#fun fact this was gonna be a gender wheel joke but I thought 'hey I could do something with this' then did and wanted to go back right away

[blueopalsystem]

Heyo I'm Sonic/Matilda (he/dgeh/og jokers get blocked)

It's currently 4 am as of writing this so I'm more exhausted than usual (didn't know that could happen)

I wanted to make a little post about gender (sort of)

I do not enjoy explaining things at all so this is short and rushed

[star-six7]

And You’re Someone Who Knows Someone (Who Was Someone I Once Knew)

Mikey Way x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Word Count: 1909

Request: Could I request anything with Mikey? Thanks :)

A/N: I am so sorry about the delay on this one! I’ve been drowning in school and work at the moment, but I’m still thinking of you guys, I promise! Also, catch that title reference ;)

Disclaimer: This is entirely a work of fiction. No part of this story is meant to be libel, slander, or in any way derogatory towards any character’s real life counterpart. I’m not delusional; I know that these characters are simply based off of a public persona and may not actually resemble the people behind those personas. Any additional characters that you do not recognize are entirely fictional, unless otherwise stated. And finally, if you got here by Googling yourself, whatever happens next is 100% on you.

You rocked back and forth on the balls of your feet anxiously as you stood in front of the chain-link fence. Finally, a large guy with a security shirt came into your view, calling out your name.

“Hey,” he grinned when you nodded. “It’s good to finally meet you in person; Gerard’s been chattering nonstop about you for the past few days. I’m Worm, I’m in charge of most of the security for the band; I’ll take you back now.”

“Okay,” you nodded, putting away the backstage pass that Gerard had mailed to you. You were slightly taken aback by the professional quality of the whole set-up; the last time you had been to a My Chem show, it had been in a much less… respectable venue, and there wasn’t even the faintest idea of guards and backstage passes. Something told you that the security probably wasn’t the only thing that had changed over the last few years...

While you were lost in your thoughts, Worm had led you through a back parking lot filled with big box trucks and busy stage crews right to the band’s bus. He punched in a key-code, and grandly guided you up the steps. 

“Gerard, your esteemed guest has arrived!” He winked good-naturedly at you, and then turned to leave. “Soundcheck at four, please attempt to think about being there in some semblance of a timely manner.” He rolled his eyes as he exited the bus.

Gerard, of course, didn’t hear him because he was too busy leaping off the couch so he could tackle you. “You’re here!”

“Yes,” you grinned, attempting to pat his back and keep your balance at the same time. “It’s been so long, Gerard, how are you?”

He let go and returned your smile. “I’ve been great, really great. A lot better than I was the last time we met. Um,” he ran a hand through his close-cropped white hair, and glanced sideways at Mikey. “You remember Ray and Mikey, right?”

“Of course,” you grinned at them. “How could I not? I did go to all of your shows for a year.”

“Well, uh, Otter ended up leaving after we finished recording Three Cheers, so that’s Bob- say hi, Bob- oh! And you remember Pencey, right? Well, Frankie’s with us now, and I think that about covers it.”

You waved at them. You remembered Frank’s wild nature, not surprised that he fit in so well with My Chem, and Bob seemed nice enough. All of the guys seemed genuinely excited about your presence, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that there were some conspiratorial glances and nudges being thrown around by everyone except Mikey. In fact, the bassist in question was doing his best to look artfully bored from his place on the couch and ignore Frank’s not-so-subtle shoving. Still, you felt a certain tug towards him, even after all these years.

“C’mon!” Gerard said brightly, snapping you out of your observations. “Let me give you the grand tour.”

The rest of the afternoon passed by in a whirlwind of wandering the bus park and venue with Gerard, watching the guys soundcheck from the nosebleeds, and dining on pizza in the green room. You were so glad you had been able to make it to a show; Gerard was one of your closest friends, and it had been a couple of years since you had last met. 

Your friendship had started during your senior year of college- you had both had an internship in the same building, albeit for different companies and lines of work. Since then, you had bonded over several of your shared interests and kept in touch, leading you to go to several of the first My Chem shows, and by extension, meet Ray, Frank, and Mikey. Though your busy work life and their crazy tour schedule had caused you to drift apart, it felt like no time had passed at all as you watched Ray swat Frank for stealing his pizza while Gerard and Mikey laughed uncontrollably at Ray’s exasperated expression.

Soon enough, it was time for them to go onstage, which became evident when the venue’s stage manager knocked on the door to lead them to the curtain. Worm reappeared and guided you to the seat marked on your ticket from Gerard- a center stage view from the very first row of actual seats behind the pit. Clearly, Gerard had wanted to make sure you didn’t miss a single part of the show.

