i have a violent crush on you

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i’ve had to deal with both violent and ‘’’passive’’ homophobia, and let me tell you,  tbr passive homophobia hurts the most because it usually always comes out of people you thought were your friend and you have to sit back and deal with it or risk outing yourself

and the worst part is, they talk about it like it isnt a big deal

i’ve heard the worst of it, i’ve been called a d*ke told i was going to hell for having a fucking crush and… i’ve been told by friends that they would never talk to a lesbian, that we’re all sort of weird, that they were ‘’praying for me’’ like it was some sort of nice thing to say and i think that hurts the most because it comes out of friends and it makes you feel worthless, less than, cause you have to sit back and realize that not even your friends love you

it’s not just the ppl on the streets with there signs, it’s your neighbor, your best friend, your grandpa it doesnt matter if it’s violent or not, it’s homophobia and im fucking tired of people thinking that just because they dont throw slurs at me it makes them any better than any other homophobe

you’re a fucking homophobe doesnt matter how you present it

Zach Dempsey X Reader imagine

Warnings: Cursing, very slight sexual abuse 

~* Y/N’s Pov*~

 "Okay everyone, please remember to do the homework I assigned on page 416" 

 Chemistry was probably the worst class of the day. Not because I was bad at it, its just boring. So here i am sitting in the back of the class waiting for the bell to ring for lunch. Today my boyfriend and I were supposed to skip lunch to hang out. Zach and I always do this and honestly its so much fun. We could go to the park, which is where we go most of the time, or we go through some random drive thru and get food from there.

 While I was lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice that every one was already packed up. The bell finally rang and everyone went to lunch while i was still putting my things away. The teacher left and told me to turn off the lights on my way out. The room was empty but that quickly changed as Bryce Walker came in closing the door behind him which left me confused. I never liked Bryce he always seemed like an asshole.

 "Hey (Y/N)“ he said approaching me. 

 "The fuck do you want Bryce?" 

 "Ya know (Y/N), you’ve always had this attitude towards me and i think you might have a little crush” he answered. 

 " Its quite the opposite actually. Now excuse me but i gotta run" I said passing him and making my way to the door. 

 He grabbed my wrist and pulled me back before i could open the door. Before i knew it, I was trapped between his body and the wall and his lips were on mine. He was…making out with me? For some reason I thought this was gonna take a violent turn rather than him kissing me, but either way I didn’t like it. I pushed him off but he just put me back in the same position.

 "C'mon (Y/N), Zach doesn’t have to know. I mean i know you want me, what girl doesn’t?“ He said Now there were tears in my eyes. I was both afraid of what was gonna happen next and what Zach would think. 

 Before things went any further I tried pushing him again, this time he stumbled on my school bag that had fallen from me a few minutes back. He was now on the floor and i took this chance to get my bag and hurry out of the room. I walked outside the classroom and was instantly led to the cafeteria. 

 ~* Zach’s Pov*~

 I was sitting at a table with Justin, Alex, Montgomery, and a few other guys but i wasn’t really paying attention to what they were saying. I was too busy looking from my phone to the door that (Y/N) usually enters the lunch room from. 

 "Yo Dempsey” i hear Justin yell I turn my attention to him and he continues talking to me. 

 "Who are you looking for dude?“ He asks 

 "Im just waiting for (Y/N) to hurry up and come, its been five minutes since lunch started and shes never really this late”

 "Bro its just five minutes chill" And just as he finished his sentence I saw (Y/N) walk into the cafeteria. My smile was quickly replaced with a worried expression when i saw that she was crying. We locked eyes for a moment but she looked away and started making her way out of the school. I then saw Bryce walk out from that same door and the thought finally hit me that he wasn’t with us at lunch either. I suddenly realized what probably happened and i honestly didn’t know what to do, I was torn between going after (Y/N) to comfort her or going to Bryce and beating the shit out of him. Before i knew it i was already standing in front of Bryce and yelling at him. We went back and forth. 

 "Oh calm down Dempsey, nothing even really happened" Bryce said with a stupid smirk on his face.

 "THATS FUCKING BULLSHIT BRYCE! I KNOW THE TYPE OF SHIT YOU PULL OFF, WALKER" 

 At this point Justin and Marcus were holding me back and telling me to stop, scared that i would say something about the tapes. They eventually let me go and i made my way outside looking for (Y/N). She couldn’t have gone that far, right? I got in my car and drove around campus until I found her on a bench near the tennis court. I got out and sat by her.

~*(Y/N)’s Pov*~ 

I saw Zach walking towards me but i didn’t look at him. He looked really mad which scared me. ‘Was he mad at me?’ I thought. Thats when he sat next to me and pulled me into a hug.

 "(Y/N) what exactly happened back there?“ He asked while pulling away sounding really worried.

 "I was just in class packing my things up when he walked in saying dumb shit then kissed me” I answered, still not looking at him.

 He then knelt in front of me putting his hands slightly rubbing my knees and trying to catch my gaze. 

 "Is that all that happened?“ I nodded

 ”(Y/N) are you sure? Cause i swear if that fuckass tries anything on you i will-“ 

"Thats all that happened Zach” i cut him off while smiling at him. 

 He smiled back, then stood up and made me stand up too. He led me to his car. 

 "You wanna just skip the rest of the school day?“ He asked "Cause im really not in the mood to see Bryce in the halls”. 

 "Yeah me neither, we should just get food and go back to my house" I answered. He pressed a quick kiss on my lips, turned on his car and we pulled out of school grounds.

Request: Can I request being a A curtis sister and then johnny moves in w you and then there’s like sexual tension between you and then end up dating?? Omg sorry if this is too much

A/N: This is the best request so far. And I apologize beforehand this was probably so bad

Word Count: too much

“Soda, I said get out of my room!” You yelled, shoving him. He laughed. “You’re so tiny and cute,” he teased. “Darry!” You yelled. “What!” He yelled back from the kitchen. “Soda’s bothering me!” You complained. “Soda, leave your sister alone!” He yelled. Soda rolled his eyes, pulling your ponytail. You pushed him out, slamming the door.

Sometimes you just couldn’t stand that boy. He’d come into your room for “a pencil” then it escalated to him looking through your poem book. Like your brother Ponyboy, you loved to write. Sometimes you wrote poems or short stories. And they were strictly private. But Soda didn’t get the meaning of privacy apparently.

You shoved your book inside your mattress and went out into the living room. Ponyboy was off God knows where doing God knows what. Darry was in the kitchen and Soda was sprawled out on the couch. “There she is,” he narrated. “The 16-year-old she-demon in her natural habitat. She stalks her prey before pouncing.” You flipped Soda off before heading off into the kitchen.

“Hey,” Darry greeted. He was at the table looking through mail. Darry was the oldest of you four, 20 years old. He naturally assumed the father role when your parents died. You could barely remember them but you did remember what they looked like. Your mother was petite and pretty with soft brown hair and softer eyes. Your father was tall and sturdy with dark hair and green eyes.

You were a mix of the two. Soft brown hair and hazel eyes. Darry always said you reminded him of your dad everyday, not as if you could tell the difference. “Anything for me?” You asked, looking in the mail pile. “Nope,” he said. “Just bills and more bills.” Darry and you were really close. He always talked to you about your parents, helped out with school work, went to all your parent teacher conferences.

You sighed. “Can we pay them?” You asked. He smiled. “You don’t worry about that, honey,” he said softly. Suddenly the front door burst open. “Darry! Soda! Y/N!” Ponyboy yelled. You and Darry ran into the living room. “What’s wrong?” Darry asked. That’s when he saw Johnny. Ponyboy was carrying Johnny under his arm. “What happened?” Soda exclaimed.

Johnny was beaten to a near pulp. Black eye, blood from his nose, scratches everywhere. “His dad…really got him this time,” Ponyboy trailed off. “I found him in the lot.” You brushed back Johnny’s hair gently. “What happened?” You whispered. Johnny shook his head. He wasn’t speaking. You all had been friends with Johnny for as long as you could remember.

You had shared a bed with him multiple times, given him half of your popsicle, nursed him after rumbles. You hated seeing him like this. Darry fumed. “Y/N, go take Johnny to get cleaned up. I’m going to have a little talk with Mr. Cade,” he said, grabbing his keys. “Darry, don’t,” Johnny protested weakly. Darry smiled softly. “You’ll be alright, Johnnycakes,” he promised.

