#fuck man if you had told me id be doing this in my early teens id never have thought it possible

[du-hjarta-skulblaka]

Shout out to the folks at work the other day that enabled/encouraged me to go on a lil infodump about being transgender and who had genuine questions and listened to my answers. Obviously it's not something queer folks should be expected to do but I love being a point of information for people! I love talking about my experiences and my understandings of philosophies that intersect with that and I think alot of cishet people are maybe uncomfortable asking blunt questions? But so long as they're posed in good faith and with willingness to think about the response, I enjoy answering those weirdly specific things. How else to we dispel the willful ignorance that places of power want to foster towards us? I refuse to he a scapegoat and am deeply grateful to the people that are receptive to experiences outside their own

[sunhowler]

hey man. also facing thousands of dollars worth of dental work due to poor care here. i literally lost one of my incisors. if you think posts reassuring people its ok they have trouble taking care of their teeth are "anti recovery" youre straight up stupid like i dont know what to tell you. nothing in the world helped me get better at taking care of my teeth than learning i wasnt alone. i thought for a long time that nobody in the fucking world was as bad at dental hygiene as i was because nobody talked about it!!!! nobody felt like saying anything other than "brush your teeth"!!! in my early teens i completely broke my tooth brushing habits because i fell into the worst depression id ever been in and i thought i wouldnt live long enough for my teeth to matter. i spent so long not taking care of my teeth At All. i went months without brushing them at a time. and never in my life until like a year ago had anyone ever told me that i wasnt alone. i lived in so much shame thinking i was repulsive (id have people ask me to my face what was wrong with my teeth before) and beyond repair so why even Try. but learning that there were other people who struggled just as badly as me motivated me to get better like nothing else. i didnt know i didnt have to be ashamed. i didnt know that my existence wasnt unilaterally disgusting to every other human being on the planet. i didnt know i was allowed to talk about it, much less that i was allowed to talk about it without adding a billion qualifiers about how you should brush your teeth actually.

i just. like. the problem isnt that we dont know we're supposed to brush our teeth. the problem isn't that we think it doesn't matter (like trust me op i think everyone else whos dealing with dental hygiene difficulties is also facing the consequences). the problem is that dental hygiene is so cloaked in shame and guilt and it feels impossible to talk about without judgement. this honestly reads like calling posts about self harm "anti recovery" because they didnt attach a psa about how its bad to cut yourself actually and you shouldnt do it. We Know That. and if all we get in response to our suffering is "here are the things you should do to not suffer" with no reassurance or emotional outreach then very fucking little is going to change. nobody with difficulty brushing their teeth is going to be helped by a tumblr post saying "brush your teeth". they already hear that from everyone else constantly and its obviously not fucking working. if posts offering emotional support and solidarity didnt help you then im sorry and that sucks but it doesnt mean those posts are anti recovery as a whole and its fucking insulting that you believe that to be honest

[istherewifiinhell]

Reading progress: chapter 243 (oh my god no i didnt give up just. gah. life)

reading highlights: in which keeping notes for a very long story pays off, i didnt remember shit. my general track record of focusing on one interest over time is, very bad. also in which i have to manifest a second voice to encapsulate my reactions

222 yjh prev death trauma

223 swk new sugar daddy/whale

kdj fan of hiatus media when theres a new drop

yjh pov beloved. asmodeus grabbing yjh face and calling him pretty, alright

HHH ORV kdj showing up all possessive. jesus

hes doing a flatliners

225 Constellation who likes to change sex (-> CWLTCS) wants you to change your sex

kdj did you just invent corporate shares

argh the drama of claiming to be yjh sponsor then looking to (real sponsor) to save (yjh)

226 kdj gething fucked up abt yjh "death"

novel revision yjh is sooooooo

everyone politely giving the room to dokhyuk reunion

yjh said bluntly/expressionlessly. yes. but have you considered hes being the sweetest man in the world. -> referencing the very end of the chapters where yjh fills in what the rest of the company have been doing, and when kdj kinda existential crisis's about it tells him that his (kdj's) story, is still being told "Lets go back to Earth, Kim Dokja"

227 yes kdj yjh is clearly trying to steal your valour and send you back to earth thats why hes doing ID theft

228 Kdj: this person is so beautiful, beyond words.

↳ (—_—): How Beautiful Are They?

↳ kdj: ... 3 YJH's.

↳ (—_—): YAY!

229 peanut gallery: kdj arent you gay?? dont look at women...

Foodie and [tech] guy yjh [-> cant read my own writing]

YJH & JHY transphobic beef

231 yjh hiding in a tree

omg. doggie. sounds like it looks like my dog

↳ STANDS ON TWO LEGS. okay.

↳ the dog blew hmo out of the house.

↳ "The confrontation between man and dog was filled with unbelievable tension"

232 "There were probably no dogs in the Star System stronger than the Breaking the Sky Master"

3 METER TALL WOMEN! SHE SMOKES A PIPE!

233 Yjh is just being spanked... have i got that right?

gah kdj's constellation messages kill me

yjh prespective on kdj clownery beloved

234 yjh puts kdj behind himself as kdj does his saying inflammatory shit thing

235 via Yjh -> uriel is really strict and lofty when she doesnt have fujo brain rot

yjh 100 years old? more??

yjh said this and thought he was talking like kdj -> AHA!

Breaking the Sky Sword wasn't originally for men -> the problem of gender can be resolved "CWLTCS is snorting"

↳ complex emotions about that huh?

236 OUR nebula

cowboy carriage footman?

Novel revision yjh: It would have been nice if he had come with me

kdj being given story food -> me: wow just like silverwing! (sunwing in particular... i think)

237 "Yes, an unexpected accident. An accident that happens accidentally"

KDJ SICKO MODE/angry protective dad mode

ORO castle... Immeasurable Austerity -> I think rich people eat the poor maybe

DO appreciate kdjs constant "Dream Bigger" energy

238 persephone and uriel being little dokhyuk shits

kdj problems time

kdj trying to hype up his comfort novel on social media to no avail

240 "Please tell me exactly precisely."

okay so lotr

"It might be time to admit it. I had become the 'constellation' I hated"

Iris loves che and early marx hell yeah girl (1 point to orv teens and being really philosophically well read)

↳ oh seriously hell yeah girl

↳ "Iris cursed something that wasn't 'capital' ... the star stream" Hmm, Debatable

241 kdj I wish I could offer something to this scared child but i can only do this trade! -> i mean, you are saving her life?

Eoren's sword. Eowyn... Arwen? -> only women can wield it. yep checks out

242 once again I realise how great Yjh is -> yeah.. I know bud

"Yjh overcame (breaking the sky sword female only nature) with great effort." hmm. mh hm. yup. arduously, I bet. sure man, w/e

Rotating: now there are some very juicy tid bits here with yjh past hinting, and a few scenes from his pov even. similarly kdj confronting, just a bit, the means towards his end are leading to him to some interesting places. that said, in an effort to motivate myself to just read the dang thing. i feel myself really just focusing on giggling at all the delightful dokhyuk baiting and the more just comical aspects. like. horton hears a WHO CARES-- THIS DOG CAN DUEL. in order to get the joy of having fun notes on and thoughts about this story, i must in fact, keep reading it.

[imaginesfor-thesoul]

spencer reid x hotch! daughter

(this is totally an au w/out jack and haley IM SORRY)

:: :: ::

The BAU had always heard about SSA Hotchner’s beloved daughter, (y/n), though none of the members had ever had the pleasure of meeting the aforementioned.

Besides the occasional anecdote, Hotch kept mostly to himself about his family. The only tangible evidence that (y/n) even existed was the black and white baby picture propped up on Hotch’s desk. On especially hard days, that silver photo frame displaying his gorgeous baby girl would be the only thing getting him through the day.

Naturally, mystery creates conspiracy. Derek had proposed that perhaps she was trouble, a black sheep. Maybe Hotch was ashamed to talk about her. Garcia, on the other hand, had attempted at some light snooping (minor invasion of privacy). Her search amounted to nothing more than a couple report cards and a birth certificate. JJ could appreciate Hotch’s value of privacy for his family, though on drunken nights with Emily and Spencer would sometimes picture what the mystery girl looked like (this often concluded with a female hotchner, furrowed brows and all).

The elusive daughter of aaron hotchner was far from the BAU’s mind that day, when a young girl wandered into the bullpen asking to talk to “Mr. Hotchner”.

The girl, late teens early twenties at first glance, walked into the buzzing room with a look of worry, yet a piqued interest.

She had got in using her last name and showing ID just to confirm. “Would you like me to tell your dad that you’re here, sweetie?” the kind woman front desk asked with soft eyes.

(y/n) shook her head “that’s alright, i’ll find him, thanks.”

Walking through the glass doors, it was busier than she was expecting. Perhaps she would need help finding her dad after all.

Taking cautious steps, so not to disturb the important people probably doing very important things all around her, (y/n) didn’t see the 6’1” mop of hair and cardigan approaching behind her.

“What are you looking for?” A silvery voice inquired from behind her.

The sudden voice caused (y/n) to jump out of her skin “Jesus dude, you scared the hell out of me!” She turned to see a man. A very gorgeous man. He wore tall cheekbones and wide, heartbreaking eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.” He apologized quickly, though his previous question still lingering in the air.

(y/n) crossed her arms over her chest and quirked a brow. “How did you know I was looking for something?”

The man flashed a quick (cocky) smirk before stating “Well to start, when you got to the glass door, you pulled before pushing it open, indicating that you’ve never been here before, or at the very least, haven’t been here often. You came in slowly and scanned the entire floor, shortly analyzing every face around you, as well as reading every sign on a door from where you entered to here.” He finished. He spoke quickly, precisely and matter of factly.

As impressed as she was, all (y/n) could manage to say was “So you’re a profiler, huh. Let me guess, Reid?” She had remembered her dad telling her about the young genius.

Taken slightly aback, Spencer responded with “Uh, yeah. And you?”

“That’s not important. What is important however is the fact that you’ve been watching me! What, do I have a “kick me” sign on my back or something?” (y/n) nervously quipped. For some reason, he made her feel small... and warm, is it hot in here??

“No, not that I saw” He smiled lightly. “So, can I help you find something?”

(y/n) remembered why she had come here in the first place. “Oh yeah! Can you point me towards my- uh... Mr. Hotchner.” She cringed a little at her close slip up.

Reid instinctively pointed towards the top of the steps of the bullpen and towards the middle office. “He’s right up there-“

(y/n) lit up and began heading that direction.

“Wait you can’t just walk in there, he might be on a call or something. Do you have an appointment maybe we can get you to JJ!” He fumbled over his words as the girl continued to confidently stride towards his bosses office.

He looked to the members of his team for any sort of guidance or suggestions, yet they all remained speechless when the girl threw open Hocthner’s office door and jumped on in. “Who the fuck?” Was all Derek could say.

(y/n) pulled the door open with an unexpected force. It had been about 2 weeks since she had seen her father, and the look of surprise on his face made the homecoming all the more better.

“(y/n)?! What are you doing here?? How did you get in?” Hotchner questioned. Concerned, yet always happy to see his girl.

Noticing the numerous sets of eyes on him from the profilers downstairs, he quickly closed the blinds before scooping (y/n) into an overdue bear hug. “I missed you, dad.” She told him, letting go of him.

“I missed you too, (y/n). Always.” Smiling sadly, he ushered her over to his desk to take a seat.

“So what’s going on?” Hotchner asks, his furrowed brow returning.

(y/n) sighs, returning to reality stung a bit as the memories flood back. “I’m sorry I didn’t just do this over phone but I’m too afraid to use my phone in case someone is tapping it.” She let out, a slight pounding in her chest as the anxiety returns.

“What are you talking about?” Hotch eagerly asked. Worry spreading across his features.

“Do you remember a couple weeks ago my roommate, Amber, passed away from a drug overdose?” (y/n) began.

Hotch nodded.

“Well, two nights ago, I came back and my other roommate, Lacy is-“ (y/n) was trying everything in her power not to cry in front of her dad, though the words could barely come out. “She’s missing, dad! And there was a note... A note saying that whoever left it had killed Amber and that Lacy was next!”

She was hysterical now.

Hotchner’s heart broke as fear rose within him. His worse fear of something happening to (y/n) was getting dangerously close, and his sobbing daughter in front of him made him ache through and through.

“Right, here’s what we’ll do.” He took her hands in his in attempt to get her to stop crying.

“I’ll get the team on it right away. you’re going to have to help us, but I promise you, we will keep you safe.” (y/n) nodded and wiped the flowing tears off her cheek.

After a few more minutes of consolation, (y/n) had gathered herself and followed behind her father out his office door. Standing above the bullpen, Hotch shortly cleared his throat gaining the attention of his team. “We’ve got an urgent case, everyone up here now, Morgan, grab Garcia.”. The tall, dark and undeniably handsome man nodded and headed off promptly.

The rest of the team, curious as to why JJ hadn't brought the case to the team obeyed nonetheless. Reid caught (y/n)’s eyes once more. Through that gaze, an incomparable sense of safety fell upon the two. 

Filing into a board room, Morgan and Garcia were the last to stumble in after Hotch, (y/n), Reid, Prentiss, JJ and Rossi. It was interesting for (y/n) to finally place faces to the names she had heard many stories about. 

Hotch stood before the team. “Everyone, this is my daughter, (y/n). I wish I could've introduced her under different circumstances but here we are.”

A slight, barely audible realization settled through the team with Derek and Garcia fondly smiling towards you, JJ and Prentiss sharing a glance as if to say “called it”, Rossi nodding in understanding and Reid gaining a slight look of fear across his features.

As her father explained the events from the past couple of weeks, (y/n) zoned in and out, knowing the case through and through. Though she was still fearful, she let her mind drift towards the absolute sunshine that was Dr. Spencer Reid. His light had been the only source to pull (y/n) out of her total darkness, though it was just momentary.

They were magnetic from across the table. She didn't want him to pity her. As Hotch detailed what was going on, Reid couldn't help but glance at the girl, in a silent attempt at reassurance. 

Pictures of Lacy and Amber (that Garcia had quickly dug up) up on the screen, (y/n) felt the familiar feeling of darkness creeping up once more, her eyes welling up, though she couldn't seem to look away. She didn't seem to hear as Hotchner finished up and the team immediately jumped into action.

A large hand made its way to her trembling one. “We’ll find her, I promise”.

(y/n) looked into Reid’s soulful eyes and she could tell, he genuinely meant it.

Catching sight of her father’s furrowed brow, she swiftly slid her hand from under his and cleared her throat. She shortly replied “Thank you.” Though the look in her eye declared so much more.

:: :: ::

part two

AN oh hey, it’s been a minute. 

[cinnaminsvga]

🌸 social media au where y/n posts a fake boyfriend application on twitter as a dare but ends up seeking something real in the long run (aka how to fall in love the zillennial way) 🌸

A/N: I know I said this update wouldn’t be written, but I decided to fix the little drabble I already had written and... It’s not as bad as I thought and now I’m moderately happy with it. Anyway... We’re entering angst city babey so please put on your seatbelts because we are SOARING! || W.C. 1.8K

prev // part 18 of ? // next masterlist here.

[updates every 6PM PST]

After sending his last text to you, Namjoon is only slightly surprised when he sees your caller ID flashing on his phone screen. When he looks at the time, he notices that it had taken you less than a minute for you to call him, no doubt ready to scream your head off at his outrageous suggestion. Admittedly, he knows that his idea might be a little outside of your comfort zone, but he believes you can do it. If his people reading skills are even remotely average, then he’s sure that it’ll work if you just—

“KIM NAMJOON! HOW IN THE WORLD DID YOU COME UP WITH THAT CONCLUSION?” Your voice is loud enough to burst an eardrum, but luckily, Namjoon had already expected your volume and had held his phone an arm away. In his nine-ish days of knowing you, he’s somewhat accustomed to your theatrics, though you’re still no match for Hoseok’s excited shrieks.

“Hello Y/N,” Namjoon hums, sitting up groggily from his bed. It’s a bit too early to go to sleep, but he supposes that your panicked screams are going to keep him up a little bit longer. “I feel as though you’re overreacting a little.”

“A little?” You scoff loudly, and Namjoon can imagine you pacing circles in your room. You did always seem a little fidgety when you two went out together. “Namjoon, you can’t just expect me to go on a date with Jungkook—“

“Why not? You guys go out all the time, don’t you?” Namjoon points out, smiling slightly at your exasperated huffs.

“Well, that’s different! Those were platonic hangouts! Just bros being bros!”

“Then change the context a little bit. You don’t have to ask him to be your boyfriend just to go on a date.”

“Namjoon, I know you’re a smart man but I don’t think your math skills are all that great,” you say brusquely. “That doesn’t add up! If I ask him on a date, then he’ll know I’m into him and—“

“And that’s a bad thing?” Namjoon interrupts, raising a brow. “Y/N, we both know you’re being a little unreasonable right now.”

You splutter for a moment, but you find that you’re unable to retort. Namjoon smirks, continuing, “Y/N, I know you’re worried that Jungkook might get swept away now that he’s quote-unquote ‘single.’ I get it. But if you’re not going do anything about it and suffer in silence, then he’s definitely going to leave. Besides, I already told you that he probably likes you back, judging from how jealous he got. You could probably even ask your friends and they’d tell you the same.”

You snort. “God, I’d rather die than talk about… love stuff with those freaks I call friends,” you cough out a laugh, muffling the sound before it can continue. Namjoon knows you’re a bit conscious of your “unflattering” snorts, but he just finds them cute. A lot of the things you don’t like about yourself are cute in Namjoon’s eyes. “I can’t even imagine going to any of them about this… They’d just bully me and make me do something I don’t want to do!”