The lights dimmed, and you watched two crewmembers dressed as doctors and nurses wheel out a covered gurney while the sound of a heartbeat monitor played over the sound system. You were unsurprised when Gerard leapt out of the gurney moments later, kicking off the show. 

You already knew the guys were awe-inspiring onstage- you had known it from the way you felt the first time you saw them live- but it was clear to see that over the past few years, they had taken it to a whole new level. They had each grown into their stage personas and their identity as a band, but your eyes kept drifting to one member in particular...

You had noticed it earlier today, but Mikey had definitely evolved since the last time you had met. He seemed much more sure of himself onstage; instead of retreating to the space almost directly behind Gerard, he often came up to the edge of the stage or interacted with his bandmates. He also seemed more relaxed off stage, easily interacting with fans outside of the venue and joking before the show with the rest of the band and crew. You couldn’t deny that he was a far cry from Gerard’s shy, slightly awkward, little brother you had met all those years ago.

Before you knew it, the show was over, and Frank was insisting on heading to a nearby diner for several plates of french fries and milkshakes. You glanced at your watch and balked. “Shit… I’m sorry guys, it’s almost 1am and I didn’t get a hotel. I think I’m going to start the drive home.”

Frank and Gerard glanced at each other, and then they rushed to stop you. “Don’t be ridiculous, come with us and you can just stay on the bus!”

“I don’t want to take up anyone’s space…” You hemmed.

“It’s fine!” Ray insisted. “Don’t even worry about it, you can sleep in the back lounge, it’s honestly very nice.”

Though you were suspicious of their enthusiasm, you accepted their offer with a shrug and followed the rest of the group in their search for a 24 hour diner.

…

You sighed as you took off your shoes and settled into the bed in the back lounge. You were exhausted; the long day of walking, dancing, and socializing was starting to catch up to you. However, just as soon as you had stretched out across the soft surface and closed you, you were startled upright by the sound of yelling coming from the bunk area just behind the lounge door. Confused, you opened it to see Mikey, looking irate, and Frank looking guilty yet slightly pleased with himself.

“What the actual fuck, Frank?” Mikey glared accusingly at him.

“I’m really sorry Mikey, it was-”

“An accident? Frank, we all know you’re clumsy as fuck, but there’s absolutely no way someone pours an entire liter of soda directly on my bunk on accident!”

“Oh shit,” you said, stepping out of the doorway to assess the damage.

Mikey glanced at you. “Sorry if I woke you up, Frank’s just being ridiculous.”

“Mikey, I don’t think you’re gonna be able to sleep here tonight,” Ray said, gently prodding Mikey’s mattress. “It’s pretty soaked.”

“Oh, well, of course,” Mikey sighed irritably. “Well, couch it is, then.”

“Actually,” Gerard piped up, oh-so-helpfully, “there’s plenty of space in the back lounge.” He turned to you. “If you’re okay with sharing, that is.”

You stared at him, trying to figure out his plan here. You were pretty sure that if he could bat his eyelashes right now, he would. Ignoring your suddenly accelerating heart rate, you turned back to Mikey.

“I don’t mind sharing, it is your bus after all,” you shrugged, glancing at Mikey. “Gerard’s right, there’s plenty of room.”

The other three looked extremely pleased with themselves.

“Thank you,” he told you, before turning to glare at Frank and head into the bathroom to change.

A few minutes later, you were in the back lounge again, somewhat awkwardly laying on one half of the double bed as you waited for Mikey to turn off the lights and get settled.

He looked abashed as he stretched out on the opposite side of the bed. “I’m sorry for snapping back there,” he said. “It’s just… the guys have been making fun of me for the past few days and it gets old fast.”

“I understand, it's okay,” you nodded, as you watched his silhouette shift closer to you in the dark.

He gave you a considering look. “It’s just… I told them something personal and they couldn’t just leave it alone. Honestly, this whole weekend has been sort of a set up.”

You rolled over to look at him properly as everything began to fall into place. Frank and Gerard’s insistence that you should stay the night, Frank’s “clumsiness,” Gerard’s helpful suggestions, the general feeling that something was going on behind the scenes…

“Oh,” you said, hoping he would confirm your suspicions, “what do you mean?”

“Well, it’s just that,” for a moment, it seemed like the endearing shyness of the Mikey you had met in Gerard’s basement was back. “Okay, like.” He took a steadying breath. “I’m working on building my confidence, so I’m gonna tell you this and hope for this best. I’ve… had a thing for you for a while, if it wasn’t already obvious. I mean, at first, it was just a crush… but as the years went on, and I- we grew up, I’ve realized it’s more than that. I know I’m still working on being stable, but I want to take that chance with you. I mean, if you feel the same way of course.” He paused. “Wow, that was a weight off my chest.”