-

“What really happened?” You asked softly. Johnny was sitting on the edge of his tub as you gently cleaned up the scratches underneath his eye. He was quiet. “You can talk to me,” you said. He sighed. “I mouthed off. I got real mad. I don’t know what happened to me,” he began. “Next thing I know, my old man was beating me down.” You shook your head. “And your mom?” You asked.

“She just stood there, watching,” he said. He didn’t even sound angry. He sounded sad. “I hate them, Johnny,” you said softly. “I really do.” He looked you straight with his dark brown eyes. “I don’t,” he whispered. “That’s the problem. I can’t.” You sighed. You cleaned up the rest of his wounds. “Nothing’s broken,” you assured him. “Thank you,” he said softly.

You smiled, standing up. He pulled you back to him. “Really. Thank you,” he repeated. You stared at him a while. You don’t know what came over you but you suddenly kissed his cheek. It was slow and soft. He didn’t move an inch. “You’ll be alright now, Johnny,” you whispered in his ear. You stood up and left the bathroom without a word.

You all waited for Darry anxiously. An hour passed when he finally came home. He looked completely out of breath. “What happened?” You asked, jumping up. He shrugged. “Well, Johnny boy,” he began. “Looks like you’ll be staying here a while.” Johnny stood up. “What?” He exclaimed. “What do you mean?” Darry shrugged. “It means you’re living here until you’re at least 18. Beyond then, you can choose what you want to do,” he said simply.

Pony’s eyes widened. “You mean–?” He began. Darry nodded. “Your parents are a piece of work, Johnnycakes. No offense,” he said, shrugging off his coat. Johnny scoffed. “None taken,” he said. “So how’d you do it?” Darry sighed. “I said you can’t keep treating that boy like that. They said you take care of him. I said sure. Here we are,” he said as if it was easy.

Johnny smiled. “Thank you. So much,” he said softly, suddenly hugging him. Soda cheered. “Johnny boy! You’re one of us!” He exclaimed. “He always was,” I insisted. “Fair enough,” Soda agreed. “Well, come on,” Darry said, looping an arm around Johnny. “Let’s get your things.”

You’d never been to the Cade house. None of you had. Johnny would never let you guys in, not that any of you would ever ask. You all walked over to his house, Johnny and Pony walking side by side, talking animatedly. You walked by Soda. Soda and you had our bickers but he was your best friend next to Pony. He comforted you when you cried, slept next to you when you had bad dreams. He was overall amazing to talk to.

“How do you feel about this?” He asked me suddenly. You glanced at him. “What?” You asked. “Johnny. Living with us,” he said. “What do you mean? I’m thrilled. He’s finally getting away from that place,” you said. Soda nodded. “Well, yeah. But won’t it be weird?” He asked softly. “How?” You asked. He sighed. “Don’t you have a thing for him?” He asked.

“What?” You exclaimed, stopping in your tracks. The boys all stared at me. You blushed, continuing walking. “What do you mean?” You whispered. Soda rolled his eyes. “Don’t give me that. You have a thing for Johnny. At first I thought Dally but I’ve seen how you are with Johnny,” he said softly. You didn’t answer. Mainly because he was dead on correct.

Of course you had a thing for Johnny. He was cute, sweet, and overall, an amazing person. He was one of the few Greasers who wasn’t violent and rowdy. You’d always been into Johnny but you played it off. You knew it would never be nothing more than a crush. You were both the same age but you were sure Johnny only thought of you as a little sister type.

You sighed. “It’s not weird. Don’t talk about it again,” You said softly. Soda was quiet for once in his goddamn life. We finally arrived at the Cade’s. Johnny stopped short. “Johnny?” Pony asked. Johnny didn’t answer. It was as if he didn’t hear. You suddenly took Johnny’s hand in mine. He looked at it. “It’s alright. I’m here,” You said softly.

He finally walked, never letting go of your hand until you all got inside. “Dad? Mom?” He asked. “I see you’re back,” a voice began. “Knew that big fella wouldn’t take you–” A man with a scruffy beard and a bottle of vodka came into the living room. “What is this?” He demanded. Johnny was quiet. “We’re here to get his things,” Soda spoke up. The man squinted at us.

“Dad, I’m not living here anymore,” Johnny spoke up. The man scoffed. “Good fucking riddance,” he said, swigging the vodka. “It’s a little early for that, ain’t it?” You said coldly. The man stared at me. “Now who’s this?” He asked, staring at you coldly. Johnny squeezed your hand softly. “I’m Johnny’s friend. And you’d be lucky to have him as a son,” You said boldly.

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t need this,” he slurred, going into a room down the hall. “You can live on the fucking street for all I care!” He slammed the door making Johnny jump slightly. “Is he always like that?” You whispered. “Drunk and aggressive?” Johnny asked. You nodded. “Always,” he said softly.

-

He would be sleeping on the couch the first few nights until Darry could get another mattress. Darry and Soda already shared a bed and Pony and you had twin beds on opposite sides of our shared room. Johnny insisted he’d be fine on the couch but Darry wasn’t having it.

Johnny didn’t have many things. He stuffed all his clothes, which fit in just a book bag and a few books in a plastic bag. You let him keep his books on your shelves. That night, Johnny smiled for the first time that whole day. Dally, Steve, and Two-Bit came over and it was nearly a party.

Pizza and Charades and crappy home movies. The works. Dally and Two-Bit went home after but Steve slept on the recliner. You didn’t sleep a wink. Something in you wouldn’t let you. So you got up. You pulled your hair back into a ponytail and went out into the living room. Steve was fast asleep but you couldn’t tell with Johnny.

He was still but his breathing was still uneven. “Y/N?” He asked, sitting up suddenly. “Yeah,” you whispered, walking over. “You’re awake, too,” he said softly. You nodded. “Why are you?” You asked. He laid back down as you gently brushed his hair aside. Even in the dark, you could see his brown eyes glistening in the moonlight.

“This is my first time in a while sleeping somewhere other than the lot,” he said softly. It nearly broke your heart to hear that. “They’re not gonna hurt you anymore, Johnny. Trust me,” you whispered. “Promise?” He said softly. “Always,” you said. You stayed there, sitting in silence. “Come here,” he suddenly said. “Lie down.” At first you were taken back but you obliged.

He looped an arm around you, pulling you to him. Your heart was nearly racing. “Johnny,” you began softly. “Just sleep,” he said softly. His chest was warm even through his shirt. He smelled like grass and cigarettes, a soothing smell. It felt different, sleeping next to him. Like something buzzing in the air. Something more than what it was.

-

“Stop being so loud!” Soda whisper-yelled. “My kid sister is sleeping on someone!” Darry exclaimed. Ponyboy shushed them. “Hence the word sleeping,” he said softly. “I ought to wake them up right now,” Darry grumbled. “Clearly nothing happened, Dar,” Soda insisted. “Just chill.”

They were talking about you. You kept your eyes closed, pretending to sleep. “Just leave it alone,” Pony said. Darry sighed. You waited until you heard them move to the kitchen. “Johnny?” You whispered. “I’m up,” he said instantly. You opened your eyes. He was grinning, looking at you. You sat up.

“I didn’t mean to sleep on you,” you began. “You didn’t?” He asked. “No, no, that’s not why I came out last night. I just wanted to talk,” you said quickly. His face fell ever so slightly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t–” he began. “No, it’s fine. It’s fine. It was fine,” you added quickly. He smiled slowly. “It was fine?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. Your heart raced. You hesitated. “It was great,” you said softly.

You guys locked eyes for a few seconds until the tornado named Sodapop Curtis interrupted. “Great! You guys are up–” he began then trailed off. “Am I interrupting something? A moment?” You glared at Soda. “Nope,” Johnny said quickly getting up. You sat there as Johnny headed into the bathroom. “Don’t,” you began.

“That was a moment,” Soda insisted. “Soda, stop,” you said softly. “You guys are hot for each other. Admit it,” he said. You ignored him, heading into the kitchen. “You can’t deny true love!” He yelled after you. Ponyboy smirked as you walked in. “Don’t start on me,” you said before he began. He sighed. Darry glared at you. “What happened last night? Don’t lie and you won’t get in compete trouble,” he said. You rolled your eyes.