“Isn’t that basically what I’m doing right now?” Namjoon laughs, giggling even harder when he hears your tired groan.

“Yeah, but you’re nice. Unlike those meanies,” you say. Namjoon hates to admit it, but he does appreciate being special to you, even if it’s over something trivial like this.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do,” Namjoon starts. He can hear you humming in agreement, but he doesn’t stop there. “But, it is a suggestion. Seeing as how you don’t have any other idea how to solve this mess, I’d say go for it. What’s the worse thing that can happen?”

“Um? I get rejected? Hello?”

“You don’t have to let him know it’s a date, you know.”

“What do you mean? Namjoon, you should stop speaking in riddles because I honestly don’t have enough brain cells for this, clearly.”

Namjoon sighs. “I guess what I’m trying to say is… What if you fake date him?” When you don’t reply immediately, Namjoon is quick to keep talking. “Not that I’m asking you to stop fake dating me! What I’m trying to say is… Maybe try to rekindle the rumor that you and Jungkook are dating? He doesn’t have to know it’s a date, so long as everyone else thinks that you two are.”

“I… I guess?” You sound unsure, though Namjoon admits it’s kind of a long shot to begin with, not when you wouldn’t know the last thing about being subtle. He kind of wants to throttle you, in a gentle way. It’s honestly frustrating to see you like this, and he just wishes he could… Make the problem go away.

That would be easy. If Y/N just stopped pining after Jungkook, then he could just come in and—

His thoughts skid to a halt, nearly slapping himself to keep from going down that road again. Look at him, trying to help you with your mess when even he can’t get a handle on his own emotions. What is going on inside my head, he thinks sadly to himself.

“Listen, it’ll be really easy! All you have to do is text him and say, ‘Hey, wanna go have dinner with me tomorrow?’ but bring him somewhere nicer, perhaps? Then take a photo of him all dressed up and looking boyfriend-y and post it on Instagram. I’m sure that’ll shut people up.”

“Namjoon, I don’t know if you’re aware, but Jungkook’s definition of ‘dressing up’ is combat boots, a hoodie, and his god-awful backpack the size of Africa. He looks like a nerd.”

“I mean, you kinda dress alike…” Namjoon mutters, and he’s thankful that you don’t hear his slight slip-up. He clears his throat. “A-anyway, I’m sure it’ll be fine? I think it would be more suspicious if he wore a suit and tie or something. So long as you guys look cozy and comfy together, I’m sure people will take the hint. If worse comes to worst, I can maybe slip something to Johnny and he can retract his statement or something.”

“I hope to god that isn’t the case,” you say. Namjoon nods, before realizing you can’t even see him.

“Right. Well, I think everything should work out perfectly. Just ask him to some popular couples restaurant. Maybe the nice Italian place in Hongdae? Something more romantic, not necessarily fancy.”

There’s a pause on your end for a moment causing Namjoon to sweat a little, wondering if he might be overstepping. He does genuinely want to help you, though he hopes he isn’t actually weirding you out somehow. He’s not adept at handling love problems as much as he’s trying to appear to be, since he’s mostly using the romance novels he had read during his teen years as his sole source of reference. This is what I get for not dating for so long, Namjoon thinks, grimacing.

“Namjoon.” You break the silence, your voice quieter than before. Namjoon has to strain his ears a little, pursing his lips as he waits for your response. “Are you…”

Namjoon tilts his head. “Am I?”

Namjoon hears you hesitate, stuttering syllables over his phone speaker like you aren’t quite sure how to ask your question. “Do you remember when I asked you a few days ago if you were sure you don’t actually have a girlfriend?”

“Yeah?”

“I just… I don’t know how to say this without being weird, but I just want to say you’re great. Like,” you huff out a laugh, incredulous. “You’re just… The perfect package? You’re so kind and so sweet and it’s just? Almost mysterious how you don’t have someone special to call your own yet.”

Namjoon smiles wryly to himself, head bowed as he stares at his wrinkled bedsheets. “I suppose other people don’t feel the same way.” He tries forcing out a laugh, but it sounds a little strangled. His chest feels tight, strangely. Hopefully, you don’t notice.

“No, I highly doubt that! You’re literally the perfect guy. Any person would be lucky to have you as their boyfriend.” You sound almost indignant, like you can’t imagine anyone ever thinking badly about him. He almost wants to laugh, but he tightens his hands into fists instead, digging his nails into his palms and leaving crescents in their wake.

“Well then… I guess that makes you lucky to have me, then?” Namjoon nearly slaps his hands to his mouth, a cold tingle of embarrassment mixed with fear running down his spine. Did he really just say that— “What I mean is, erm…”

“N-no, I get you.” You’re giggling, but—is he imagining it?—you sound a little nervous to his ears. If he thinks hard enough, he can almost imagine you blushing, bottom lip trapped underneath your teeth. “I guess I am lucky to be your fake girlfriend, huh? Even for just a few weeks?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon breathes out the word, guilt washing over him like waves. Here he is, feeling things that he shouldn’t be, over a girl who was never his to begin with. There are seedlings in his chest, barely anything to write home about. But he knows—a gardener can see the garden even before the flowers have bloomed. Each day he spends with you is another day they get a chance to grow, and he’s afraid he’ll soon be overrun, unable to handle the forest that is bound to erupt. “Just a few weeks,” he echoes, unable to completely hide the sadness from his words.

“I guess I am just being melodramatic about everything, huh?” you say. It takes a moment for Namjoon to even remember what the two of you had been talking about, so caught up in his thoughts that he has to pinch himself back to reality.

“Think of it as a funny story to tell your grandkids,” Namjoon says.

You laugh, and Namjoon can feel a seedling sprout its first leaf. “Yeah. Definitely. God, I can’t even begin to think about kids… Not when I can’t even ask him out on a fucking date.”

“You can do it, Y/N.” Namjoon whispers. He flops back down onto his bed, eyes half-closed as he stares at his cracked ceiling. If he breathes quietly enough, he can hear the sounds of Seoul outside his windowpane. If he stops breathing altogether, he might be able to hear you across the city, your socked feet padding towards your bed, curling up into your own blanket.

“Thank you, Namjoon. Really.”

For what? Namjoon leaves that part unspoken. “You’re welcome,” he says instead. He drops the call, feeling a little emptier than before.

[lavendersuh]

“how much do you hate me?”

pairing: fuckboy!mark tuan/reader

genre: college!au, childhood neighbors, enemies to lovers, fluff, mild angst

word count: 2.3k

a/n: you should know how much i love enemies to lovers ok i really really love it,,,, this is based off the drabble prompt “how much do you hate me?” “not enough to say no immediately what do you want” enjoy! xx

“How much do you hate me?” 

The question came from behind you, as you sat reading a textbook and munching on an apple between classes. You spin around to see Mark Tuan, resident fuckboy on campus, smirking down at you. 

He wasn’t just the resident fuckboy, but he was also your childhood neighbor, the boy that you watched grow up beside you. It still baffled you that somehow you both had managed to choose the same college. You, for the creative arts program, and he, for the fraternities. The lives you led were different, yet somehow had always paralleled each other.

You were never really friends with Mark, despite your mothers putting you in the sandbox together at a young age. Pulling your pigtails at the age of six didn’t necessarily leave you with the best first impression of him, and that animosity followed you as you both grew up. Arguments ensued throughout the occasional dinners your families would hold together. It always left you frustrated, wishing you had a grumpy old man as a neighbor rather than the increasingly attractive boy you were stuck with.

Awkward teen years and the constant bickering warranted a bit of anger when you realized he chose the same college as you. Would you ever escape this man?

You close your book slowly, as he sits down next to you. It’s early on a Saturday morning, so the library is mostly empty. 

You narrow your eyes at him, “Not enough to say ‘no’ immediately,” you say, “What do you need?”

He beams at you and you notice how much he’s changed. You have only seen him in passing glance in one of the dining halls since arriving on campus, and his hair is more blonde since the last time you saw him in the beginning of summer. He wears a hoodie with his frat logo on it, with sweatpants and a hat.

“You know me so well, Y/N.” he says, “I need you to kiss me.”

You immediately recoil, “What the hell?”

He laughs, “Not right now, but tonight at a party my frat is hosting. I’m trying to hook up with this girl and I want to make her jealous.” 

“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!” you exclaim, before pausing, “What’s in it for me?”

“The satisfaction of knowing you helped one of your lifelong, childhood friends get laid by a senior?” he throws you a convincing smile, “The fact that you’ll have kissed your high school crush?”

You go to stand up, packing up your books into your bag, “I am not helping you seduce a girl, I don’t care if she’s a senior.” You look back at him, “And I didn’t have a crush on you! Where did you get that dumb idea?”

“Your mom told my mom,” he mentions, “You know how they love to gossip.” 

It was true, your mothers both were quite the little gossips. But the fact that you did, indeed, have a crush on Mark was something you never told your mother. It was a secret you would keep to the grave. He would never had let you live it down.

He goes to follow you as you descend the stairs, leading out to the Quad. You continue to bicker with him as you make your way back to your dorm hall, and it feels all too familiar. Arguing with Mark is a sport, and you were a pro.

“I do not support using manipulation to get someone into bed with you. Just tell her you want to fuck! What is with guys and zero communication these days, Jesus.” you huff. 

“If I do that she might think I want more than just a one time thing!”

“Then communicate that you just want to hookup!”

You reach your dorm hall and just as you are about to slide your ID and open the door, he slides between the door and you. 

“Ok, listen, what if I sweeten the deal?” he reasons, “How’s $10 and some free booze?”

You sigh. He has always been stubborn. 

“How about $30?” You’ve always been stubborn too. 

He rolls his eyes, but holds out his hand, “Fine, deal, be there at nine, okay?”

You grasp his hand in a firm handshake, “Can’t wait,” the sarcasm drips off the words. 

It would certainly be an interesting night.

By the time you got to the frat house at ten, the party was in full swing. People littered the front yard, and as soon as you walked into the house, you were met with heat and smoke. You’d never been to this house before, but the kitchen was easy to find. Grabbing a beer from the coolers lining the wall, you cracked it open, wondering where Mark was.

You wandered around a bit before seeing a head of blonde hair coming toward you.

“Hey, you made it! I honestly didn’t think you would show up,” he chuckles, a beer in his own hand.

“I came from the booze and the grocery money,” you grin at him. You never were a lightweight, but the taste of alcohol already begins to loosen you up a bit. “So, where’s this girl you’re trying to make jealous?” 

“Not sure yet!” 

You whip your head around to look him in the eye, “What? You don’t have someone specific in mind? Why am I even here?”

He laughs, guiding you through some of the crowds of dancers, “I’m trying out a new technique. You know how chicks get jealous.”

Your face morphs into disgust. Of course he thinks like that. 

“Have you always been this shallow? This inept?” you ask.

“Hey, look who’s following along with my plan, eh?” 

You huff, and take a few more swigs of the beer in your hand. Mark stays next to you, nursing his own drink, watching you curiously. It’s been so long since you’ve really talked to Mark, yet the bickering dynamic feels like you talk everyday. 

It takes a few moments, of drinking and taking in the sights of the party around you, before you come to a decision. Taking the last gulp of your last drink, you muster up your courage and look at Mark. 

“Alright, I’m starting to get tipsy, I'm kind of curious to see if this will work. Find your target, let’s go.” you tell him.

He grins, “Give me ten minutes, I’ll meet up back here.”

With that, he’s off, and you go to grab another drink. At least there’s booze, you think. You find your spot back along the wall and try to find Mark in the crowd. Eventually you spot him, talking up a pretty brunette, who isn’t as into it as he would probably like. 

Watching him flirt relentlessly with the girl brought back memories of high school. Of hugging the wall at parties, watching him flirt and go for the girls in other classes. It was odd watching the shy neighbor boy transform in such little time.

Whenever you crossed paths with Mark nowadays, it always made life interesting. While he constantly drove you insane, you also felt nostalgic for the simple high school days of dumb arguments.

While you are caught in your own thoughts, you don’t notice Mark approaching you. He swoops his arm around your waist, taking you on a trip through the crowd. He nuzzles his nose next to ear, sending a chill down your spine. 

He whispers in your ear, “Let’s find a place to start the show, eh? She’s hanging with her friends in the living area.” 

He leads you through the house, finding a bookcase in the back of the living room. As he spins you around to lean against the bookcase you catch a glimpse of the brunette he had been talking to. You can’t help but stare at her, as she takes quick looks over at the two of you.

Mark moves in close, his arms coming to rest on either side of you, “Hey,” he catches your attention, drawing your eyes from the girl, “if you get uncomfortable or something, let me know.”

Was Mark being caring? Since when? Wasn’t this the fuckboy that would tease you for paying attention to your studies rather than finding friends? Wasn’t this the very man using you to get in another girl’s pants?

You nod, catching the dark look overtaking his eyes. He glances down at your lips, before leaning in, capturing your lips with his own. 

A warm feeling spreads through you, as he grips your hips and you bring your hands up to encircle his neck. His mouth is warm against your own, and you find yourself not hating this as much as you thought you would. 

You’re still curious, wondering whether the girl is looking over at you, but you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes and check. Might as well just live in the moment, right? 

You don’t know how long it is before Mark is removing his lips from yours, but as you open your eyes, he rests his forehead against yours, staring directly into your eyes. 

“Not bad, neighbor,” he comments, sending you a smirk that could probably leave you swooning if not for your pride.

“Ditto,” you reply, through it comes out as a sigh, as you still try to catch your breath. 

He pecks you on the lips once more before fully retreating from you, “Time to see if the plan worked,” he mentions, stepping away. 

You clear your throat, suddenly sobering up, from both the alcohol and Mark. “Right, go get your girl.” 

He throws you another smile before sauntering casually in the direction of the brunette. You look away, suddenly feeling sick at the thought of watching him hook up with someone. 

You weave your way back into the kitchen and manage to score a glass of water. You aren’t really sure how much longer you want to stay. You vaguely recall Mark owing you $30, but you don’t care all that much. 

Deciding you want to leave, you abandon the glass, walking towards the door. Why, surrounded by so many people, do you suddenly feel so alone? 

You stumble out of the frat house and into the cool night. It’s quieter out here, despite the background sounds of the bass and the occasional holler from someone on the lawn. 

The walk home is sobering, to say the least, as you make your way back to your dorm. It’s never been fun walking home from parties, especially when you are all alone and not very drunk anymore. 

You pass other parties, and crowds of people laughing, but you just want sleep, you just want warmth. Coming out tonight was not your finest idea, but you’ve found when it comes to Mark, things always shift from what you planned.

You aren’t sure why you suddenly feel so sad. Is it because Mark is so easily able to find someone to spend the night with? So easily able to talk to others and make connections?

Deep down, in your traitorous heart, you fear it isn’t Mark’s people skills you want, but Mark himself.

You sputter, shaking your head to yourself. That’s crazy, you think. It’s Mark.

By the time you make it back to your dorm hall, you finally accept that it probably is just Mark. You shove that down though, suppress it. That would never happen.

You laugh to yourself, walking up the steps to the front entrance. Blaming all these ridiculous thoughts on your tipsy mind, you don’t hear someone calling out to you until they get closer.

You spin around, only to find Mark staring at you from the sidewalk. He looks out of breath, like he just ran here. He climbs the steps, two at a time and before you know it, he’s standing in front of you, winded and with a wild look in his eyes. 

“Mark?” you ask, confusion evident in your tone, “What are you doing here?”

He’s still breathing heavy, and looking at you like he doesn’t even know the answer. “The girl- she- I don’t know, I can’t stop thinking about- and then-” he pauses, taking a deep breath, collecting his thoughts. 

He tries again, “She wasn’t what I was looking for.”

Your eyebrows knit together, “Oh, so you want me to help again? I’m kinda tired-”

“No! No, I-” he cuts himself off again, “Jesus, I’m so bad at this. I finally got her all alone and it didn’t even matter. I didn’t feel like kissing her, or doing anything.”

“Why?” you ask quietly.

“She wasn’t you.”

You are startled at his words. Shell-shocked. You wonder if you already made it up to your dorm, and were fast asleep, dreaming up this whole situation. 

He steps in front of you, taking your hands gently in his.

“I know we have fought for as long as I can remember.” he tells you, “But kissing you felt right. Tell me you didn’t feel the same. Tell me to stop and I’ll go; I’ll never speak to you again.”

“I-” you can’t find words as you watch him lean closer and closer. 

Because the truth was, something about it did feel right.

“How much do you hate me?” He asks, tilting his head as you feel his breath dance across your lips.

“Not as much as I want to,” you whisper back, pressing your lips to his, letting the emotions of hate and anger flow away has he kisses you back. 

You think back to the days of your adolescence, when your mother would tease you about your bickering with Mark, saying you acted like an old married couple, joking about how eventually the two of you would start dating. You used to think your mom was crazy. But now, with Mark leaning into you, and fireworks exploding in your chest, you wondered if she’s been right all along. 

