of something. Something that would get you to shut up. The gears shifted in his head and a evil smile formed on his face.

“Oh no. We are gonna do something way worse than that.”

He started to slowly way towards you with that evil smile still formed in his face. If that was anyone else they would’ve ran away for the hills but, not you. You stood your ground and stood there, not moving an inch.

“And what is that, Loki?”

Loki gave one last look at Thor, a message passing between them and he returned his attention on you.

“We are gonna tickle you.”

Your eyes shot open. “I am not.”

“You are not what, little one?” Thor said as himself and his brother started to stalk towards you, making you slowly start to back away from the pair.

“Uh, you know what? I forgot that Tony and Steve needed me for something so I got to-“

You didn’t finish that statement. Instead you decided to run. You would’ve made it far enough to escape their grasps if you had done it a couple seconds sooner. You grunted as you were attacked to the ground, strong arms pulling yours above your head. You titled your head up to see Thor sitting above you, grinning. The attention shifted towards someone sitting on your waist.

“Hello, Darling.”

“Hi. Just so you know, this is pointless.”

“How so?”

“Well that doesn’t work on me.”

Loki smiled. “What doesn’t?” You couldn’t say the word. It was ridiculous but you physically couldn’t without cringing or becoming all red. They both knew it.

“Since we have no idea what you are babbling about, let’s start shall we,” Loki said as he slowly brought his hands to your sides. You didn’t think he would actually do it. Loki wasn’t really an affectionate person. The only person he really even accepts hugs or even a handshake from is you and his brother. You didn’t expect him to tickle you. You didn’t even know how he knew that. But he was a the God of Mischief and it doesn’t take him long to find out someone’s weakness and Loki does what he wants.

You were taken by surprise as you felt light scratching on one of your armpits. Thor chuckled as you started giggling and squirming.

“What’s wrong, little one?”

“FuCk OfFF.”

“Miss Y/N, you don’t talk like that to Gods,” you whipped your head to Loki and gave him a stern glare.

“I dO wHat I waNt. I woulDn’t eVEn caLl yOu Gods, you don’t acT- WAIT NOO!”

Loki’s nimble fingers lightly scratched at your stomach and sides. You tried to move away from his hands but, he was a fucking God and a strong one at that.

“How adorable.”

“SHUT UPPPP.”

Your laughter increased as Thor dug into your armpits with both of his hands, making you slam down you arms to your side. With that and Loki digging in your ribs you thought you were gonna pass out.

“STOP.”

“Hm. Brother, what do you think? Should we stop?”

“As a matter of fact Thor, I don’t,” Loki said as he switched from counting your ribs to dig into your stomach, causing you to cackle and arch your back.

“LOKI! THOR! PLEASE!?” This was your breaking point. You were very a stubborn person but your laughter was turning silent and you looked like you were turning blue.

“What do you want us to do darling?”

“STOP.”

“Stop what?” you swore you could kill Loki.

“Brother, I think she has had enough,” Thor took his arms out of your arms but you were still cackling since Loki was still squeezing up and down your sides.

“Has she?”

“YESSS! I- I HAVE. I’M SORRYYYY,” with that Loki removed his hands and got off your waist. You curled up in a ball and looked up at the two men standing above you.

“I- I ha-ate you bo-th.”

The pair laughed. Loki bent down to your level and ruffled your hair, looking deeply in your eyes.

“You too, darling,” he said with a smile. Then walked out to leave you and Thor to your own devices.

“We didn’t hurt you. Right, little one?”

“No-o you didn’t-t. Loki-i was more evil-l.”

Thor chuckled at the comment. “Yes it seems that way.”

“Thank-k you for visiting.”

The blond-haired man looked down at you with a smile and lifted you up into his arms.

“It’s our pleasure,” he said as he kissed the top of your head.

The days of their visit was very eventful and filled with cracking jokes and laughter. But by the end of it you learning something. They were still buffoons.

[elizabeth-234]

Iron Dad Bingo

Previous Chapter: Tony Finds the Kid Part One 

Hi all! Sorry my writing has been slow recently. I hope you are all doing well. Thank you for reading!

I think I'm going to write one more chapter from Peter's POV so look out for that :)

Summary: Because even though Tony is a genius, math is not always math sometimes.

Chapter Four: Tony Finds the Kid Part Two

The kid sighed and nodded while folding the napkin over on itself again. He told Tony it was fine; he didn’t expect him to agree to his request when his fidgeting froze at Tony’s words and his eyes zeroed in on Tony.

“Wait, you mean it?” The kid’s eyes grew so god damn big and full. Tony smiled and though his heart ached he answered in the affirmative.

“Anytime, anyplace.” He said.

“Oh, well, thank you! I mean really. I know this stuff is kind of boring but, like I said, it would be quick and easy. And… it would mean a lot to me.”

Tony had no response to the statement besides the vague feeling of inadequacy rising up and nesting in his chest. He rubbed his collar trying to alleviate the sensation when the kid reached over and hugged him. Like a malfunction in hardware Tony froze unable to comprehend. He froze and under the warmth of the kid’s arms melted into the hug.

He cleared his throat and they separated, going back to the work at hand and ignoring the static of awkwardness hovering in the air.

Peter waited as he grabbed his phone from behind the counter and the two exited the café together.

“I’m this way.” He said which was the opposite way Tony was heading.

“Are you safe to get home?”

“Yep, I live right around the corner.”

Tony tried not to make a face at that statement. The kid said he was fine, but he reached into his pocket anyway.

“Here’s my phone number. Call me if you need anything.” He said and handed Peter a Split Bean card with his phone number scrawled on it.

“Good night. Thank you again!” Peter said over his shoulders.

Tony watched as the kid walked down the street and disappeared into the night. He sighed and began walking the other way, ready to get some sleep.

-

“I think we have to move the i over to this side of the equation.”

They were circled around the corner table. Doug was behind the counter serving the morning crowd. Tony’s shift was over but the kid had a math test coming up. They were on their third cup of coffee each.

“No, I swear my teacher said we have to do it this way.”

Peter twisted the paper around to face him. In the margins he scrawled the process from when he’d been taught. It was the wrong way in Tony’s opinion.

“What kind of equation is that? You can’t just move the elements around at will. There are rules behind it.”

It was all wrong and Tony wrote it down again, pointing to his correction. Peter sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. His companion grasped the paper and turned it back around. The pen hovered over the page before diving forward and scribbling over Tony’s previous notes.

“Chicken scratch is what that is.” Tony muttered at Peter’s triumphant smile. The equation balanced out and he was at a loss. “Math is math.” He stared at the paper, trying to convince himself that math was indeed as it was and always had been, and failing.

“Anthony?” Peter said.

“Kid, I honestly can say I don’t know what you did there and I’m almost scared to find out.”

Peter snorted and Tony’s eyes flew to the kid’s face. He covered his mouth but a giggle emerged soon after. Without meaning to Tony found himself laughing right along with Peter.

The atmosphere was cozy, keeping the cool weather from the elements safely outside. Coffee smells and soft acoustic music filled the air while the rush came for their morning pickups before they went on with their days. Doug glanced over at the two of them. His beard angled upward as a smile swept over his face at his newest barista and customer talked in hush tones at his café.

-

He was late to work. Time kept moving faster and faster, and before he knew it his shift was supposed to start and he was stuck in a never-ending line of traffic. Evidently the city didn’t get the memo he needed to get to Queens.

For once when Tony blamed the meetings for his time management failings it would be the truth. As with the city, his employees and board members didn’t get their memos either and he was stuck listening to… something. He’d have to remember to go over the minutes later to go over what he missed.

There wasn’t enough time to take the subway so Tony was forced to drive. His least conspicuous car turned out to still turn heads and he wondered if he should invest in an undercover car.

He parked in the poor excuse for a parking lot in the back and hurried into the building.

“Hey Doug.” He shouted at the man settled back in his office.

“Hey is for horses. How’s it going today?”



“Aches and pains, aches and pains.”



Doug rubbed his shoulder as Tony put on an apron and motioned for him to come in the office.

Photos lined the walls. Some were old and yellowing at the edges while others were newer, showing off the coffee events they held at the Bean. Tony was featured in one. He was wearing a lobster costume next to Doug who was in a padded-out Captain America suit. Tony thought he got the better outfit out of it.

His eyes wandered to a photo of a small bundle.

“She’s beautiful”

“Amelie, my daughter.” Doug said with a sparkle in his eye. “Poor thing cried for hours before we got there and then at the studio was as calm as ever. I wonder what goes on in their tiny baby brain”

“I wouldn’t know.” Tony said.

Doug stared at him, rubbing his fingers along the edges of his beard. His eyes didn’t lose any of the sparkle.

“You never know. Maybe someday.”

Tony cleared his throat.

“So, what did you need me for.”



Doug shifted in his chair. He started straightening up some papers lying on the desk and Tony thought he was stalling.

“Well, you know I’ve been grateful for what you’ve been doing and all the staff really, but, um, this is rough, but the stores been slower than usual and would you mind waiting for a paycheck? Just until we get going in the next month or so.”

Tony was already nodding.

“Don’t you worry about that, Doug. I’m good right now so concentrate on The Bean and not me. Make sure to put me last on the list, everyone else goes first.”

Doug patted Tony’s hand.

“You’re a good kid.” He said and Tony’s throat closed up.

He scrambled from the room after another round of poorly deserved gratitude from his boss and found his place behind the counter. There were many ideas of ways he could help The Bean and he started brainstorming. He could make an anonymous donation or a Stark Industries donation. He could do both.

The plans were enough of a distraction that he failed to realize Peter hadn’t arrived at the café. He spent his whole shift glancing over his shoulder and peering through the window paint at the increasingly empty sidewalk.

Where was Peter?

Tony was making Qadan’s drink when the day got worse.

He spotted someone in a sweatshirt and backpack through the window, but they continued walking without looking up. The ache resonated through his chest at the sight of the back of the hoodie.

His hands trembled.

Cup, coffee, and ice all tumbled to the ground.

“You okay, man?” His customer called out but Tony didn’t respond.

He stepped from behind the counter and toward the door, placing a hand flat against the glass. His hands pricked at the cold but he opened and stepped out.

“Peter!” He called out but the figure down the sidewalk didn’t stop.

“Hey, kid?” Tony ran forward, the itching grew worse with every step. “Peter?”

He reached his hand out and…it wasn’t the kid. A stranger scowled at him and stepped backward with his hands up to create space between them.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

“Whatever.” The stranger said and kept walking. Tony noticed the new stitching of the backpack. The crisp corners and strong straps of its material.

He was left walking back to the store alone, but it didn’t give him that feeling like previous walks.

Where was the kid?

A more cynical portion of his mind said he was taking it too far. Someone as smart and capable as Peter couldn’t want help from someone like him; didn’t need someone to worry about him.

He shook off those thoughts and saw Qadan waiting for him.

“Sorry about that. Thought I saw someone.” He said, and ignoring the spilled drink went back to making the order.

“No problem, Anthony.” He said. “I’ve got nowhere to be.”

Tony handed the cup across the counter.

“And what about Sarnai?” He said. “She given up on you?”

“Not yet, not yet and I thank the stars every day. Three months until our second is blessed into this world.”


Tony whistled and stopped Qadan from reaching for his wallet.

“Congrats again. Can’t wait to see the photos. It’s on the house. Thanks again for being patient.”


The man smiled and stuck some money in the tip jar before waving and heading out.

Tony imagined his partner and children. A full house. Someone there for him. Children laughing and playing.

The images were concrete. He could picture everything down the messy hallways and necessary times of hiding in the bathroom. Tempting as they were it didn’t sit right within himself.

He’d never thought he would have children despite his father wanting to pass down the Stark legacy. A shudder rippled through him. The Stark legacy was something he never wanted to pass down; something no one deserved.

Still, there was something tugging at him. The images wouldn’t disappear entirely.

His thoughts turned to Peter.

And he promptly shook his head.

The kid needed help and he was happy to provide. There was no need to look deeper into the matter. Often times life brought people into his life only to take them away at a moment’s notice and it was fine. His mother always told him to be thankful for what you had in the moment and as a child he lived by those words. The present was here and now, and he should be thankful for having that. But as he grew older he wondered if he wasn’t listening to his father speaking through his mom. If the shadows he felt creeping closer weren’t something he should run from instead of being thankful for.

Before he knew it, Tony was walking back out back to his car, shift done for the morning. He pulled out of the parking lot and headed down the street turning once, twice, and passing a bus stop. Someone stood waiting in the terminal. Their hood was pulled up blocking their face from view.

He remembered the stranger from earlier. His chase and imagination getting away from him and saw the figure continue to look down, not moving.

Tony drove by without stopping.  

He turned the corner, slowed down for a stop sign, and looked out his rear window. The street was empty behind him but his fingers tingled on the steering wheel.

The car idled.

Tony swore under his breath and turned the steering wheel. The lone figure wrapped in shadows played in the back of his mind.

Lights flooded the bus stop and the figure raised a hand to their face to block the light. Tony gripped the steering. The straps of the backpack were worn to threads.

“Are you okay?” He called out of the window rolling down.

The figure stepped backward and Tony leaned forward to see further out the window. He caught sight of a spattering of freckles and brown mop of hair.

“Peter?” He said. The figure startled forward and Peter stepped up to the car.  

“Anthony? Why are you- Is this your car?”

Tony laughed and nodded.

“Sure is, kid. You need a ride?”  Peter stepped back.

“Uh, no. It’s okay. No worries. I’m waiting for a bus and it should be coming… soon.”

The sidewalk and streets were empty. Sun peaked out from over the buildings. The newly born rays lighting a sliver of where Peter was standing from behind. Tony raised a hand to block the sun out of his eyes.

“It’s not any inconvenience to me. I promise.”

Peter hesitated and Tony unlocked the door. He reached over and unlatched the door, swinging it open. The kid looked around before sighing. With tiny paces, Peter stepped up to the curb and opened the door the rest of the way. His back was stiff as a board, parallel and not touching the leather seats in the car.

“Habits die hard I suppose but can I get you anything to drink? I have…” He rummaged around in the middle console. “An emergency water bottle or a half full bag of Chex mix. Sorry, I know it’s not the best.”



“It’s okay. Thank you, but I’m good.” Peter said. His hood continued to stay up, blocking the kid’s face from view and Tony wasn’t sure what to do.

Right.