“Nothing. We’re just friends who slept next to each other on a couch. What’s the issue?” You said. Darry sighed. “If you have a crush on Johnny, that’s fine,” he began. “Stop right there. I don’t. Leave it alone,” you said, cutting him off. “Leave what alone?” Johnny asked, tickling you in your side. It was a thing he did ever since you were kids. You swatted his hand away. “Nothing,” you said. He narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously, biting fiercely into a pancake. God.

-

You tried to keep a safe distance but it was hard. It was like a magnet pulling you to Johnny. Sure you had a thing for him before but now it was stronger. And something in you couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same. It was the little things. The way your fingers would brush against each other. The way his eyes would linger on you a little longer.

He’d been there now for two weeks and it wasn’t getting easier. You were literally drawn to him. And you wanted nothing more than to just push him against a wall and kiss him. One night everything changed. “Pony, have you seen the book I was reading?” You asked, shuffling through your bookshelf. Pony was sitting on his bed across the room, leafing through a magazine.

“Nope,” he said without looking up. “Do you even know what book I’m talking about?” You asked, glaring at him. “Nope,” he said simply. You sighed. You went into the living room where Johnny and Soda were deep in a game of cards. You sat down next to Johnny. “What are you playing?” You asked. He grinned. “My good luck charm,” he said. Soda snorted. “You’re gonna need it,” he said. Johnny rolled his eyes. “Poker,” he said.

You raised an eyebrow. “Poker?” You asked. “Chinese poker,” Soda specified. “Where’d you learn Chinese poker?” You asked. Soda shrugged. “A guy,” he said. Darry was sitting at his recliner, reading the paper. “Don’t look at me,” he said, sighing. “I’m going to bed. Weirdos,” you mumbled, heading off into your room. Pony already had the lights out and was curled up under the covers.

“Night, Ponybitch,” you said. “Night,” he said. It was a thing you two did. It was only okay when you did it though. You climbed into bed and closed your eyes, willing for sleep. You heard Soda yelling out in the living room. “Ah, yes, I’m the motherfucking shit! Ha ha!” He yelled. “You were playing it wrong!” Johnny insisted. “How would you know?” Soda yelled back. “Because you’re crap at regular poker!” He shot back.

“I’m done here. I’m going to bed,” Soda said at
last. It was quiet again. Finally you felt yourself drifting off. You had a horrible dream. You were a soc, grown up on the right side of town, living with a trust fund and two parents. You were beautiful and popular and at the top of the social pyramid. But it was a world where you didn’t have the brothers or friends you knew.

The gang hated you. Even Johnny. You were one of the most despised socs in their eyes. You would walk past your own home and they’d glare at you with the coldest eyes, more painful than any punch they could’ve thrown. You woke up gasping. You stared up at the ceiling, your chest rising and falling heavily. You sat up slowly.

“Fuck,” you mumbled, pushing back your hair. You climbed out of bed, Ponyboy still fast asleep. You went into the kitchen, turning on the light. You nearly had a heart attack to see Johnny sitting at the table. “Damnit, Johnny!” You exclaimed. “What are you doing?” He sat there calmly. “Drinking water,” he said. Sure enough, there was a half empty glass of water on the table.

You sighed, getting water from the tap. “Do you ever want to be a soc?” You asked suddenly. “All the time,” he said instantly. You glanced at him. “But then I realize I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have you guys. I’d just be another snobby rich kid,” he went on. “You’re not snobby,” you pointed out. “Money does strange things to people,” he said softly. You sighed. “I had a dream I was one of them,” you began. He waited.

“I hated it,” you whispered. “I had money and status and beauty and I hated it.” He stood up slowly. “Why?” He asked softly, standing above you. His breath was warm and smooth. “Because I didn’t have you,” you said softly. His eyes widened slightly. “You guys. I meant, you guys,” you added quickly. He smiled softly. “You said you,” he whispered.

“That’s included in the you guys,” you said softly. Suddenly his hand rose to your face, brushing back a stray lock of hair. You stared up at him into his deep brown eyes. “Johnny,” you began softly. “Yes,” he said softly. You hesitated. “Say it,” he whispered. “You first,” you insisted. That’s when he leaned in, his lips just centimeters away.

“Well, what are you waiting for? An invitation?” You whispered. He pressed his lips to yours, warm and gentle yet firm. His hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer to him. There you were, kissing Johnny Cade in your kitchen. He slowly led you to the couch, never breaking the kiss. He kissed you like he’d been meaning to do it for years.

His lips moved over your jawline and down your neck. Soon shirts ended up on the floor and he was inching towards your shorts but you stopped him. “Not here,” you said softly laughing. “Not on the couch.” He laughed softly. “Sorry,” he said softly. “It’s fine,” you whispered, pushing his brown locks back from his eyes.

“Johnny,” you began, taking a deep breath. “Yes?” He waited. “I love you.” He sighed. “Finally,” he said softly. You raised an eyebrow slightly. He laughed. “I’ve loved you since we were 5 years old,” he whispered. He kissed you softly one more time before sitting up. “What is it?” You asked, as he pulled on his shirt. “How would it look to Darry if we woke up topless on top each other?” He pointed out.

“Fair enough,” you sighed, standing up, slipping on your top. You began to walk towards your room but he stopped you. “Wait,” he said softly. “What is it?” You asked. He hesitated slightly. “Are you my girl now?” He asked softly. You smiled. “If you want me to be,” you whispered. “I want you to be,” he assured you. “Then I’m your girl,” you said softly. “Goodnight, Johnny Cade.”

-

The next morning you woke up in a daze. It was as if you smoked a weed and chugged a bottle of vodka. But without the ill side effects. You smiled up at the ceiling. You jumped up. Pony was still asleep. You jumped on his bed. “Wake up,” you exclaimed, shaking him. “Why?” He mumbled into his pillow. “Today’s going to be a great day,” you said. “Yeah, if I don’t kill you first,” he said turning over into his back.

You went out into the kitchen. Soda was asleep on a plate of eggs. Darry was sipping black coffee, reading the paper. “Why are you so happy?” Darry asked as you nearly ran to the fridge and chugged orange juice straight from the carton. “Who says I’m happy?” You asked. “I know my baby sister,” Darry pointed out.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not a baby,” you mumbled. “There’s the sister I know and love,” he said as your face darkened. “Where’s Johnny?” You said, trying to sound as casual as possible. “Went to get cereal,” he said absently. You nodded slowly, sitting at the table. Darry kept glancing at you. “You’re so creepy,” he mumbled.

“How?” You exclaimed. “You’re you,” Soda mumbled in his sleep. You slapped him upside the head. “Ow!” He exclaimed, sitting up. “You’re literally sitting there like a doll with your hands folded, staring at the front door,” Darry said. You shrugged. “Is there a rule book on how to sit?” You said dryly. Soda rolled his eyes. “Ignore her, Dar. That’s what I do when she’s being weird,” he said.

The front door then opened. You nearly jumped fifty feet high. “I’m back with corn flakes,” Johnny announced. “No one fucking likes corn flakes!” Soda exclaimed. “I do!” Johnny yelled back as he came into the kitchen. He stared at you a few seconds, smiling softly. You blushed, smiling back. Ponyboy came out in that moment. “What happened?” He asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Johnny bought shit cereal,” Soda said dryly. Pony groaned. “Don’t tell me it’s corn flakes,” he said. “What’s wrong with corn flakes?!” Johnny exclaimed. “Y/N, tell them nothing’s wrong with corn flakes.” They looked at you. You shrugged. “They’re not exactly cereal of the year,” you said. “Told you!” Soda yelled. “Dammit, you’re supposed to be my girl!” Johnny exclaimed.

Then it got quiet. Darry finally looked up from his paper. “Wait,” Pony said softly. “Girl? As in–” Soda’s eyes widened. “I fucking knew it!” He yelled. “You two are together?” Darry exclaimed. You glanced at Johnny. He grinned. “That’s what she told me,” he said. They all looked to you again. “It happened yesterday,” you said softly, smiling.

Soda just about jumped on the table and started dancing. Well, he did. Pony was literally hollering. Darry was still in shock. You blushed. “This is why I don’t tell them anything,” you said. Johnny laughed. “You two are dating?” Darry exclaimed. You nodded slowly. He sighed. “Can’t say I’m surprised,” he said. “Nice, man!” Soda exclaimed, slapping Johnny on the back. “Have you guys–you know…?” He began.