[famous-aces]

Marilyn Monroe

Who: Marilyn Monroe (born Norma Jeane Mortenson) 

What: Actress, Model, and Singer

Where: American-Jewish (active largely in US)

When: June 1, 1926 - August 4, 1962

(Image Description: a photo of Marilyn Monroe by Richard Avedon from 1957. It is a black and white image showing Monroe on a sparkly dress from the waist up. It almost feels weird to describe her, her face is so famous. She is a white pale woman with an oval face and heavily lidded eyes with long lashes. She has full lips with a beauty mark beside them. She is wearing makeup and has her trademark short, curly, blonde hair. She has her arms hanging limply at her side. Instead of posing sexily she looks to be lost in thought, looking somewhere off camera. End ID) 

Marilyn Monroe is The Hollywood Beauty. The quintessential sexy starlet. Even if you have never seen a movie with her in it, you know who she was, a bit like possible aces I have covered before Andy Warhol or Sir Isaac Newton, you can picture her in your mind just by existing in Western popular culture. She has become a part of our communal consciousness. Her life was brief and marked by tragedy below the glitz and glamor. Her biggest role was playing Marilyn Monroe.

She was intelligent, warm, and a gifted actress, but she is rarely remembered for that. She is far better remembered for singing Happy Birthday to her sometime beau President Kennedy and for the scene in The Seven Year Itch when wind from a subway grate blows up her skirt. You've seen it. Really her whole persona was often created rather than who she really was. She was an actress in her real life, unfortunately.

Monroe actually came into the spotlight in the Second World War when she posed for photos for the boys on the front. From there her modeling, singing, and acting career skyrocketed. Until her tragic death at the age of 36 she was among the go-to actresses for those sexpot roles especially in comedies. Her death by potentially intentional drug overdose (discovered by her psychologist) is just one piece of the evidence of how much of her life was hidden, like her struggles with substance abuse and mental health.

She was famous for playing Blond Bombshells and Dumb Blonds.  She was all beauty, glamor, and sex appeal and it earned her millions of dollars. She always wanted to be more though, unfortunately she never really got it. "Please don't make me a joke," she told a journalist, "End the interview with what I believe...I want to be an artist, an actress with integrity...I want to grow and develop and play serious dramatic parts. My dramatic coach tells everyone that I have a great soul, but so far nobody's interested in it." 

She is best known for as an icon and emblem of the popular culture of the 1950s and early 1960s, but her most definitive/important roles include All About Eve (1950) (a small role that would lead to her "discovery" and contract with 20th Century Fox), Monkey Business (1952), How to Marry a Millionaire (1953), Niagara (1953), Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953), The Seven Year Itch (1955), Some Like it Hot (1959), The Misfits (1961), and her final film, released posthumously as a short, Something's Gotta Give (1962). She also sang "Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend" and the very sexually charged "Happy Birthday Mr. President" (just the song here). 

(Image Description: the poster for Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. It shows drawings of Jane Russel and Marilyn Monroe in red costumes the size and shape of one piece bathing suits that are sheer or pink on top. They have on red top hats and long black and white necklaces. They have black canes and are dancing with one leg upraised. Behind them is a busy Paris scene done in a more cartoony/simplified style. There are musical notes around them. Their names are above their heads in blue.  Below them on a black rectangle it says (in white and orange) "in Howard Hawks' Gentlemen Prefer Blondes [in] Technicolor" below that rectangle but above the studio info in blue it says "co-starring Charles Coburn". End ID) 

Probable Orientation: Mspec Ace

Oh, I am going to get a lot of hate for this one.

And a lot of people are going to show a lot of misogyny and aphobia, be it overt, unintentional, or internalized.  Indeed the first thing the first (allo) person I told these findings to said "but she had a ton of sex!" Yes, that is true, she did, and so do some other aces.

Not to mention that Monroe's relationship with sex was a complicated one. A very complicated one. Monroe had a deeply traumatic childhood (mentally ill mother, tossed between foster homes and orphanages) and married extremely young -- she had turned 16 just two and a half weeks earlier -- to prevent her from becoming homeless and returned to the orphanage after her most recent foster family planned on moving out of state and leaving her behind. Then while working a munitions plant in L.A. she became a model for the troops in World War II, aged 18. From her teen years she was made aware that sex was expected from her, thrust into adulthood and positions she might not have been comfortable with. She was a beautiful woman and people wanted her and she accepted that because it did get her what she wanted.

(Image Description: the 1944 factory photos that launched Monroe's modeling career, taken by David Conover for Yank Magazine at the Radioplane Munitions Factory in which she worked. Interestingly the commanding officer that sent him to take the photos was Ronald Reagan. The photo shows an 18-year-old Monroe. She is holding a small propeller and is beside some kind of red machine. She is wearing a simple green top and gray bottoms with a photo ID badge at her waist. She wears a wedding ring. She has much frizzier brown hair. She is smiling broadly. End ID)  

Over the course of her life she was in love with and had sexual relationships with many different men and women. That doesn't mean she was sexually attracted to them. Indeed throughout her life she had a lot of difficulty with sex. She didn't like it. She thought she must have been doing it "wrong" and stated that a lot of her sex appeal was applied to her rather than something she felt. She was playing to the crowd. Which makes sense, Monroe was a people pleaser. She desired closeness, she romantically loved many people, I have no doubt, and from the time she was a teenager the best appreciated way to show it was by being sexual. The fact that later in life she had a sexual encounter with a literal 16-year-old when she was 30 shows she had a pretty fucked up understanding of what was appropriate sexually. The 16-year-old was the leader of her fan club, she also had an affair with her acting coach, her first husband was her neighbor who was kind to her. She was loving the people who loved her and was showing it the way society told her to. (On her being mspec, there were several women she had affairs with, including the fan and acting coach mentioned above, indeed it has been speculated she was more attracted to women than men).

No matter how she appeared on screen, she voiced fear that she was broken and frigid to her psychologist (who agreed with her) because she didn't really enjoy/want sex.  The desire of wanting to fix herself and wanting to please the people who loved her and who she may have romantically loved in return. She probably romantically loved some of these people but didn't know how to separate that from the sexual aspect or didn't want to lose them if she did. She was giving them what they wanted and expected and what culture told her was essential to normal loving relationships.

Her sexual "failure" was a subject she returned to often in therapy throughout her life. She had only one sexual encounter she actually said she enjoyed and it seemed to be more of a relief because it made her normal than what she got from the sex itself.

She said again and again that she wasn't the sexpot people thought she was, nobody listened.

(Image Description: a series of photos from a photoshoot from Life Magazine. It shows Monroe at home in 1953, a huge year in her career. The photographer is Alfred Eisenstaedt [a photographer of whose work I am extremely fond]. They show Monroe wearing a dark turtleneck and checkered trousers. She is in a bunch of different positions and wearing different expressions. Some of these appear candid and others posed. I am especially fond of one in the middle in which she appears to be trying to stop herself from laughing or sneezing. I like to imagine it is the former. It is very human. End ID)

“People had a habit of looking at me as if I were some kind of mirror instead of a person. They didn’t see me, they saw their own lewd thoughts, then they white-masked themselves by calling me the lewd one.”

-Marilyn Monroe

"I never quite understood it, this sex symbol. I always thought symbols were those things you clash together! That's the trouble, a sex symbol becomes a thing. I just hate to be a thing. But if I'm going to be a symbol of something I'd rather have it sex than some other things they've got symbols of."

—Monroe in an interview for Life in 1962 (both of these quotes illustrate that her "sex appeal" was manufactured and applied rather than her own natural state. Her audience made it clear what they wanted and she played to it.)

"A man who had kissed me once had said it was very possible that I was a lesbian because apparently I had no response to males - meaning him...I didn't contradict him because I didn't know what I was... Now, having fallen in love, I knew what I was. It wasn't a lesbian."

-Marilyn Monroe in her autobiography My Story (written 1954, published 1974). (Note that she has "no response". She loves a man, this one or another, but she has "no response" to men physically. That is the only response he could comment on, her physical one. Clearly she feels some kind of attraction to someone eventually, but not sexually/physically. It is the difference between romantic and sexual love. It also shows that homosexuality and asexuality have always overlapped.)

"Primary frigidity" 

-the diagnosis from Monroe's therapist Dr. Ralph Greenson, he worked to "cure" her of this "frigidity"

“Maybe I’m a sexless sex goddess.” 

– Marilyn Monroe to Life magazine journalist Richard Meryman, 1961

(Image Description: a photo of Marilyn Monroe behind the scenes on the set of The Misfits in 1960, photographed by Inge Morath.  She is leaning across a table and smiling at someone to the right of the frame. She has tired eyes. End ID) 

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

another relationship PSA advice post:

okay so i know that i’ve already made a big post about this... but i just had a flashback to when that weird chick at public school was trying to set me up with men in their late 20s/early 30s back in 2012 when we were LITERALLY 16.

like one of the excuses i used back then to deflect this girl’s constant pressure of talking to those men was “uh, *zara*.... my drama teacher at catholic school literally turned fucking 30 last year (or back in 2010) and my whole drama class called him old as fuck! so these men are the same age as my drama teacher from catholic school!!!! how the FUCK is that okay and NOT creepy???? they’re LITERALLY OLD ENOUGH TO BE OUR BLOODY TEACHERS AND WOULD BE FUCKING ARRESTED FOR DOING ANYTHING TO US IF THEY WERE????!!!! PLEASE! GET! IT! THROUGH! YOUR! HEAD! THAT! THIS! ISN’T! FUCKING! NORMAL!!!!”

but she obvs deflected the above with: “but we’re old enough to and are legal to fuck, so just fuck them and it’ll be ok!!!! just suck it up and do it!!!” like i just wanna say to my younger followers that:

if anyone your age pulls you into this sort of totally fucked up situation, and just refers to sex by saying “just fuck them” or as just as “fucking” without realising that sex is actually FAR MORE than that... then they don’t care about your safety and boundaries AT ALL, and you should dump that friend, STAT.

after all, if they were really your friend, they would care about your safety and understand your refusals/rejections towards the men. they would also care about your bodily autonomy and boundaries and understand that you’re not comfortable with this situation.... and so, stop harassing you to flirt and sleep with these men.... which literally NO TEENAGER in their right fucking mind should be fucking comfortable with a man who is basically twice their fucking age (and old enough to be their goddamned teacher) flirting with them and wanting to sleep with them.

finally, NO NORMAL dude in their late 20s/early 30s should be finding a 16 YEAR OLD GIRL ATTRACTIVE. FUCKING PERIOD. after all, these men ARE FULLY AWARE that you are a kid. but they don’t actually care. and that’s because they’re looking for someone to manipulate and abuse/harass etc. because no woman their age will put up with their, more than likely, manchild bullshit behaviour. but a 16 year old girl, according to these men, will presumably put up with it, because teen girls don’t know anything about relationships and sex and life, but they (the men) obviously do. they’ll use that excuse so that then you’ll presumably follow EVERYTHING that they say and want you to do. and the friend that’s pulling you into this sitch is doing the same thing, by being complicit in the same grooming behaviours of those men.

JUST RUN FOR YOUR MOTHERFUCKING LIFE (if it’s safe to). report it if it’s safe to as well. please. because it’s not worth your safety and sanity dealing with either the fucked up friend who thinks men twice your age will apparently “keep you safe”/“look after you” (when they’re obviously fucking not!!!) if you “just fuck them”.... or dealing with the creepy adult men who SHOULDN’T BE FUCKING FLIRTING WITH A GODDAMNED CHILD IN THE FIRST MOTHERFUCKING PLACE ANYWAY.

in short, the real safety in this situation is caring enough about yourself to firmly set your boundaries and standards, which will allow you to block these people out of your life. listen to yourself. if it feels wrong (which for a good bulk of teenagers, it will feel really fucked up), let the friend know. call the friend out and these men out on their behaviour if you feel safe and confident enough in doing so.

if they actually take the time to listen and consider, the friend should realise that they’re wrong and stop.... and in general most decent & normal adult men should stop as soon as you say you’re a teenager and hopefully stop harassing you. if neither happens, just straight up block the men on social media like facebook or snapchat (which was where this girl was adding them for me) and just stand your ground with your friend if they don’t listen.... and report them if you feel like you can. then block them on social media too.

but if you get stuck in this situation and feel like you can’t get out of it, reach out for help to someone else that you can actually trust, like another friend that you’re actually closer with or something (like this girl I wasn’t actually close with at all) hopefully they’ll help you out and get you out of this fucked up sitch.

but don’t hate yourself if you’re stuck with the weird friend or unfortunately stuck in a relationship with one of those sickening men. because i easily could’ve been too, after all of their creepy “you’re so mature for your age 😊😊” etc comments. and it was all because i was young, insecure, naive and desperate for any kind of positive comments/feedback/attention because i’d never received any from any guys in my age group. you may feel the same. but DON’T FALL FOR IT. or don’t hate yourself if you do fall for those comments, because it is very, very easy to when you feel lonely and whatever in your teens. because, sadly, this is EXACTLY WHAT these men are latching onto. they are latching onto your low self image/esteem and giving you the attention that you want by giving you those seemingly nice compliments. they know that’s what you want: someone that’s ready to shower you in compliments. but once you get into a relationship with them, those “compliments” are probably likely to stop... as they’ll try to use the age gap against you, like i said earlier.

basically at this point, i’d come out of a year-long depressive episode/mental breakdown, so i was trying to build myself up again to be confident and everything.... and that’s why i became so suspicious of these men suddenly giving me those creepy comments/so-called “compliments” and my friend trying to set me up with them so forcefully. but yeah. again, DON’T HATE YOURSELF FOR FALLING INTO THIS IF ANYTHING HAPPENS, because it’s so, so easy, at that age, and in that state, to feel that you need love from anyone or anything. but please remember to set your boundaries and standards and stick to them before anything DOES happen. because you are WORTH your boundaries and standards and safety, despite what these people (as well as your depression or low self-esteem/image) tell you.

anyway, JUST BE SAFE OUT THERE Y’ALL.

———————————————————————

this also falls under the whole “hoe phase” body positivity thing. like if you’re 17-19 and some friend is like “be a hoe with that dude in his late 20s/early 30s that keeps hitting on you on *insert chosen dating app here*”..... i again suggest to run from or ignore that guy and to ignore/leave that friend. because if there’s a 10+ year age gap between you and the guy/other person, there could/can be a BIG disparity (well i think there will be idk) in how the guy/other person will treat you....

like obviously it’ll depend on how decent the other person is generally.... but again, if they can’t pull someone their own age, but pull an 17-19yo instead, when they’re like 26-33 or whatever, then you’ve got some serious questioning to do towards that person, to yourself. like my questioning of the men on this hellsite, in this age bracket, that i had hitting on me at 17/18 on me, was: “but they pay bills/rent/a mortgage and shit.... like I DON’T EVEN FUCKING KNOW WHAT ANY OF THOSE ARE!!!??? why the FUCK are they even bothering with hitting on me when they’re adults that i’ve actually told that i’m still in high school????” and that was substantial enough to turn me off them tbh lmao. but yeah. just STAY SAFE in your hoe phases/sex discovery phases y’all.

*side note: again, yes. this post is primarily aimed at straight girls, but also applies to any sexuality/gender orientation. i want all my followers to be fucking safe y’all.*

[ironspiidey]

Superhero’s get Bullies Too Part 10

Chapter 1

Chapter 10: Harley Stark & Throat Punching a Bully

Read on AO3

Thats right guys finally a new update!!!!!!

friendly reminder a hoe for likes and comments. They also fuel me :)

“So you and May eh?” Peter says with a smirk as he slides into the backseat of the car.

Happy glances in the rearview mirror. “Me and your Aunt are just friends Peter.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Liar. I know my aunt well enough to know you two are more than just friends Happy.”

Happy tossed Peter his phone before turning out of the apartment parking lot and in the direction of the tower.

“Oh thanks!” Peter unlocks his phone and scrolls through his texts, seeing a bunch from his very concerned boyfriend, which made him smile. “Stop ignoring me.”

“I’m not ignoring you.”

“You’re not, not ignoring me either.” Peter looked up from his phone to give the driver a pointed look in the mirror.

Happy shook his head. “Your aunt and I are friends Peter, we may have hung out once or twice.”

“Three times.” Peter says without looking up from his phone, quickly sending a message in his group chat with MJ, Gwen & Ned about how Happy’s picked him up and brought him his phone.

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve hung out with her 3 different times. First time was when she went looking for me at the Tower but I was at a decathlon thing, you took her for coffee but only told Mr. Stark you were taking her home.”

“How?”

“How do I know? Well we did some major catching up during pee and snack breaks today when we were watching Greys.”

Happy nods in understanding “Ah okay, She does become easier to talk to when that TV show is involved.”

“Did you two ‘Netflix and Chill’ in my living room?”

The older man remains quite.

“Oh gross.”

Happy chuckles as he puts the partition up, clearly having enough of the redheads 21 questions.

Peter shakes his head and looks down at his phone. He starts deleting old conversations to clean up his inbox and his thumb hovers over Harley’s messages. He opens the conversation and sighs.

H: Hey Pete, not sure when youll see this but yeah. I know your upset with Stark for looking in your phone but he cares about you a lot more then he lets on which I know is hard to believe

 H: my point is trust is huge with him and he’s low key freaking out that he lost you even though im saying he hasn’t bc your too stubborn to give up on his crazy ass. Just maybe cut him some slack when you get here. He means well.

 H: and Im kinda getting used to having you around so yeah.

Peter bites his lip debating on digging out the messages from Flash that he archived a few months ago or deleting them. Knowing that it will send Tony even more over the edge then the superhero already is but at the same time remembering how upset he sounded when he found the one conversation. Peter sighs as he responds to Harley’s messages.

 P: Don’t worry Harley, it’s going to take more than one fight to get rid of me. I know he cares and tell him to stop being a dumbass and that he hasn’t lost me.

Peter sighs again, realizing if things are truly going to work he needs to be as truthful as possible with the older man

 P: and tell him I have something to show him when I get there.