You stared at him, opening your mouth to speak and then closing it as you parsed your thoughts. You had always felt a certain fondness for Mikey, and the past day had shown you that, over the course of a few years, it had grown into something more than friendship. You couldn’t deny that you also had feelings towards Mikey, and that seeing his new-found confidence and sense of self had only solidified them.

“Um, you’re not like, pissed, are you?”

His timid question snapped you out of your reverie.

“No, of course not!” you rushed to assure him. “I… I feel the same way, Mikey. I think I always have.”

“Oh!” He couldn’t keep the small grin off of his face. “So then I guess you don’t mind if I do this then, right?” He moved in closer to you and wrapped his free arm around your waist, effectively pulling you into his chest.

You smiled, warm with the feeling that things had finally fallen into place. “Good guess,” you sighed, already beginning to fall asleep.

“One more thing,” Mikey paused.

“Hm?”

“Under no circumstances can the others know that their evil plan worked.” “Deal.”

[budugaapologist]

when you are reading this rant take full offense its 2am here and im mad as hell

fair warning this post is long as fuck and has several arguments pertaining to specific peeves i need to rant about before i go crazy. if you're not interested just keep scrolling it's not hard it's literally the core of social media navigation

you know what? ima say it.

black flag is the best ac game and deserves more recognition than just pirate drinking jokes because:

nearly every named character (sorry burgess and cockram) has development and personalities. cant say that for that many others in other games.

not too much fucking shit to do in it (unlike uhhhhhhhh every fucking other game in the franchise. stop it. i dont need 500 treasure chests in arno's game he already has an excellent revenue with the cafe. i dont need a ton of side quests. i dont need 30+ chests per london burough. i dont need a million question marks on my map. i dont need all of egypt or greece to be littered with shit to do. fuck this.).

unlocking shit is so much easier. edward knows where every treasure chest is and doesnt pay for treasure maps. and literally unlocking shit is so much easier.

base is slept on. its fucking cool. its fucking fun. its fucking useful as shit. its fucking pretty as all hell. fuck you.

good story, fun story, great dlc, relatable story (unless youre some bootlicking cowardly rich cunt) emotional story but not depressing (unity im looking at your ending. origins stop killing children.), satisfying end.

i can do the combat with one hand. you know what that means? i can eat and drink without pausing. i can reply to text messages without pausing. i can pet my dogs and cats while playing.

main character actually has changed by the end of the game a vast amount. motherfucker, edward changed more in his antó mission than ezio did in his trilogy.

if you dont complete all objectives you still have a passing score on the mission. do you know what its like to be raised to only get good grades on stuff and see yourself getting a 60% on a thing thats supposed to be a pass time just because you forgot something.

the naval combat isnt hard you just need practice. also i know the hunter ship sucks in the first mission you encounter but literally drop your sails but hold the wheel. once its in view let go. swim to it. take out the crew. swim back. bada bing bada boom go oneshot the crew. incredible, you're safe now.

legendary ship battles are really fucking cool and my mom doesnt yell at me for killing a giant beast for next to nothing.

the sea shanties and tavern songs slap.

farm animal petting simulator. not forced to kill dogs (ac3, odyssey).

obviously its good if the other games are just gonna copy paste it.

ed's tattoos are sick.

edward is literally the first canon bisexual. he literally says so in game. he literally fucking flirts with blackbeard. he literally was a pirate. why the fuck do you think birate is such an accurate pun.

diving outfit.

thicc.

the female characters dont have titties all over the place. even anne's boobs arent that big, which is good considering she is underage. the same cannot be said for many of the women in ezio's games.

guess who has a solid, interesting, and realistic personality. not kassandra or alexios thats for sure.

he is NOT moved by man pain (ezio, connor, bayek) to carry out his missions. he didn't want to be poor, he wanted to be able to provide for his family. he is just carrying out his dream to sail a ship. when he starts being "good", he is doing it out of guilt and shame on his past self (what, self reflection? someone, teach jacob this term), not because "wahh my girlfriend/mom/child/family died :'(", he wanted to make it up to his lost friends by making them proud and doing what they wished he had done. his regrets are in not being a better friend while mary was alive, not seeking out her killers (guards at fort). thatch's death crushed him, but he didn't thrust his anger on seeking revenge. and the characters that did die? they had personalities and development and were interesting and memorable. i cant tell you shit about cristina.