“That’s enough!” Darry exclaimed, wincing. Pony stared at us. “What? Done what?” He asked innocently. Soda held Pony like a baby. “You’re pure. Stay that way,” he said softly. Johnny sighed. “Now I see what you were saying,” he whispered. You kissed him quickly. “It’s fine,” you said. Darry’s eyes just about flew out their sockets. “They kiss. Wow, that’s just…” he mumbled.

“My sister just kissed Johnny Cade!” Soda yelled through the house. The front door then opened. “Who kissed Johnny?” Steve exclaimed as he came through with Two-Bit and Steve. Johnny sighed. “I give it a month until they live it down,” you said. He smiled. “Hey, it’s fine with me,” he said softly. “It’s fine?” You whispered, pulling him to you. “It’s great,” he said, smiling.

Flood my Mornings: Ian (IV)

Notes from Mod Bonnie

  • This story takes place in an AU in which Jamie travels through the stones two years after Culloden and finds Claire and his child in 1950 Boston.
  • Previous installment:  Ian (III): [Newborn fluff]

July 22, 1951


Come now, man: you were the Laird of Broch bloody Tuarach. It wasn’t long ago when you were capable of everything from bringing down foes on the battlefield barehanded to manipulating the workings of Europe’s royal courts. Even in more recent years, you managed to master an Automobile, did you not? For the love of Bride, you can certainly bring yourself to WALK to the Elevators.

Jamie did force himself to walk at a more-or-less dignified pace, but he let the foolish grin fly forth unchecked: Bree was here.

It had been only a day since he’d last seen her, but Lord, it seemed an eternity. More than once in that space of time, he’d found himself worrying for her sake. It had been so rushed, those minutes between their talking-to beneath the oak tree and when he’d entrusted her to the Harpers before fairly leaping into the Car to get to Claire’s side. He could scarcely remember how he had left things between him and his daughter. Had she spent the time apart fretting that he was still angry with her over the business with the climbing? 

He walked faster. She had been fine, Marian (and later Penelope) had assured him in the times when he’d phoned, no tantrums or tears; but he still could scarcely wait another moment to have his little girl back in his arms again. For, full and complete as the experience of Ian’s birth had been, holding the wean made Jamie feel Bree’s absence all the more; a deep, growing ache in his wame, more noticeable with every passing minute. He needed to have both of his children there together, to kiss and hold them, to see both at once. A Dhia, came the stunned, joyful thought as he accelerated around the final corner: a father of two, Fraser… 

Mrs. Byrd was just stepping out of the Elevator, Bree’s hand in hers, and Jamie could have burst with sheer joy at the sight, except that the minute his daughter laid eyes on him, she burst first: into tears.

He closed the distance between them in a matter of moments and caught her up into his arms, clutching her tight against his chest in a terrible panic of love and worry. “Bree, lass?” 

She had thrown her arms around his neck at once, and he could feel the whole of her little body shaking as she sobbed out something that sounded like ‘Da.’ 

“I’m here.” He cupped her head. “Shhhh, dinna fash, lass, it’s alright….What’s the matter, a leannan?”

Penelope was apparently as bewildered as he. “Goodness! Where did that—She was quiet all morning, but I didn’t know something was—Oh, there, there, honey,” she crooned, coming close to stroke Bree’s back. “Tell us what’s the matter, sweet pea.

Even with an inconsolable toddler on his shoulder, Jamie was filled with such tenderness and gratitude toward this dear woman. He and Claire truly couldn’t work at their hours and pace of life without Penelope’s endless dedication, a fact that would be all the more true in future, with two wee ones in her charge. To her credit, she was no cold, cruel governess like those in the stories: ‘Grannie Byrd’ was truly a member of the family.  Jamie managed to bend down and kiss her on the cheek and express some of the depth of his gratitude with words, even over Bree’s tears. He truly hoped they never had occasion to learn what they would do without Penelope Byrd. 

“Oh, you won’t have to, if I have anything to say about it,” she promised, patting Bree’s shaking back, then casting about a bit sheepishly. “I hate to run off and leave you without knowing what’s troubling her, but…” 

“…But you’ve a wee grandson to meet,” he said with a smile, and for a moment, the look on her dear, weathered face made him wonder if he would have to manage two distraught ladies crying on his shoulder in a moment. 

Still, as Penelope—glowing—made her way down the hall to find Claire and Ian, there was only Bree; only his daughter, sobbing her entire heart out.

Alright, now,” he murmured in Gaelic, finding an empty chair on a quiet side-corridor and settling down into it. Surely, this was only the relief of an unaccustomed separation ended at last, he reasoned, and that would be soothed easily enough. “It’s alright, wee love….Cry all ye must…It’s alright, mo chridhe….

He closed his eyes and held her tightly, a lump in his throat making him feel as though he would join her in crying at any moment. She just felt so big in his arms, so solid and full of lively energy, and all at once. he wanted to hold her there forever and keep her from growing up—that she might stay his wee one, always. “I love you, Brianna Ellen,” he murmured, finding it was the only thing that could hold the weight of all he felt. 

What Brianna said in response had Jamie’s eyes flying open wide, and he bolted up so straight and so suddenly that Bree detached from his neck and would have toppled backward. “What was it ye said?” 

Her face was red and wet and swollen, her expression the exact twin to her voice: wretched and genuinely crushed as she repeated: “…Love Beeyin more—th’n—me?” 

NO,” he swore violently. He saw her jump and forced himself to lower his voice. “That is absolutely not so, Brianna.” 

“But—” She rubbed her eyes with both fists, hiccuping and still sobbing.  “But them—they—” 

Bree.” He managed to get her to meet his eye again, torn between simple astonishment and anxiety for the state of her heart. “What on earth would make ye think such a thing?”

“Didna’nt MEAN to think one,” she wailed. “People were say—sayin’—”

“Which people? Who, lass?” he pushed. 

“Meerin an’— Mister Tom an’ the people.” 

“Oh, aye?…. And what did they say to ye?”

“That—” Tears welled up again in force and her words were choked and gasping. “You’re so much happy—‘cause of havin’ a—a baby thatsa baby-boy for FINALLY, and—and—” She collapsed once more in a heap around his neck. “An’—I—was—sad.

“Oh, my sweet, wee cub…” 

Jamie pulled her as close as he could, and kissed her again and again, her warm head pressed against his cheek.  If Marian or Tom had truly made such a comment, he knew it would have been a completely lighthearted jest that had gotten unfortunately misconstrued. Still, by whatever means, that sense of ‘finally’ had obviously taken root in Bree’s heart, for the feeling behind that word had been deep and true. 

“The people didna mean anything by it at all, Bree,” he promised. “It’s just how folk talk sometimes, aye? Some nonsense about how daddies are supposed to like their boys best, and mummies, the girls.”

“Thit’s—It’s…” He felt her sniff, heard the tentative hope. “….it’s a nonsense?”

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “‘Aye, of course it is. Lass, I love your baby brother wi’ all my heart, but there’s no’ a single thing in the world that could make me love YOU less.” She coughed and gulped for air, and Jamie decided that perhaps humor would be of some use. “In fact, your Mum and me quarrel ALL the time about which of us loves ye most.”

She stirred and glowered dubiously up at him from under wet lashes, lips still quivering. “…Who’s….the most one?”

“Both of us.” 

“But who?”

“Mum AND Da.” 

Bree had trouble not grinning, though she made a valiant effort to stay stoic. 

Jamie pressed his good fortune. “And, let’s face it, wee Ian shall—WELL….Can ye keep a secret?”

“Yeah!” she whispered, streaming eyes suddenly wide. “I’m keep it!”

Only between us, ken….?”  Jamie whispered confidentially. “Your wee brother is going to have to work verra, VERRA hard to impress, because his sister is already the best there is.”

Me’s, the siss-ter?” 

“Aye, that’s you.”

She giggled even as a latent tear slid the rest of the way down her cheek. Jamie thumbed it away and kissed the track, serious again. “Truly, Bree: no matter how much we love Ian, your Mum and I canna love you any less, not ever. It isna even possible, do ye hear me?” 

She got a deep breath at last and exhaled it, the life coming back to her eyes. “Aye-okay.” 

Aye-okay, indeed.” He kissed her, his heart full. “Shall we go meet your wee brother, then, cub? He’s been asking after ye…”

And her smile—captivating him entirely with the earnest joy and excitement in it—was all the reassurance he needed. 