 H: So happys picked you up? How long till your home also will do parker

Peter knocks on the partition.

“Yes Peter?” Happy responds once he brings the glass screen down half way

“How far are we away from the Tower?” Peter asks without looking up, shooting his boyfriend a quick text about how he isn’t mad, that he still loves him and everything will be alright.

“About 20 minutes, traffic seems slow today.”

“Thanks Happy.”

Peter goes back to his conversation with Harley and tells him just that, switching to Tony’s chat as his phone vibrates.

 T: my nephew ratted me out didn’t he?

 P: Or I could be telepathic

 T: without even being near me?

 P: I always said we were meant to be :P

 P: But seriously Tones, you know I love you. I’m not going to run away that easily.

 T: I love you Underoos

 P: Happy says I should be home in 20 minutes, should I order takeout?

The younger man’s phone buzzes, showing Tony’s caller ID

“I’ll take that as a yes?”

“Actually no.” Tony starts “I have something planned here and no I’m not telling you what it is.”

‘Don’t worry Parker, you’re going to love it!!!’ Peter hears Harley holler in the background

“Another dinner? You really are sucking up.” Peter says with a grin

“What? Cant a man provide a nice dinner for the ones he love.”

“You’re definitely up to something Tony.”

“Always. Harley here go put this on the table. Okay Petey I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

“Okay Tones, love you.”

“Ditto.”

Peter smiles to himself after disconnecting the call. Happy smirked as he glanced in the rearview mirror. Peter noticed and raised an eyebrow “What?”

“Not a thing.”

"So your Uncle let you come to school Keener?"

Harley gave him a look as he entered the building "What the fuck do you want?"

After the weekend the blonde just had. Finding out just how much of a piece of shit Flash was, Harley’s patience was nonexistent with the other teen.

"I want in."

"In on what?"

"Parker."

Harley's eyes widen "What the fuck do you mean? It’s too fucking early to deal with your dumbass"

"Don't play stupid with me. I know you’re fucking him, and maybe even your uncle is too. I want a fucking piece with or without your help."

"Is that a fucking threat?"

"It's a promise."

"You leave Parker the fuck alone or I'll fucking end you." the blonde teen growled.

"Ah ah ah, what would your uncle say if you got into another fight?"

Harley stepped up into Flash's personal space "He'd fucking congratulate me for putting an end to your disgusting, useless life."

Flash pushed him back. "Gonna kill me are you?"

"C'mon Harley, Flash isn’t worth it. Think about Peter." Harley’s friend, Tommy finally spoke up. Harley didn’t exactly tell Tommy everything but Tommy knew Flash was on some serious thin ice based on some texts between Flash and Parker. Harley had a bad temper on a good day but after whatever happened this past weekend, well Tommy was pretty sure his friend was just a ticking bomb ready to explode.

"Yeah Harley," Flash mocked. “Who would save him if you're stuck in jail being somebodies little bitch."

Harley turned to his friend and laughed manically "Ha, this guy."

"Oh no." Tommy sighed as Harley turned back to the bully and punched him in the throat. So much for a quiet Monday.

Flash fell back grasping at his throat before lunging at the blonde. "You’re going to regret that."

Harley quickly dodged him, sticking his foot out so the brute fell. He flipped him over and grabbed a hold of his collar. "You are going to regret ever fucking with Parker.” Harley spat and he hauled his arm back and started punching him repeatedly

Tommy sighed and leaned against the wall, keeping an eye out for teachers or Flash's boys. They were by the side entrance of the school that nobody uses except the kids smoking but you couldn’t be too careful. Plus the last thing they needed was Parker coming around and seeing this.

After a few punches were thrown Harley let off. He wiped the blood on his knuckles off on Flash’s shirt then got up.

"Know your fucking place Thompson. Ready to go?"

Tommy turned and nodded "Yeah let’s bounce before Parker shows up."

"This isn't fucking over!" Flash sputtered as moved to get up.

Harley turned and spit in front of the other teen. "If you know what's good for you, it'll be over."

"How long do you think we've got till he blabs to someone?"

Harley shrugs "Hopefully till lunch."

As they make their way to the front of the school Tommy’s phone starts buzzing. "What the fuck?"

Harley looked at him puzzled. “What?"

The other boy tilted his screen so that he could see "See for yourself."

"Why is Parker calling you?”

"The better question is how he got my number. Harley!"

The blonde put his hands up “Wasn't me dude. Well answer it!"

Tommy gave him a funny look before answering. "Yo."

 "Hey Tommy? It’s Peter. Peter Parker. "

"Hi Parker."

 "Hi! Is Harley with you?"

"Yep, wanna talk to him?" Harley held his hand out

 "Um no actually I wanted to talk to you. You don't have me on speaker do you?"

Tommy shook his head at his friend, shrugging when Harley gave him a confused look. "Nope."

 "Okay great. Well I just wanted to say it’s my fault he didn’t get to hang out with you this weekend."

"Your fault?" Tommy pushed Harley away when he tried to listen in.

 "Yeah uh well you see." Peter coughed, clearly nervous "Harley got angry at Flash because of me and To- Mr. Stark was not impressed and basically put him on house arrest."

"House arrest?” Tommy glanced at his friend, mouthing 'He's apologizing'

 "Yeah. His uncle didn't trust him."

"I don’t blame him there, Harley's a heathen." he snickered, wincing when Harley punched him in the arm.

 Peter giggled "I'm not sure what he told you so I just wanted to clear things up in case he said something stupid like he had a date or something."

"That would be stupid?"

 "Well duh, he's your best friend and he shouldn't lie to you. Especially not for me. Could you do me a favor?"

"Depends on what it is?"

 "Nothing bad! I just want you to keep an eye on Harley and maybe uh make sure he stays away from Flash. I'm worried he's going to do something stupid and then To- Mr. Stark would lose it and it'll be a giant mess. So if you could do that for me that be great."

Tommy shook his head. "Yeah Parker I can do that but you owe me one alright?"

 "I expect nothing less. See ya Tommy"

"What was that about?” Harley questioned him as the call ended.

“Parker is too smart for his own good. He just called me to ask me to keep an eye on you and keep you away from Flash."

"To keep an eye on me?"

"Yup."

"He's something else. Bet my uncle had something to do with it." Harley pulled out his phone as they entered the building, texting his uncle

 H: did you tell Peter to call Tommy?

"Yeah that’s the other thing!"

Harley looked up from his phone “Other thing?”

“Yeah he kept starting to call your uncle by his first name than correcting himself.”

“Oh.” Harley tried to remain normal but was freaking out inside. If Tommy was to ask any questions about his uncle and Parker, well Harley wasn’t sure how he’d be able to lie to his best friend without him becoming suspicious.

“Yeah like I know he’s his intern and you two are kinda friends and hang out at your place together so I’m sure he doesn’t call him Mr. Stark. There’s no reason to cover it up.”

Harley shrugged “Yeah well maybe he’s trying to hide that we hang out?”

“Why would he call me to say he’s the reason you couldn’t hang this weekend then?”

“He did what? I thought you said he called to make sure you kept an eye on me?”

“Well he did. But first he wanted to make sure I knew that you didn’t chill this weekend because of something to do with Flash bugging him and you and Stark got into it.”

“Why would he bring that up?”

Tommy shrugged. “Somethin about worrying you’d make up some shit story about a date to cover it up. I’m your best friend and you shouldn’t lie to me especially for Parker.”

Harley gave him an unimpressed look.

“What? His words not mine.”

“Sure.”

“I’m serious! Then he asked about keeping an eye on you. So see what I mean when it makes no sense?”

Harley was about to respond when his phone buzzed

 Stark: No. Did you do something that would require him to talk to Tommy?

 H: Not even. So you’re telling me you had nothing to do with him getting a hold of Tommys number to call him?

 Stark: You are becoming paranoid nephew  .

 H: That don’t answer my question uncle.

 Stark: *doesn’t. Stark: Get to class I’ll see you after school.

Harley rolled his eyes as he put his phone back in his pocket. “Sorry what?”

“Were you even listening to me?”

Harley sighed. “Yes buttercup. Peter thinks you shouldn’t lie to me, wants you to keep an eye on me and hiding our friendship makes no sense considering he called you about that shit.”

“Someone is moody as fuck today.”

“Sorry man it’s just my uncle.”

Tommy raises an eyebrow “That or Flash hit a nerve.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well I mean dude you have a temper but the last time I seen you beat the shit outta somebody like that over a conversation was when my girlfriend was given a hard time. So unless someone you know is dating Parker, you’re catching feelings.”

Harley scrunched his nose up in disgust. “Fuck no. He’s just my Uncle’s intern man.”

“Since when has your uncle needed you to protect his interns?” Tommy challenged

“Since he started having a nerd the size of a beanpole for an intern.”

Tommy gave him a look as they entered first class.

“Seriously. You’ve seen how skinny he is. If Flash wanted to do some damage it wouldn’t be that hard!”

Tommy nods. Seeing Ned and Liz walk into class, he nudges Harley with his foot. Hoping he’ll get the hint to shut it.

Harley gave him a confused look before seeing Peter’s friends walk in.

“Hey Harley!” Ned stops in front of his desk.

“What’s up Leeds?”

“Was Peter with you this morning?”

“No. Didn’t he have some nerd thing with you at 8?”

Ned nods “Yeah but he didn’t show.”

Harley felt his heart drop into his throat. Peter never missed early periods. The whole point of them was so that a day or two a week he could spend the afternoon at SI. “Did you hear from him?”

Tommy glanced at Harley while trying to act indifferent. Last thing they needed was Ned snooping around if Harley did have a thing for the other teen.

Ned shook his head. “He texted me around half 7 saying he’d be there but he didn’t show.”

Harley looked confused. “Well I’m sure everything’s fine. Maybe something came up with SI.”

“I don’t think so. He’s only supposed to be an active intern outside of school hours.”

Harley shrugs “You’re just a worry wart Leeds.”

Liz nodded “See me and MJ told you everything was probably fine. Go sit down mother hen.” She pushed him in the direction of where they usually sat.

“Do us all a favor though and text your uncle. I really don’t feel like listening to Ned worry all damn day.” She whispered as she passed both boys.

After they were out of ear shot Tommy leaned forward. “Well we heard from him like 20 minutes ago so everything should be fine right?”

“Clearly Flash didn’t have anything to do with whatever’s going on.”

“You should get ahold of Stark. Leeds will probably try calling his aunt if we don’t find out what’s up.”

Harley shuddered at the thought. His uncle was scary but Peter’s aunt? She was a damn nightmare when it came to her nephew. “Shit your right. I got no interest in dealing with the wrath that is May Parker.”

Harley quickly takes his phone out and sends his uncle another text.

 H: Hey is Peter with you?

He frowns when immediately his phone rings showing Tony’s contact. “Shit.” He muttered under his breath. “He’s fucking calling me.”

Tommy looked at him in alarm “Who Peter?”

“No. Stark!” He whispered harshly as he got up quickly heading outside.

“Hello?” Harley answered once he was outside of the room.

“Why are you asking about Peter?”

“Because-”

 Tony cut him off “Why aren’t you in your English class?”

“Well I was in fucking English before Peter’s friends started asking me where the fuck he was!”

“Language nephew. Why are they asking you where he is?”

“Apparently I’ve become his fucking keeper or something. All I know is he didn’t show for that thing for early period and Ned is being a mother hen.”

“Clearly I need to wash your mouth out with soap. Peter didn’t show to Decathlon practice? Hmm.”

Harley could hear some rustling in the background which concerned him mildly. If he uncle didn’t know he was there how the hell was anyone else going to? “Uncle?”

“One second.”

The rustling continued for a beat before Tony spoke.

“Friday, Can you pinpoint Peter’s location?” Tony spoke before the line went silent for roughly 30 seconds.

“Thanks babygirl. Okay so everything is perfectly fine. I think he plans to reach out to his friends. He’ll be there soon.”

“Well what even happened?” Harley questioned. Then the second warning bell rang.

“Get to class.”

“But-” Harley was interrupted by a dial tone. He sighed as he pocketed his phone. Peter was going to be the death of him, he was sure of it.

[chungledown-bimothy]

Trust Me: Chapter 8

Hello hello hello! Thank you so much for your patience. I hope you enjoy it! <3

Chapter 1 Chapter 7 AO3 Chapter 9

Warnings: A brief mention of the wounds from last chapter’s violence

Author’s Note: The cipher is difficult, but crackable. Consider this a challenge! <3 I linked to it in the fic when it is first received, but here it is as well

Word Count: 2786

Tag List: @ccecode​ @emo-sanders-sides-loving-unicorn​ @ren-allen​ @ilovemygaydad​ @bloodropsblog​ @funsizedgremlin​ @raygelkitty​ @roxiefox23​ @thomasthesandersengine​ @spookyingarbageisland​ @band-be-boss-blog​

One Week Later

Patton's living room, 6 pm

"Logan, is there anything you wanted to tell me?" Patton's voice seemed sweet as usual, but Logan knew his sibling too well to miss the icy undertone.

"Nothing comes to mind. Is there something you'd like to hear?" Logan tried to keep his voice even, but the twitch of Patton's mouth made it clear that he had failed.

"What have you been up to lately? I realized that between putting in more hours at the shop and spending so much time with Virgil, we haven't really talked in the last week or so."

"Nothing remarkable. As you know, it is winter break, so I have been catching up on grading. I truly do not understand why some of these students think that what they turned in is remotely acceptable. Especially for this lab, which is worth 10% of their final grade. Do they not care about their education at all?"

"Now, Logan, I'm sure they're trying their best. You don't know what's going on in their lives outside of class, and you should know better than most how outside circumstances can affect someone's work. Is that it, then? Just grading?"

"For the most part. I read The Murder of Roger Ackroyd again, which was as pleasant as always."

Patton sighed, and the smile dropped off their face. "You, dear brother, are a terrible liar. Why did you borrow my car without asking while I was at work yesterday?"

Logan sputtered. "I- I did not- how did you know?"

"I'm not an idiot, Logan, and I'm more observant than you seem to think. Did you really think I wouldn't notice the fact that the odometer went up?"

"It was less than three miles round trip."

"Logan, my car is 63 years old. Every single mile matters. If you paid enough attention to the things I tell you that aren't about killing people, you would have known that. Virgil drove me to and from work; I would have said yes if you'd asked. So what could you possibly need to do within a 1.5 mile radius that required my car without my knowledge?"

Logan took a deep breath and steeled himself for the impending argument. "I required the use of your car to dispose of a body."

Patton's face flashed with anger and betrayal before returning to a neutral, calm expression. "I'll start with the easy question- why couldn't you use your car? Apparently you did all the rest by yourself, and your car is bigger than mine."

"There is a near-infinitesimal chance that someone might have seen him get into my car. The chance is almost indescribably small, but it does exist."

"How long ago?" Patton's voice was cold and harsh as they got off the couch and stood in front of Logan, the light casting a shadow that made them look like a dark angel.

Logan hesitated; he'd never seen them this angry before. "One week ago. I lack your talent for keeping them alive for long."

"One week… my date with Virgil." They scoffed. "And you say you don't feel emotions. Who, pray tell, did you target in your little temper tantrum?"

"It certainly was not an emotional breakdown. You pursued your desires independent of us when you went to the museum with Virgil. I pursued mine in punishing Jason Dean."

"Jason Dean… JD. Logan. Tell me that you did not kidnap, torture, and murder your own student. Was he even 18 yet? What could a CHILD possibly have done to deserve whatever you did to him? I assume it was some of the things I told you even the scum we punished deserved. Liquid nitrogen? Fire? Hydrochloric acid?" Logan flinched at each accusation, but he stood up, closing the height difference and looking Patton in the eyes.

"He was a murderer. He was responsible for the murders of three of his peers. He deserved punishment, and I deserved freedom with my experiments."

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Logan was taken aback by the sudden softness in Patton's voice.

"Of course not, Patton. In your own way, you are brilliant. I have told you this before."

"Don't patronize me. Is there anything else you left out? This is your one chance to get everything out in the open without consequences. I will know if you're lying, and you will regret it if you do."

"I… yes." Logan sighed, knowing full well that they would not hesitate to follow through on their threat. "I sent something to Roman Prince, the journalist who has been covering our kills."

"What, pray tell, did you send?" Logan could tell that their patience was about to snap, but he would not submit. Not this time.

"A note. A cipher. A challenge."

"Oh my god. You're looking for your Poirot, aren't you? I'm not enough? We aren't enough?"

"Patton, you are being absurd. Judging by his writing, this reporter will not be up for the challenge, but perhaps someone else out there can begin to compete with me intellectually, and it would be a welcome change of pace. Regardless, nothing will ever come between us. I fail to see how my search for a worthy intellectual opponent is any different from your burgeoning romance with this Virgil you are always going on about. It is hypocritical in the extreme to seek to satisfy your needs that cannot be fulfilled by our partnership while maintaining that I cannot. I deserve better than that, after all I did for you."

"There's a difference between going out on a few dates and putting us in danger and risking everything trying to prove that you're so much smarter than everyone else. You were reckless and stupid, and I'm disappointed in you. I don't know if we can keep going, if you're going to keep acting like this."

"Surely, you do not mean that. Our work means too much to you. People are only beginning to hear our message. That is truly why I sent that note to the reporter; so he can spread our word even further."

"I told you to stop fucking lying to me!" Patton shouted, raising a hand. Logan flinched, and Patton blanched, realizing what they had been about to do. "You should leave, Logan. I can't even look at you right now. Don't make me act like him." It was clear from their tone that it wasn't a request. Without another word, Logan pushed past them and walked out the door.