“Where are you going? Keep going straight here?”

Peter nodded and they continued in silence broken by Peter’s sparse directions. His eyes drifted from the road to the passenger seat. His back was hunched forward like it always was in the café, bent over books and papers, endlessly working.

“So, uh, what are you up to?” He said and after a moment began again. “Is that weird? Am I allowed to ask?”

Peter chuckled and a cough interrupted. His hands came up to cover his face, covering the little visibility Tony had. Low wheezes hissed up from his chest and out his mouth. The kid lowered his hand and reflected in the lights of the street Tony saw red.

He hit the break, thankful no one was around his less than stellar driving. The seatbelts tightened against them and Peter whimpered from the pressure. Tony’s heart throbbed at the noise, at the splotches on the kid’s hand, the way he stood alone waiting for a bus that may never come.

“Shit, kid. Are you bleeding?”

“I’m fine.”

Tony gripped the steering wheel. Peter’s voice was low, tired and seemed too even compared to Tony’s higher pitched questions.

“Your hand would say otherwise.” Tony said and Peter shrugged. “Look at me.”

He said it soft and Tony could feel the heart pounding in his chest. This was Peter. The kid who looked to him for help, who had found his way to the cafe like Tony had. Why all the sudden was he not ready to accept help? Why was he hiding?

“Peter, I only want to help. Let me see.” 


Peter’s hands were pale and stark against the blood as he reached for his hoodie. The material fell down to his back and after taking a breath Peter turned toward him allowing Tony to gaze at his face for the first time that night.

His eyes were closed.

One was squeezed tight, like he was nervous of Tony’s reaction. The other was swollen closed. Red and pink lined the enlarged skin. His nose was crusted over along the nostrils but a trail of fresh maroon dripped down onto his lip and down his chin.

Tony swore and pulled to the side of the road. He couldn’t stop the trembling in his hands as he searched the console again. There had to be wipes or something in there to help but he came up empty.

“Are you in pain? Can you move your eye? Is anything broken?” Questions tumbled from his mouth as his hands frantically rummaged around. He leant back into the seat and felt for the coin in his pocket, pulling it out and holding it between his fingers.

Peter was silent but Tony could feel the eyes on him.

“I’m fine. It was just a minor disagreement between myself and some others.”



“As in more than one? That looks like more than a simple disagreement.”

Another shrug and Tony had to fight the urge to yell into oblivion.

“Okay, what do I do?” He said to himself. “We need to get you to the hospital.”

“No!” Peter said. “I don’t need to go there. It’s too expensive.” He said and Tony was about to offer, to say it didn’t matter when the kid added. “I’ve had worse anyway.”

And if that didn’t make Tony’s stomach clench. He stared at the steering wheel trying to think of something they could do.

Peter reached over the seats and laid a hand atop of Tony’s fidgeting ones. The kid squeezed once and held his palm up, leaving it up to Tony whether he would part with the trinket. Tony ran a thumb over the metal and dropped it into his outstretched hand. Peter brought it over in front of him to inspect it.

There was only a barely perceptible widening of his eyes but none of the guilt or accusations Tony expected came. And though it was something he never wanted broadcasted to the world, in the car and under the guise of a barista with this particular person, he was glad someone knew of his continued recovery. He felt something loosen in his chest with the knowledge that Peter knew of his struggles.

“My- my uncle had one of these.” Peter muttered. He flipped the coin back and forth between his thumbs. “He used to carry it around in his pocket, take it out and let me hold it when I was nervous about something. Used to be about school a lot of the time, now I dig it out of its place on the mantel when I miss him.”

Tony pushed the hand away.

“You can hold it now.” He said.

Peter smiled and brought the coin back in front of him. Tony started the car and found the nearest store. The aisles were empty besides the woman behind the counter talking in quiet tones on the phone. Peter wandered behind him, feet dragging, as they made a beeline for the frozen section. A bag of peas, bottle of antiseptic, band aids, and a few snacks later the two were back in the car.

Tony placed his hand against the side of the kid’s head to balance while his other hand swabbed the kids nose. He muttered an apology as the antiseptic wiped the crusted bits away and stung the raw wound underneath. Peter’s eye stared back at him.

“Someone packed a good punch.” He commented.

“I wish I could say ‘you should see the other guy’ but he had a killer right hook.”

“What, may I ask, caused this display of skills?” Tony pressed the peas onto the kids nose and motioned for him to hold it there.

“It’s stupid and I know I shouldn’t get upset, but they don’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

Peter shrugged again. Tony was beginning to realize why all his tutors hated the action when he was a kid.

“They think I’m not good enough to go to Midtown. They think because May works two jobs that she’s stupid and I’m stupid because I’m there on a scholarship. I’ve been trying so hard to prove them wrong this year. I know I’m not stupid but I want to be the best. Then I found the café at random one night after walking for hours trying to come up with a solution. You were there and everything was going so well. But I was careless.” He sniffled. “I tried out for the decathlon team. I made it over them. Some of them were mad, I guess… wasn’t watching on my way home and they were there. They said I shouldn’t bother with school, that I should stay at home.”

Tony’s head spun at the whole rant… but he knew Peter wouldn’t give up so easily.

“I sense a ‘but’ somewhere in there.”


Peter’s hands clenched over the coin.

“I know I can prove them wrong. I will.”



Tony smiled. He tossed a bag of kettle chips over to Peter and started the car. Peter stared out the window and though he wanted to find those kids, he was beyond proud of the kid for not giving up.

Tony thought back to his earlier daydream. Maybe they weren’t so far out of reach. Maybe they would just be a bit different than he imagined.

“You already are, kid.”



-

They sat in front of a building full of apartments. Balconies filled with barbeques, towels hanging off, and every type of plant imaginable protruded out from each home. The pea bag dripped condensation onto Peter’s hoodie and the seat of the car.

The kid was talking, waving his arms around, about some test he took. A test they studied for a week ago in the café.

Tony couldn’t help the warmth thrumming through his lungs. Peter was next to him; a little worse for wear but happy and wholly Peter. His eyes were wide. Enthusiasm brightened the dark brown. Tony rubbed his knuckles together to ease some of the tension of fisting them before.

Peter waited for a response to something Tony didn’t hear.

“You didn’t hear what I said, did you?” Peter laughed and Tony shrugged.

“Not a damn word.”


“Ah, that’s okay. You’ll just have to wait until next time to hear the story about how I almost broke into Oscorp the other day.”

Tony choked. Water clouded his eyes as he coughed, thumping his chest with his fist.

“You did what?” He said not believing the kid would do something so reckless and hoping it wasn’t true.

Peter’s hand was on the door and he clicked it open, glancing back with a shit-eating grin.

“Like I said. It will have to wait until next time.”



Tony sputtered and Peter tossed one leg out the car. He held up the pea bag but Tony put his hands up.

“Keep them. I’m not a fan.”

Peter paused before turning around and facing Tony again. He reached across the middle of the car and before Tony knew it, the kid’s arms were wrapped around him. Again.

It was just as warm and wonderful as before, though slightly less foreign. He returned the gesture without haste. His arms held Peter as tight as he could in a car.

“Thank you.” Peter said. He slid out of the car, waving from the steps up the apartments.

Tony looked up at an older couple watching from their balcony and smiled up at them before driving away.  

-

He paced from one end of the hall to the other. His hands hung at his sides and he stuck them into his pockets to keep from trembling. The halls felt like they were closing in on him. They were smaller than he remembered from his time in high school but then again, he was much younger, and shorter, than the typical student.

He couldn’t believe he was here and doing this. There was no way he would ever get over that he was about to present his ‘career’. Not Stark Industries, the billion-dollar company, but his day job (night job really, he corrected) as a barista.  

There was something wrong other than the halls and coffee apron he wore. Something itched the back of his skin. He couldn’t stop walking. He was helpless against the urge to pace.

The whole endeavor was risky. He could be recognized at the very least. And then there was the real problem that he wanted to tell Peter the truth. He felt like it was time.

“Tell him what exactly?” He said to the hallow space.

That he’d been lying. He was really someone else. Not Anthony but someone else entirely. Someone most people didn’t like.

Someone Peter may not like.

Those all set a knot twisting in his stomach but turning back to the classroom Tony had this vague notion it would be worse if he didn’t do it. He didn’t think he could see the look on Peter’s face when he found out about it all but it would be worse if one of his schoolmates knew first.

The kid deserved better than the present filled with its shadows and uncertainties. He deserved the future too and all that came with it. Even if the future didn’t involve him.

He hoped he would.

Peter walked up to him and smiled. He ran a hand through his hair. The kid hugged him again and welcomed him to Midtown High School. Tony managed not to be a total inept person and hugged him back.

“Ready to show us all how to make a flat white? I have this… friend I want to impress with this knowledge so I better learn something.”


Tony chuckled.

“I can show you all the coffee skills, kid. I’m no amateur, you know.”


They made to walk into the classroom but something held him back.

“Hey, Peter. Before we get this show going. Can we talk for a moment?”


Peter nodded and they stood in front of a bulletin board advertising soccer tryouts and the prom.  

“Look, this probably isn’t the best time but I have to… that is you deserve to know that…I’m not Anthony. Well, I am but I’m not who you think. And, well, my name is Tony Stark.” He stuck out his hand so they could shake and felt Peter slid his smaller hand in his. Tony looked up to find Peter smiling.

The kid was smiling at his lie.

“What?” He snapped.

Peter laughed again and shrugged.

“Anthony, I’ve known who you are since you gave me your phone nunder and if the card didn’t give you away, your car certainly tipped me off.”



Tony’s mouth opened then snapped shut as he regarded the smug quirk of Peter’s lips.

“That was a Bean card.”



Peter blushed.

“I may or may not have hacked into your phone.”



“You what? How?”Peter shrugged. He cracked his fingers. “I’m impressed, kid. Not many could do that.”



“You looked familiar. I was curious and bored. It’s a dangerous combination.”

“I’m beginning to find out. Should I be upset? All I can bring myself to be is impressed with your dedication. Maybe you should come work for me?” 


He said. Half of an idea formed in his head and Peter was bouncing up and down.

“So, kid. After me lying, of knowing who I was, you still want me to give a lecture of coffee or do you want Tony Stark, or even Iron Man?”

The palms of his hands began sweating. He couldn’t decide what answer would be worse.

If the kid wanted Anthony or Tony. Iron Man or barista.

Of course, Peter gave the best answer he could have hoped for.

The kid shrugged and slipped something into Tony’s hand.

“It doesn’t matter. As long as you are here. I’m happy. I’ll see you in there. Thanks for coming.”

He gave Tony another hug and began walking back.

Tony looked down to see the coin in his hand. He hadn’t realized Peter had never returned it until its familiar weight was back in his hand. He clenched it in his fist and jogged to catch up. Tony threw an arm over Peter’s shoulder, pulling the kid closer.

“You know, I might take you up on that job offer.” Peter said, blushing and glancing at him from the corner of his eye.

“First, I’ll have to fortify the Tower so we won’t get hacked again. Pepper will never let me live it down. A 15-year-old cracked into the ‘smartest’ building in the world.”



Peter leaned into his side and smiled up at Tony.

He watched Peter taking notes from his seat in the front while he presented to the classroom. His pen, like all their hours at the café, barely paused on the surface in an effort to get everything he said down on the page.

Maybe he was crazy for being there.

The past year of his life had been nothing but crazy. A split-second decision had landed him in The Split Bean.

Standing in front of a bunch of high school students Tony had never felt more himself. He could see their drive, a passion in their eyes, and admired them all for working so hard.

He thought back to the hours spent with Peter, how they went over lessons and arithmetic. The time he spent during meetings brushing up on newer processes to be able to learn with Peter.

Tony smiled again and slipped the coin into his pocket. Future plans and a new potential employee floated around in his mind. Of course, he would need to figure out a way to stop anymore bored and curious teenagers from hacking into his system before anyone else tried. Friday would have to be brought up to date as well and Peter… well, Tony was sure he had a place perfect for him.

Fate works in mysterious ways. Tony wasn’t sure who to thank for the small sprig that brought Peter into his life but he was going to work hard to make sure the kid was okay.

While everyone on Earth knew of his secret Identity as Iron Man. Peter Parker knew of his other secret identity as Anthony. A barista working at The Split Bean who learned that while math is not always constant, a good cup of coffee and friendship is unchangeable.

Thank you all.

Taglist: @whatisthou @warmwithafewfrostymoments

[thegc4life]

*in Dabi voice* That so? How sad, poor little WyvernSpirit. Hawks with prosthetic legs is a concept that has haunted me too. Maybe above the ankle, but below the knee? Amputation 😔 there I said it directly. Last page of chapter 267, doesn't Hawks' leg look kinda long and weirdly detatched 'cause of the angle and being hidden behind Tokoyami's hand?

    Anonymous said:

    Continuing. Common known fact: When Wyvern gets stuck on a concept they really fall down that rabbit hole hard. - Sincerely, the anon that placed helicopter sound effects over Keigo's feetsies. (Hint: Helicopters are chop-chopping :)

--00--

Okay. OKAY. You lot! ALL of you! Do you know what you have done to me?! I have thought about this, relentlessly! I have nit, I have picked, and I have formulated plans and you have given me horrible, horrible ideas! That I am implementing now because god damn it you’ve infected me with- with the chop-chopness! All of you! 

@stitchthepaleontologynerd I haven’t gotten to your ask yet, it’s coming up boy howdy, but you’re included in this! 

How dare! How daaarrreee!

Now you get to suffer with me! Look at what you’ve done! Look at it!

(For all you lovely doves *side-eyes the wrong-doers* that are not horrible influences, if you do not want any spoilers for Hawks-sensei do not read below the cut. It is a detailing of a trauma I was planning to use but is now so much bigger, so much WORSE, and will pop up in later chapters as the same flashback styles as I’ve had already. Warnings for verbal and emotional manipulation as well as threats of physical abuse. It’s sad. You’ve been warned.)

So...

Originally planned: We all know (unless our minds were tired and blended that one little speech bubble that showed up a total of one time) that Hawks was trained in negotiation tactics, verbal manipulation, and such. Head Canon wise, in the story I was going to have it that as he grew up Hawks could, technically, ask for anything he wanted and get it but he needed to make a compelling argument for why he should be allowed to have what he asked for (hint: he often failed these until he stopped asking for things that were ‘useless’). I was going to hint at this, here and there, to do that slow build horror that is so prevalent in the Hero Commission.