he is very respecting of women, especially for a white guy from the 1600s. he, as a teenager (under 17 i believe), attempted to save a woman he did not know and had no intentions of wooing (hey um ezio? you literally only were able to save cristina from being raped because you stalked her because you thought she was attractive. like thanks for saving her but uhh am i the only one that finds that creepy?) even though the odds of winning against three older men were stacked against him and he knew they could (and almost did) beat him to death. fuck if caroline wasnt there he would've been killed.

the modern day stuff is an excellent way to separate intense scenes and the little mini hacking games are fun puzzles. oh boohoo desmond isn't there? yes he was, half the things you hack literally give you desmond content.

rebecca's outfit fucking slaps.

from experience, its fun to play even if you dont know shit about the other ac games. pirates are cool and the story is easy to follow, just be prepared to find some of the other endings big letdowns or lots of the other games' missions boring.

is that fanservice that goes both ways but doesnt oversexualize any gender? why yes, it is!

stop reducing black flag to alcoholism jokes like yall constantly fucking do, it has so many other talking points and if you wanna make fun of something maybe choose something that isnt addiction. literally i make fun of edward constantly without pointing out his alcoholism it isnt that hard. if you're gonna make fun of edward for drinking rum when water in the 1700s often wasnt safe and making fun of him when he was depressed (he has multiple other intended self harming behaviors shown in game so no, he wasnt just drinking because its fun), why don't i see the same "wHy is aLL tHe WiNE gONe?" posts for arno? he was an alcoholic too. in fact arno and edward have a lot of the same forms of depression but oh, arno's a more serious character personality wise and isn't a pirate so his grieving isn't as funny.

and like, there are plenty of other things to make fun of with edward that might not make light of alcoholism because no, edward's drinking in the main story was not written to be a joke. here, a list of things i regularly make fun of him for:

this highwaisted man's got feminine hips

there is no reason for him to be that thicc

his bangs are a mess

his hair???? glows???? okay rapunzel.

his tatts that are just lines

actually you know what his tatts in general what do they mean ubisoft what even language are the words on his body in

how this whore opens the bottled messages on the beach. "ah yes, let me put this mysterious item in my mouth. i have no idea where its been. i could very well open it to read a note that says "i pissed on this""

"woman i just met... must respect her.. man i just met... im either going to give you a death threat, tease you, or flirt... sometimes multiple choices will be done......"

i mean he had the full right to be a bastard to walpole on the beach since he did try to be friendly but walpole was being to bitchy and needy. and like them being stranded wasnt edward's fault but walpole was still gonna make him build a ship and there is no reason for edward to trust walpole since after they get to havana he can easily just be like "thats a pirate, hang him." but like. the way he just immediately decides to steal his identity. legend.

why does he just blindly follow older men's orders like that

he trims his beard to a very odd location. i know it isn't a flattering pose but like. look at the underside of his jaw.

"how many references to dog behavior can we put in one character"

phobia of sleeping in a bed

"you saved my life i am eternally grateful."

edward are you seriously arguing with your eight year old daughter about the difference between a boat and a ship

where are your tanlines

how did he not die of skin cancer first

edward probably doesnt have any body hair because ubisoft didnt want his legs to glow in the dark too

look at his marooned outfit. bitch what the fuck is on your shirt. and where are your hair ties.

his dramatic beauty guru smokey eyes

he held that sword by the blade in the single madman quest. wh

anyway, the long run of this is, if you're gonna reblog an edward post from me specifically to make fun of an overused joke, go fuck yourself.

[itsmyusualphannie]

something wrong in the village

Chapter 3/5: leviticus Beta: @candanandphilnot Rating: T Warnings: Transphobia Read on ao3