Golden Gate Park, 4 pm

Virgil walked onto the crime scene, shocked by the lack of reporters. He was greeted by Captain Sanders, further confusing him.

"Hello, Captain. With all due respect, why are you here? And I'm not complaining by any stretch, but where are all the press vultures?"

"Ah, hello, Virgil! They aren't here because no one knows about the body but the two of us. I found it myself, and called you and Vincent directly. No one but the three of us knows."

"Vincent's here?"

"'Ello, Virgil!" Came an energetic British voice from behind him. Virgil couldn't help but smile. 

"Don't get me wrong, I'm glad to see you, but what are you doing here?" Virgil let himself be pulled into a hug from the shorter man.

"I have crime scene tech training, and Captain Sanders needed someone he'd be sure wouldn't call the press. And given my history with journalism, well, I know that I talk a lot, but never to the press."

"Remind me to ask for that story later. How long has the body been here?"

"Judging by insect activity, I'd wager about twenty-four hours, but I'll send photos and samples to our entomologist for confirmation once we're done here. Did you know that the first documented case of forensic entomology was in 13th century China, documented in Sun Tzu's book about his work, entitled The Washing Away of Wrongs? He recounted finding a murder victim by noticing the flies that remained on the murder weapon, despite it being cleaned of all blood." 

"That is super fascinating, Vincent, but we've got a 2019 crime right here to solve. Do we know anything about the victim?" Virgil asked, putting on gloves.

"The only thing on him was a Mission High School ID- name's Jason Dean, he's a senior." Vincent handed him the ID.

"A kid? That's a huge change in victimology. Have you checked his mouth?"

"Not yet. Just got here a couple minutes before you did. Care to do the honors?"

Virgil sighed. "Not sure how much of an honor it is, but sure." Vincent led him to the body, and he started dictating notes.

"Victim is Jason Dean, per his Mission High School student ID. Whereas previous victims had knife wounds, the victim appears to have extremely severe frostbite, acid burns, and heat burns. No obvious cause of death, although shock seems to be a reasonable option. Opening his mouth now, and there is a paper inside. Same stamp as previous victims- this certainly is our killer. The note says 'killer'. Is the victim a substitute for himself? The profile suggests someone in their late twenties or early thirties. Perhaps something about Jason reminds the killer of himself as a teen. He shows no sign of stopping soon, though. Why kill a proxy now? Revisit profile after autopsy and gathering more information about Jason."

"Interesting analysis, Virgil." Virgil jumped, not having heard the captain walk up behind him. Captain Sanders laughed. "Easy there, it's just me. It looks like you've got this all under control, so I'm going to go back to the station. This change in MO and victimology is concerning, though- get me a written revised profile by the end of the day."

"Yes, sir." Virgil went back to discussing the details of the injuries with Vincent, and Sanders left the scene.

Presidio Heights, 6 pm

With a sigh, Roman forced a key into the ancient lock on his slot in the mailbox unit. He rifled through them as he trudged up the flight of stairs to his apartment, flipping past coupons, ads, and bills, frustrated at how mundane his life had become. He hadn't realized just how monotonous his routine was until he got the opportunity to write those pieces on the Park Puzzler; now life in between them just felt gray. He knew that having another chance to write about the killer meant someone else would have to die, so he didn't hope for that, but the thrill of a real story left him hungry for more adventure. Which is why his heart stopped when he found an envelope with no address or postage, just his name.

He ran up the rest of the stairs and unlocked his door as quickly as possible, throwing the rest of the mail on his coffee table. The pile let out an irritated meow.

"I'm so sorry, Meeko, my love! But this looks to be quite the mysterious delivery. Can you smell the adventure?" Roman freed his cat from the pile of papers and scratched under his chin. Meeko let out a small chirp, which Roman understood as forgiveness.

Turning back to the envelope, he was truly at a loss for words. The envelope was made out of cardstock, and the only writing on it was his name in big, black letters. He carefully took a picture of it before turning it over and opening it. Inside was a note. Once again, he took a picture of it before calling his boss.

"What is it, Prince? You're off the clock."

"I just got a note that claims to have been sent by the Park Puzzler."

"The serial killer?"

"Yes, sir. The note looks like it's in some kind of code, and it says I should publish it. What should I do?"

"The journalist in me says yes- it's a hell of a story. But this is a very public active case, and I don't want you charged with obstruction of justice. Take pictures of it, and then take it to the cops."

"I already took pictures- consider me on the way to the station now." Roman threw his jacket back on and left for the station.

Richmond Station, 20 Minutes Later

"Detective Mason, it's Roman Prince here to see you."  Virgil looked up from his profile write-up to see a beat cop whose name he couldn't remember nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"Roman Prince… oh. The journalist. Did he say what he wants?"

"Wouldn't give me details- he just said that it has to do with that serial killer case you're working."

Virgil fought to not roll his eyes. "Okay, send him over here."

"Will do." The officer all but ran away, quickly returning with Roman in tow.

"Hello Prince. Rumor has it you have something for me." Virgil said, feigning boredom.

"Not quite. I have something that was delivered to me that might be of interest to you." Virgil's interest was piqued.

"If it's half as important as you seem to think it is, it is evidence, and therefore will be mine shortly."

"Hang on, Surly Temple. Before I show you anything, I need you to promise me exclusive rights to this. It was given to me, out of all the journalists in the city, by the Park Puzzler, after all."

"Don't call him that. Public attention is his goal, and giving him a name like that only validates him. But fine. If this is something important, you will be given SFPD's permission to write about it once we've decided the best course to do so." Maybe I can make this work in our favor. He's so desperate to get a big story, I'm sure we can use him to say what we want, not what the killer does, Virgil mused.

"Fantastic! Here it is. It was in my mailbox when I checked the mail about half an hour ago." Roman handed him the envelope.

"When was the last time you checked your mail?" Virgil asked.

"Yesterday at around 6 o'clock. I check it at about the same time every day." 

"Good. Patterns are good," Virgil muttered to himself. He put gloves on before taking the envelope from him. He pulled the piece of paper out of the envelope and read it. "Come with me, Roman. We need to talk to my captain right now." He stood up and started walking; Roman hurried after him.

When they got to the captain's office, Virgil didn't even knock.

"Captain, you need to see this. This journalist says this was left in his mailbox at some point in the last 24 hours." Virgil handed him the note.

Sanders went pale. "What is this?"

"I'm confident it's a cypher of some sort. He's getting desperate, Captain. He hasn't been getting the attention he wants, so he's reaching out to the media directly."

"So why code it?" Roman interjected. "If he wants to use me to send a message, why make it one people won't understand?"

"That's a really good question. What's your name, and who are you writing for?" Sanders asked.

"Roman Prince with SFGate."

"Ah, Humphrey's crew. Well, Virgil? Why is it coded?"

"He doesn't just want attention. He's telling us that he's smarter than we are- publishing this code is a challenge for someone to decode it. Not unlike the Zodiac killer."

"So what do you suggest we do about it? I'm not inclined to do what he wants us to."

"If we don't give him some attention, he will escalate, and with the combination of his recent change of MO and victimology and reaching out to Roman directly, I don't want to know what his next escalation would be if we just ignore it."

"So you're going to let me publish it?" Virgil fought to not roll his eyes at Roman's excitement.

"Not yet. Give me 24 hours to crack it. I already have a couple of ideas. If we can prove that I'm smarter than he is, he will reach out to me, and we can use that connection to catch him. He's almost as smart as he is arrogant, and that's the rope he's going to hang himself on." Virgil made eye contact with the Captain, almost pleading.

"Ooh, I like that phrase. I'm totally going to use that." Roman broke the tense silence that had fallen.

"Okay, Virgil. Roman, meet us both here at 7 pm tomorrow. We'll regroup from there. Virgil, godspeed." He handed Virgil the note.

"Thank you sir. Roman, you can see yourself out, right? I have to get to work."

The two young men left the office, heads swimming with ideas and plans.

[saltynemo]

Drunk In Love

Warnings: Underage drinking, sexual content, swearing, eDgY tEeNs xd,

This picture is so pure oMG!

Ok so Y/n has had a crush on her childhood friend, Josh, for a very long time and when Josh invites her over for some illegal drinking, Y/n accepts. She never planned to confess to him.

Word Count: 1.7k words

  Just as I feel myself doze into a sleep in front of my computer, my phone erupts into my ringtone. I yelp, immediately picking my head up. I grab my phone and look at the caller ID. Oh, its Josh! Why is he calling me at nearly 1 am?

     I swipe my phone screen, answering Josh’s call. “Hello?” I speak, the butterflies in my stomach beginning. I always felt like this talking to him.

     “Hey!” He cheers, a smile obvious on the other end. “Um, I was wondering if you could come over-like, right now...” He asks.

     “I cant, Josh! Do you understand its 1 in the morning!” 

     “Its actually 12:57.” He sasses. I laugh at his response, wondering why he would want me to come over. “Please come over, Y/n. My parent’s aren't home and it’ll be worth it.”

     “Oh, um, ok. Yea I’ll be over in a bit.” We say our goodbyes and hang up. His parent’s aren't home I wonder, my heart skipping a beat at the thought. No, no, no he’s too innocent for sex. Is he?

     I shrug, slipping on a jacket and my phone in my pocket. I close my computer down by holding the power button, not caring to exit out of the windows still up. I slide my feet into my shoes and carefully sneak out my bedroom door, making sure not to wake up my mom. I tip toe my way to the front door, hesitating when I heard a creak.

     I successfully sneak through the door, slowly closing it. I begin to walk down the sidewalk, looking forward to me and Josh’s night out.

     As I approach the young man’s house, I text him, alerting him that I was outside. In less than a minute, I see the door swing open, revealing a cutie in a cat muscle shirt.

     “Y/n!” Josh cheers, smiling brightly. “Come in, quick.” He hurries me, motioning his hand to me. I hurry inside the house, hearing the front portal shut behind me. I observe the house, wondering how Josh’s parents let me come this late, or should I say early, at night.

     “So,” I begin, turning to the handsome boy. “Why did you bring me here?” He chuckles, happiness and excitement obviously in him.

     “I’m glad you asked.” He runs into the kitchen, my curious personality following him. I see him dig around in the fridge, glass clinking together. Suddenly, he pulls out a 750ml bottle of Iceberg Vodka. I choke on my breath, finding myself laughing. He smiles as he holds the bottle up for me, presenting it.

     “Josh,” I shake my head, smiling like a goofball. “We cant drink this!” I say, beginning to take off my jacket. “We’re literally 19. And we’re both not turning 21 anytime soon.” He chuckles, putting down the bottle.

     “So? I know you’ve told me before about stealing alcohol.” He grins, fishing through the cupboards for glasses.

     “I know, but what are your parent’s gonna say?”

     “They aren’t here.” He winks, already pouring us a drink. I roll my eyes, walking over to the soon-to-be-drunk Josh. He pours us both short glasses, one that’s pink and the other red. I hold up the pink glass and study it, the words ‘Twerk Queen’ imprinted on it.

     I laugh, “’Twerk Queen’? Really?” He chuckles, picking up his own shot.

     “My mom is a freak when she isn’t at church.” We both share a giggle at his remark. “Ok, enough chat; I wanna get drunk.”

     “You better not become an alcoholic after tonight.” I warn, watching Josh down his shot. I bring the glass up to my lips and slowly drink the liquid, forgetting it’s a shot. I make a sour face as the vodka buzzes through my veins and up to my brain, making me cringe.

     “Y/n!” Josh chuckles, setting his glass down. “You aren't drinking a can of beer. Its a shot. You have to just down it.”

     “Yea, yea, I know. I forgot.” I shush, the strong taste still in my mouth. “ I’m a first time drinker you know, right?”

     “Yea, I am too. I just thought it would be logical for you.”

     “Shut up” We both share a laugh as Josh pours another shot for both of us. He hands me my filled shot as he takes his own.

     “Remember, its a shot.” He giggles, raising the glass to his lips.

     “I know, dummy.”

     As time went on and more and more alcohol was consumed, we became more and more unaware of what reality was; In other words, we got drunk as hell. After shots became too strong for us, we moved to regular beer, Corona specifically.

     I laugh at a joke Josh slurred, covering my mouth with my hand. We were smashed as fuck.

     “Hey, I got a question.” Josh suddenly says, wiping a tear from his eye. I nod my head, telling him to continue. “Are you a virgin?” 

     “No, far from that.” I giggle. “Once I turned 18, I went crazy.”

     “What do you mean by that?”

     “Well,” I began, setting my drink on the counter. “I lost my virginity to Tyler.” I hear Josh silence a laugh, an apparent smile trying to be hidden. “What?”

     “Nothin’, just continue.” He takes a sip of his beer, watching me intensely as I went on.

     “I also fucked Zach, to get payback for Tyler dumping me.” I chuckle, now remember the scene. “And recently, I fucked my old childhood friend, who we can just call Cody.”

     Josh holds a hand up to me, stopping me. “Out of all your fuck buddys, who was your favorite.”

     “Oh, definitely Cody.” I say without hesitation, taking a quick sip of my beer. “He was so rough, called me degrading names and shit.” 

     Josh is taken back by this, not expecting that coming from my lips. “I always thought you were soft and everything.”

     “Well, not anymore.” I laugh.

     “I bet I can fuck you better than him.” He smirks, chugging the rest of his beer down.

     I roll my eyes at his words, “Yea sure, buddy. You cant fuck me good enough to see stars.”

     I see Josh’s eyes turn dark, jaw clenched. “Bet.” He says bluntly.

     “I bet you’re a bottom boy.” I chuckle, seeing how far I could push his patience.

     I see him slam down his glass, making me jump. “Excuse me?” He says aggressively. He slowly walks over to me, bending down close to me. “I’m sorry, I couldn't hear you.” He says, sarcasm dripping from his lips. “Can you say that again?”

     “I said ‘I bet you’re a bottom boy’.” I repeat, making sure to emphasize the B’s. I smirk, hoping to ignite something inside him. He nods his head, chuckling.

     “That’s funny,” He straightens up his posture, staring directly down at me, making me feel small. I feel his hand, snake up my torso, suddenly gripping my neck. He pulls me close harshly, making my heart pound in my chest. “I don’t remember a little slut like you dominating me.” He barks, leaning down so his mouth is right near my ear. “I should fuck you and show you how dominating I can be to a little fucktoy like you.” He grins, slowly tightening the grip around my throat. I was able to breathe, but it felt like I couldn’t. “I’m gonna plow you right here on the hardwood floor; little sluts like you don’t deserve to be fucked on a bed.”

     Josh lets go of my throat and goes for my hair, pushing me down onto my knees. I struggling to bend down without hurting my joints, but was able to accomplish it. He releases his grip and begins undoing his jean button. I push his hand out of the way, finding myself become excited from the idea of being dominated by Josh. I quickly unzip his pants, tugging them down his thighs. I’m met with his underwear, causing me to realize what was going on. I’m gonna fuck Josh? Here, now?

     I hesitantly pull down his underwear slightly, revealing his shaft, then head. His rod bounces up from excitement, smacking my chin. I hold his dick softly, admiring his size. I pump him slowly, spitting on his cock to lube him up. He groans lowly, watching me do my job closely. I pick up my second hand, giving him the two hand twist; that’s what I call it, at least. I slow down and speed up randomly, teasing him. He groans in satisfactory, watching me kiss the tip of his glazed cock. I smirk up to him, watching him unravel beneath my touch.

     “Top teasing me, Y/n.” Josh moans, grabbing me by the hair. In shock, I let go of his dick, gripping his thighs. He guides my mouth to his rod, pushing it against my lips. I open up wide, letting him insert it all. I feel his 7 inches grind against my lower throat, making me choke. “Pretty girl can’t take it?” He chuckles, still holding my hair. “I thought little sluts like you can take this big cock. I guess not.”

     I shut my eyes, trying to halt myself from gagging anymore. My nose presses against his pubic bone, letting me know his dick was in all the way. He doesn't stop there, pulling my head forward and backwards, face fucking me steadily. My eyes begin to water, blinking away tears. His movements pick up quickly, soon fucking my mouth senselessly. I take a deep breath through my nostrils, hoping this would be over soon. No matter how much I want to please Josh, this can’t go on for much longer.

     Suddenly, he pulls out of my sloppy mouth with a groan, looking down at the mess he made of my face. “I’d love to cum in your mouth, baby.” He huffs, leaning down close to me. His lips brush against my ear, making me shiver, “But I would love to cum in something much sloppier...”

     (I apologize it’s quite short, but I really wanted to finish this. Im sorry I disappeared for a while; my life has been hectic and i just got introduced to new classes etc. Not a real excuse but i do apologize. I hope u enjoyed at least some of this content lmao)

[ferritin4]

Titans Together part 2 (Gen Jon Kent/Damian Wayne)

A follow-up to This First Installment of my mildly absurd headcanon about aged-up Damian Wayne and Jon Kent, based off of the recent, and now ongoing, runs of Tomasi’s Super Sons. The first post got more interest than I expected -- the amount I expected was “none” honestly -- so I’m putting this up as well for you few who thought it was fun. It is fun. It’s a fun ship. This is set on the same visit, the next day.

—

“I have a meeting with my advisor,” Damian said, stepping over Jon to get to his desk. Jon pulled his blankets back onto the air mattress and rubbed his eyes.

“Cool,” Jon said. “Is the cafeteria open on Saturday mornings?”

—

The cafeteria was open.