And then Chop-chop happened.

So. Now there is this.

Hawks keeps failing his negotiation training outside of training scenarios. His trainers and the President wanted him to keep asking for things so that he could learn how to manipulate and negotiate at the drop of a hat. But whenever he asked for things it was always ‘silly little things’ like going outside for a bit to fly, or to get something that actually tasted good instead of all gross food he was served for every meal, or to be able to take his Endeavour doll with him to training so that it could watch on and give him encouragement.

You know. Silly things.

He always failed these because he could not come up with a strong enough argument for why he should be allowed to do these things.

So they got... a little mean.

Longer training hours. He was always given the choice of not staying later than usual, so long as he could provide a ‘valid’ argument to his trainers why he didn’t need to work harder. ‘I managed that new aerial trick three times in a row with no mistakes’ he would say. ‘Yes, but you messed up the other one halfway through’ they would say. And he would tell them that it was new, of course he didn’t get it down right away. And they would say, ‘exactly, so we need to train more.’

Eventually, Hawks would get to the point where he would say ‘I need to be able to stretch my body in a certain way to make that move. I should go to my room and practice stretching like that. I will have it perfected next time.’

And they praise him for good thinking and say ‘yes, Hawks, that is a good idea’ and he gets all happy because Praise, and he goes from training with them... to training in his room as though he managed to convince them of anything.

He makes progress. He gets better at speaking, and manipulating, and redirecting. But not fast enough. Not good enough.

So they step it up a bit.

“Your feet’ they tell him. They are unnatural. They affect how you walk, how you stand, they look odd and lethal. He is supposed to be a comforting figure, he can’t be like that if he as talons that could rip off someone’s arm.

They’ll just have to go.

Hawks, understandably, freaks the fuck out. He doesn’t want to have his talons surgically removed. To have his feet braced and wrapped until they were re-formed into a ‘normal’ foot. To have anything they were telling him.

He argues with his trainers. Screams at them for the first time in the two years (because yes, he is still very young) he’s been here. He leaves without permission. Goes to his room. Screams and shakes and holds his Endeavour plush while praying the real thing will come save him.

In comes the President.

‘Hawks,’ she says, long after he has exhausted himself and is just staring blankly at the wall. ‘I heard what happened. You don’t want the surgery, do you?”

And of course he doesn’t, who would want that?

“I understand’ she says, and Hawks believes her because she always seems to understand more than he does but he doesn’t want her to this time because when she understands him she makes him understand her.

Which is exactly what she does.

She tells him why she thinks it is a good idea to get the surgery. While he is exhausted, empty, and numb she tells him all the horrible things in the world people see and how his feet might seem scary. She gives statements, but they seem... weak? They are less substantial than usual.

“The surgery will be next week,” she tells him and he breaks and he breaks and he breaks.

“Unless.”

Unless he can convince them otherwise. Unless he can negotiate. Manipulate. Make them see things his way.

“I want you to be happy, Hawks,’ she tells him, using the pads of her fingers to brush his hair out of his face before she goes and he leans into the warmth and wants, wants, wants. “If you think there is a different way, that there is something that should be done differently, all you have to do is tell us. You’re a smart boy. If you really think your feet are fine as they are, then there must be a reason they’re like that right? You just have to tell us what it is.”

So he tries.

Day one, he fails. They take x-rays of his feet for the doctors to look at while they prepare. ‘I’ll never walk the same’ isn’t a good enough reason when they have specialized physical therapists there to make sure that he will.

Day two, he fails. His handler tells him the time he was scheduled for. Early in the morning, right after he wakes up. “It will slow down my training,” isn’t good enough either. ‘you’re a fast learner’ is praise he always wanted before, and now all it is is a bullet in his lungs.

Day three, he fails. They use a practice dummy to help teach him how he is going to have to wrap his feet when everyone else is too busy to help him. “It’s going to hurt” and “I’m scared” are not the reasons of a hero. He’ll get over it.

Day four, he fails. No one brings it up that day. There is an entry on his calendar though. Circled. Blatant. He doesn’t argue that day. He doesn’t know what to say.

Day five, he fails. He asks his trainers if there is any way for him to use his feet, as they are, as a hero. They tell him they have never worked with avian based quirks before, how could they possibly know if his talons would be useful? He snapped at them, saying they did just fine telling him how to use his feathers when no one else in the world had the same quirk as he did. He had to do extra laps that day, until he was too tired to argue anymore.

Day six, the day before the surgery, the President comes to visit him again. He stayed up all night, even with how exhausted he had been, because this was his last chance.

“I can keep them covered,” he tells her. Tells the room. The faces that hold the decision in their hands. “I have to wear shoes outside anyway, it’s easy to keep them covered. They help me balance in ways most people can’t. It makes me a better fighter. If I run out of feathers, I will still have a weapon. A last resort. I can learn to walk normal. It will be easier to learn with feet I am used to then ones created for me. My toes are flexible and strong. If I train them I can use them in emergency situations to save more people. What if my arms are broken? My feathers gone? I can still use my feet to evacuate people.”

More, and more he talks. He tells them everything he can possibly think of that make his feet an advantage instead of an anomaly. He doesn't’ say ‘I like them’ or that he likes to curl his toes around the bottom bars of his bed when he has a nightmare. He doesn’t tell them that he likes the feeling of the tiles beneath his talons as they ‘click, click’ when he walks. He doesn’t tell them that they help him perch and that he’s afraid if they take them he won’t be able to do that anymore and he doesn’t know if he could handle losing that too.

His trainers look thoughtful. His handler is nodding.

The President smiles.

After everyone has left she gives him a hug. It’s small, and stiff, but he feels like crying.

“I am proud of you, Hawks,” she tells him. “Keep this up.”

And when they talk about his hands, he wins. When they talk about his staring he doesn’t... he doesn't win but he gets a compromise. A visor, to hide his eyes. When they talk about his sharp teeth, he almost loses but then he wins and the President smiles at him again. She doesn't’ hug him, that time, but he’s too old for that now so it’s okay.

When he’s sixteen, he knows he’s gotten really good at it. Because they try to take his Endeavour doll away. And it makes sense, because it’s- it’s a toy. Of course he doesn’t need it when he’s sixteen. He’s surprised they hadn’t tried to take it sooner. But he’d prepared for this, he knew his trainers and his handler well by then and he talked circles around them until they forgot what they asked in the first place. He got them refocused on training, on stats, on preparations and then he made sure it was always out of sight so they never brought it up again.

The President asked him, once, if he still had it. He shrugged, asked about how his results in his last combat simulation were, and she had looked so unimpressed that he knew she had known. But she hadn’t said anything. Because most of the time, if he managed to convince everyone else, she would let him keep something.

And he was grateful.

--00--

Look what you monsters have done. T-T I hope you’re happy! 

Seriously though, you guys just love giving me the angst thoughts. Like, dang. I love and hate it. I still love YOU of course, but I hate the evil thoughts you give me! Please continue! But don’t!

[saintshinsou]

“HOW COULD YOU”

anonymous: What would Overhaul do if he found his s/o hugging chrono? Chrono was just having a bad day and she wanted to comfort him by hugging.

It was innocent, it was one hundred percent harmless for both parties involved. It was an action that blossomed purely out of empathy and kindness — two important personality traits that she seemed to forget Chisaki Kai lacked. It was an action that under normal circumstances would’ve just been brushed off as a friend comforting a friend to anyone who witnessed it, nothing more nothing less but not with him.

Never with him.

Unlike Chisaki, Y/N was what you would call a decent human being. Considering all the time she spent cooped up at the headquarters, never interacting with anyone that Chisaki didn’t know personally, it was understandable that she had grown acquainted with a few of the people she was forced to see on a daily basis whenever he wasn’t around. Chrono just so happened to fall under the category of people she had ended up being friendly with, much to Overhaul’s distaste.

Chrono had grown to be a friend towards her in Overhaul’s many absences. Y/N saw him as a gentle reminder that there were other people living in the same world as her other than Overhaul, despite how hard he pushed to be her only concern. He just couldn’t bare the idea of having someone steal his perfect little Y/N, deeming everyone untrustworthy around her even Chrono; even with the undying loyalty that the pair constantly displayed towards the Yakuza leader. It wasn’t enough, he wanted her all for himself and she knew this. Y/N knew how heavily Overhaul claimed her —

Which is why he didn’t feel one ounce of empathy or understanding when he caught the horrifying sight happening right in front of their room.

It was disgusting, absolutely disgusting.

Seething with rage, his feet were glued to the tiled floor as he silently watched the pair embrace in a way that made him want to disassemble and assemble her arms until she continuously begged for forgiveness. Lips twitching into a heavy frown when he took note that they weren’t parting any time soon, a hug lasting way too long for just friends, he decided to take matters into his own hands as he should’ve in the beginning.

Overhaul had been showing them too much mercy by giving their ‘friendship’ the benefit of the doubt when she had innocently brought it up to him, in hopes that it would be over as soon as it started. This little hug of theirs was enough to push him over the edge on their whole little friendship thing. If they were embracing this intimately in such a public place, what else would they be doing when he was gone and handling business?

It all happened in a flash, really. Y/N and Chrono hadn’t even noticed the devil’s presence in the once lonely hallway or the way he had been obsessively observing them while violent thoughts harbored in his mind; his now dirty Y/N unknowingly starring as the main character in every single one of them. Gloved fingers wrapped themselves around her arm in a deathly grip, ripping her away from the safety of Chrono and bringing the pair back to reality.

Kai satisfyingly took note of the way immense fear danced in Y/N’s doe eyes at the sight of him, her frail body already quivering in fear under his touch and he hasn’t even done or said anything to her just yet. Chrono painfully ignored the pleading look Y/N’s soft features held, his loyalty to his boss too strong to stop him from looking away from him as he was ready to take whatever punishment Overhaul deemed worthy.

Chrono knew the extent of Overhaul’s love for Y/N, he knew every single (irrational) thing that he prohibited from her in order to keep her safe and sound. One of the many irrational things he prohibited from her being the act of touching other people unless he sought it as necessary. Chrono knew he was making a big mistake by allowing her to hug him but he was extremely upset and if he was being honest, he didn’t think he’d be caught.

He had expected Chisaki to explode, to blow up in his face and send him into a continuous cycle of pain with his bare hands. While his demeanor appeared calm and collected, he knew that was far from the truth. Overhaul always seemed to appear the calmest when all hell was about to break lose at his hands. 

“You may go back to your work now.”

That simple statement with slight undertones of hostility towards him was enough to help Chrono connect the dots on the situation. Overhaul was furious but he wasn’t going to take it out on him. No, he was going to take it out on the one silently stressing under his grip. Had its been anyone else about to endure Overhaul’s wrath then Chrono would have gone back to work without a second thought but the scared face on the girl he saw as a friend made his heart pang with guilt. 

“Sir, I—“ Chrono tried, only to be interrupted by his boss, his patience growing thinner by each passing second. 

“I didn’t ask a question.” Overhaul stated, already done with the conversation on his end as he roughly pushed Y/N into their shared bedroom, a thud when she hit the floor breaking Chrono from his anxious thoughts. “I simply said, go back to your work, now.” He sent Chrono one final glance over his shoulder, his eyes hard before slamming the door in his underling’s worried face -- leaving him to only imagine what he would put Y/N through behind the security of the wooden door. 

Walking past the fallen girl on the floor who was busying herself with cradling her arm that was beginning to sore from the lethal grip he had on her before, Overhaul took a seat on the edge of the bed and sharply inhaled once he heard her whimper at pressing her finger tips against her arm; knowing that there’d be a splotches of indigo on her arm tomorrow. Overhaul just hoped they’d serve as reminders of what would happen if this repeated itself. 

“Come here.” Chisaki beckoned her over with a lazy wave of his hand.

Instead of obeying within a second as she usually would, Y/N decided to stall going over to him and giving into whatever punishment he had in mind. Wanting to postpone the abuse if even by a minute, she stood her ground on her spot on the floor and looked up at him as tough as she could with tears brimming her eyes. 

“He was just having a bad day and I felt bad so—“

“Once again, I didn’t ask a question.” Overhaul frustratingly sighed, tired of wasting time. “Seems like you two share a habit of saying pointless things. A habit you probably picked up from being around each other too much while I’m gone, I presume?” He quirked an questioning eyebrow at her, almost daring her to answer.

It was a taunting remark, he’d confess, but he was still fuming with rage as countless thoughts of them alone together crossed his mind. Chrono was of zero use to Y/N, in his opinion. All this time they shared together was meaningless and definitely not worth annoying him for. 

“It was never like that. He’s just a friend.” Y/N tried again but it was to no avail. 

“I’m not going to ask again. Come here.”

Shakily standing to her feet, each step felt like an eternity when she closed the distance between them, heart full of fear when stopping right in front of him. Cursing at herself when she felt her body begin to shake again, she balled her fists up at her side in a sorry attempt to relax her body but completely failed when she locked gazes with him. There was just something about looking into the eyes of the person who caused you the most pain that was far from relaxing.

“You’re shaking as if I hit you or something, sweetheart.”

Y/N unwillingly flinched when his gloved fingers gently brushed against the side of her face, sending goosebumps through her body as she anticipated his next move. 

“You want to.”

“Should I? Will a hit be what it takes to make you realize how idiotic you acted out there? Basically, whoring yourself out to make a friend feel better.”

The grip on her face tightened, resembling the one he previously had on her arm a couple of minutes ago. Bringing her face closer to his, she felt his fingers digging into the bones of her jaw in the most painful way but she refused to cry about. He could do worse, she sadly thought, he could use his quirk if he wanted. 

“He’s your friend too.”

It was a futile attempt, she knew but the pain from her face was becoming too much. She couldn’t help but reach for the exposed skin of his wrist, trying to pry his hand from her face before he caused some damage. It ended up backfiring on her. Chisaki’s face filled with rage when he saw that her filthy hands were about to touch him, losing the faux calm expression he previously inhabited as he tossed her to the floor. Not batting an eye at the sight of her face making contact with the edge of their dresser, he patiently waited for her to finally get up and apologize to him.

“Don’t touch me with the same filthy hands you used to touch him.”