Summary: Fiona Lester has a secret. Dan Howell thinks they hate each other. Dan meets an online friend and comes to realize something important about himself while juggling a changing relationship with his parents, friends, and Fiona.

~~~ previous chapter ~~~ next chapter ~~~

"Daniel!" bellowed Dan's mum, the morning after the end of the festival and, really, too early for anyone to be speaking. "Ten minutes, let's go!"

He didn't move from his slumped position before his laptop, fingers rapid over his keyboard as he thudded out replies on the chat feature in the 'FRIENDS' website. He had made two other matches in the past week, but had ignored them both and hadn't been bothered when he didn't receive a message either. Dan didn't think anyone could measure up to his current conversational partner.

No it's definitely a sock monster! read Phil's most recent insistent message.

you just don't want to admit that you lose your socks, tapped Dan immediately. His fingers hovered impatiently as he waited for a reply, which took less than ten seconds to pop up.

listen, the message read, and Dan could almost hear a stern, disembodied voice informing him of this, my mismatched socks are an aesthetic choice. No judging!

i'm judging, Dan replied. He wasn't particularly judging, really, but it was so fun to rile up Phil - and so easy, too. Dan lost his socks too, just not as often as Phil apparently did. Evidently, it was almost a daily occurrence with him.

A brief, intrusive thought informed Dan that he knew people in real life who lost socks, too. At the festival yesterday, Fiona had been wearing sneakers with brightly patterned mismatched socks. Not that he had been looking at her feet. That would be weird.

:(  was his reply from Phil. There was a pause, and then another message popped up.

come on, you have to have weird habits too. not that wearing different socks is WEIRD. haha. tell me your secrets

Dan snorted hard through his nose, and regretted it when it stung. He swiped at the burn and then typed out, i have no secreets? I am the most well behaved guy you'll ever meet. The instant the message sent, his fingers spasmed with the sudden desire to take it back. Because, you'll ever meet was an accident. Dan had known Phil for three weeks, and he certainly felt like he knew the other boy far better than any of his other friends, but something squirmed inside Dan whenever he entertained the idea of meeting this faceless friend. What if Phil was just some old fifty-year-old woman getting her kicks by chatting with a teenager?

Well, Dan doubted that. Phil's knowledge of TV shows and video games was perfectly age-appropriate for a 17-year-old boy. According to the website, he lived within 50 miles of Dan as well, so there was still that tiny chance that Phil even went to the same school as Dan.

Dan, maybe, had thought about that, and had wracked his memory for any 'Phil's at his school, but had come up with nothing. It had been a far stretch, anyway. There was just that small part of Dan that desperately wished for an actual, real-life friend that he could talk to, and share inside jokes with, and laugh about ridiculous jokes, and play video games, and watch movies. He did that with his group of friends, sometimes, but it wasn't like Dan had always thought about when he imagined having a best friend.

That's what he wanted, really. A best friend. And wasn't that who Phil was shaping up to be? They already got along so well...but that could change if Phil actually met Dan. He might realize then, that Dan was the weird, friendless type of loser that actually signed up for a friend-matching website. Well, Phil had done that, too. Dan had a feeling that it was more because Phil was bored, though, and not for any ironic sort of reason.

"Dan, I swear to god!"

The yell from his mum broke Dan from his thoughts, and he jolted his concentration back to his laptop, where two messages were waiting from Phil.

no secrets, sure, read the first message, and then, i still don't know your name lmao.

Yeah, Dan realized. He'd typed 'Bear' as his username those few weeks ago. Phil clearly knew that it wasn't his actual name. Phil didn't know that it was a cheesy nickname his parents used to call him. Potential best mates had to know real names though, right?

With that hesitant thought encroaching upon him, Dan quickly hit out an answer and then sent it. He scrambled to his feet, grabbing his backpack and shoes, and left to grab breakfast and head to school. The laptop, left open in his haste, still revealed the last message he had sent.

my name's dan

~~~

Dan hadn’t seen Fiona all day.

It’s not that he was looking for her. Dan had no reason, none at all, to actively search her out. He wasn’t interested in what she was doing. Well, he amended to himself, it was good to keep tabs on his mortal enemy. So perhaps it was a bit concerning that he hadn’t seen her all day.

It wasn’t that unusual. They only had two classes together, both of which were on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Today was only Monday, so it wasn’t impossible that Dan would not catch sight of Fiona the entire school day. It was just...it was Monday, and she had been acting strangely at the festival yesterday, and it was probably because of Dan’s lingering headache that thumped in quiet tune to the drums from the Muse concert, but he almost wanted to seek her out.

It was foolish, of course. One shared moment at a music festival, still riddled with insults and clear distaste for each other, was nothing that could erase the years of mutual spite for each other. It was just odd. Dan may have been just a bit intrigued to find out why she had been acting the way she was. Just a bit, though.

“Danny boy!” bellowed a voice down the hallway. It was milling with students slowly collecting their day’s items from their lockers as they chatted. Dan himself was standing in front of his open locker, staring bleakly inside as he pondered the Fiona conundrum. He let his gaze drift slowly toward the mutilated call of his name, eyes bleak. He knew who it was.

The boy jogged up to him a moment later, a grin spread wide on his face. “Mate,” he said, “you gotta come fuckin’ see this.”