Damian had demanded he go to some restaurant in town where Damian knew someone, but that didn’t matter. Jon hadn’t even intended to stay the night, but if he was here, he was here, and he wasn’t Damian. He could eat at a normal cafeteria like a normal person.

It was pretty sparse still, because Damian got up at like four thirty in the morning every day — Damian slept between zero and four hours a night most days, which still freaked Jon out a little bit, but if he was going to have a heart attack or a seizure or something he probably would have had it by now — so Jon was showered and dressed in his jeans and boots and one of Damian’s plain white t-shirts by five thirty. Damian didn’t just wear t-shirts around anymore, of course, and this was supposed to go under a dress shirt, but Jon wasn’t wearing one of Damian’s dress shirts. No way.

It was pretty warm for September, but he still needed something between a t-shirt and his jacket. Damian’s dorm or whatever was like, a whole studio apartment, with a closet that Jon probably could have slept in instead of next to the desk where Damian kicked him in the side by accident every time he wanted to get a new pen or something.

Damian probably would’ve kicked him in the side by accident even if Jon had slept in the closet. Jon had spent more than enough time in the Titans headquarters. He knew how Damian operated.

Damian had a couple of sweaters that didn’t look too fancy, for Damian. Jon had pulled a dark red one over his head and gotten his wallet and headed out.

The breakfast in the dining hall was eggs and bacon and stuff. Jon got like six pancakes at the pancake station; he was hungry.

“Hi,” he told the person at the cash register. “I gotta pay with money, like. I’m not a student. If that’s okay.”

“That’s fine,” the cashier said, and then the person behind Jon said, “I — are you — um, Kent?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jon said to Ms. Braxton, who looked even smaller standing up. Her hair was in a very ineffective headband and she was wearing a hoodie, pajama pants, and house slippers.

“Wow,” she said.

Okay?

“Good morning,” Jon said.

“I can get your food,” she said suddenly, apparently recovering from whatever she’d been thinking, and shoved forward to give the cashier her ID card.

“Oh, no, don’t worry about it,” Jon said. “I can pay for my breakfast, Miss, uh, Braxton. For real,” he added when she blinked up at him.

“You remember my name?” she said. “And, no, I got it. It’s not even real money. It’s part of my tuition.”

Isn’t your tuition paid for with money? Jon thought, but it wasn’t like he didn’t know Damian. It wasn’t like he didn’t know a whole lot of people who ran billion-dollar companies and bought newspapers and banks and thought things like it’s not real money, if they even thought about it at all.

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” Jon said, following her to the condiments station. “Why wouldn’t I remember your name?”

“Because you were busy getting grilled by the devil himself?” she said. “I think I go into, like, a fugue state most of the time. Like my brain is trying to die while my body’s still alive.” She pumped a giant pool of ketchup onto her plate.

“Oh, yeah,” Jon said. He shrugged as well as he could with a tray in his hands. “It doesn’t bother me anymore. I guess I don’t know if it ever did? But I get it.”

“Other profs don’t bother me,” she said, steering them toward a table. “I’m not, like, a wimp, but he’s like — he’ll fail you as soon as he’ll look at you, did you know that? And he’s, like, I don’t know. He’s so mean. You have no idea.”

“He can be pretty mean,” Jon conceded, tucking into his bacon. He wasn’t going to sit here and try to convince someone that Damian Wayne wasn’t an asshole.

“So,” she said.

“Mgnh?” Jon said. He swallowed. “Yeah? Oh, I didn’t really introduce myself.” He wiped his hand off on his napkin. “I’m Jon.”

“I’m Hafsah,” she said with a weird look on her face. “Mitchell said your name was Jon.”

“Mitchell?” Jon said. He took a sip of his coffee. It tasted okay, but it smelled kind of funny. Whatever, it only cost a dollar.

“Derek Mitchell? He was sitting next to you?” she said, and Jon bit his tongue so he didn’t say, oh, sure, Sweater Vest.

“Yes,” Jon said instead. “He didn’t tell me his name.”

“We don’t talk a lot in that class,” she said, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Usually. You did.”

Jon put half a pancake into his mouth and chewed it while he tried to figure out what she was getting at, but it didn’t really help.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said finally. He hadn’t. He had mostly planned to ask Damian about it after class, if he remembered or if Damian hadn’t explained it already by then.

“Do you work with him?” she said, out of nowhere. Jon frowned.

“No?” he said. “He works here?” It was kind of a lie, but like, he didn’t think she was acting weird and confused because she’d figured out the whole Teen Titans thing.

“Liam Kendry, who is a tool and stalks all his professors online like a creep,” she said, “says that he works for some defense contractor sometimes. And that he works for his dad’s company.”

“Well, okay, yeah, but he’s been doing that since he was like si— sssoo long ago,” Jon said. Damian would have had his ass for that. “He works here,” Jon added in an effort to distract her from the world’s lamest half-lie. “He goes to school here. And that’s not how I know him. I’m just here to hang out with him.”

“What?” she said. “You’re here to what?”

“Hang out?” Jon said. She stared at him, eyes nearly as big as Sweater Vest’s — Derek Mitchell’s — had been.

“Is that some kind of weird slang for like, a start-up tech company thing? Or, like, some kind of military exercise?” she asked.

“No,” Jon said a little more sharply than was polite, because he was getting tired of this. “He’s my best friend. We grew up together. We hang out! We watch movies! I made him go mudding on the farm last spring, he hated it,” he added, smiling.

Hafsah’s mouth opened, but she didn’t say anything. It stayed open.

“Are you okay?” Jon asked.

A small piece of potato fell out of her mouth and landed on the table between her plate and her lap.

“Oh my god, that was disgusting, I’m so sorry,” she said, snapping back to life and frantically attacking it with her napkin. “Okay gross, gross, sorry. Ew.”

“It’s okay,” Jon laughed. “Are you okay?”

“Um,” she said. “I don’t know. You seem so nice.”

That was a real non sequitur, but she seemed awfully sincere.

“Thank you,” Jon said, trying not blush. “I, uh. I try to be.”

“Wayne doesn’t,” she said decisively, and Jon didn’t even try to fight his smile.

“No,” he said, “no, he really doesn’t.” He forked the last of his pancakes into his mouth and took a drink of coffee. Something in his coffee still tasted a little off, or smelled weird. It was cafeteria coffee, so he didn’t want to be mean, but it was definitely getting worse.

“Did you really hug him at the end of class?” she asked, her eyes a little wild. Jon grinned.

“He hates that too,” he said. “But he had it com—”

That wasn’t his coffee. Shit.

“I gotta go,” he said, lurching out of his seat. “I’m sorry, I just — remembered something I forgot to do.”

“You what?” she said, but he was already gone, bolting out the doors and onto the quad.

Shit, shit, shit, where was it coming from? Where was his map? Something was burning, something chemical and strange, and Jon didn’t know where anything was, where were the science buildings — he punched CALL on his phone and started running toward the smell. Thank God it was still early. Nobody was out, nobody was there to see him and say, hey, man, are you —

“I am in a meeting,” Damian’s voice said, sharp and annoyed. “Which I know I told you.”

“Where are the labs, the science, like, the lab buildings?” Jon cut in. “Dami, something’s, I don’t know where, something’s on fire and it smells like nitrogen, or metal.”

“Four hundred yards southwest of Waterstone,” Damian said. “This meeting is over,” he said, not to Jon, “I will reschedule at my —” and Jon hung up.

He rounded in the corner, past Waterstone Hall, up a flight of weirdly broad stairs. There were two buildings, pretty much identical, looming up, and where was it — oh. Oh no, he could see the smoke in the windows of the third floor.

Nobody was coming. There was nobody anywhere, no sirens. Smoke was starting to trickle out one of the windows, but no one was helping.

Well, Jon thought as a dark shape landed on the roof. Not no one. Not anymore.

Nobody was out here, though, which meant Jon could fly up and kick in the emergency door on the third floor fire escape without anyone calling the cops or a TV station.

Damian ducked in through the break room window as Jon came down the hall, and oh, whoa. Shit had been the right word. Yikes.

Smoke was pouring out the open door to the lab at the end of the hallway, acrid and sour and foul. Jon’s eyes were burning; his mouth felt like he’d been chewing on pennies.

“Fuck,” Damian said, covering his mouth. “Even I could smell this from the dining hall.”

“Why isn’t the fire alarm going off?” Jon said. “This should be,” he stopped.

“What?” Damian said. He punched the plastic box of the fire alarm until it cracked, then ripped it off the wall. Wires fell out in a tangle. “There's a short in the system. Jon?”

“Somebody is in there,” Jon said in horror.

He could hear their heartbeat.

The fire alarm surged to life, suddenly screaming.

“Okay,” Jon said. “Okay.” He could barely see the door through the smoke, but they were in there and they were alive, and he could find them if he listened hard enough.

“The local fire department’s response time to this location is an average of eight minutes,” Damian said. Jon turned to look at him. “So stop just standing there, Kent.”

Jon smiled.

“Right,” he said. “Don’t go anywhere.”

The lab was a blinding, suffocating wall of smoke, and Jon shut his eyes against the sting and listened.

They were… to his left. Somewhere to his left. He tripped over something, a chair or a stool, but it wasn’t burning. Some of the furniture was on fire, but most of the flames were coming from a fume hood on the far side of the room, nowhere near him, near him or near them.

They were right under him before he was sure of it, but they were breathing. A woman, in jeans and a puffy vest that had half melted in the heat of the room. She was breathing, she wasn’t moving but she was breathing —

Something made a very ominous cracking noise behind him.

He felt it before it happened: a wet splash of liquid on the floor as a bench collapsed and a pipe burst, and then a thunderous shudder of bottles and jars tumbling and rolling toward the side of the room that was mostly flame, and then that awful, familiar inrush of air before an explosion.

He dropped to cover her just in time.

The windows blew out; one of the lab's doors ripped off and went crashing out into the hallway. A piece of a desk hit Jon’s back, hard, and the ceiling on the far side of the room let out a miserable, terrible groan and started to sag.

Jon grabbed her and ran.

Damian wasn’t in the hallway, and Jon spared a terrified thought that maybe the lab's door had hit him, and he was — no, of course not; he was in the break room, halfway down the hall.

“Put her here,” Damian told him. “Is she breathing?”

“Yeah,” Jon said. “Hang on, hang on, I gotta,” he stripped the melted vest off her and threw it on the floor. Damian’s fingers were at her neck. He had a bottle of water from somewhere, and he was opening it as she began to cough.

“Oh, whew,” Jon said. “Wow.”

Damian looked over at him, his eyes sharp chips of green. Jon heard the heavy footsteps of the firefighters start up the stairs on the ground floor.

Damian’s gaze flickered down to Jon’s chest, then back up.

“Oh,” Jon said, looking down. Damian’s sweater was hanging off him in burnt strips, and the whole left shoulder of his t-shirt was missing. His jeans and shoes were okay — he’d kind of laid down next to her and curled up — but there was no way he looked like he should have all his limbs.

“I, uh, I think I need to leave,” Jon said.

“We need to leave,” Damian agreed. “The easiest roof access is just to the east of the window.”

“No, I need to leave,” Jon said. “You need to stay here and explain the fire alarm, and the getting her out of the lab and stuff.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Nobody asks why they didn’t die in a fire,” he said.

“Somebody was obviously here,” Jon said.

“And when they’re gone, no one will—”

“She didn’t crawl out here and onto a table and not —”

“People do all kinds of things in critical, life-threatening situations,” Damian snapped.

“Not like this,” Jon stalled.

“Jon,” Damian said suspiciously.

“In here!” Jon yelled as the firefighters burst through the hallway doors, and then he lunged for the window.

He caught Damian’s eyes as he scrambled up to the roof, and boy, was he doubly glad he was impervious to fire today.

[passionandpurposeblog-blog]

Sexuality: No More to say and so over it

A few months after my long term girlfriend and I split up, I ended up in bed with Phillip, A nice guy that I’d known for some time. During the post-sex talk, he turns and asks “So does that mean you’re straight now?” 

“LMFAO” 

‘You’ve got a nice cock and I had a great orgasm, …..but you haven’t awoken anything in me that wasn’t already there. You cannot ‘make’ me straight and no one forced me to fuck you’ 

Infact, No one else would sexually awaken anything in me. Not the next guy after Phil, or the guy after that guy, or the girl after the guy after Phil. The list goes on and the list started waaaay back into my early teens. I've always been open, I was experimenting with drugs and people at a young age, I had a threesome with a guy and a girl when I was just 18. When I look back, I must admit that was very young for such an experience, but I just went with the flow. I don’t regret it, but I wish I had done it at a later age to really make the most of it and have the emotional maturity that you need to go with it. 

I’ve been listening to an interview with Kate Pierson (B52’s) and she has recently married her long term partner, a woman that she has dated for 15 years. She said that she had always dated men, and was even married before and that this lady came along and bang she was in love, just like that. Kate Pierson is now 71, So this is her 55-year-old self experiencing a major transition and shift in her life. Whilst trawling through the B52s back catalog online I read so many comments from random fans. ‘She's a lesbian’ ‘I never knew’ ‘But she was married to so and so’ and this is exactly the snooze fest that I am writing about today. Yawn...... If she spent 40 years with different men and now met a woman, perhaps shes just er just bisexual? And more importantly, shouldn’t we be interested in the music and her voice? As much as I love her, when all is said and done I don’t really want to think about the bedroom antics of a 71-year-old yknow.  

What is it with the labels?  

It’s like no one is comfortable until they know exactly which box you belong in, and if you stray from that box then their tiny minds scramble and system overload occurs. ‘ANNOUNCE YOURSELF AT ONCE’ ‘What are you?’ and ‘Don’t you dare have options or change, it doesn’t fit with the label I’ve prescribed you’.  

Before we label Kate a lesbian, how about we mention that she’s a brilliant talented vocalist with over 40 years in the band? Or is that how we are defining her now ‘The lesbian’?. *Insert laughing emoji here* 

“Bisexuals always get dumped on,” says Cynthia Nixon from Sex in the City...The Media has too labeled her a lesbian when much like Kate Pierson, she was in fact with men and entered into this new world later on in her life. It’s like now we must erase her whole previous life and deny that any man has ever come close to her! How dare she now turnaround and say she's’ attracted to men! How fucking dare she, she’s lesbian property now and she has no voice! She never said she was anything, You did!   

I thought, ‘I get it! I get You, I just get it’. She’s attracted to people, they may be male or they may be female yet shes being kettled to a place she never asked to be. It really is that simple. Should her current relationship end, nothing stops her going back to men, dating another woman or even staying single. Your past partners do not mean that your future self is set in stone. It’s not difficult to understand really is it?  

But! And there is a But!  

Say Cinthia and her gf/wife did break up and she dated a man. She won’t find it that easy, because of what I call, the whole ‘lesbian fragility’ - Gay women who pride themselves on being with women and only women and god fucking forbid should you show any interest in a guy. Well, You are now damaged goods my girl. A sell-out, banished!....exiled from the pride....like the Lioness in last weeks BBC Planet Earth. How can you and the gay community ever really watch the L Word again together or listen to Ani Difranco in the same way? ‘It’s just not the same’ they’ll whine.  

I’m being serious. There is a reverse discrimination within the gay community! I’ve seen it first hand. I’ve seen a few women in same sex relationships end, then go for a guy and their ‘friends’ no longer feel the same way about them, there’s no time to hang out anymore and she is “too busy with her straight friends”.  

Awwwww did someone emasculate you? 

I’ve never really enjoyed the company of gay women if I'm honest. I always found their friendships forged on sharing of sexual preference rather than common interest, views or hobbies. I usually think their haircuts are shit and they present me with this feeling where they are unsure if they want to fuck me or fight me. Very awkward, not to mention its a very childish and incestuous scene.  

I have seen this so many times with women, either in a same sex or opposite and then switch later on down the line which is what I mean about experience and just understanding those around you. I think a lot of women are on the bi spectrum. Not all, no, but a lot are, and sexuality is fluid.  About three months ago my cock hungry straight friend told me she’d met some woman online and is now having the best sex of her life! Great, wonderful, Whoppie.  So how do I label her? …....‘Err Mary’......... I label her Mary. I can’t really call her cock hungry right now, so I’ll just label her ‘Hungry Mary’. 

One of my oldest friends is gay – full blown lesbian, never been with a guy but totally cool with every bi girl that has. She and I sit on a different part of the spectrum, but she gets it and like myself she gives those around her that mutual respect and safe space to be who they are. If she turned around tomorrow and said she’s dating a guy, I wouldn’t be shocked, not because she has ever indicated that she likes guys, but simply because people change.  

I know three guys that have also experimented with other guys, would identify as straight and two of the three have long term girlfriends and kids. I just think at the time they took the ‘any holes a goal’ attitude and like my younger self, just went with the flow. 

As we age and grow the fuck up, this should be more accepted and we should just allow people to do who and what they want without the questions, especially the silly questions. It’s really mind numbingly boring, not to mention so nosey!? Jeez, get your own life in order. Despite my ramblings, I'm actually a pretty private person.  I just don’t discuss my private life or anyone I’m dating, I have so many transient non-committal interactions with people that I just don’t feel I need to. 

 I’ve been chatting to some people for ages, and I still wouldn’t discuss parts of my life with them. I keep my circle so small, and If we don’t click like that, we don’t click like that. It’s cool, because there is far more to me and far more to you than who we have in our beds right? I cant imagine meeting someone and asking them, “so what are ya?” CRINGE. I’d die. I’ve got some friends that I’ve spoken to for years, we’ve had really great conversations and it’s never occurred to me to stop and ask ‘do you have a partner? Are you gay?’  