8

So uh… bringin’ some ZADR content back with a smidge of Keef on the side owo <3

I like the dynamic of Keef having a hopeless crush on Zim and it being heavily one-sided. Zim learning of this ‘crush’ business and sees that Keef’s advances make Dib a lil jealous so Zim uses that to his advantage to piss Dib off and this is one of them ‘final straws’. 

I mean, it’s your own damn fault, Dib. Maybe if you were upfRONT ABOUT YOUR FEEFEES (Zim’s not honest about his either so ya know…). I like overly violent jealous ZADR cause yeh. But WHERE IS KEEF FANART??? I NEED MORE OF MY HAPPY, OBSESSIVE BOY.

Who Knew?

Request:  Anon- So I have been absolutely head over heels for like a year now for this guy who I’ve been friends with for a while and he’s never thought of me that way and I literally have to like, be a ~pal~ and give him dating advice and such and I just feel really down about it can I just get a fluffy tyler imagine that’s like… maybe where the reader doesn’t think he likes them but he actually does…? Thank

@alphaash99  Hiii. I love your blog so much. I was wondering if you could do one of Tyler confessing he likes the reader accidentally on a live stream with the reader sitting right next to him. I love everything you do ❤💙💚 thank you!!

Work Count: 3975

A/N: Sorry that it took so long for these!

Originally posted by punkbarbie

“Y/N!”

I felt a tug at my stomach when Amy called my name. They were in the middle their monthly livestream which just so happened to be my very first livestream. I had been on a couple of Mark’s videos but only small parts. Even so, this was being seen by thousands of people. Live. Just the thought made me want to blow chunks. I arrived at the house a few minutes ago and saw that they had already started so I went into the kitchen to ‘get a drink.’ In reality I was just putting off going on camera for as long as possible.

 “Y/N, hurry up! We’re about to answer questions and a lot of people have question for you!”

Another wave of nausea passed over me, this one even more violent because that last voice came from Tyler. Tyler Nathaniel Scheid, AKA the guy I have been crushing on for over three months. When I first met him I thought he was absolutely beautiful, but that was just externally. Since then, however, I’ve realized that his beauty reached his interior as well. 

“Y/N, GODDAMMIT GET IN HERE!”

“SHUT UP MARK I’M COMING!”

After one last long breath, I made my way towards the main room where the whole gang was crowded around the camera. I saw a space on the couch in between Ethan and Tyler, but as soon as Tyler looked back at me with that stupid smile on his face, my nerves got the best of me and I pulled up another chair to sit behind the couch. His smile faltered for a second but he soon recovered and looked back to his phone to find some questions to answer. 

“Ooh, here’s one for Y/N,” Oh god Mark, please, no, “are you a cat person or a dog person?”

“Oh.” That wasn’t nearly as horrible as I was expecting. “Dog person, obviously.” Just as I said that, Chica came over to me and jumps into my lap, making me laugh and rub my hands through her fur.

 “Obviously.” They all laughed and continued with the questions. As we went through several of them, I realized that this wasn’t going to be nearly as terrifying as I expected it would.



“Tyler, here’s one directed specifically to you.”Ethan wiggled his eyebrows at Tyler.  At the moment it was just them and me. Amy and Kathryn went out to get us some food and Mark was somewhere else in the house, looking for something for the stream. We had been answering questions for about a half an hour but I’ve been pretty quiet, mainly because I was falling asleep, so it was basically just Ethan and Tyler answering questions right now. 

“Okay, what is it, and why are you being weird?”

“It’s just part of my personality, don’t judge me.” Tyler rolled his eyes. “Hey Tyler, do you have a crush?” He started to wiggle his eyebrows again as Tyler blushed. This question got my attention and I slowly lifted my head off of the back of the couch to see the interaction. Tyler scoffed and waved his hand in dismissal.

“Pft, no of course not.” The mixture of hesitance in his voice and the blood that was rushing to his cheeks made it pretty obvious that he was lying. 

“You totally do! You’re such a liar!”

“Nuh uh!”

“Yuh huh, you like Y/N, just admit it!”

It got insanely quiet, and I was afraid they could hear the not so small gasp that escaped my lips. They must not have, though, because Tyler slightly nodded his head and Ethan’s smile got wide. My eyes widened and my mouth dropped open as I stared at the back of Tyler’s head. They were about to answer another question when Tyler looked at the chat and saw that everyone was freaking out about his confession, especially because it was right in front of me. 

“Shit.”

“What?” Ethan looked at the chat and then flung his head back to me. “SHIT.”

“Y/N, holy shit, I completely forgot you were still here, I thought you went with Amy and Kathryn to get the food, holy shit I can’t believe I just did that.” His words were jumbled and I had trouble keeping up but once I got over the initial shock, I shook my head and started smiling. 

“Tyler shut up. I like you too, don’t worry.” It was the easiest, smoothest, and luckiest I had ever been while confessing my feelings to someone, and I couldn’t be more thankful for Tyler’s misfortune. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, I didn’t think you felt the same way though.” While we were having our conversation, Ethan was looking back and forth between us with a huge smile on his face. Tyler looked at his and punched his arm.

“Shut up Ethan.”

“That was so freaking cute, ohmygod and it happened live!”

Realization hit me that I just confessed my feelings to my crush on  the livestream and nausea hit me once more.

“Oh god I just did that on the livestream.”

“What did you do on the livestream?”

“MARK YOU WILL NEVER BELIEVE WHAT JUST HAPPENED.”

“ETHAN SHUT UP I WILL KILL YOU I SWEAR TO GOD.”

“TYLER WHY DO YOU WANT TO KILL MY FUN.”

“SOMEONE PLEASE JUST TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED.”

I shoved my face in my hands as Tyler chased Ethan around the room while Mark screamed in distress in the doorway. Who knew that the livestream would be so eventful?  

Imagine #19 Charles Xavier (Request)

Requested by Anon: Could you please write a Charles Xavier x reader where the reader likes him but feels she has no chance so she pretends to hate him. But then he finds out the truth through mind reading? I’m sorry if this is complicated!! But thank you so much.

Originally posted by netflixruinedmylifeimagines

Not my gif

Words: 2622

Warnings: fem!reader, swearing, typos

A/N: So, first of all, I know that request is from literal months ago, and I’m really sorry, but I kinda put off writing it for the following reason… I actually did that once, pretended to hate someone I believed not to be good enough for (he was a dick and probably deserved it, but still) and it’s connected to some of the worst, most uncomfortable and regrettable situations of my life. If you find yourself in that kind of situation, and you think that it would be easier to just treat your crush like crap, DON’T! I’m all for making mistakes and learning from them, but I really recommend you just talk to the person or, if that’s easier, distance yourself, but being a dick towards them will just make you look and feel like… well, a dick. Don’t! And secondly, I am not incredibly proud of this fic. I don’t think it’s that great. I hope, I’m not disappointing anyone. xoxo

Charles had hired you because of the way you worked with the students, the way you treated the other teachers and the impression that you were one of the smartest, most dedicated people he had ever met. He had hired you despite the fact that you apparently couldn’t even be in the same room as him without shooting him glares and avoiding any kind of further interaction.

Charles understood that there were people, whom one just couldn’t stand. Attraction was biology after all, and maybe you just really didn’t like him, maybe semi-polite working-side-by-side was all you were able to with him, but it still bothered him.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hey, new blog~ may I request some platonic relationship headcanons for Todoroki and Bakugou having a crush on the reader (that kinda go along with the Todoroki platonic headcanons)??


Todoroki Shouto

Originally posted by tachibana--chan

  • Todoroki would have to have known you for years. So the two of you are quite close. 

  • You two met at the beginning of elemntry school and bonded. It took you a few years before he finally opened up about his family and his father. You open up about your own problems and the two of you grow closer together.

  • He has trouble sleeping so sometimes during lunch he’ll fall asleep on your shoulder or rest his head on yours on the bus ride home. 
  •  In highschool the two of you worry over each other constantly
            • “(Name) have you eaten today?”
               “Shouto did you forget your lunch? I brought an extra one”
               “Hey I saw you landed awkwadly on your foot during practice. Are         you okay? Should I cool it down for you?”
               “Hey you look stressed. Is everything okay? Would you like to talk         about it?”

  • If Todoroki every catches on that Bakugou has a crush on you he is a little protective of you.

  • He’s seen Bakugou at his best and worst times. He’s seen him become violent with Midoriya, a kind, caring, and gentle person as well as Bakugou ‘s childhood friend. He does not trust him.