Dan didn’t particularly want to come fucking see anything, but he reluctantly shut the door to his locker and followed his friend anyway. ‘Friend’ was a loose definition of their relationship, but Dan didn’t have anyone much closer than his small horde of acquaintances, so he took what he could. This boy just rubbed Dan the wrong way sometimes. He was Australian, which wouldn’t mean much other than the twang of his accent, but he also liked to loudly introduce himself as ‘Sam the surfer!’ to everyone he met as if the fact that he could belly flop on a piece of styrofoam in water had earned him some sort of official title. As he couldn’t exactly ride any waves around town, he rode wheels instead, throwing himself with fervour down pavements and the occasional hallway on his favourite skateboard. He’d been adopted into Dan’s friend group when he’d almost run over Dr Pentland. That, at least, Dan could admit was funny. He’d seen the principal’s shocked face as she’d reeled backwards from the boy zipping past. Although it had morphed into irritation a moment later, the look had been priceless. Dan had snapped a picture of it. That single photo had earned his place in the friend group as well.

“You’re gonna love it,” Sam assured Dan as he trotted down the hall, waving Dan on impatiently. “The rest of the boys are already there. It’s bril.”

Dan hefted his backpack further up his shoulder and followed. Sam ducked around the corner and then into the bathroom. A girl squeezed past Dan to make her way into the bathroom as well, so Dan paused for a moment to let her through.

The school was definitely saving money on this bathroom. They’d slapped a unisex sign on it last year and shut down the other bathroom, claiming diversity for all genders. While Dan thought it was a great idea, he also thought it was bullshit. They could have very well made both bathrooms unisex, but had downsized instead. Now students were more cramped and the bathroom smelled even more like piss than usual.

“Oh, here,” said Sam as soon as Dan ducked into the bathroom, the door swinging shut behind him. He thrust a slender object into Dan’s hand, then turned back toward the group of boys huddled around the corner of the room next to the line of sinks. Another boy was washing his hands next to them, but he just cast a curious glance over at the crowded corner and then left. The girl who Dan had followed inside slipped into a stall, the door creaking ominously as she latched it shut.

Dan only realized that the object in his hands was an uncapped marker when he made his way over to the corner and glanced over the shoulders of his friends. They were talking amongst themselves, but quietly and full of mirth.

“Hey, Danny boy, gimme a hand,” one of the boys called over his shoulder, and a few stepped aside for Dan to step through. He did so, but almost reluctantly.

It was then that he found what they were so focused on. Someone, certainly not one of the boys here now, had drawn a delicate, flowing transgender pride flag. The pink and blue colours were bold and bright, striking against the faded grey chalk tiles.

The boys, uncapped markers obvious in their hands, had drawn crude depictions of genitalia and scrawled slurs around it, but the largest defiant symbol was a massive circle drawn around the stolid flag and a slash drawn across that, clearly defining the group’s feelings about the matter.

“Bril, innit?” Sam chirped.

Dan’s throat hurt suddenly, for some reason he couldn’t identify. His headache, just background noise all day, came to the front of his brain with full force. He didn’t say anything.

“Come on, you’re an artist, right?” urged the boy in front. “I figured you’d have something great to draw. Like tits or summat, I dunno.”

Dan’s limbs were lead weights at his side, his tongue thick and useless in his mouth. He couldn’t - wouldn’t do anything.

The latches to one of the stalls on the far side of the bathroom clicked, and like an encroaching train wreck, Dan’s gaze followed the noise. The door swung open and out stepped Fiona, hair loose and swinging around her shoulders as she did up her trousers. She glanced his way, clear blue gaze meeting his, and wrinkles sank deep around her eyes as she smiled deeply at him.

It was terrible. It was beautiful. It was nothing Dan had ever seen directed at him.

“Hey, Dan,” she greeted. His mind sank like a stone, diving deep into murky waters. He had no idea what was going on. He couldn’t even say “Hey” back to her.

Fiona didn’t seem to care, crossing the room in a few steps to thrust her hands under the tap and briefly scrub them. Dan felt a horrific rush of relief when she looked away from him. “Whatcha doin’?” she asked over her shoulder, reaching for the paper towel dispenser. It whirred, spitting out a short, ineffectual leaflet that she used to swipe at her fingers.

Dan did not reply, but Fiona didn’t seem to notice. She sidled up behind the group of boys, most of whom were utterly ignoring her presence, and simply peered over their shoulders to see what was drawing their undivided attention. Her height was more than an advantage here.

“Ah.”

Dan could only watch helplessly as her expression slipped from something beyond open, the first time Dan had ever seen such a light in her eyes, to a look that Dan could never hope to decipher. He had never seen this new expression on her face either, but it was so much worse than the previous. Her gaze turned back to him, searching his face for a moment, and then it fell to the marker still clenched unfeelingly in his hands. When she looked back into Dan’s eyes, it was with a level, clear stare of pure disdain.

“Right. Hope you have fun, then.” She turned on her heel and left, tossing the wadded paper towel in her hand at the trash bin by the door. It arched through the air and bounced off the rim, landing on the scuffed floor without a sound, but Fiona didn’t stop to pick it up, and she didn’t glance back at Dan once.