It burned. Pressing her hand against the side of her face to ease the stinging sensation the dressed caused, she allowed herself to cry at the pain - both emotional and physical. Not only did her arm and face feel sore from his grips but now the rather large scratch on her face was burning each time a tear slipped over it. 

“Why do you make me treat you like this? You know I have such a soft spot for you and you take advantage of it.” Overhaul’s voice was soft when he crouched down in front of her shaken form. “But I won’t have to do this again, right?” 

This time, it felt different when he cupped her face in his hands. It was foreign to Y/N as she anticipated a burst of pain but was instead met with him brushing her tears away with the gentleness a mother would use on a child. It was odd yet sweet; his eyes scrunching up as he flashed a smile under his mask just adding onto the sweetness part. 

Y/N craved this minimal affection even if it was for a few seconds. After feeling lonely for so many days, dry of his touch, she leaned into his hands and nodded at his question.  

“Right.”

“Let me help you clean yourself off.”

Usually, the whole helping each other shower thing would be deemed a romantic gesture but Y/N had taken off the rose colored glasses on her relationship a long time ago and knew that he just wanted to ensure she was extra clean — not missing a single spot especially after today’s touchy incident. There was no love in his actions, only order and routine. This statement stood true to almost their whole relationship.

Yet Y/N couldn’t bring herself to her feet to lead herself out the door and far away from him.

Overhaul was evil and ruthless and far from a loving and caring boyfriend. He was also comfortable and stable and protected her in ways that no one else would. Maybe that’s why she stayed. Maybe that’s why she endured his constant fits of rage, all for that little time frame of peace she’d receive after it was over and he was all calmed down.

Kai was met with her tear stained cheeks and weakened smile when she looked up at him to nod again, hopelessly pulling together every ounce of strength she had in her to not bawl her eyes out further when she looked into the once lively golden orbs she fell in love with now empty and lifeless but god, oh god, did she love them.

[migleefulmoments]

"And whether he plays queer or not (we don’t know), the show has strong themes of homosexuality and closeting during the “golden age” of Hwood." lol we DO know but abby is demented. she thinks he's a pathological liar but he's not going to lie about this subject. seriously, she's so obsessed with him playing gay that she doesn't care about the backlash he'd get for taking another role. as an actual fan of his, I wouldn't wish that on him. nor do I think he lies about everything.

Her entire statement just hit me the wrong way.  IDK if it is her continued use of the word “queer”, her believing the anon who knows the entertainment industry, that she claimed we don’t know if his character is “queer” (we do) of if it was her use of ‘homosexuality” like it was a slur or her “How ‘Raymond’” comment. I posted hate entire post below simply because I needed to read that “how Raymond” quote again.  

“Obviously how problematic will depend on just “how raymond” his character is, but I cannot see how his character does not have some connection to closeting”. WTF does “How Raymond” mean?  She goes on to say she cannot see how his character does not have some connection to closeting? Why? What would make you think that based on what we know about Darren’s own comments about not playing gay characters and all the summaries we have seen about the show itself. This is purely wishful thinking and probably what she is hinting at what she “thinks” might be happening.  

She is also claiming that his team was able to get all the media outlets to talk about the statement.  They would be pretty damn powerful if they could actually make all the independent, for-profit media organizations and legit news organizations talk about their story. That isn’t how the media works. Yes there are sleazy rags that take stories for money but not any that I read.    

Anonymous asked:

Part 1: dividing this up in case this is too long. I work in the entertainment industry and I have a theory about the no more queer roles. The fact that this was brought up again tells me neither of his 2 upcoming roles are queer roles. That being said I have first hand knowledge that the one thing gay actors can’t stand other than a straight man getting a queer role is a closeted man getting queer roles.  

Part 2: what might have happened is after D’s rise playing gay parts someone (in or out) of the gay communities threatened to leak some information. D is well known especially in the Broadway/gay community and access to information about him is easily obtained. That explains why he seems more free in non acting roles to be himself (lip synch, halloween parties, gay benefits). Remember that it’s not just other gay actors that feel threatened by D. (wtf? if it’s easily obtained information then Darren must be prepared for it to come out. What could someone blackmail him over? He’s gay? I thought the theory is that Darren wants to come out, had tried to come out but he can’t conractuly? Are you claiming he’s too scared to come out? Because if that is the claim, then he is a spineless twit who has egregiously lied to his fans for 10 years and even married a woman he must not love to hide his truth).  

Part 3: it’s their managers that feel threatened by D. It’s not inconceivable that someone was threatening someone. None of D’s current actions make sense. No actor that I no of would make that statement on their own. Not one. In fact no legit manager would let their client make that statement. They would just not accept anymore gay roles without announcing it to the public. (Soooo you are in the industry but your only insider info is your first-hand knowledge that gay men don’t like closed men taking gay roles? Any woke, knowledge and compassionate actor would make a statement like that and if their manager wouldn’t let them make that statement, they need to let them go).

Part 4: I just finished Catch and Kill by Ronan Farrow. There is a whole other world where young gay men are taken advantage of in Hwood. Fact. I fear that all of this bizarre things we are witnessing with D’s. careers we are all questioning is only going to lead to some very dark things. (oh ...so your insider information is from Ronan’s book?)

********************************************************************************

Hi nonnie! I would agree that is is very well known in Hwood and on Bway the D is queer and M is a beard and I also agree that out actors often resent closeted ones for taking queer roles but not being honest about themselves. However, out actors also very well know the struggle that closeted actors face in Hwood and many know how closeted actors are treated pretty deplorably.   (So she agrees because she knows? I guess it’s all that insider information she has but can’t share with her followers, right? HI love how Abby is so aware of gay men’s feelings but she has never spoke to one.  Also she agrees that gay men don’t like closeted actors taking gay roles but she also know how deplorably they are treated and gay actors are well aware of the struggle.  She what is her point? Oh, right it isn’t Darren’s fault). 

My issue, like you, isn’t D not playing queer anymore, the issue was how such a production was made over the statement and frankly the timing of the statement. (Liar liar liar). I contend this is not something D circulated .  He absolutely mentioned in an interview earlier in 2018 that he did not think he should play queer anymore, i cannot deny that. But it was a podcast delivered to a very tiny audience and it was not done in such a big, slamming the door kind of way nor was it offensive.  Months after that podcast, his team (December) decided to turn this into a huge media story and had it published and subsequently talked abut by various media outlets so it pretty much spread all over the industry and to the GA forcing D’s hand and pretty much making it impossible for him to accept a queer role from then until he comes out of the closet.  

And in my opinion, it was a harmful statement, that was incredibly offensive. and his team led the charge to make sure it was circulated. (No, it wasn’t offensive in the least. In fact, it was the opposite)  

Several factors, D had just won an emmy for ACS and was nominated for 3 more.  Seems to me like a slap in the face to the very community that he built his career on and it could have (clearly did not) jeopardized his chances of winning if people had resented him for making the statement. (No it��wasn’t offensive to actual gay people Abby, just you) 

It precludes him from considering roles with queer characters from now until he is out of the closet. Seems to be to eliminate a ton of opportunities without evaluating each one on its merits. (Yep, it absolutely does... because that is what representation means. It means he is also eliminated from all black roles, all female roles, all child roles...you see how this works?) 

And another huge factor, we now know D made a deal with RM prior to the no more queer roles article. And whether he plays queer or not (we don’t know), the show has strong themes of homosexuality and closeting during the “golden age” of Hwood.  This seems very problematic. And it seems like his team trying to sabotage his ability to be in this show.  (I still don’t get this argument- does she really legit think we will believe this is a valid argument? Being on a show with gay roles is no where near the same as playing a gay character. It isn’t a thing no matter how much Abby plays confused about it- in fact if he refused to be on a show with gay characters THAT would be offensive AF and would be worthy of the gay community hating him) Obviously how problematic will depend on just “how raymond” his character is, but I cannot see how his character does not have some connection to closeting.  But that is speculation and we will know more as time goes on.

Personally, I think his team did it to hurt him and to hurt the new show (SO Ricky -the world’s shittiest manager is going up against Ryan Murphy? That seems like a fair fight) .  They do not have his best interests at heart,(But you do abby don’t you?)  they know he is miserable and does not want to be closeted and frankly I think that makes the down right giddy and joyful. And they use the closeting, and M, to control him because they know how much he loves to act and that he does not want to jeopardize his career. And you can bet there is blackmail and threats going on behind the scenes, the essentially forced him to marry the most toxic person in his life (I cannot emphasize this enough, they are not friends).  

And you are correct, a team that actually cared, would never allow such a harmful statement to be made. Never.  But then again a useful team wouldn’t force him to pretend to own a misogynist bar either, and well, his does that as well. Nor would they force him to pretend to love a person that is vile, unambitious and the opposite of a role model not to mention a complete detriment to his well being. (blah blah blah blah the record is the skipping) 

So it is clear his team doesn’t give a fuck about D, just about themselves.

[hecohansen31]

Idea : Hawthorne Michael in a secret relationship with shy Witch!Reader. After a while, she starts to think he wants their love to be secret because he is ashamed of her and at the same time, being the Wonder Boy, he is loved by all the warlocks and the witches, it will change if they knew he was with someone. The truth is that Michael is a intimate man, who doesn't anyone want to bother them, or her. It's their story, no one else need to know. At the end, they are two stupid idiots in love.

A/N: First of you… I LOVE YOU, NONNIE!

Literally this is my first ask I can actually write so I am excited, and I hope dearly that I won’t disappoint!

Also, I just wanted to encourage you to send me asks, even anonymously (I totally get that somebody might not like the spotlight, and I love you all the same you anonymous lovelies!).

I write only for fictional characters (and more specifically: Michael Langdon, Duncan Shepherd, Jim Mason, and I am working something on another fandom… but feel free to request something else, and I shall see what I can do about it!) and reader insert.

Also, I write smut, but please avoid subject as watersports, choking and extreme degradation (I am not kinkshaming you, but I am comfortable around those subjects, hope you will understand).

Also, if you want to send something with trigger warnings (such as drugs, non-con, mental issues or any other sensitive matters) please message me first and if you want to keep it anonymous just know that I will have to think about it, before accepting it, thank you for your patience…

(Also, I am glad that it is about Hawthorne! Michael, because I love that boy with all my loving heart and sometimes I worried I might seem too monotone, but Hawthorne hoes, be ready for something very interesting next week)

Now after this long, preface, here I am with the answer!

Trigger Warning: Mention of Abuse and Fight.

Being shy was her most common trait, the one you could see from the how she didn’t dare utter even a single sound in company of people, if not asked first.

She blushed easily and social confrontation put her at unease, preferring the confrontation of her mind and the comfort of a little circle of friends, who she trusted blindly.

Obviously discovering she was a witch was something that changed her life thoroughly and she had to leave her quiet life behind, for charms and magic and new people, the latest worrying her much more than anything else in the world.

She didn’t fit in the “strong witch” idea, preferring to be a gentler one such as Misty Day, although sometimes even her company was too much.

A company she seemed to enjoy instead was Michael Langdon’s.

They had been paired for a project, a charm had gone wrong in a club of New Orleans and they had had to avoid the possibility that it might have any repercussion on humans, and although Michael Langdon seemed al high and mighty, with his haughty attitude and his strong personality, he had been nice with her.

He had helped her, instead of making fun of her mistakes, teaching her a few things meanwhile they worked, which made her open up to him, and slowly they had developed feelings for each other, firstly shyly, each thinking they were unrequited, but then, slowly, they had each recognized signs of an infatuation and ended up confessing it to each other.

They had ended up sealing their confessions with a sweet kiss underneath the security of a shadowed spot in the gardens of Robinchaux.

And from then on, they had started a reserved relationship, made of stolen kisses and sweet notes passed through each other, birds singing her the “good morning” he couldn’t give her, and little trinkets being brought to his door with magic each time he needed comfort.

Who knew that Michael Langdon could be such a romantic man?

Or better boy.

Because although he was as strong as a mature man, he sometimes had childish manners, the only thing about him that annoyed her, such as the way he was always a bit flirty with anyone, justifying it as just wanting to be nice, but she could see witches and warlocks alike fawning over him and sometimes she wanted to just kiss him in front of everyone…

… but she just couldn’t.

They had been, since the start, reserved with each other and their relationship, since they both disliked PDA, but she had always thought it was her who was too shy for it, not Michael, with his smiles and smirks and always perfectly curly hair.

But slowly… she had started developing a strange craving for public displays of affection,  amazed at the way Misty Day and Cordelia gently held each other’s hand under the table at dinner, or the way Zoe and Madison hugged each other softly in their most private moments (on which she had walked in, since she shared her room with the brown-haired witch) and finally the comforting way Coco and Mallory talked about each of their problems.

Slowly she had started craving that form of intimacy, which had prompted her to search it in her own relationship, and that day she had felt extremely confident, happy of an exam going well, a charm turning perfectly, thank to Michael’s suggestion to breath and think before speaking up.

She had found him outside her classroom, strolling around with his close circle, and immediately, overcome by happiness and confidence she had moved fast, throwing her arms around his neck or at least trying to.

Their eyes met for a brief moment and although hers were full of happiness and love, his were unmoving and annoyed, almost.

Which should have made her foresee what happened next.

He, swiftly, avoided her hug and she almost fell down, losing her balance for a few minutes and regaining it just in time, gripping his shirt, but he immediately pushed her, and this time she had nothing to grip, which made her fall and land on her ass.

The pain coming from the hit wasn’t as bad as the shame she felt inside.

So, she chose to stay down, meanwhile Michael and the other warlocks moved away from her, everybody giggling at her expanse.

From then on, she felt only heartbreak, moving to her room immediately and she hide there, for the entire day, avoiding lunch and dinner, no matter Zoe’s protests, to which she replied that she wasn’t hungry in the slightest, justifying her lack of appetite as a headache.

Whereas it was her heart which hurt.

Had he rejected her because he was ashamed of her?

It wouldn’t be the first time it happened, alongside the fact that she should have seen it coming.

Michael Langdon didn’t date little things like her, uncapable of even saying her name without stuttering, unable to keep up a conversation as his friends, not nearly as pretty as him or any of the girls he could have with those devilish good looks.

She had been so stupid to believe that he might have wanted her for what she was.

Her stomach grumbled, interrupting her self-destructive thoughts and she finally was able to think about something else, and hear the knocking on the door, behind which, she hoped, was Zoe, with some leftovers, since she had promised to bring her some.