The small circle of friends that I have know me, they get me and that’s my safe space.  

I do find some of the questions and statements really annoying, and if I’m honest just plain weird. I have an irritating male friend in that likes to continually remind me that I’m attracted to women, and of course, there is no way that I can be attracted to men, because I’m not attracted to him..... *eye roll* Dick! It’s like me saying to someone, ‘but you said you like mixed raced girls, so why don’t you like me’ it’s really really weird and it makes me feel uncomfortable. Its uncomfortable because he cannot address or acknowledge his own fascination with bisexuality and cannot stop mentioning it every time he sees me? He makes out he is cool and open-minded, yet I seem to be the topic of convo or butt of his jokes. Address your homophobia or your weird unrequited sexualisation of me whatever the issue is. Seek help mate, Your issue not mine. 

I cannot recall being asked what two women do in bed, but I have heard of it being asked to other people. It’s hilarious. I honestly believe that if you are over 25 and cannot work that out then you have a really dull imagination and I’d bet you are not very experienced. Not necessarily in bedding two women at once, but just in experiencing people; hearing their stories, watching porn, understanding their anatomy and physiology. OR You are being a menace and condescending..... I’ve never seen two men at it live, but I’m pretty sure I know how it goes down ;-)  

Sometime ago I spent a fair amount of time at a bdsm sex dungeon helping out an old friend. Id mostly film her sessions, and now and then Id help out by giving some guys the odd little kick in the nuts etc. Boy, I could write a whole new blog on that experience LOL! I saw some things!  

Meeting all the different types of people that came in the dungeon really opened my eyes to the world of sex and sexuality and just what turns people on. You really cannot judge what people are into, and you’d never know. It’s funny, the ‘geezers’ that make the gay jokes about bumming are often the same ones that ask the women to wear strap ons ;-). People have their quirks and their kinks, they just hide it well BELIEVE me. 

I’ve seen a lot and I’m very open and not much phases me, but because I’m not phased, or excited by the gossip or the fascination of it all I'm over it. …....over the labels, the questions, the presumptions, opinions and the basic inability to let people do what they want in peace. So because of this I decided a long time ago that I’m actually over my sexuality and stopped speaking about it  back in my twenties. 

Yawn.  

No one owns me and no one dictates.

I’m not anything, I’m just me in that particular point of time. No path is set and I answer to no one except who’s in my bed. 

Keep your own truth

[daggerzine]

The Dot comes before the Dash- the Danny Ingram interview.

You would see their names on the back of records, many for Washington’s DC’s Dischord label and you might see a photo every now and again, but don’t know much about them unless you were part of that scene (ie; see my previous interview with Chris Bald from a few years ago). Danny Ingram was another one of those names. I knew he’d been in some of the early Dischord bands (Youth Brigade, etc.) and knew he’d done a lot of other stuff but wasn’t exactly sure where, when or in what context (‘cept that I knew he’s a drummer). Fast forward to nearly a decade ago when I saw his name as drummer of a new Washington, DC combo named Dot Dash. Their guitarist/vocalist Terry Banks had been in some of my favorite indie pop combos, namely Tree Fort Angst and The Saturday People, so I knew I was gonna like this one (Hunter Bennett rounds out the trio on bass)! I’ve enjoyed all of their records, but this latest one, Proto Retro (released earlier this year on The Beautiful Music label) is really a special thing of beauty. Well-written rock-pop songs that are both heartfelt and fun (and catchy as hell). Back to Ingram though, he was one of the older punks on the DC scene and thus saw and heard a lot so grab your favorite beverage, your reading glasses and bathrobe and take a stroll both down memory lane and up ‘til the current day.

A man and his drums, 

 Were you born and raised in Washington, DC?

Yes – DC born and raised. Lived in SE DC until I was 12, then moved to Palisades (NW DC) where I met my life-long friend and future bandmate, Nathan Strejcek.

 At what age did you take up the drums?

I had a fascination with drums from an early age. I’d had a crush on my baby sitter, Irene, and her brother had a drum set. To impress her, I tried playing along with his Beatles records and such, even though my feet didn’t reach the pedal. It was a lost cause. But a dear family friend and neighbor in SE, Richard Spencer, nurtured my interest. I think he bought me my first drums. He played in Otis Redding’s band and achieved quite a bit of success with his own band the Winstons (he wrote the Grammy-winning song ‘color him father).  I was about 19 when I took up the drums in earnest – with the intention of being in a band. At the risk of repeating an oft-told story…I had gone to see the Clash at the Ontario theater and was hanging out in the narrow, upstairs ‘dressing room’ with the band and several other people. I was sharing a spliff and talking with Joe, Mick and (to a lesser extent because I had trouble understanding him) Paul. Joe asked if I played in a band – I told him I didn’t – but that my best friend did. He admonished me to get off the sidelines – to ‘do something – create something’ – and when Joe Strummer tells you to do something…well…you do it. Shortly thereafter I volunteered to join the Untouchables (their drummer, Richard, left for college). A few weeks after that we played our first show. This was probably in the fall of 1980.

 How did you come into contact with the Dischord Records folks? Were you a Wilson HS student as well? Yeah. I went to Wilson (briefly) and knew all the Dischord people before there was a record label (or a Teen Idles). Nathan and I were best friends and he, along with Ian and Jeff, started the label. We all grew up together and have been friends since early days.

 Do you remember the first person you ever met in the DC punk scene? What was your first punk show?

I was there at the outset and knew most-if not all-of the people before there was a scene, per se. I guess the first people I met who weren’t in our group of friends were Xyra and Cathy – they had a punk radio show at WGTB (Georgetown University radio) called Revolt into Style. Nathan and I used to sneak out of our houses and go down for their shows after our parents went to sleep. As for the first concert? Hard to say. I saw so many bands in those early days –one of the first was probably the Ramones in the fall of ’77. I worked at the Atlantis and at the 9:30 club when it first opened up – so I saw almost every show that came through the DC area for many years. Also, I was a smidge older…so coupled with my fake ID I was able to get into places like the Bayou as well.

Youth Brigade (Danny is 2nd from left)

 From what I know you’re a bit older than some of the other DC punks, were you there early enough to go to places like Madam’s Organ and the Hard Art Gallery?  (places I only know about from pictures, usually of the Bad Brains).

Tell me about how/when The Untouchables formed? Was that your first band?

…and please tell us about the origins of Youth Brigade?

I was born in 1961 – so it makes me a about a year older than Ian and Jeff and six months older than Nathan. I never really considered myself older. Now, Boyd and the guys in Black Market Baby were fucking old! Most of em born in the 50’s! J Seriously though – we were all roughly in the same age group – though I think Xyra (who was a bit older) referred to that initial scene (affectionately – not anatomically) as teeny punks or baby punks.  My first band was the Untouchables. As noted above, Richard had split and moved off to college. I was sitting at the Roy Rogers with Eddie, Alec and (I think) Bert as they lamented the loss of their drummer and the prospect of breaking up. I jokingly volunteered to take his place. They immediately said ‘yes’ despite my warnings that I’d never really played the drums. A few weeks later we played our first show. We hung together for almost a year before splitting up. After that was Youth Brigade. Nathan had been the singer of the Teen Idles – but when the band split, it seemed only natural that Nathan and I should start a band together. We’d been best friends for years and had very similar life arcs and musical tastes. We tried out a few guitarists (including Jason of 9353) and one other bassist (Greg) before finally settling on the line-up that most people know with Tom on Guitar and my old friend and former Untouchable mate, Bert on bass.  As for Madam’s Organ or Hard Art? I played at Madam’s Organ – and I was at the infamous Bad Brains show at Hard Art. I can’t remember if I ever played there…but it’s entirely possible. You would have to consult with Bert or Alec or someone whose memory isn’t a shambles.

 Madhouse backstage

Was Madhouse next? They were a bit different right? A darker sound.

I was in a few bands before Madhouse. I played in a band with Dave Byers and Toni Young (from Red C) called Peer Pressure. Tom Berard (scenester) also sang with the band for a while. We recorded a demo up in NY with the bad brains at 171A. We played a handful of shows but, like so many other bands of that era, split up and moved on to other projects.  I also played in a band called Social Suicide – great guys and a fun band (featured Joey A who went on to Holy Rollers). Also short lived – but we did record some songs for a local compilation ‘mixed nuts don’t crack’.  OH – I also briefly tried my hand at singing in a VERY short-lived band called black watch. This featured future members of madhouse (Brad Gladstone on bass and the mega-talented Norman van der Sluys on drums). The less said about this the better. Not because of the band – but because my singing can curdle milk at twenty paces.

I was starting to get a bit antsy with the way the DC scene was evolving – so my then girlfriend (Monica Richards) and I decided to start a band that was more rooted in post punk bands like killing joke, magazine and the monochrome set. That was how madhouse started. But unsurprisingly enough, there was no scene for this band, so we still played mostly punk and hardcore shows – but the direction we tried to take didn’t really sit well with a lot of new, burgeoning scene.  It seems, at least from afar, that you were willing to go in other directions musically (goth, etc.) whereas maybe some of your DC co-horts stuck to the punk rock thing. Would this be accurate? Did you get flack for it?

Yeah – I guess it was a bit gothy. Certainly, that was Monica’s m.o. I’ve always considered myself a punk – no matter what kind of band I played in. But this was definitely the beginning of stretching musical wings. And, yeah, we caught flack for it. But it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. Monica caught the most grief – and that is exactly why we both were getting put off by what the scene was turning into. I’ll just leave it at that. That said – my friends, the ones I’d known from the outset, were all cool. Otherwise I wouldn’t have spent some time drumming for Iron Cross with another life-long friend, Sab.

Strange Boutique (not ready to dine and (dot) dash) 

 Was Strange Boutique next? If so how/when did that band form and what was its history?

Yes – Strange Boutique (a name I copped from the Monochrome Set song/album) was next up. It was still Monica and me – but while Madhouse tried to straddle the punk scene with whatever it was we were trying to do – Strange Boutique basically said ‘fuck it’ and dove headfirst into what was certainly a more goth-punk-pop sound. The Chameleons, Siouxsie, Cure and bands of that ilk were really influencing us a lot and the quality of the band grew exponentially with the addition of Fred Smith and Steve Willett. -- I should pause here to note that I’ve lost a few friends and bandmates along the way – like Toni Young. But two hit particularly hard: Fred Smith – who was a true original. A crazy fucker. Much loved and much missed no matter how much trouble he got me into! And John Stabb – My brother in every sense of the word. Someone I loved until the end and who was a never-ending source of insanity, humor and energy. John and Fred were both unique spirits…and it’s just not the same without them.

Swervedriver- not huffin’ and puffin’ 

radioblue in black and white 

 Pardon my ignorance (I know it was some years) but was there anything between Strange Boutique and Dot Dash?

There were a few bands after Strange Boutique. I played in radioblue who, like strange boutique, were a band on the outside of the dc hardcore scene. They were more 60s-influenced indie pop (byrds, beatles, beach boys, buzzcocks). It led to drumming in a Mark Helm (a singer/guitarist in the band) project called Super 8 and playing on his solo album (on not lame records). I also started a band called King Mixer AGES ago with Steven Engel and James Lee (the bassist and singer/guitarist from radioblue). We still get together to this day, but it’s more like the monthly poker game: play some music, have dinner, hang out and catch up with old friends. We did put out a self-released CD years ago, but Dot Dash came along, and that has monopolized my time for the last seven years. I also played in Swervedriver for about a year, relocating to London for about ten months. It was an amazing experience. Adam Franklin (the singer / song writer) is the greatest musician I’ve ever played with. And as far as I am concerned Adam is in the pantheon of great song-writers of the last 40 years. Glad to still call him and my old swervie bandmates friends. A lifetime of memories crammed into a short period of time! When I moved back to DC from London at the end of 1992 I played in two more bands. The first was the criminally obscure UltraCherry Violet. They were definitely in the mold of swervedriver and some other favorites from that era. The band was Dugan Broadhurst and Dan Marx (who later played in king mixer). We played a handful of shows before I imploded. We got together a year after we split to record some songs for posterity – and those were ultimately released on Bedazzled records (a label I started while in strange boutique – but by now taken over by Steve Willett). There are a few songs on that CD that are among the things I’m most proud of as a musician.  I also played with my old running mates and brothers-in-arms John Stabb and Steve Hansgen (and Rob Frankel) in a band called Emma Peel. THAT was fun! We really clicked together musically – and we recorded a single on our good friend John Lisa’s label Tragic Life. The Avenging Punk Rock Godfathers! This web of connections is what led Steve to joining Dot Dash further down the road.  The last thing I did before Dot Dash was drumming in the legendary local mod band Modest Proposal, with old friends Neal Augenstein and Bill Crandall (who shortly thereafter was part of the original Dot Dash line-up). Steve Hansgen had played with Neal and Bill during an early incarnation – and he and I comprised the rhythm section for and MP reunion show.

Emma Peel (Danny is far right and that is the late, great John Stabb, 2nd from left) 

Do tell us about your current band Dot Dash? I think the records have been terrific. How did you meet Terry and Hunter?

Thanks for the kind words about the DD records. Right now, the band is a three-piece: me on drums, Terry Banks on vocals and guitar and Hunter Bennett on bass. Terry has been in almost as many bands as me – playing in a lot of indie-pop bands like Saturday People, Glo-Worm and Tree Fort Angst. Hunter was a veteran of the Stabb band among others.  I didn’t really know either of them before we started the band…but I knew of them from their previous band Julie Ocean (the band also had Jim Spellman of Velocity Girl on guitar/vocals and Alex Daniels from Swiz on drums). Julie Ocean released a great record on Transit of Venus – and they should have been huge. JO had planned to go on tour with a band called Magnetic Morning (that was my old friend Adam Franklin and Interpol drummer Sam Fogarino’s side-project), but drummer-Alex, bailed on the tour. So, that night at the Rock n Roll Hotel, Terry asked if I wanted to play drums in a new project with him and Hunter. I said yes – after consulting with my wife, Sally – but it actually took another six months or so to get rolling (I had already promised to do the Modest Proposal reunion). As it turned out, Jim was planning on leaving JO as well (taking a job in Colorado) – but when he came back he played briefly in Dot Dash (between Bill and Steve).  Dot Dash has been the most prolific band I’ve ever played with and the longest running active band. We’ve put out six CD’s on the Canadian label, The Beautiful Music. It’s run by an amazing guy – Wally Salem. I’m not sure that we would still be going without his love and support! Truthfully – I also do it for my kids (Noah 12 and Sam 16). I think it’s good to show them that you can do fun and creative things at any age. Sam has really taken it to heart. He’s been playing guitar since he was 10 and is already a better musician than I ever will be! He’s already formed and broken up his first band – and he filled in for Hunter (on bass) at one of our shows…picking up the songs with relative ease and aplomb. 

Almost forgot the Social Suicide pic (Danny’s the UK Subs fan)

What’s next for Dot Dash? Another record in the works? Maybe a tour?  I don’t know about touring. I think we would all love to do it – but because we all have demanding jobs, families and such – it makes it difficult to pick up and run off. That said, if the right opportunity presented itself (like going on a tour with a band we love) I think we would certainly consider it. We’ve been REALLY fortunate to play with some bands that have long been heroes/favorites: the Chameleons, Ash, Hugh Cornwell (of the Stranglers), the Monochrome Set, Stiff Little Fingers, the Dickies, DOA and so on – I think if any of them said ‘let’s do it’ we’d be packing our bags! As for another record? Well – we just released our sixth. And it is definitely the record I’m most proud of. Geoff Sanoff did an amazing job producing it – he also produces the Julie Ocean album – and it’s probably the best batch of songs Terry has written to-date.  We are always cranking out new songs – and already have a few in hand – but I think we want to enjoy the last release, Proto Retro, for a bit. 

Dot Dash with Sam on bass. 

What’s happening in Washington, DC these days musically? Any new bands we need to hear about? The great thing about DC is that it is like the Hydra of Lerna – every time a band breaks up, two new ones start up again! The scene has been regenerating for ages. And there are a lot of great bands still plugging away – The Messthetics with my old friend and Brendan Canty, Miss Lonelyhearts, Foxhall Stacks (with Jim Spellman), Nathan’s band the Delarcos, any band with Chris Moore (an epic drummer) such as the Rememberables or Coke Bust, Anna Connolly’s new project or the new project with Ian, Joe Lally and Amy Farina. Old or young – the scene here is still vibrant and vital.

 Any final thought? Closing comments? Anything you wanted to mention that I didn’t ask?

Obviously, most people know DC for the great music (bad brains, minor threat, fugazi, 9353, government issue, fire party, faith, rites of spring, tommy keene) – but to me, the best thing about it has been the friendships…which for me have been practically life-sustaining. You can’t have a great scene without great people – and to me the people I’ve known along the way simply are the best.

 BONUS QUESTION:  What are your top 10 desert island discs (I know some people don’t like when I ask this questions so I decided to put it as a bonus) Wow. Tough one. My top ten has about ten thousand records in it. So, it really is dependent on my mood at the time. I’ll try to throw it together…but if you ask on another day it might be a different batch. Because I’m old – I’m going to take the liberty of picking a baker’s dozen.  Adam and the Ants – Dirk Wears White Sox (original on Do It records) Art Ensemble of Chicago – Les Stances a Sophie J.S. Bach – Air on the G String Buzzcocks – Spiral Scratch ep (rip Pete Shelley) Chameleons – Script of the Bridge (or Strange Times) Miles Davis – ‘Round About Midnight Al Green – Greatest Hits Kinks – Something Else The La’s – The La’s  Punishment of Luxury – Laughing Academy Red Cross – Posh Boy ep Swervedriver – 99th Dream Zombies – Odyssey and Oracle

 www.dotdashdc.bandcamp.com

www.thebeautifulmusic.com 

(**all photos posted with permission from the Danny Ingram collection- if you took one of these please do let us know so we can credit. Thank you). 