Dan had been motionless throughout this entire process, but it was now that he could feel the bile churning in his guts. His mouth reflected it, tasting bitter as he swallowed thickly. Some distant part of him acknowledged his own actions and repressed emotions with a mocking laugh. He didn't know if it was worse or better that he hadn’t said a word through this entire encounter.

“Come on, Dan,” pressed Sam, brilliantly oblivious.

Dan dropped the uncapped marker in his hand. It landed unevenly and skidded across the floor, rolling to a stop against the bottom of the mutilated wall.

“I have to go,” was all Dan could manage.

He left.

~~~

Dan drank three full glasses of water, one after the other, as soon as he arrived home, but the dry taste in his mouth and the nausea brewing in his stomach didn’t go away. The glass clinked dully against another cup as he set it into the sink, bracing himself against the counter with both palms pressed flat against the marble. He didn’t want to understand why he felt this way, but he did. He understood too well.

This was the same all-encompassing self-disgust and hatred that had rushed over him the first time he’d heard the word ‘gay’ and realized it might apply to him. Now it was the other way around, though. That tiny symbol of pride, so stout and enduring in the “progressive” unisex bathroom, now stamped out so cruelly by the whims of sixteen- and seventeen-year-old boys who thought nothing of mocking the acknowledgement of someone’s identity. It didn’t mean anything to them. It meant everything to someone, maybe more than just one someone, in that school. And Dan hadn’t done anything to stop it.

The look on Fiona’s face had somehow made it worse. As if she, Dan’s self-proclaimed mortal enemy, had somehow seen something so disgusting in Dan that she wouldn’t even bother to fight back against him. She’d left. She’d given up.

She’d never, not once since Dan had known her, done that before.

“Hey, Dan!” called a voice from the living room. Dan had gone through the side door of the house when he’d gotten home, so he jumped as he realized his dad had been here the entire time.

He didn’t move from the counter. “Yeah?” he called back, almost reluctant. He didn’t want to move, a deep part of him wanting to just lie down for a while and not think about anything.

“Come here for a sec?”

Dan sighed and dragged his hands from the counter. The marble had been cold against his palms, almost grounding, and the warm air felt sticky against them now. He trudged to the doorway between the living room and the kitchen and leaned against it. His dad was sitting on the couch in front of the television set, a binder and various envelopes spread on the cushions around him and the coffee table before him. “Yeah?”

His dad spared him a quick glance, but then went back to frowning at the stack of paper he held in one hand. “You, uh…ah! Right. We’re going to a wedding next Sunday, don’t forget.”

“A wedding?” Dan repeated dumbly.

“Yeah, my work buddy is getting married - finally - and he invited all of us. Do you have a suit to wear? It’s a semi-formal event.”

Dan just shrugged. “Guess so.” He paused, still feeling that churning deep in his stomach. “Do I have to go?”

“Yes,” his dad said firmly. “We’re all going.”

“Fine.” It wasn’t as if Dan had any plans for that weekend anyway, other than playing video games until past midnight. “What time is it?”

Papers rustled loudly as his dad gave up on sorting them and crammed them into an orange folder. “Uh…” he said. “It’s...one. In the afternoon. Yeah.” He glanced up, then, and something in Dan’s posture must have given away how he was feeling, since his face collapsed into concern. “Are you okay, Dan?”

“I’m fine,” Dan said instinctively.

He looked dubious. “Here,” he said, and shoved a few envelopes to clear the seat beside him, then patted it. “Sit down, come on.”

Dan did not want to sit, but he did so anyway. He had to fish out a crumpled paper from between the couch cushions after he sat down, and he took his time smoothing it out so he could avoid the deep gaze of his dad.

“So,” his dad finally said. “How’s school going?”

“It’s fine,” Dan muttered. The paper was cool against his fingers, but not as much as the marble countertop had been. The faint scrape of the paper edge as he slowly dragged his fingertips over them was soothing.

“Making any new friends?” his dad joked.

The paper dug in a little too deeply, threatening a papercut, so Dan pulled it away. “Losing some, maybe,” he said under his breath.

His dad’s ears were too sharp. “Ah,” he said. “Having some disagreements?”

“You could say that.” Dan’s eyes stung, suddenly, and he blinked harshly. His nose burned with the effort to hold back his emotions. “Do you - ” he started, and then had to breathe heavily through his mouth before continuing. “Do you ever feel like you did something wrong by not doing anything?”

There was no answer for a moment, but then his dad said slowly, “...Yeah, I have. Kind of recently, in fact. Why do you ask?”

Dan shrugged in response. His myriad of whirling thoughts and the sizeable lump dwelling in his throat wouldn’t allow him to say anything out loud, so he just folded the paper in his hands until it was a tiny square. He almost jumped when his dad placed a hand over his knee.

“I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you about something,” he said, voice soft, and Dan wanted to hurl himself away from it. The nausea was coiling its way deeper into the pit of his stomach and he almost felt light-headed, even though he was sitting. There was something important about the tone of his dad’s voice just now. Something that Dan didn’t want to have to answer.

“You know I love you, right? No matter what. You’re my son.”

Dan just nodded. The corners of his eyes burned.

His dad’s grip tightened on his knee, and then, in an almost forced casual tone, he asked, “So, have your eye on any pretty schoolmates?”

Dan’s gaze snapped up to his dad’s, almost defensively, but the returning expression was nothing less than understanding.

“Any girls?” his dad clarified, and then, after a dragging pause, added, “...or boys?”

Something crumpled inside Dan.

His dad must have seen it, since he hastily said, “You don’t have to tell me! I know what it’s like being a boy your age, it’s just that you never talk about girlfriends or, or boyfriends at all. Or bring anyone round.” He tugged the folded paper from Dan’s punishing grip and opened it, smiling down at the creases. “I just started thinking about it because of the wedding, you know? My coworker is marrying his boyfriend - took him long enough to propose, yeah? - but I told him congratulations the other day and that’s when...well, it’s when I realized I’ve never said anything like that to you. We never really talked about that. And I just want you to know that...it’s okay. Whoever you love, I’ll love. Well, sort of, I mean, I still have to be your dad and threaten your dates, but I - ”

Dan threw himself abruptly at his dad and was caught immediately, although he was clearly startled. Dan wrapped his arms around his dad and buried his face in his neck, feeling the dampness from his closed eyes making their way to the collar of his dad’s shirt. He’d never heard his dad say so much at one time. It hurt, but like the cleanest of cuts, and in the best of ways.

“I love you,” Dan heard himself say, and felt his dad’s laughter through his chest rumbling against him.

“Love you too, kiddo,” he said.

Dan withdrew after a moment longer, swiping ineffectually at his eyes. “I have to...homework,” he said desperately.

“All right,” said his dad, and it was so gentle that Dan wanted to curl up right there, head on his dad’s knees, and have a sob like he was five years old again. Instead, he scrambled to his feet.

“Thanks,” he choked out, and then he headed to his room.