So, she moved quickly to get to the door, opening it to find a very worried Michael, still in his elegant suit, and it was as if his perfectness was mocking her unmade hair and oversized pajama, with bunnies all over it, and she almost moved to close the door, as if this would make him disappear.

Sadly, it didn’t work like that.

-Hey, love! – he giggled, moving forward to touch her hand but she pushed herself away, something he gave not too much mind -… I heard Zoe, over at dinner, say that you had a bit of an headache…-.

-Yes, and because of that I would like to be left alone- she mumbled, trying to close swiftly the conversation, not wanting to confront him when she felt at her lowest.

He seemed confused and again tried to reach out for her, this time for her cheek.

-… hey, sweetheart, seriously… did something bad happen? – he seemed seriously worried for her -…  can I do something about it? -.

-As I have said, leave me alone, Michael- they never used first names, so he immediately realized something was wrong, and not with her body.

-Whatever happened between us we can talk about it, love of…-.

-Don’t call me that- she replied bitterly, standing up on her toes, to look at him in the eyes and he immediately backed off, surprised more than actually scared by her.

-Did I do something wrong? – he asked, confused.

-The fact that you have to ask is enough to show how much you care about me- she replied dryly, turning around, offering him only her back, turning to move to her bed, adjusting her computer or iPad on it.

-…I care about you- the statement was extremely sincere and his tone looked pained as if he had seriously been hit by her previous phrase, and she almost wanted to turn around and comfort him, but decided that as much as he could be unresponsive like her, she would do the same -… and I would never do anything with the purpose of hurting you, you know this-.

-Oh, then it must have been for my own good that you shoved me down like a sack of potatoes, this morning, treating me like that, and then giggling off with your friends… I had a ton of fun, believe me- her sarcastic tone reached its peak and she giggled hysterically.

She expected him to finally leave her alone, but he did the opposite, moving closer and making her turn around and as she was halfway through order him to release her wrist, she found him looking at her with pain in his eyes and heartbreak curving down his mouth.

The truly look of somebody who had realized his mistakes.

-… I am sorry, (Y/N)- he uttered, his voice had become small and she tried to find any trace of mockery in it, but he was sincere, he had always been sincere with her -… I thought that you wanted to keep this a secret and…-.

-Oh, of course, your girlfriend moves in to give you an hug and you… you push her down…- she replied, meanwhile she felt terrible for kicking a man already down -… you were ashamed of me in front of your precious warlocks friends, ask them to cuddle you when you have nightmares-.

She was half expecting Michael to release his rage, she had seen it happen whenever he didn’t get his way, but this time he had only tears she allowed him a truce.

-I didn’t mean to hurt you, I swear, (Y/N) … I am just… I am not used to this display and when I saw you coming my way… I didn’t realize you wanted to hug me till it was too late… I thought you wanted…- it all came out in broken moans, and it took all her soul not to hug him.

He had somehow thought that she had wanted to attack him, instead of hug him, that’s what he had wanted to say, and she somehow understood that she hadn’t been exactly calmed and controlled.

She herself had touch boundaries, so she should have recognized Michael’s.

-I would never hurt you, Michael- “although you would”.

-I know- his tone, of true trust and belief made her heart flutter -… you are the best thing that has ever happened to me, the sweetest, but…- he turned his head away, ashamed of what was coming next.

-Michael, explain to me what is going through your mind, so I can understand it- “and accept it”.

She didn’t feel like fighting with him no more, not after his tears and his heartbreak, they weren’t supposed to feel this way.

They cared about each other to let it go to waste.

-… people in the past have hurt me- he just said, but it all held a deeper meaning -… people who loved me, and it made me feel weak, the one thing that I am not supposed to feel, here, not when I am the Alpha. And now whenever I feel like somebody might hurt me… I just hurt first… and this doesn’t justify what happened…-.

-You are not weak because of this- she said, meanwhile finally holding her hand out, understanding what had gone through Michael that morning: he wasn’t used like her to hugs, and whereas she had thought that his reservation to any signs of affect came from being as shy as her, she hadn’t thought it could much more -… you are strong because you survived this, and I am very proud of you-.

She eve went as far as to mess with his hair, getting a little laugh from him, who gently looked up at her.

-I am sorry if my actions made it seem like I didn’t want you, I want you … a lot… (Y/N) – he pushed himself in her arms, promptly hiding his head in her neck.

-… and I am sorry I assumed too fast what was going on- she kissed the crown of his head, gently caressing his back -… I won’t bother you publicly anymore, if you…-.

He stopped her halfway through the sentence, looking up.

-… just start slowly, please- he mumbled, before reaching out for her hand -… I want to go anywhere with you and kiss you in front of anyone, but… I have my limits-.

-And I have mine- she agreed to their implicit deal, before sealing it with a kiss on his cheek.

And they were having a perfect moment, till her stomach grumbled.

-… I think that your stomach might have just asked for food- he giggled, before he separated himself from the hug, holding out his hand and gentlemanly asking  -… will, my lady accompany me to a late night out in the kitchen to find something to cure her “stomachache”? -.

-Only if you carry me, like a true lady! – she joked, but Michael took it all a bit too seriously, pushing her in a bridal style hold, before kissing her fully on the lips to quiet her protests.

-Off to the royal kitchens-.

They passed the rest of the night eating ice cream (both from the bowls and each other faces since Michael had almost started an ice cream war), and although she knew that they would need to confront some of Michael’s demons soon, she knew he had been sincere that night and part of her heart cried for what had happened to him.

But now that she knew, she would do her best to make Michael Langdon feel cherished in every possible way.

Starting from kissing him “good night” after their little kitchen adventures, meanwhile he asked for more kisses, just to be shooed off since it was a bit too late, meeting Zoe halfway the stairs, a smirk appearing on the witch’s face who just looked at her roommate and uttered.

“Hope that you had a nice night, with your ‘headache’ ”.

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

Love is Love - Gerard Way x Reader

Request: I need,,,, more Punk!Gerard in my life,,,, okay but seriously- can I request a Punk!Gerard fic? Also can the reader be male and can it be angst?? Thankies bro!! Take your time on it!!!!

Reader: male

Warnings: homophobic slurs, Spoiler Alert for ‘Love Simon’

Word count: 3 424

A/N: I watched ‘Love Simon’ (so spoiler alert) a while ago and got seriously upset about his friends’ behavior after he got outed. And I wanted to put things right in a way, because there has to be some weird shit going on with me if I don’t befriend the forcibly outed kid when I notice none of their friends are around.

Your eyes flickered over the screen again and again, not able to believe what you were reading. You reloaded the page, just to be sure, but the black letters were still clearly being displayed on the school’s anonymous confession website.

“Gerard Way is a fag”

You were not sure which part of the statement was disturbing you the most. Obviously this was not the way someone wanted to come out. You would not want to come out like that at least. So someone had outed this boy, probably without his consent. Someone who was, judging by the word they had chosen, homophobic.

It was no secret that your school was not the most LGBT+ friendly ground in town, but it still disgusted you. And then there was that name. You had never really talked to Gerard before, but you knew he was in art class with one of your friends. Apparently he was pretty good a drawing. And he would definitely not have been on top of your ‘who might be gay but not out’-list. You did not really have a list, neither on paper nor in your mind, but Gerard really was not within the first twenty names you would have said if someone had asked you who you thought was gay on your school. Of course you could not just look at people and tell if they were homosexual, but being gay yourself, you would have expected some sort of instinct or something kick in. Apparently not.

Anyway, Gerard was one of the lonely punk students at your school. You knew he had a brother, Mikey, but he was younger and not yet on the same school, his friend Ray had moved away before summer break and other than him you had never seen anyone talk to Gerard.

You wondered if he knew. Did he just sit in front of his laptop, like you? Was his heart beating faster, his chest imploding, tears falling down his cheeks? You knew that would be your reaction if someone outed you, especially like that.  ‘Gerard Way is a faggot’, who would write, say, or even think something like that? Had people no respect for each other? Why could some people not just accept that love is love? On the other hand, you knew why you were not out. Because there were too many people who were not tolerant, and you were not even sure if your friends would have your back.

~*~

You had kind of hoped that Gerard’s sexuality would not be topic number one when you walked to school with your friends on the first day of the new school year. But the post was barely a week old, and people were too excited to see Gerard, now that they knew this thing about him, that seemed to change the way they looked at him. Idiots.

The lunch room was as crowded as you remembered. People pushed around and tried to get their favorite spots in the room. You sat at a table close to the door, a warm breeze of late summer air blowing past your bare arms.  

“Okay, but seriously? I always thought something was weird about him,” your friend Gina declared, placing her tablet down next to yours and sliding into the bench, her knee brushing against yours.

“But he a girlfriend last year, right,” Paul, another one of your friends replied, making space for Mark, the fourth in the group.

“Imagine how she must be feeling right now,” he said, looking across the hall to where the girl was sitting.

“Imagine how he must be feeling right now,” you answered, not being able to stay quiet any longer. “Imagine some ass posts something so personal about you, how would you feel?”

Your blood was boiling, had been since you had seen that post last week, but within the last hours, you really, really had gotten very angry. Especially at whoever had submitted that post. And since the submission box of the website posted automatically, no one had checked it before it had been thrown out there, probably ruining this poor boys holiday, if not even high school time.

“It’s something people deserve to know though,” Mark shrugged.

“Deserve? What’s wrong with you man,” you wanted to jump up, shout, shake some sense into your friend, but you had to stay calm. “What next? Should everyone wear a sign around their neck, saying ‘straight’, or ‘gay’ or ‘bi’ or ‘pan’ or whatever?”

“Well, he’s just trying to say it’s not normal,” Paul jumped in, making you even angrier.

“Normal? Of course it’s normal, it’s love. Love’s normal. It’s just not as common,” you argued. Shit, you were seriously upset now. You felt personally attacked. And how should you not? They were basically insulting you. They just did not know it.

“It’s just a little freakish,” Gina said, definitely not helping.

“Freakish, how can-“

In that moment all noise around you stopped. People grew quiet and the white noise of clicking forks against porcelain faded, everyone staring at the door. Confused you turned around as well, and were met with the sight of a very pale Gerard Way. His long, black hair fell into his eyes, his shoulders were slumped and his black jacket was pulled tightly around his body, like a shield. He looked so lost and even a little scared, it broke your heart. And for the first time you noticed how pretty he actually was. It was a macabre beauty, dark circles under his eyes, greasy hair, looking a like a beaten dog, but he was beautiful. He would probably look breathtaking if he had a good night’s sleep, a little bit of sunlight, and a shower. You wondered what his smile looked like, if his eyes would sparkle along, before realizing that now was probably one of the worst moments to realize you had just started crushing on him. After all you just had a discussion about homophobia with your friends.

About a hundred pairs of eyes followed the pale boy as he walked over to the serving counter and paid for a plate with pasta. Slowly the conversations started picking back up, but your eyes still followed Gerard. He looked around for a moment before sitting at the end of a table, a few seat away from a group of seniors. They stuck their heads together, before they all got up, carrying their full tablets to the next table. You wanted to run over and scream at them, but you stayed seated, instead just throwing another glance at Gerard. His head hung low, hair covering his face. And then you realized he was alone. No one sat with him. No one was there to talk to him, to comfort him.

“Look who’s in the house! It’s our faggot!” someone, doubtlessly one of the brainless jocks, screamed through the room, earning laughs left and right. Even your three friends laughed. “Wanna suck my dick?”

Enough was enough, you decided. Without another word, ignoring the questions of your friends, you got up and grabbed your tablet. Your mind was clouded with rage as you walked over to the almost empty table. Only the loud slamming of your plastic tablet against the table pulled you back into reality.

Gerard’s head shot up at the noise, wide, hazel eyes staring up at you in fear. You ignored him and sat down in front of him, continuing your lunch without a word. When he was still staring at you after almost a minute you looked up.

“This seat is not taken, is it,” you asked, lifting your eyebrows.

A smile tucked at Gerard’s lips. Holy shit, he looked beautiful when he smiled.

“It is now,” he answered, his cheeks hinting at a tinge of pink.

“Good,” you said, smiling back at him before you continued eating.

~*~

You only realized that you had not thought of the consequences of your actions during the following days. After you had had lunch in silence, you finally started talking to Gerard, about art and music, about your families, about anything but his sexuality or his outing. And you noticed how much you had in common, yet how different you were.

During the following days, you started to hang out more with Gerard, during school, and after school. And what else would you have expected than an increasing number of homophobic slurs being thrown your way. Of course everyone assumed you were gay now, just because you hung out with someone who was. They were not wrong, but the rudeness, the unacceptance, the brutality of their words hurt you more than you wanted to admit to yourself.

So you stayed strong, during school at least. Gerard had it a lot worse than you, so you stayed strong for him. He sometimes told you to stay away from him, for your own sake, but you just laughed at that.

In fact it turned out that it had become impossible for you to stay away from him. A force stronger than gravity drew you towards him, and while you tried to convince yourself that you were not already head over heels for the dark haired punk, deep down you knew that that was a lie.

 So you found yourself lying awake at night. The insults of the day made your throat tighten, your eyes burn and your heart heavy, but then you remembered Gerard, looked at the glowing display of your mobile portraying his profile picture, and you knew it was worth it.

It was yet another sleepless night, the bright screen of your mobile illuminating your face, when suddenly the door to your room slowly opened. You sat up in your bed, trying to spy through the darkness.

“(Y/n), are you still awake,” you heard the familiar voice of your mother whisper.

“Yeah, you can come in,” you answered, turning on the light on your bedside table.

Your mother was living alone with you in the small house, and judging by the time your alarm clock displayed she had just come home from her shift in the hospital where she worked as a nurse.

“Everything okay, dear,” she asked, stepping into the room. Doubtlessly she had noticed your red eyes as she strode over to the bed and sat down on the blanket next to you.

“Yeah- I mean… not really, it’s just-“ you took a deep breath. You had thought these words through countless times, always thought how you wanted to come out to her, when, with which words. “Did I tell you about Gerard?”

“He’s a new friend of yours, right,” she recalled correctly.

“Yes, he- ahm… he’s gay, you know,” you carefully watched your mother’s expression as you told her about Gerard’s sexuality, but she just listened without showing any sign of emotional reaction. “He got outed during the last week of holidays, and… well, school’s pretty much hell for him right now.”

She nodded understandingly.