Thank you very much Danny Ingram (from publisher/editor Tim)!

Dot Dash tearin’ down the house. 

[pleasantbouquetgaygalaxy-blog]

Chapter 2 The Past

I was staring out the window in Math class and reminiscing about my life before I came out to the few friends I had about being Trans and what led me to make the discovery, looking up at the board behind the teacher I saw a sea of numbers and equations and other things I didn't understand, tugging out a note book I kept in my bag I flipped it to a clean page and marked the day and began a new entry.

So you are probably wondering how I got to be me and when I arrived on this travesty called my life. Well it started out as a adoption cycle I guess, I was adopted by a good family, proper in their speech and ways. My older sister was a lover of animals and my mom was as old fashion as they come they ran a private tutoring area and had a hand in schools ..what more could I want ? They gave me a excellent home, good food fuck I even got a dog when I was 13 ..just one thing was out..me ..Not only did I look very very different from them I just was different. I remember when when I was 8 I was at a water park with several of my friends ( yeah weird I know friends scary ). There was this girl called Aubry  and I thought her red hair caught the light just right I thought she was the prettiest thing that ever walked the earth, I had been told by my parents that I was too young to date boys but I had no interest in boys,  in my opinion boys were just gross, they were rude and they made girls cry, they always seemed to hurt my feelings and told me I was too short to play with them. Girls on the other hand seemed to never do that to me, they always wanted to play and they never told me I was stupid, if we cried we cried together and we laughed together. 

Well it was the fateful day that my mother traveled to Italy Rome to do a seminar and brought back some Greek armor, I started to realize I alway wanted the role of a guy in my life, I rather be the Knight in armor then the damsel in destress waiting for her prince charming, I was heavily a tomboy at a young age, but as I grew up so did my parents desire to make me as feminine as possible, it was a long and tiring war, countless fights were had on the subject of clothing and the like. When we went to the Renaissance Festival I always dressed as manly as possible, once I got to meet the Queen of the Fair and she knighted me and asked my name and I introduced myself as Prince Ali from the Middle East ( I happen to have a Middle eastern costume on complete with turban and scimitar ) and she smiled at me and bade me rise as Sir Ali prince of the shinning sands. I couldn't tell you how happy I was when she said this, I felt like the shinning knight of the sands in Sahara.  That feeling was soon squashed as I came to my mother proudly baring the certificate from the Queen naming me a knight and met her disproving gaze and frown “ Don’t you know you're a girl ? A lady not some man act it, its weird to be what you aren't” were the first words, I remember scrambling to say some stupid excuse while holding back tears, what came out was that I didn't know how to spell my full name and it was hard with my dyslexic brain, to which I received a scoff and a all day lesson the next day on how to spell my name and how it was weird to be a man. I remember feeling so slighted, why didn't my parents just be happy for me ? It would always crop up in day to day life, how they'd force me into dresses and how id strip them off just as fast. when my early teen years rolled around I experienced true hell, there was a girl that I like and there was none I could tell. Her name was Olivia , I thought she was the coolest person ever.. she was 16 and I was 13 at the time and she held my universe in a balance I followed her like a love sick puppy everywhere. She was the only one at the time really tolerated my presence, there were two other girls called Megan and Jenna.. god I hated Megan, the perfect one that all the boys loved, only a year older then I and she was what everyone thought the epitome of perfection was I remember writing poetry once and showing her in hopes of gaining friendship and she tore it up and spread the rumor I was strange among the boys of the school. Back to Olivia she and I became fast friends and I did everything in my power to keep her happy, now that I look back on it..wasn't the healthiest friendship it was more me being used as a little servant in exchange for tolerance and I didn't care. Now it just hurts to think about but then I was so starved for acceptance I was ready to sell my soul to gain friends. Once we were friends I told her about my love of girls AND boys, I learned at a tender age that you always added the boys because if you didn't people were creeped out. She seemed to be fine with it and we stayed friends, then she slept with one of the boys at schools boy I hated and our friendship quickly disintegrated and I she quickly told everyone I like girls and my parents and I had the the talk about how loving girls just wasn't acceptable in fact it was disgusting and that I was confused and didn't need to be talking about things like that. That was the last time I told anyone I was (at the time) bi. As I grew older I made friends with LGBT people on the internet and found myself immersed in the world of the LGBT, I learned about gender fluid and about gays and lesbians, I learned about the feelings and the confusions attached to them, I struggled to find what I was and all the while I steadily grew worse as a person, at 15 I wasn't talking to my parents or really anyone, I was solely on the internet and even there I didn't have many friends, I was afraid more like terrified of being made fun of and bullied so I kept to myself, that was until I met Matt  and we became friends, Matt was in the midst of his scene/emo phase as a human and was open about liking men and always asked me about my sexuality ( at this point I was insisting I was a hundred percent straight) and I kept avoiding the question till one night we were talking and I was crying about not being able to attend a opera in a suit. Matt asked me then straight up if I was a guy, of course I cussed him out and told him no I was 100 percent a girl and he just laughed and said ok and we continued on and went about our day, but that got me thinking, what if I wasn't a lesbian at all..what if I was a guy and just stuck in this ridiculous body of a woman.

My pencil led snapped with a crack and I looked up from my notebook as the teacher turned around and addressed the class once more and I tucked the notebook away, the rest of class went by in a relatively fast fashion, pulling on my leather messenger bag as the bell rang I heard a yell from behind me and I turned to see Helena dodging and weaving around people, her short frame allowing for rather speedy dodging. “ hey you “ she said with a half smile, her hair was done in that ridiculously lopsided bun and strands of her brown hair were coming loose and falling around her face, I reached up and tugged a strand of it with a small smile. “hey you yourself “ I said and smirked at her to which I received a slap. ‘coffee? and then home ? or are we gonna do something fun? “ she said. “ coffee sounds really good and we can go to the park and I can read you Shakespeare like you want me to “ I said and pulled on my the sleeve of my ratty sweater. Helena clapped her hands together and grinned “ Baked goods and some drinks and Shakespeare here we come “ she crowed and tugged me towards the door. 

I was smiling widely as we got into the car, maybe..just maybe being a closeted man wasn’t the worst thing especially with such a wonderful girlfriend. 

[blissfullylostinarabbithole]

Outsider Pt. 8

Pairing: Step Dad Tony Stark x Teen Reader

Word Count: 2.2k 

Summary: School starts. Something creepy gives Bucky a bad feeling.

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When you stepped into the kitchen on the morning of your first day of school, everyone could tell you were not happy. Bucky and your mom grimaced at seeing you in uniform, while Steve and Wanda tried to tell you how nice you looked.

“Morning, Pumpkin!” Tony greeted. Your mom suggested finding a different pet name when he mentioned your less than favorable reaction, reminding him ‘kiddo’, and ‘sweetheart’ were what Dean used to call you. He settled on ‘pumpkin’, relieved when you responded without distaste. “You’re up early. What do you say I bring the car around and we go out for breakfast before dropping you off?”

“No thanks,” you absentmindedly replied, noticing too late that he and your mom were dressed, clearly having planned for a morning together. “Uh, sorry, but Buck and I already have plans.”

Wanda focused on her coffee while Steve shifted in his chair. Bucky seemed to find the counter interesting all of a sudden.

“Of course you do,” Tony sighed with an eyeroll.

Your mom cleared her throat, sending him a pointed look. “I wish you’d have said something, Sweetie.” She winced at the irony as soon as she spoke. “Thank you, Bucky.” She kissed you goodbye and left, and Tony followed soon after.

“I need to meet Sam for training,” Wanda said, getting up from the table and pulling you into a hug. “It’ll be ok. I’ll pick up some ice cream for when you get back, alright?”

You thanked her, taking her empty seat while Bucky finished his coffee. Steve turned down your invitation to join you for breakfast, saying he needed to help train some new recruits. As you were leaving, you were stopped by a guard with another bouquet. You took the card, asking him to put them in your room and remove the dead ones you kept forgetting to trash.

“More flowers? You sure you some fella’s not under your spell or somethin’?”

“Who’re they from?” Steve asked, ignoring Bucky’s teasing.

You turned the card over in your hands, looking for a name. “It just says ‘Good Luck’.”

“Huh… that’s nice. Well, I need to get going, and you should be too if you’re going to be on time.”

Steve hugged you goodbye and wished you luck, patting Bucky’s shoulder before heading off.

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

Bucky took you to a diner, and when you were too nervous to eat anything other than toast and fruit, he finished off your food before taking you to the hellhole you were meant to spend the next almost three years.

When you removed your helmet, he chuckled at the state of your hair and fixed it, bringing his hands to rest on your shoulders.

“I’m not gonna lie to ya, Doll; today’s probably not gonna be good. But I’m gonna be right here if ya need me. As soon as you step out those doors, we’re haulin’ ass outta here, ok?”

Despite how awful you felt, you smiled. “Thanks. I guess I should go look around so I don’t get lost.” Finding you couldn’t move, you took a shaky breath. “You’ll be here?”

“Right here,” he assured. “C’mon, Sam says you used to swim way out. If sharks don’t scare ya, these guys shouldn’t, either.”

“Yeah, well, sharks don’t usually want to hurt people. I’m not sure the same can be said for these guys.” Bucky laughed, making you smile again. “Alright, I’m going. See you later. Here.”

“Here.”

“Right.” With a final goodbye, you walked up the steps and found your way to the main office to get your schedule and ID.

Just as you let the library, you ran smack into someone, sending all your books tumbling to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” a blonde girl kneeled to help you pick them up. She did a double take and smiled. “Hey, you’re Y/N Stark, Right?”

“L/N, actually.” You didn’t recognize her, but as long as she was being polite, you were going to be, too.

“Oh, sorry. I’m Serena. Sorry I missed your party, by the way. I had family drama, you know how it is.”

“You didn’t miss much.” You both stood and she handed you your books. “Thanks.”

“Hey, Serena. Stark,” that Chuck guy mocked. “If you’re nice to me, I might let you sit with me at lunch.” His eyes trailed your body as he but his lower lip. “Think about it,” he winked, leaving you both scowling after him.

“Y/N? Be careful with him, alright?”

You couldn’t decipher what the the look she gave you meant, but as Chuck made you feel slimy, it was easy to agree to keep your distance before parting ways.

Aside from a few greetings from people you vaguely remembered meeting at the tower, no one spoke to you. At lunch, Chuck tried asking you out again, earning you some dirty looks from some girls nearby. You left early to find your next class, eventually giving up and taking a risk in asking someone, only to be given wrong directions. By the time you made it to the right room, you were late and scolded while the rest of the class snickered.

The lesson was interrupted by the sound of a loud crash. A professor walked into the room to say someone had smashed their car into the front of the school and someone had gotten hurt. Several students got up to go see before they were told to take their seats. You, however, shoved past the professor and ran out, sighing in relief to find Bucky unharmed and speaking to a police officer.

He immediately spotted you and excused himself, catching you as you practically threw yourself at him.

“I’m alright,” he soothed, rubbing your back.

“What happened?” you asked, ignoring whoever was yelling for you to get back inside.

“Some guy lost control of his car and,” he gestured to the crumpled metal on the side of the steps. “I got out of the way in time. He musta been on somethin’ though, ‘cause he was bleedin’ from his head and just laughin’.”

“What the fuck?! That dick could’ve killed someone!”

“Miss Stark!” the person called again. “If you don’t come back inside I will have to phone your parents!”

“Go,” Bucky nodded toward the door. “I’m fine, I still gotta finish giving my report.”

You were reluctant to leave him, even though you knew there was nothing you could do. As you climbed up the stairs for the second time that day, you passed the angry professor and reminded him your name wasn’t Stark before heading back to the room you’d left. Thankfully, after explaining you needed to be sure your friend was safe, you were spared detention and the lesson continued on.

When the last class ended, you ran out to where Bucky was waiting, holding your helmet out and bike ready to go. Before most students even left the building, you were already speeding down the road.

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

Bucky was sent on a mission that evening, and you were bummed you’d have to survive the rest of your first week on your own. Luckily, Peter was hanging around the tower and noticed your mood, offering to meet you after class in Bucky’s place.

True to his word, at the end of the school day, he was there. One day, his Aunt May was there, too. She’d been wanting to meet you, and decided to go with Peter and treat you to a late lunch. It was unsurprising being seen with him brought media speculation of your personal life. You both found it funny, glad at least his alter ego was still a secret.

You were a little shocked, though pleasantly so, when Peter was there the following week, and went to a little cafe you’d found and quickly made your go-to. Since you’d been photographed there a few times, business had picked up and the owners were more than happy to have you stop in.

“So, you know that snotty Blair girl?” you began. Both Peter and Ned nodded for you to go on. “She invited me over for dinner this weekend.”

“Oh,” Peter hummed in amusement. “That’s nice.”

Ned’s brows furrowed. “Why?” Peter nudged him, but he didn’t back down. “She’s been mean since they met and now she’s nice? You’re not suspicious?”

Peter shifted uncomfortably. “Well, yeah,” he conceded.

“Well, I overheard her talking to her friends, and her mom’s making her be nice and friendly so she can have me wear clothes to promote her line.”

“Are you going to go?” Both you and Peter shot him a look. “What? It’s free clothes!”

“13!” the owner shouted, and Peter leapt out of the booth to retrieve the trays of food.

“I’m not going. I’ve seen the way they both dress. Thank you Mr. Carr!” you called to the owner when Peter returned. The sweet old man smiled with a little wave, and you began to eat.

Halfway through your meal, Mrs. Carr approached your table, and after a short chat, left a stack of letters people had dropped off for you. Ned reached for one and opened it.

“What’s it say?” Peter asked, looking over his shoulder. You knew it wasn’t good when both their jaws clenched.

“What does it say?”

“Nothing important.” He snatched it from Ned’s hands, putting it on the seat between them and out of your reach.

With your approval, they each took another and you spent the afternoon reading through them. Only a few were unfriendly, and even fewer were marriage proposals, which seemed to amuse Ned greatly. Most were telling you how cool or lucky or pretty you were, and one came with a love letter for you to pass on to Natasha.

After tossing the rude letters in the garbage and making plans to hang out over the weekend, you had your driver take them home before heading back to the tower.

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

Bucky returned that Sunday and ended up sleeping well into Monday, missing you before you’d left for school. Unsure if you still wanted him to meet you, he frowned when he saw you hadn’t messaged him, so he headed to the kitchen to see if you’d mentioned anything to the others.

The elevator opened, revealing Tony already inside. Bucky contemplated waiting, but when Tony stepped aside to let him in, he reluctantly joined him.

“Morning, Barnes.” His greeting had a fraction of the animosity it usually had.

“Morning.”

“Where you headed?”

“Kitchen.”

Tony pressed the button for the right floor, fingers drumming against his leg. “Have a good rest?”

Bucky faced him, scanning him for hints of sarcasm. The look on his was pained, but otherwise seemed sincere. “Yeah, thanks.” He paused, wondering if he should speak again. “Did uh, did Y/N say if she still wanted me to pick her up?”

“You haven’t been gone that long,” he laughed dryly. “No, she hasn’t said much of anything. Not to me, anyway.” He watched Bucky awkwardly rub the back of his neck. “She probably does, though.” Bucky nodded, and they rode the rest of the way in silence. When the door opened at the common floor, Tony watched Bucky step out, fighting to force himself to follow his therapist’s advice. “Barnes.” He saw the wariness in his posture as he turned. “Thanks for being there for her.”

Bucky schooled his features, hiding the flood of emotions and suspicion he felt. “Sure.” He kept his eyes locked on Tony until the doors closed and the elevator was on its way to the lab floors. In the kitchen, he found Sam making a sandwich.

“Hey, what’s with Stark?”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, not looking up from his task.

“He’s tryin’ to be nice.”

“To you?” he chuckled. “Damn.”

A large bouquet at the end of the counter caught his eye. “Who’re those for?”

This time, Sam did turn. “Oh, they just came for Y/N.”

Bucky raised a brow. “More?” Sam shrugged and began eating his food. “I’ll take ‘em to her room.”

He took the vase and went back to the elevator, glad it was empty this time. On the way to your floor, he wondered if you’d mind if he went into your room while you weren’t there, suddenly hesitant about delivering your flowers. He knew where you put them, and he knew if there was anyone who you’d allow inside, it would be him. Still, he paused in front of your door, hand frozen on the knob.

Taking a deep breath, he bit the bullet and walked in. He’d missed you while he was gone; missed being in your room. The messy bed and clothes on the floor made him smile on his way to your coffee table to replace the dead flowers with the fresh.

The smile fell from his face when he saw them, though. He plucked the card from the new bouquet, looking for anything suspicious. One side had your name written in neat cursive, and below that were the words, ‘Miss You’. It was printed on the card, and your name was likely written by the florist. He set the vase down and took the card from the dead bouquet, finding only your name on it in different, though still neat handwriting.

Leaving the fresh flowers and card, he took the old vase and headed back to the elevator. Rather than trashing them, he took them to his room and stared, wondering if he should listen to his gut, or accept it was probably a coincidence that your once beautiful bouquet now looked like a mass grave with tiny skulls dangling from brittle stems.

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