~~~

The laptop was still open from that morning. The screen was dark as Dan dropped into his chair before it. It was hard to believe that a little over three weeks ago, he had changed his life, just a little, for the better when he'd signed up for this cheesy location-based friendship website. He and Phil had talked about nothing but the most casual of conversations, barely touching upon subjects that could be considered thought-provoking in any way.

Dan swiped his fingers across the mouse trackpad, lighting up the laptop screen, and he entered his password. The website and chat screen were still open from that morning, revealing his last message that had given his real name to Phil.

There was a single new message from Phil, timestamped that morning. hi Dan!

Dan's eyes burned, but he had barely just regained his composure from the encounter with his dad. He swiped at the threatening tears, taking a heaving breath that did little to settle his nerves. Maybe it was his message this morning before school, maybe it was what had happened at school, or maybe it was what his dad had just told him. Either way, something inside Dan yearned to be let out. To be known.

Despite his longing, his fingers still hovered hesitantly above the keyboard. He wanted to overthink it, but he knew that if he did, he would never send any sort of message.

hey, he finally sent, a terrible opener. He added, you up?

It was four in the afternoon. Of course Phil was up. This knowledge didn’t settle the anxiety twisting inside Dan.

A reply did not immediately pop up, so Dan switched tabs to Tumblr and scrolled for a few minutes. His computer pinged, then, and he flew back to the website so quickly that he almost closed out his browser on accident.

Yeah. Phil’s reply was almost lacklustre, a far cry from the enthusiasm usually conveyed in his previous messages. Maybe he’d had a bad day, too.

i have a weird question, Dan typed, and he worried his lip between his teeth before adding, you don’t have to answer.

sure.

you...like guys, right?

There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation. Yep.

It couldn’t be so easy. 

...Couldn't it?

Dan's fingers moved without his permission, daring to test the idea. He forced himself to stop after only one sentence, gaze burning into the screen like he could set the computer on fire and escape from this. The letters stared coolly back, almost appearing emotionless on the screen, but Dan felt that, somehow, Phil would understand the turmoil behind them. It was something he'd never said out loud before, much less typed out in a way that could be held accountable against him.

i think...i do too.

~~~ previous chapter ~~~ next chapter ~~~