“The first day after holidays, he was sitting alone at lunch, and literally everyone stared at him, or talked about how being gay is freakish, and I just got… so… angry. So I went to sit with him, and yeah, that’s how I know him.”

“That was nice of you, I’m sure he’s glad to have you,” you mother told you, gently patting your arm when she noticed how upset you were about that topic.

“But since we started hanging out… people… they think I’m gay too, and I get all these insults and all this… I don’t even know what to call it… hate? I walk through a corridor, and people just yell stuff, so Gerard asked me to stop hanging out with him, so I wouldn’t get… you know, hurt,” you stuttered. You didn’t want to stop hanging out with Gerard, you didn’t want to stop being friends with him. You wanted to get to know him better, you wanted to be closer to him, you wanted so much more than just friendship, but he tried to push you away. And you had to share your thoughts with someone, and your mother was the best choice for that, at least at the moment. But first of all you had to tell her something else, something that was bigger than the thing with Gerard.

Your mother was still thinking about your words, quietly nodding when you continued, your throat tight, your voice wet from tears.

“I’m in love with him,” you confessed, biting your lip so it would not quiver, “I’m in love with Gerard, mum. And I’ve been in love with other boys before. I’m, I’m-“

You couldn’t say it. Something inside you fought against that word, that label. Love is love, why did you have to label yourself?

“You are my son,” your mother finished the sentence for you. “You are my son and you are beautiful and perfect and I feel very honored that you talk to me about these things.”

She wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into an embrace. Her shirt still smelled of the disinfectant of the hospital, a smell that reminded you of your childhood. She patted your back for a while, whispering how proud she was of you.

“So…” you pulled away, your face heated from crying, your eyes burning and your voice hoarse. “About Gerard, what do you think should I do?”

“What do you want to do,” your mother asked back.

You watched her, expected her to look differently at you now that you had come out, like all the people looked differently at Gerard now. But she just looked at you like she always had, with so much love in her eyes, the way only a mother can look at you.

“I want to be with him,” you told her, and you really, really wanted to be with him.

“Then tell him, tell him exactly that,” she smiled and patted your knee while you nodded.

“You knew, didn’t you,” you suddenly realized. “You knew I’m into boys.”

A mysterious smile played around her lips. “Not really, I suspected it sometimes.”

~*~

For the first time in this school year you felt actually confident when you entered the school building. You would tell Gerard how you felt about him, that you wanted him to be your boyfriend, to be his boyfriend. If he said no? Okay, not cool, but you could deal with that. You wouldn’t just leave him alone in the mess that he was in due to him being outed. You would stay by his side, if he wanted that. And if he felt the same way? Then you would probably die of a heart attack, but that would be worth it.

You had showered and put on your favorite deodorant, your worn out Smashing Pumpkins shirt and some comfortable jeans. You felt ready to deal with whatever fate threw your way. Until you reached Gerard’s locker.

Black spray paint letters spelled out the words ‘fag’ and ‘cocksucker’. You wanted to vomit. For a while you stood next to Gerard who stared at his locker in silence. At first you felt paralyzed. You wanted to wish the slurs away, wanted to rip the door of the locker off and beat these bastards up with it, you wanted to delete all memory of this from Gerard’s brain. But none of this was within the range of your capacity, so once you had stared at the locker for long enough, you grabbed Gerard’s wrist and dragged him to the director’s office.

It turned out to be a long conversation. The director listened to your story, which you told from the beginning, just to make sure he understood everything. Gerard just sat in his chair, head hanging low, wishing to be invisible. Then the director made Gerard tell his side of the story. The man in the big chair said some well-meant words of encouragement and told you that there was nothing he could do.

You stared at him disbelievingly.

“Are you seriously telling me that you can do nothing against bullies who insult and hurt and mentally scar one of your students,” you asked, totally forgetting who you were talking to.

“You don’t say it, maybe not even think it consciously, but somewhere inside this messed up brain of yours there is this rule that states that homosexuals, probably transgender kids as well, are worth less than your ‘normal, everyday’ student” you drew the quotation marks into the air. “You know who was gay? Oskar Wilde, and you teach his literature in school. You know who else was gay? Alan Turing, the father of modern computers. Hell, Turing even killed himself because of the way society treated him. And now everyone pities him. Do you really want to be the kind of person who tells a kid they’re sick, or a freak or whatever fucked up insult your mind comes up with? Do you want to be the one who stands in front of the world, declaring love is wrong? Because that’s all it is, love. Being gay is loving, being bi is loving, being lesbian is loving! It’s just the ‘wrong gender’ you love. Wrong the fuck! It’s society that’s wrong if they think love can ever be wrong. Not talking about pedophiles or the fucked up abusive kind of love, I’m talking about mutual love. And maybe it hasn’t come to your notice yet, but if you think discriminating against gays is some hip trend, then surprise! It’s not and your views are obsolete. The UK, Germany, Australia, Sweden, France, countless other countries, do you know what they have in common? Same sex marriages are legalized. The states too, by the way. Because these governments seem to get what neither you, nor your homophobic student body, get: that it’s just love after all, and that’s the bloody truth!”

There was a stunned silence after you had spoken, and for a moment you were afraid that you would get suspended or something, but then the director nodded and agreed before promising he would take care of the matter.

When you were finally out of the stuffy office, standing in an empty corridor, you took a deep breath. You could feel Gerard’s eyes on you, so you looked over at him.

“Those were some pretty powerful words in there,” he complimented with a smirk, a smirk that was so soft and gentle and adoring that you wanted to kiss him here on the spot.

“Thanks,” you smiled.

“It almost sounded like… please don’t take this the wrong way, like you knew what you were talking about.”

“Being afraid of getting hurt for loving someone of the same gender,” you wondered and he nodded. “Well… let’s say it was pretty easy since the person I love sat right next to me.”

Gerard’s eyes widened for a moment as he realized the meaning of your words and he gasped for air.

“You, you are… you-“ A smile brighter than any you had seen before spread over his face, lighting up the whole room.

“I’m gonna kiss you now, if that’s okay,” you told him, unable to keep your own grin under control.

When Gerard nodded furiously, you gently took his face into your hands and pressed your lips against his. They were soft, tasted a bit of Tabaco and coffee. Your heart was hammering in your chest and you were running out of breath faster than you liked. Your head was spinning and you hoped that holding onto Gerard’s face was enough to keep you standing. When you pulled away, he chuckled slightly.

“Technically I was sitting on your left,” he whispered into your ear.

Confused you turned your head to look at him, almost forgetting what you wanted to say as you met his beautiful, shining eyes.

“What?”

“You said ‘the person you love sitting right next to you’, but I sat on your left,” he winked.

“Idiot,” you giggled, gently nudging his shoulder, “you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, yeah I do,” Gerard agreed, sounding incredibly pleased knowing that his feelings were being returned.

In that moment the bell rang and you heard chairs being moved around on the floor, and chatter growing louder behind the still closed doors.

Warm, soft fingers intertwined with yours, making your heart flutter.

“Shall we,” Gerard asked.

You leant forward, pressing your lips against his again quickly before the first doors flung open and revealed you to the rest of the students.

“Yeah, let’s show ‘em how it’s done.”

[kamiboothblog]

Open Shots and Open Souls

My 15-year-old daughter created a YouTube channel where she dances and sings. It is a creative and social outlet for her. She enjoys choreographing the music and interacting with her subscribers. When she is considering songs to perform, she often asks her subscribers for suggestions.

I got notification on my phone yesterday that she had posted a new dance video. I logged in to her channel and there she was, lost in the music, elegantly moving across the dance floor, long limbs flowing. It makes me happy to see her expressing herself in a healthy way.

She has almost 80 followers. I imagine most of them are kids who go to her high school because she has promoted the channel to that group on her other social media. After watching Daughter’s latest song or dance, some of these followers respond with a thumbs up (a “like”). But at least one of these subscribers always posts a thumbs down (a “dislike”). Because the subscribers are anonymous, we don’t know who this hater is…although we have our guesses. 

Daughter, who has grown a relatively thick skin, doesn’t think much about her critics. In fact, she now chuckles about it, because the thumbs down has become such a regular occurrence that she would wonder what was going on if this person DIDN’T express disfavor over her performances. And besides, Daughter doesn’t really dance or sing for applause and ratings. She does it because she loves it. 

Still…

This hater got me thinking: Why would a person willingly subscribe to someone’s YouTube channel just to be able to to disparage her? Can you answer that? I can’t. I understand that social media platforms, especially YouTube, offer the opportunity to express our opinions on just about anything, and that’s a good thing - to a degree. But just because you have the opportunity to express your opinion doesn’t mean you should. Most of us are taught from a young age that if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all. Not only does this YouTube hater NOT follow this excellent advice, but she signs on to deliver her negative judgement incognito. I think that behavior is - for lack of a better word - shitty. I wonder if her actions would be different if YouTube subscribers could be identified? I bet they would be. I’m sure it feels a lot more comfortable and mighty to hide behind a phone or laptop screen in the comfort of her own home and wield her blow than to put her name on that poison arrow she just shot out and have to face her target in the classroom and hallways the next day at school. What power she must feel. Like she knows a secret that no one else does. 

What a coward. 

You know who isn’t a coward? My daughter. Because she PUTS HERSELF OUT THERE. Anyone who risks vulnerability - as an artist or just as a human in everyday life - is brave beyond words. These warriors are saying loudly and proudly, “This is me.” And that, my friends, is a powerful statement. It is the kind of statement that, if lived by, will give a person the confidence to take risks, soak up adventure, bask in his or her creativity, achieve goals, and - most importantly - be at peace with oneself. 

It changes the game when you know and like who you are. The haters can’t reach you. They fall back.

Of course vulnerability does not guarantee a life without hardship or hurt. In fact, it probably brings on more of those things, simply because you take risks. Sometimes the risks are worth it. Other times, they knock the breath out of you.

This week I was asked to do something that was for me akin to going unarmed and unarmored in front of a firing squad, rifles pointed directly at me, with the hope that they wouldn’t shoot. This was enormously difficult because I had been in this scenario before and had been “shot” - not once, but numerous times. My old wounds were still healing. Trembling but holding on to hope things would be different this time, I stepped onto the battlefield…

My new bullet is a reminder that not everyone can meet you in peace. Not everyone is kind. Not everyone can or will risk the same vulnerability. Maybe they aren’t ready. Maybe they are too afraid. Maybe they just don’t give a damn. 

That is their choice. Ultimately we can only be responsible for ourselves. 

When we are vulnerable, we open ourselves up to a more vivid life, but also to the possibility of judgement and pain. Still, I believe that bravely choosing to show oneself to the world - strengths, weaknesses and quirks - is a healthier path than hiding. No growth can come from staying in the darkness. And what is the point of living if not to grow? 

Thumbs up to all of you who are growing through vulnerability. If you don’t feel you can tear down those walls yet, I won’t give you a thumbs down because I understand. I understand what it feels like to be scared and hurting. I understand that you may have tried and been shot down before, and you don’t feel strong enough to take that risk yet again. But I do hope that, someday, you will join us in the light. It’s a beautiful place here...a place of freedom.

[zee-cupcakes-personal-blog]

Present Mic x Reader: Repeat

               Half a week had gone by.

                 You simply couldn’t risk running into Present Mic again. It was too risky… You supposed he had every way of finding out where you lived, yes, but maybe nothing more than circumstantial evidence to link you back to your vigilante self.

               It was too risky. Too risky to go see him in an attempt to get your book back, too risky to fight crime anonymously… Hell, some evenings you were certain it was too risky to walk out of the house. In the meantime the tabloids and forums exploded about how Present Mic kept the offer up all the way through Tuesday. Stories about a mystery person in the popular hero’s surfaced, and frankly that deterred you all the more. At this point you couldn’t even send someone to get your books for you.

                 Of course… You weren’t about to actually go just for your books. It wasn’t that important, you kept telling yourself… But it was the stress. The stress of not knowing what he was doing. He could have been having you surveilled- you didn’t know. It was driving at your insides like a meal gone bad in your stomach.

                 Maybe that’s why on Friday you tuned into your Radio. Staring at the monitor as you adjusted it to his channel. Music blared at an impossibly large decibel from such a tiny little speaker- it seemed to be a remix of a few songs together to get the evening going, and it came to its end shortly.

                 Sure enough that’s when he started talking. He did what you could only assume was his usual shtick, welcoming listeners to their fun-loving Friday evening.

                 “I’m also taking requests, so you know the drill! Pick up that phone and dial away! You may just be put on the air! Now BACK to the JAMS!” His sentence has barely even finished before the next remixed song began to blare.

               You narrowed your eyes skeptically at the radio as you dialed the volume down. So much show for nothing at all, huh? Maybe you had over-estimated his willingness to find you. Still, though, that nagging feeling clawed at you like there was no tomorrow. You needed to know if you’d be safe or if you should skip town. Forget the books- this was something more personal.

                 With a distrustful lump in your throat you dialed the number of the station into your smart phone, hesitating for a good few moments before you hit call. The ringing felt like minutes rather than seconds- busy line you bet.

                 “Put Your Hands Up Radio, what’s the request?” It wasn’t him. It was a dreadfully bored sounding receptionist woman. Thank god.

                 “I- Uh…” Great. You hadn’t planned at all what you were going to say. “I’d like to request my…. Books back please?”

                 There came no response directly into the phone for a moment. “Please hold for just a moment. Thank you.” You felt confusion riddle your features as you heard them scream blatantly over their shoulder- “Someone tell Yamada-San!”

                 … Well, apparently he had put in a little more effort than you had given him credit for.

                 Moments later your call was forwarded to another line, a gentle and smooth attempt to clear his voice rang from the other side of the line.

                 “Heeeeeeeeeeyyyyy. How you been? How’s the family?” You could even hear the grin on his face.

                 You let out a groan. “Look, man.” Augh. That sounded so unprofessional. “I want my books back, and I want to talk. Privately.”

                 “I figured, I figured!” he replied. “And I’ll be more than happy to give them back, but I want to talk too. You free at five o’clock?”

                 Your eyebrows knit, glancing down to your radio-alarm clock and reading the display. “… It’s already eight.”

 “Oh! No, I meant Five am.” Your disbelief must have transmitted through the phone somehow. “That’s when I’m off earliest! We can swing for breakfast food- make a morning out of it!”

                 You let out a groan. “I work the weekends!” Though, instantly, you regret mentioning that.