  • It would take a lot of time for Todoroki to trust Bakugou. A situation would have to rise where Bakugou puts himself at risk for you before Todoroki even considers Bakugou trustable.

  • If you hint or even bring up the fact that you may like Bakugou Todoroki would pull Bakugou aside and question what his intentions with you are. Todoroki sees you as a sister, he’s not going to be so willing to let you run off with an aggresive and violent boy. 

  • In the end if you want to date him Todoroki won’t stop you. He may ask you how it’s going from time to time and make sure he’s treating you well. As long as you’re happy that’s all that matters. 


Katsuki Bakugou

Originally posted by manjirou

  • He remembers your name.

  • You’re extremely kind and patient with him however, it is obvious how nervous you get around him. He tries to be less… aggresive, when he is in your presence. He doesn’t want to scare you however, he doesn’t want to get called out on it either. 

  • Takes a while for him to realize he has a crush it’s more like, I tolerate you more than I tolerate them. 

  • It takes a while for him to accept how close you and Todoroki are. He keeps thinking the two of you are dating. You two are always with eachother.

  • He realizes he needs to get on Todoroki’s good side if he’s ever going to be able to talk to you. 

  • He almost get’s killed before he even gets a chance to talk with you alone. He’s pissed and ready to fight when he see’s you fighting against three different villians. 

  • When Todoroki pulls him aside he clearly states what his intentions are with you. He stands with as much confidence as he can muster.

  • The next time he sees you he pulls you aside and finally confesses to you. 
             “You…. You want to date me?” 
             “So what if I fucking want to?”

  • He actually is pretty soft when you two start dating. He is not big on PDA however, he’s very gentle when you two are alone. He’ll slip his hand into yours, kiss your temple, rub your back when your upset, helps you with any problems. 

  • He’s not strict with who you hang out with after the two of you start dating. He knows you and Todoroki are like family so he isn’t worried about him. He isn’t worried about his friends because he trusts them enough to not make a move on you. Strangers and people who try to force themselves on you (Mineta) usually end up in the hospital for a few days.

anonymous asked:

If Cersei had these three dragons she would've used them too, and you know it. Stop acting as if Daenerys is the cruelest character in the show.

First, I want to repeat what I can apparently not say enough, and that is that I believe Daenerys is good at heart, that she means well, strives to be just. It seems as if people don’t want me to say that. Apparently, her stans cannot accept that people who ‘hate’ her have layered, reasoned opinions and see her as a complicated character. They prefer to assume I and others are simply blinded by hate. Smooth.

I’m so over the ‘Cersei is mean too’ defense. Congratulations, you have to defend your fav by pointing out how she’s not as cruel as Cersei👏
You’re right though, if Cersei had these dragons, she’d use them… a lot. I do wonder how that somehow makes it a okay for Daenerys to do it though?
We have this woman who has a resume of murder that makes my eyes bulge (remember that time Cersei said the septas of King’s Landing were begging for a good raping? You probably don’t), a woman who had her first kill when she was in her teens when she pushed her friend into a well because the poor girl had a crush on Jaime- if that woman would do something too, that doesn’t mean it’s excusable for Daenerys.
How can you excuse Dany’s mass murder by saying ‘Cersei would’ve done it too’? Does that not make it WORSE? To me, admitting that it’s something Cersei would do, points out exactly how violent and cruel it really was.

Why am I so disappointed and angry? Well, it’s exactly because what she did is something Cersei would have done. It’s just that, when Cersei does it, no one smoothes it over, no one adds some sparkle and defends it as if it was her last possible strike of attack. Because Cersei is not a hypocrite. Cersei does not pretend to be a savior, she doesn’t think she’s a magical goddess send over to the world to rule them all with her shinyness, someone who will make the world a better place, upholds the good, defends the weak. Cersei only cares about Cersei and has no trouble admitting it.

Daenerys was supposed to be better. Daenerys is supposed to be good, generous, forgiving and gentle-hearted. Her wiki page say’s she’s ’willing to put the needs of her people before her own desires’. Jon said so himself, he said she has done a magical thing and it made people believe she can make more magic happen, that she can give the people a better world than the one they’ve always lived it. Daenerys is not supposed to do the things that Cersei does too, she’s supposed to rise above that.

She didn’t. Daenerys does not put the needs of her people above her own desires anymore. She burned these men (rip Ed Sheeran) and worst of all was, she seemed to enjoy it. She burned them cause she was frustrated with her lack of progress.

I’m not acting as if Daenerys is the cruelest character on the show, but she’s the most delusional and hypocritical one, and for me, that’s worse. I said it before, but at least Cersei owes up to her shit, at least Cersei’s fans owe up to her shit.

If you fail to see what was so horrifying about her burning defenseless people alive in a surprise attack and need to fall back to the 'well it is war’ argument, you have deeper issues. She was not attacked by these soldiers, she went there to burn them with premeditation, it was no fair fight, she made the conscious decisions to kill men who were doing her nor her 'people’ any harm. It was revenge, it came from frustration, it was unnecessary.

And since I’m a public international law student, I’m happy to inform you it’s a war crime of the first degree. Inexcusable. The UN would go nuts. And yes, maybe because I work with these cases every day, I do feel extra passionate about this, and maybe that is why messages like yours piss me off so much.
Raining down fire on innocents and food (which btw keeps more innocents alive, like little children and elderly) is something that happens today, it’s real in some places of this world.

Last but not least, this ask didn’t say it, but I’ve seen it thrown around… NO, not every character on this show would do what Daenerys did right there. Guess who wouldn’t? 

Originally posted by fuckyeahhousestark

My best friend and the guy who literally told Daenerys not to use these freaking dragons because it would make her just like all the other fuckers. The one with the sister who’s trying to stack Winterfell with food just in case her people will need it. Daenerys is doing what Cersei would’ve done and Starks are actually being better than all of us. I know who I’m defending. I chose the right characters to love. 

Musical Theatre Asks
  • American Idiot: What's your favorite alternative band?
  • The Book Of Mormon: Are you religious (+ religion if yes)?
  • Camelot: What's your favorite legend/fairytale?
  • Chess: What's your favorite game (videos games count)?
  • Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog: How much time do you think you spend on Tumblr?
  • Evita: What do you want to do with your life?
  • Hamilton: Are you throwing away your shot?
  • Heathers: What was/is high school like for you?
  • Into The Woods: Do you get along with your parents?
  • Jesus Christ Superstar: Who's your favorite celebrity?
  • The Lion King: Have you ever lost someone close to you?
  • Les Mis: How many languages do you speak + which ones?
  • Next To Normal: Do you have a mental illness, or know someone who does?
  • Once: Do you play any instruments? If so, which one(s)?
  • The Phantom of the Opera: How well can you sing?
  • Rent: What do you look for in a friend?
  • Spring Awakening: Who was your first crush? Describe them.
  • Sweeney Todd: What's the most violent thing you've done?
  • West Side Story: Do you believe in fate/destiny/etc.?
  • Wicked: Do you think yourself a hero or a villain + why?

Wanna know why I like persona 5 because of how it handles actual negative emotions.

Like for instance, the main character get angry. The pain and trauma they have went through is real. Like your not gonna crush a card and friendship your fucking pain away. No that not P5, its (spoilers)

OH! Your pedophile gym teacher broke your leg so you couldn’t run track anymore. Used your childhood abusive, alcoholic father, as a reason to why you “attacked” said gym teacher. Insuring that just because your father was violent that the narrative that you are no different gets past along. Ruining your life, friends and possible future!

All of this comes nice with a bow of the broken leg comes into play. Where he lies and say he trips when in reality his fucking leg gave out because guess what he can’t fucking do because some asshole broke his leg?!

No amount of friendship is fixing that, no amount of card crushing gonna fix that. The pure rage on Ryuji face when he becomes his persona is the result of all of that. There is no hand holding, it validates your negative emotions because you have the right to be upset.

An I love P5 for that.

3

Name: Your crush is here.
Pairing: Fred x reader
Summary: the reader and Fred have serious crushes on each other, and Ginny knows about it, so she keeps using it to annoy the reader.

You have been running around the Burrow for a legit half an hour, trying to catch Ginny who has been way too obvious about your crush. Way too obvious. Who else would greet Fred and George with turning to the staircase and yelling “Y/N, your crush is here?” Well, true that the twins were not actually here, so she did not greet them this way, but the terror you felt was rather real. So your attempt to strangle her absolutely understandable.