                 “Oh? I could visit you on your break if that’s more convenie-“

                 “…. No.” The statement came out a little more breathlessly than you wanted. The last thing you needed was for people to see you two together. Even if you weren’t in disguise. People would talk. No. No it had to be in private.

                 An inquisitive, curious hum came from the other end of the phone line. “So… No Diner food, then?” he asked. “… Okay. Idea; why don’t you come by the Radio station in a few hours? Say… Midnight? I’ll slip out for a smoke break, we’ll talk outside.”

                 All of this felt wrong… Then again… Maybe you should have thought about this before you called. You sat, without your disguise once more outside the building at about ten after midnight… Watching from afar the last few people leave and switch out shifts… You didn’t see Mic, though… That worried you.

                 Five minutes rolled by.

                 … Was he taking forever on purpose?

                 … Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe you should have left long ago- ditched in the hopes that maybe- just maybe he wouldn’t call the cops. Was that what he wanted? Probably. He was a hero.

                 Finally one last person stepped through the door, turning around and locking it behind him. Long blond hair, casual attire…. No you were certain it was him, but you were frozen dead in your tracks as he turned around and took a look.

                 It was definitely him. Somewhere a mix between his hero and his civilian version… He waved to you. “Oiiiiiiiiii!” he said, crossing the street without looking in either direction from any incoming traffic. “I’m glad you made it! I was kind of worried you wouldn’t show.”

                 You gave him a hard look.

                 “… What?”

                 “Books,” you said extending a hand to him. “Please?” Like a bandaid. Rip it off, make it quick and make it as pain-free as possible. In a matter of an hour the two of you would go separate ways. You could go back to your normal life, and he could go back to doing what he did.

                 He seemed perplexed- hurt almost- by your sincere need for your things, but let out a sigh and pulled out both of your new books. “Here. Sorry I hadn’t realized you had left them until after you snuck out the bathroom.”

                 You took the books and examined them carefully, then looked back up at him. “So…”

                 He smiled, as though he was just waiting for the chance to talk. “So… You’re a vigilante.”

                 Tch. Of course he knew.

                 You shoved the books into your purse and let out an irritated groan as you started to walk off. “YEAH. Well, not anymore that’s for sure.”

                 “Now wait just a minute there-“ he said, running around you. “I’m wasn’t finished!” he said. He put his hands up, but didn’t touch you.

                 He smiled, but at this point you could see through his ruse- designer shades were gone left with a much more sincere-looking and eye-revealing set of glasses.

                 “I just want to talk. I think I came on too strong last Sunday.” He smiled. “And let me open with this; no one knows what happened between the two of us last Sunday. Not really, anyway.”

                 Oh, that… That felt wrong. Not wrong because you thought he was lying- wrong because you really wanted him to be and you knew he wasn’t. He could have had the chance to come hunt you down himself if he really had wanted to… But he didn’t. He made it so that you were uncomfortable enough to come to him.

                 “No one’s comin’ after ya,” he held up two fingers and placed another over his heart. He said something in English, a vow of some sort? You didn’t know. He watched you for some sort of reaction, furrowing his eyebrows when you said nothing. “Well? Do I have you a captive listener?”

                 You crossed your arms and made a face. “… Yeah, but not for long, just… Spit it out. Please. I can’t live knowing someone is watching my every move.”

                 His face changed, it scrunched up. “I’m not watching you.”

                 “Let’s agree to disagree,” you told him. “Just… Cut to the chase, please. It’s been a long, paranoid week. Clearly you know what I do in my free time, and I still don’t have any idea if you’re going to arrest me or not.”

                 He blinked at you as if he was unimpressed by the brevity of your earlier statement. “Why are you so nervous about getting arrested?” he asked, suddenly. “I mean, sure, getting arrested isn’t ideal, but, clearly, if it scares you this much you wouldn’t have become a vigilante in the first place.”

                 You held onto your bag, the ridge of your knuckles going white as you thought of how to dodge that question. “… I have my reasons. They’re personal.” He may have understood if you told him why you did what you did, but the truth of the matter was that you frankly didn’t like thinking about it yourself. You couldn’t imagine telling someone who talked for a living.

                 He opened his mouth to say something, raised a finger at you, but he stopped part-way through forming the sentence. “… I reallllly wish I had gotten to talk to you when I was off,” he said, looking at his watch. “… Let me just cut to the chase— Why aren’t you a hero?”

                 That question stung. More than it should have, probably.

                 “No one would want me to be a hero,” you told him. Your heart felt like it was being pushed through a sieve. You had to tell him enough that he’d understand and maybe leave you alone- but you couldn’t tell him everything. “I just can’t be a hero in my situation.”

                 For the first time in a few minutes he smiled. “You so certain?” he asked. “’Cause personally, I think you would be a great hero.” He beamed- genuinely. “Imagine what would have happened if I hadn’t been in that shopping center on Sunday. You were at the right place, at the right time. You can clearly take care of yourself—you even have the costume… You’re just a few licenses and registrations away from being a pro! I even thought of a good Hero name already!”

                 How could Present Mic be so nonchalant about this? Had he not heard you when you said someone in your situation couldn’t, shouldn’t, and would not be a hero?... Wait. “You came up… With my Hero name?” Dread filled your voice- clearly his heart had been set on convincing you to come to the side of “Justice and Order”… Whatever that was worth. Still, you couldn’t help but be curious.

                 He gave you two finger-guns and smiled, baring a set of white and perfectly straight teeth. “How does; ‘Returning Hero: Refrain’ sound?”

                 “That makes it sound like I was a hero before.”

                 He placed both of his hands on his hips in a confident fashion. Present Mic seemed to be quite proud of the moniker he had come up with. “Well, ultimately it’s your choice, right? But I needed to call you something. ‘That one vigilante who helped me once’ doesn’t exactly have a nice ring to it.”

                 You hadn’t even noticed the huff build up in your chest before it was halfway out of your mouth. “Why?” you asked.

                 His smile didn’t falter, but his eyebrows drooped. “Why what, exactly?”

                 “Why… Why am I here?” you clarified, but there was still more to it. “You could have arrested me this last Sunday. You could be arresting me now.” Maybe that was even the smart thing to do on his end… Sure Vigilantes were small-game compared to Villains, but you were practically in his palm today and last weekend… “Is it because I showed up and you’re cutting me some slack? Or are you just trying to make sure I’m not a villain?...”

                 You could feel that grin. Present Mic, ever confident still leaned in slightly. “Oh, don’t worry. I know you’re not a villain. Not in your MO.” He held up his fingers. “Out of the five known recordings of you you’ve never killed anyone. Beaten them? Yeah, but only to detain them before a pro go there. You like the concept of justice so much, but you’re so soft. You’d much rather let someone else do the judging for you!” he eyed you up and down. “And what’s more is you didn’t even come in your hero gigs—which is super fashionable by the way. Ten outta’ Ten.”

                 Maybe you should have come in your disguise. Having Present Mic recall your outfit- and fondly too felt… Strange. Invasive almost since he knew who it was inside of it.

                 “I’m going to be frank,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets once more. “We’re short on hands. Villains are picking up, attacks are starting to get more violent…” his eyebrows furrowed. “… That may be the reason why no one has really tried to stop you before. We need all the help we can get; and you kick some massive tail when you go rogue. Why NOT be a hero?... You even get paid for it!”

                 The walls lowered a fraction more. Everything he said seemed to match up with what you knew about the villains and the heroes right now. The Heroes were being stretched thin, and there were more villains in general that had appeared within the last decade than ever before… He was trying to recruit you.

                 “… I can’t,” you said, softly this time. “I’m sorry. I don’t… I don’t think I could handle being a hero for personal reasons.”

                 You watched as the smile faded entirely from his face, at first it was disappointed then slowly grew to one of frustration. “Seriously? Personal reasons? You keep running around at night bustin’ in knee-caps!”

                 You crossed your arms, holding your bag’s strap tightly. “I promise not to be a vigilante anymore,” you told him. “I’m sorry, but—you weren’t supposed to know who I was. I have to stop. I can’t sleep at night thinking any moment some hero is going to bust down my door and arrest me… I just… I can’t. Not anymore.”

                 Present Mic’s expression remained stony, to say the least. “… You’re making a mistake…” he said with an even tone. “You have the ability to do so much great between you and that quirk of yours. Why are you so scared of actually doing anything about it?”

                 You shook your head covering your eyes. It felt like it had been so long since you slept… Your performance and lack of energy was starting to show even at your job. “I’m sorry… But I can’t talk about it…” you said before you began to amble off.

                 For once he said nothing at all, he simply watched as you walked around the corner off towards the station with your train home. Moments after moving the speakers turned onto the radio. You caught the tail end of a relatively uncharacteristic original cut of a song in English…

                 “That’s cool but if my friends ask where you are I’m gunna say

               That’s cool but if my friends ask where you are I’m gunna say

               She went down in an airplane

               Fried getting suntanned

               Fell in a cement mixer full of quick sand

               Help me, help me, I’m all out of lies~”

                 Seriously? He was taking this that hard? Surely he’s been told “No”, before. You’d not stoop to his level of emotional frustration. If he wanted to use his broadcast to vaguely vent to you then fine. He could, but that didn’t mean you had to take it. You rolled your eyes and pulled out your phone and your own headphones before retrieving one of your books. As you opened the front cover a slip of folded paper fell into your lap- a list of numbers and hyphens with the name; Yamada Hizashi. “Text me!” was written underneath it.

[fluffyximagines]

It’s Always Been

(The 100) Finn Collins x Reader

Word Count: 1898

Summary: When Finn finds out that his ex girlfriend and first love is also on earth, he must choose between an old love or a new one. (Set after him and Clarke slept together)

Requested: Yes, anonymous asked:Hi! Can u write a finn collins imagine, please? Where he have to choose between the reader and clarke. Thank you!

A/N: Thanks for requesting. I hope this is what you wanted and that you enjoy it :)

Masterlist

Finn was just wondering around camp enjoying the Earth, he felt so free here and the air felt so much more fresh than it ever had on the Ark. Something didn’t quite feel right down here though, Finn felt like something was missing since he had landed on Earth. Sure, he had met Clarke and he liked her a lot but something with her didn’t totally feel right, maybe he just needed time to get to know her better before he could fully trust her.

As he was walking around, thinking about everything, that’s when he saw her, Y/N. Maybe she is what has been missing from him since he landed on Earth.

Y/N and Finn had been best friends their whole lives. They had grown up together on the Ark and they had always been there for each other no matter what and they shared everything. When they were 16, they finally had started dating. They had both liked each other for a long time and everyone knew they would get together one day, but they were both too scared to admit their feelings to the other one. One day Finn got tired of them playing this game with their feelings, it was obvious they liked each other but they didn’t want to ruin the friendship they had. Finn admitted he had feelings for Y/N, and she admitted she had feelings for him too. They got together and everything seemed perfect. Y/N was Finn’s first love and she was his. 

Finn just stood there with his mouth slightly parted as he stared at her. Finn had no idea that she was on Earth, he didn’t even know she had been arrested. “Finn” he heard her voice say, but it was less a statement and more a question. She must have been surprised to see him too. As she walked over to him, Finn couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face.

“Hi” he almost whispered as she stopped just in front of him, looking up at him. “Hi” she replied, the way she said it was different to the way he had said it. Her reply was filled with sadness and possibly a hint of anger, in contrast to the happiness and love that had filled him when he saw her.

Finn leant down, trying to wrap his arms around her but she pulled away with a sad smile on her face.

“Y/N what’s wrong?” Finn asked, wondering why she was acting strangely and wasn’t happier to see him. “I’ve missed my best friend and I thought she might have missed me too” he continued sadly.

“What do you expect Finn? I am glad to see you and to know that you are okay but you really hurt me Finn” she replied, slightly angry.

Y/N had gone to visit Finn after he had been arrested. She was excited to see him as it had been a while since she had enough time to see him. As she walked in, she couldn’t help the huge smile that spread across her face, but it quickly disappeared as she noticed how sad Finn looked. 

“Finn are you okay? What’s wrong?” Y/N asked worried. 

“Y/N I can’t do this anymore” Finn whispered, properly looking at her for the first time since she had walked in. 

“I know It must be hard to be locked up in here but once you turn 18 you will have a chance at being released and I promise I will do everything I can to make sure you don’t get floated. Please Finn you just need to hold on and stay strong until then” Y/N replied, talking quickly as a worried look made it way onto her face. 

“I’m sorry Y/N but I’m not talking about being in here I’m talking about us. I can’t be with you anymore. You deserve someone you can properly be with and not someone who you barely get to see. I can’t stand just sitting in here waiting and wondering when you will next be able to visit me. It’s just too hard. I’m doing what’s best for both of us.” Finn said sadly.

 “But-” Y/N started before being interrupted by Finn “No Y/N, I don’t want to talk about this anymore please just leave.” Y/N just stood there looking at Finn hoping that he didn’t mean what he was saying.

 “I told you to leave, I’m serious I don’t want you here. I don’t love you anymore” Finn whispered the last part and for a second he wasn’t sure she had even heard him but then she turned around and walked out as tears started to fall from her eyes. He hated that he had made her cry, especially since he didn’t mean what he said. He still loved her, but he wanted better for her and she deserved better. He couldn’t help the feeling of sadness that overcame him and all he could think was that maybe that would be the last time he would ever see her. 

“I never wanted to hurt you Y/N, I hope you know that” Finn stated sadly.

“I know you didn’t mean to hurt me Finn, but you did and I’m not sure that I’m ready to forgive you yet” Y/N replied before turning around and walking away from Finn. 

It had been a while since Finn and Y/N had broken up and Finn had thought he was over her, but from the second he laid eyes on her, his heart had swelled and all these old feelings had come rushing back. If he still had feelings for Y/N then what would that mean for him and Clarke.

 He hadn’t known Clarke for very long but he already had quite strong feelings for her. Finn had a decision to make. Did he want to continue what he had with the smart, new blonde than he had quickly developed feelings for, or did he want to try and get back the beautiful girl who he had once loved, maybe this time they could have something even better this time. 

Part of Finn was scared to try again with Y/N. He had loved her, and even though he broke up with her, he still got hurt in the process. What if he tried again with her and he just got hurt again or what if he chose to try again with her but she couldn’t forgive him for hurting her last time.

When Finn walked into his tent, he found Clarke sitting on his bed.

“Hey” she smiled at him “I just got back from hunting and I wanted to see you”.

“Hey” Finn replied halfheartedly.

“Is everything okay?” Clarke asked, noticing that he wasn’t himself.

“It’s nothing don’t worry about it, I’ve just had a long day and I’m really tired” Finn replied as he laid down on the bed, Clarke soon lying next to him.

As Finn and Clarke lay on his bed, he couldn’t help the thoughts of Y/N that kept crossing his mind, but then he looked at Clarke. He wanted to pick Clarke, he wished that these feelings for Y/N hadn’t resurfaced. With Clarke, it would be easy, he liked her and she liked him, with Clarke, everything would just be so simple, and there was no chance of getting his heart broken. But Finn couldn’t help but think love isn’t supposed to be simple, if there is no risk of getting your heart broken then is it even real.

 Finn didn’t sleep much that night, he couldn’t stop thinking about the hard decision he had ahead of him.

As Y/N worked on setting up more tents and buildings, she looked up to see Finn walking towards her. It had been a few days since she had discovered Finn was on Earth and they hadn’t talked since that first conversation. As he walked towards her, she noticed that he looked like he had something to do, he looked like he was on a mission.

 Finally, Finn saw Y/N and a huge smile spread across his face as he started to walk even faster towards her. Next thing Y/N knew Finn had grabbed her face and pulled her into a kiss. 

The kiss was deep and passionate and filled with love, Y/N was surprised about how much she had missed kissing Finn. 

As Y/N’s mind went back to reality, she quickly pushed him off her “what the hell are you doing” she yelled. 

“I love you” Finn said, slightly out of breath.

“What!” Y/N yelled, shocked.

“I love you and I know I hurt you last time but it was the biggest mistake I ever made and I lied when I told you I didn’t love you anymore. I love you so much, please forgive me for hurting you. I told Clarke this morning that I only have feelings for you and I know it took me too long to make this decision but it’s just because I was scared of getting hurt again but I don’t want to be without you anymore. I love you” Finn frantically explained as Y/N just stood there looking at him with a shocked expression on her face.

“No” Y/N whisper-yelled.

“Please Y/N, I’m so sorry for hurting you last time but I will never let you down again I promise” Finn pleaded.

“I’m sorry Finn but I can’t get back with you. You really hurt me last time and I don’t want to get hurt again. I won’t let myself get hurt again” Y/N said sadly, before leaving Finn standing there with a broken heart.

Two days after Finn had admitted to Y/N that he still had feelings for her, he walked into his tent after a long day of work to find her sitting on his bed.

���Hey” she whispered as she stood up.

“Hey” he whispered in reply. He was surprised to see her here, after the other day he thought she wouldn’t want to talk to him for a while.

“Finn I love you too. I love you so freaking much, I have for as long as I can remember and even when we broke up, I never stopped loving you. I’m sorry I walked away the other day when you told me how you felt but I have just been really scared of getting my heart broken again. I don’t want to get hurt again but I have realised that not being with you hurts just as much. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I want to give us another chance. I love you, just please don’t hurt me again” Y/N confessed as she paced back and forth across the tent, looking up to see Finn’s reaction once she had stopped talking.

A huge grin spread across his face as he stepped closer to her and pulled her into a long and passionate kiss. This kiss expressed all the feelings they had been feeling and showed just how much they had missed each other over the past few months. It was full of love and feeling, and neither of them wanted it to end. Eventually they broke up, needing air.

“It’s you Y/N. it’s always been you. I love you” Finn smiled down at her, still holding her face in his hands. 

“I love you too Finn, I always have” Y/N smiled up at him.

[askjennie]

Should I tell my mom I don’t respect her?

hey jennie,(I’m 15 f) my mom just confronted me and we had a convo about how she felt i was bullying her like just how i talked to her and stuff was disrespectful. she said she thought i didn’t respect her and she really needed me to treat her better and with respect and kindness. the thing is, i dont really respect her. she not evil like she’s good hearted but she’s just absolutely pathetic. my dad is a really successful artist and he works really hard but most of it is doing something he really loves. but he also works really hard doing everything else like household chores and cooking and taking care of me and my brother and handling all the finance stuff and he’s more involved in my school life and stuff and its fine he loves work, he complains sometimes about household chores and stuff but really he loves working. btw he is 10 years older than my mom, anyway he’s also really brilliant and just an amazing person the only thing thats bad about him is that my mom says he’s verbally/ emotionally abusive, they would get into fights a lot when i was little, but it was always initiated by her and she was the only one to ever get violent (she’s thrown things at him,hit him, etc never anything drastic or too serious) but honestly i totally understand why my dad says these things to her (nothing ever really that bad even), she’s absolutely impossible and thoughtless and really just stupid and ignorant. anyone would get frustrated and he NEVER gets violent, he’s really the kindest most thoughtful and good and kindhearted person, truly. my mom can be fun sometimes but I’m getting pretty smart and i can never hold an intellectual conversation with her. she hardly ever does anything except cook which she complains about but enjoys most of the times and she does a lot of household chores but my dad still does a lot too. all she cares about is tv, health-things (I live in marin county california) which is one really good thing that she does she makes us all eat really healthy cuz she does most of the shopping, also [she only cares about] Facebook, shopping for clothes, etc. she wastes tons of money on utterly frivolous things and she just doesn’t seem to care about things and she thinks she can do whatever she wants and the world lives to serve her. now despite all this i dont think she’s a bad person or evil or anything i just feel like she’s less mature than me and i just turned 15! she kind of disgusts me though because her position is so stereotypical: stay at home mom who spends all her husbands hard earned money on useless shit. i just dont see how she can live like this. in short i just dont really have much respect for her and i dont know how to tell her or if i should in which case i dont know how to communicate with her because I’m just so tired of having to be the mature one and it puts me under so much stress cuz i feel like i dont have a strong mother figure in my life and my dad is not always available cuz of work like i spend most of the day when I’m not in school with my mom (but i talk way more with me dad lol) i just feel really unstable and I’m scared that I’m gonna end up like her, like: if she can’t get her life together can i? idk i feel like all my habits and stuff are from her. but then i remember we are different people and that doesn’t really matter.

im so sorry about how insanely long this is, anonymous pls! thank you so much hope you have a lovely day!!

Jennie: You should treat your mom with respect, but there’s more than one definition of respect. The first one is ‘letting everyone have their human rights and being generally polite and kind to people’. In this sense, you should treat everyone with respect. The second one is ‘admiring someone or treating them as an authority’. You probably don’t have that kind of respect for everyone, but that doesn’t mean they don’t deserve the first kind of respect. If you don’t admire your mom, or believe she should have authority over you, that’s okay. But that doesn’t mean you can’t behave politely towards her.

It’s worrying that you’ve described abuse coming from both your parents. I know it might feel like you need to diminish it and say that it’s “not that bad”, because they’re your parents and you want to defend their behaviour, but I hope that you at least make sure it doesn’t leak into your future relationships. Hitting someone is serious, even if it’s a woman hitting a man, even if it doesn’t happen that often, even if it wasn’t very hard, and I hope that you’re able to recognise that in the future. Your mom says that your dad is emotionally abusive, and it’s difficult to tell from the outside whether that’s true. She could be exaggerating, but maybe there’s a side to their relationship that you haven’t seen, because you’re not involved in it. You defend him ‘saying things’ to her, and I don’t know what he says to her, so I don’t know if it sounds abusive or not. There’s a difference between fighting with someone and abusing someone. But if he’s continuously saying things to her such as “you’re stupid”, “you’re ignorant”, or “you disgust me”, then that is emotionally abusive, and even if you feel that you agree with those statements, that doesn’t mean it’s okay for someone to constantly insult their romantic partner.

You don’t know the full story of your mom’s life, and you don’t know why she behaves the way she does. Maybe she’s deeply unhappy staying with your dad but she’s financially dependent on him, so she has no choice. Maybe she has an underlying mental health issue. Sometimes, spending money can become an addiction, because buying something new can give someone short term happiness - sometimes people who are unhappy become addicted to buying stuff because it makes them feel temporarily better. I’m not saying that any of this is true of your mom. But it’s probably a good idea to look deeper than just “she’s a frivolous housewife who doesn’t care about anything”. I think we’re all guilty of labelling people like that sometimes, and taking someone’s behaviour at face value and judging them without knowing the full story. But sometimes it’s helpful to think about why they might be behaving that way, because if you know that, you might have more empathy for them.

This is understandably a frustrating situation to be in. But I don’t think that telling your mom you don’t respect her is going to help things improve for either of you. It’ll probably just strain your relationship further, and make your time at home more difficult. This is a temporary situation, and you won’t always be living under the same roof as your mom. For now, do your best to be polite, and understanding. It’s not fair that you have to be the mature one. But if you are able to act maturely in this situation, you’ll make things easier for yourself in the long run.

You and your mom are different people. Parents don’t always just teach us what to do - they can also teach us what not to do. You can learn from your parents mistakes, and use their lives as examples of how you don’t want your life to be. If there are aspects of your mom’s life that you really don’t want, then you can figure out how to reach your own goals, and ensure that you don’t end up like your mom. You have your own free will, and your own life. 

[magical-path-of-acoa-recovery]

Yes dear

Today we are examining the Codependent Compliance Patterns. To know more about the other types of codependent patterns click here.

Sam was continually being passed over for promotions because she was too nice. Sam hated confrontation, would do anything to avoid making people unhappy with her. She would find herself agreeing with things she didn't really agree with to keep the peace. Her wife was pressuring her to do better at work. But she felt she wasn't strong enough to be a leader.

Being nice to people isn't a problem in itself. The real problem is what is driving the need to be nice all the time.

In Sam's case, it was the need to stay safe and not be rejected. By anyone.

What is driving your need to be nice and compliant all the time?

Is it safety? Or the need to be accepted by everyone?

Do any of these statements ring true for you? They have come from Codependants Anonymous who have kindly given me permission to use them.

I am extremely loyal and I stay in harmful situations too long.

I compromise my own values and integrity to avoid rejection or anger.

I put aside my own interests in order to do what others want.

I am hypervigilant regarding the feelings of others and take on those feelings.

I am afraid to express my beliefs, opinions, and feelings when they differ from those of others.

I accept sexual attention when I want love.

I make decisions without regard to the consequences.

I give up my truth to gain the approval of others or to avoid change.

Sam's problems came to a head when her wife pressured her to come and see me. Sam was only coming to keep the peace. She loved her wife and didn't want her to leave. Her last two relationships had ended with the other cheating on her. That was way too painful and Sam didn't want it to happen again.

I totally got where she was coming from. In fact, I know all about being compliant. I found myself one day with a group of women, verbally ripping another woman to shreds just to fit in. She didn't deserve that and I felt bad about it but I needed to fit in.

Superficial Relationships

The biggest problem with compliance is not only that people walk all over you because you won't say no.

It's not even that you say yes when you want to say no so don't honour or even know yourself.

Or that people get impatient with you because you dither around.

The biggest problem with compliance is that people can't trust you. Once they figure out that you don't say what you mean, they feel betrayed. They can't get close to you because you hide from them.

You are alone. Always. You hide even from yourself. Your relationships are superficial, with not much substance. Your relationship with yourself is even worse.

Picture yourself alone in the dark, scared. Who is going to comfort you, give you strength? No-one.

We can change that though.

We can use the magic of concretisation to show us how to support ourselves. We can make things real and concrete. Not just abstract ideas or feelings. Once we do that and realise we are not alone in this world we can have the courage to make decisions.

We can have the courage to say NO when we want to.

You can have the courage to put your own needs and interests first. Without feeling selfish and like a jerk.

You have rights, you are a person too.

How to be more assertive

There are three steps to this magic.

Firstly, we are going to remember a time when we gave in to someone else when we knew we shouldn't have. More than just remember it, we are going to be totally immersed in it. We are going there.

Secondly, we are going to bring in a strong decisive person to help strengthen us.

Finally, we are going to channel that strong person to have a different end to the situation.

Ready? Let's go.

Go and get at least three little objects. Toys, paperclips, coasters, jewellery, tools or whatever you can get your hands on.

Using your objects, lay a scene where this happened out on the floor, or the table or whatever. One of the objects is you and another one is the other person that is also in the scene. I'll tell you what to do with the last one shortly.

Scene One

Act out the scene. Get into it, go nuts, really live it. Make sure you are both people. Ham it up. Take as long as you need to.

For example, my scene was when I was in the group of women verbally tearing someone else to shreds. So my objects represent me and the group. I'm cringing as I write this, I was such a bitch about her.

A word of warning. This is powerful stuff and be aware if you need to stop and take a breather. It's ok if you have to stop, you haven't failed, you can try again another day. Or with someone to be there with you.

Scene Two

The strong decisive you or the person you admire now comes on the scene.

Start Scene One again and this time when you get to the part where you need help - the other person will help you. Add them to the scene. The strong person is either standing in front of you or beside you or wherever you feel they can strengthen you from.

The strong person will then talk directly to you and say something to let you know that you've got this. You can have a little chat and tell them why you can't say no or yes or whatever the problem is. They will tell you what you need.

Back to my example. My strong person is Brene Brown. She is a great example of a strong woman to me. I told her that I couldn't walk away from the group because I need them to love me. Then she told me of all the reasons I was loveable and I didn't need their validation. One by one she dealt with all my objections as only she can until I felt strong enough to walk away.

Scene Three

Go back to Scene One. This time enact it including the words that your strong person said to you. Take your time with it, using the new knowledge you have about yourself. Then, express yourself fully to the main person in the situation (in my case, the group) using whatever you need to - words, actions, write, draw, dance or whatever. Also, have the situation talk to you too and reply from your position of strength.

Moving Forward

You might have to do this more than once. That’s ok. It took a long time to learn this distorted behaviour. It’s normal to take a bit of time to learn new healthy behaviours.

When you get into a situation that feels similar to this one all you have to do is channel your strong person. Think to yourself "What would ..... do?" In my case, having Brene Brown's approval made all the difference. I wouldn't say I am perfect at meeting my own needs, but I am definitely getting better.

If you need to you can carry around the small object that represented them so you can have something concrete to remind you.

Be kind to yourself. This is new, this finding out who you are. It will take time. We have time.

This is the start of the magical path, you are conjuring up new roles for yourself. Go you!