“Come here, you little witch! Come here, I will tear your eyes out!” (ok, maybe you go a little too violent) you are rushing down the stairs, almost breaking your neck, when you trip on someone’s shoes (seriously, who leaves shoes in the hall?) and almost fall down, when someone catches you and keeps from actually breaking your neck.

“Uhm… What did my little sister do now?” you are ready to start cursing - of all the people in the Burrow, the one catch you should be the one that wasn’t here half an hour ago. And who is not supposed to be holding you right now.

“Fred,” you smile at him, as he carefully puts you on the ground. “Hi.”

“Hello to you too. So what did my sister do?”

“Oh, nothing special,” you blush, as Fred smirks, really wanting to know what Ginny could do to cause such a reaction.

“Nothing special makes you want to tear her eyes out?”

“I may be too aggressive?”

“Oh, I would hate to make you angry,” Fred says half-jokingly half-seriously, as you slowly start walking downstairs.

“You could hardly do that.”

“Yeah? I am glad,” you blush even more, as Ginny appears in front of you (you can swear she used magic even though it’s forbidden).

“Fred, good thing you’re here! Mom has forgotten one of our old cabinets in Y/N’s room, and she asked you to fix it,” you roll your eyes - one of the cabinets in your room actually was dysfunctional because of some old Weasley stuff (that’s why Molly explained it when you asked her), but you never expected Ginny to set you up this way. Fred shrugs his shoulders, moans something about those old cabinets and heads towards your room to fix the bloody thing. I hate you, you mouth Ginny, and she answers with the widest smile ever, as you rush after Fred before he explodes something in your room.

“That is a very nice room,” Fred notices, and you both shut up awkwardly, realizing that the room is one of his own home, so you couldn’t really respond in your usual manner. After all, the only your thing in the room was the luggage. And some clothes. “Ok, let’s deal with this cabinet.”

“There is something inside,” you tell him covertly, as if it’s a secret.

“Oh, really? Want to hold hands?” Fred grunts, quickly opening the cabinet and casting a few spells before whatever is inside manages to murder you. “There is nothing.”

“There is… what?”

“Nothing,” he opens the cabinet to show the absolutely empty space. “My little sister messed up with us again.”

“I will kill her.”

“I will help,” wholeheartedly promises Fred. “Shall I get the shovel?”

“I don’t have any ropes with me,” you whine, as if really upset.

“How could you ever leave your house without a good rope?” exclaims Fred, looking truly disappointed. “I am so let down.”

“Ugh, sorry about that,” you quickly smile at him, then return to being quiet.

“Uhm, Y/N?” you suddenly realize that Fred walked up to you, so now you are standing literally face to face.

“Fred?” you realize that you lost your voice.

“My sister is known to be a match-maker. Do you think she could be… shipping us?” you grin at the word ‘ship’ - you were the one to teach it to them.

“Your sister is insane, so everything is possible.”

“Would it be that insane to ship us?” he asks quietly, and you realize that you are really blushing too much.

“Absolutely insane.”

“You really think so?” he asks again, making another step forward and carefully tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear.

“No?” you ask back, fighting the urge to fix the curl yourself because all Fred did was mess with it and tickle your skin.

“That’s good,” he suddenly pulls away. “I will see you at dinner?”

“Uhm… Yeah, I guess,” Fred laughs at the pure confusion in your eyes, then steps back towards you and takes your face with both hands. “I am just kidding,” he leans in, as if about to kiss you, then suddenly stops. “Would you mind if I kiss you?”

“I don’t know, would you?” you ask him back, and Fred smiles with relief, pulling in one of the softest kisses in your life.

over the garden wall

send one for my muses reaction! Feel free to change any gender or anything that needs changing in order for it to make sense to have come from your muse.

I can leave a trail of candy from my pants!❞
We just wanna get home with all our legs and arms attached!❞
You’re more lost than you realize.❞
This guy sounds loony. Maybe we should make a break for it.❞
You lead the Beast right to us with your candy!❞
Beware, the Unknown! Fear the Beast! And leave these woods!❞
Well, that settles it. I’m gonna walk up 10 feet ahead of you.❞
I’m not magical. I’ll just do you a good turn.❞
Hey, not to be obnoxious, but an abandoned ghost town doesn’t seem like it’s gonna be useful.❞
You find this place as creepy as I do, right?❞
How did you end up in this little town of ours?❞
You’ll never convict! You have no proof!❞
It saddens me that you don’t wish to stay here with us, particularly because I simply have to punish your transgressions.❞
They’re all skeletons.❞
Iguess, in some ways, I’m trying to get home, too.❞
The world is a miserable place. Life isn’t fun.❞
We need to do our part to make the world a better place.❞
I can’t hear you because I’m too busy doing what I’m told.❞
You are literally killing me every moment I’m forced to spend with you.❞
I got enough nonsense from that no good, two-timing, low-down handsome man of mine.❞
This is way better than being chased by a gorilla.❞
You know you eat enough when you start seeing stars.❞
I just wanted to have fun, change the world, and make it a better place. But I just made everything worse.❞
Deep down in your heart, you’re a stubborn jerk.❞
When are you gonna give this up?❞
Okay, I think he’s asleep. Let’s go steal his stuff.❞
The beast is upon me!❞
Let’s go to this creepy tavern and ask for some directions.❞
Curse you! You’ll die someday, and I’ll laugh!❞
Oh, you’re not the witless, simple-minded fool everybody takes you for.❞
You’re the master of your own destiny. The hero of your own story!❞
Why not let me take the lantern for awhile?❞
No need for violence…❞
You leave those children be!❞
The money takes my mind off my troubles - the deep, soul-crushing loneliness.❞
She consumed my every thought. I’d fallen in love with a ghost.❞
You’re frightened of a ghost? Ghosts are just floaty things.❞
What if I’m on the brink of madness?❞
Well, guess we have to spend some quality time together.❞
How about you tell me your dark secrets instead, huh?❞
My secrets are too secret.❞
I secretly whisper poetry to myself in my room at night.❞
Looks like there was a struggle - a violent struggle.❞
Do you know what I did for this money? The things these filthy hands have done to make this money?!❞
You alright? You sound uncharacteristically wistful.❞
You’re a manly frog and you need some socks.❞
I don’t think today’s a good day to get arrested by frogs.❞
Drum me! Drum me in the face!❞
Sounds like you’re a real loser back home.❞
That fresh air does simply gruesome things to my tender, delicate skin.❞
Once I fill their heads with wool, they’ll become just like little sheep and follow my every command.❞
All along, you’ve been leading us to this crazy lady?❞
I do as he commands - the voice of the night, the beast of eternal darkness!❞
If you don’t trust me, then you don’t have to follow me, okay?❞
The beast knows your presence!❞
I believe you, but please, hide yourselves at once!❞
Then no one shall be devoured alive tonight?❞
You’re a good girl, but you decieve me.❞
Then you have no evil secrets to keep?❞
Keeping you busy is the only way to keep evil spirts from driving you to wickedness.❞
You shan’t remain alive for long in this house.❞
There is only my way. There is only the forest, and there is only surrender.❞
Can we admit we’re lost for good?❞
The beast has claimed him already.❞
Still the haunted ruins of night call your name.❞
You’re limiting the universe to only things humans could understand.❞
Yes, just sit there in the cold and wait.❞
We’ll keep that light of yours shining, won’t we?❞
There is a light for the lost and the meek.❞
Hard woe and fear are easily forgotten when you submit to the soil of the earth.❞
You’ve been grinding up lost souls for years.❞
Hold your tongue, or I’ll remove it from your mouth!❞
It’s my fault we ended up here. Everything’s been my fault.❞
You’re not trying to help me. You just have some weird obsession.❞
Oh you wonderful mistake of nature!❞

Underwear (Part 5)

In this story, the Vulture isn’t Liz’s dad for plotline purposes.

Warnings: angst

Word Count: 2679

A/N: I’m so sorry..

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4 



You knew Peter would never cheat on you, but you still have your doubts. Liz seems like a kind enough person, so why were you still bothered? Maybe it’s the little glimpses of Liz’s real personality, the fury that you see on her face when she doesn’t get what she wants.

Honestly? It scared you. You may have been a superhero, but that didn’t stop the everyday things like disturbing drama from making your insecurities come to light. You and Peter were happy. You had been dating for about a week now, and he’d recently stopped the Vulture from stealing an entire arsenal of weapons from Tony. 

You knew he’d been more affected than he let on, but you decided not to push it, instead just trying to be there for him whenever he needed you. The worst that had happened with Liz was the occasional shoulder bump in the hallway, but you ignored it, assuring Peter that everything was fine.

You didn’t want to give him more stress, and you yourself considered the occurrences minuscule. Now, Peter was asleep in your bed, the two of you having been exhausted after studying. You were right behind him, fluttering your eyes shut as he had his front pressed to your back, his arm draped over your waist.

Peter’s POV

He was right back on the crash site, feeling the heat from the demolished plane’s fire making him hot. He was frantic, head whipping side to side as he looked for the Vulture. He was still shaken from the crash itself, feeling himself grow furious as he finally laid eyes on the criminal.

His anger evolved into blood boiling rage as he stalked over, finding the Vulture laying on the dirty ground, completely unconscious. He climbed on top of his seemingly sleeping body, before raising his fist in the air and striking down onto his stomach as hard as possible.

You wake to the feeling of air being pushed out of your body. Your instincts tell you to move, but your legs are trapped under your attacker. Your eyes scan Peter, straddling your hips and swiftly bringing his fist down onto your stomach again. You heave and cry out in pain, trying to grab his wrists to block his punches.

You manage to grab one, rolling your upper half to the side to avoid getting punched in the face as Peter’s fist hits the mattress. Normally you’d be able to get him off your waist, but you were petrified. His squeezes his already closed eyes and growls, going in to hit you when you grab his other wrist, watching him thrash in an attempt to get out of your grip.

“Peter! Peter please!” You call out to him, wanting to snap him out of his nightmare but not wanting to wake the others. You didn’t know what’d happen if they saw the two of you like this, but you knew it wouldn’t be good. You feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes, a sob wracking through your body as you try to process what’s happening.

“Peter it’s just me! Please wake up! You’re hurting me!” You heave, the pain adamant in your voice as you feel your entire abdomen throb. Your breaths come out hard and shallow, and you feel yourself begin to hyperventilate. To your luck, the crushing weight on your body slightly eases, and you watch Peter through tear-blurred eyes as he violently shakes his head.

He stares at your deteriorating form and gasps, holding his trembling hands in front of him. You use any remaining strength you have left and push him off you with a grunt, rolling off the bed and onto the floor. The pain in your entire upper body increases as you cough and gasp, at the same time hyperventilating and sobbing.

“Oh my- oh my god. I didn’t- I thought-” You don’t let him finish as you shoot off the floor and clutch your stomach, flying into the bathroom and locking the door. You gasp and whimper, prodding your abdomen as you feel for any substantial injuries, all the while whimpering.

You sink down to the floor and immediately regret it, gritting your teeth as an “Ah!” Leaves your lips. Your first step is to try and regulate your breathing, knowing that it’s useless to try doing anything else while you’re in this state. You touch your face, tracing your jawline with shaking fingers.

Every breath is painful, but you manage to get your breathing to a level where you can stutter and take deeper breaths. A soft knock on the door catches your attention, and the voice that follows it breaks your heart. “I- I’m so sorry… I thought you were the Vulture and I-” Peter’s voice cracks, and more tears escape your eyes.

“Please come out,” He releases a sob, and you slowly rise to your knees, whimpering as you feel your muscles protest. “I want to make sure you’re okay.” Shakily standing up, you walk over to the door. Placing a hand on the knob, you gently turn it, only to be greeted by a teary-eyed Peter.

He sniffles and looks at you, gasping as he brings up a hand to cover his mouth. He stifles another sob, while you do the same. “Can- can I see?” He asks, running a hand through his hair. You purse your lips to stop another oncoming sob, quaveringly lifting the bottom of your tank top, hissing when you see how bad your bruises really are.

Most of your stomach is purple, and every time your take a breath there’s a dull soreness. As much as this hurt, you’d rather have it a thousand times worse than to see Peter’s broken expression. “Oh my god, I did this.” He brushes his fingertips along your abdomen, barely touching you. You take his hand in yours, bringing it up to touch your cheek.

“You didn’t know, Peter…” He rips his hand away, stepping back as if he’s afraid to touch you. Pulling your shirt back down, you sadly attempt to wipe tears from your eyes. “I can’t, I can’t hurt you.” He whimpers, his voice sounding crackled and broken. “Peter,” Your tears come faster, your heart pounding in your chest. He pulls his shirt on, reaching for the socks on the floor.

“Please don’t leave.” You bawl, bringing up a hand to cover your mouth. He silently slips his shoes on, breathing heavily as he hoists his backpack onto his shoulder. You’re frozen in your spot, crying into your hand as Peter turns to you one last time, looking at you with a crushed expression, his hand on the doorknob of your bedroom.

“I’m sorry.”

And with that, he was gone.

You had been numb the entire night, staring into the ceiling for what seemed like hours as you faded in and out of sleep. One hand rested on your stomach, while the other help a fistful of the bedsheets in a death grip. Your breaths were deep and painful, but you had gotten to the point where your only reaction was a slight wince.

When you had gotten ready for school, you had skipped breakfast and wordlessly walked out of the compound, everyone’s concern like white noise. Your drive to school was silent, your face remaining neutral the entire time.

You now sit in your parked car, breathing steadily as you grab your backpack. Hoisting it onto your shoulder, you groan as you step out of the car, slamming the door shut. Locking it, you grip the strap of your bag tightly as you walk into the school.

When you reach your locker, you look to your right, searching for a certain brown-eyed boy and his friend. You spot him, and immediately feel all the emotions from last night threatening to break your resolve. Peter has bags under his eyes, and his hair is messy; as if he’s been running his fingers through it.

Ned stands beside him, eyebrows furrowing together as he pats Peter on the back, offering silent support. He knew about Peter being Spider-Man, as well as your recent relationship. You turn to your locker, spinning the code and yanking it open.

Unzipping your bag, you take the necessary supplies and bend to place everything else on the top shelf, hissing as you feel your stomach muscles throb. That small action further provokes tears that you’d been trying so hard to keep at bay, and you sigh deeply in an attempt to do so.

When you’re sure you won’t start sobbing uncontrollably, you lean back from your locker and slam it shut, loud enough for Peter and Ned to snap their heads up to you. You make eye contact with Peter, and your breath catches in your throat. You want to reach out to him, desperately needing to tell him everything’s going to be okay.

Before you can do anything, Peter’s jaw trembles and he grabs Ned by the elbow, turning the both of them away from you as they rush off to their shared homeroom class. The wind is knocked out of you, and you can’t help the few tears that manage to escape the corners of your eyes.

You barely make it through your morning classes, and by the time it’s lunch, you decide that enough’s enough. You want to find Peter, sit him down, and make him listen to what you have to say. He would never intentionally hurt you, he thought you were a villain. You had your fair share of similar nightmares, you just reacted differently.

Everyone was either in the cafeteria or out buying other food, but you knew May always made Peter’s lunch at home. You stride to the cafeteria, walking through the doors and making a beeline for the usual table. Your eyebrows furrow as your eyes only land on Ned, who looks up at you with a sigh of relief.

“There you are Y/N. Do you know what’s wrong with Peter?” His simple question strikes anxiety into your heart, the brute force of the past 12 hours hitting you like a freight train. “I-” You begin, but the lump in your throat stops you from speaking. You take shallow breaths, sitting down and placing your head in your hands. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Ned sits across from you, completely clueless as to what’s going on. You slowly lift your head, eyes brimming with tears as Ned widens his. “Okay seriously Y/N, what’s wrong? What happened with Peter?” You choke out a few sentences, questions running through your mind at a fast pace.

“Where is he?” You squeeze your fists under the table, feeling your nails press into your skin. Ned goes from wary to concerned, placing down his lunch as he turns completely serious. “Okay Y/N, what’s going on?” You hastily wipe away a tear and fix Ned with a desperate look, swiftly running a hand through your hair.

“Please Ned, just tell me.” You speak through gritted teeth, eliciting a brief nod. “He said he was going to his locker. He left just before you came in. I-” Not leaving any room for more conversation, you smile graciously before reverting to your true expression, shooting up from the lunch table and aggressively shoving open the lunchroom door.

You walk back into the hallway, your footsteps leading you to Peter’s locker, a path you’d taken many times. You ignore the pain in your stomach, further squeezing your fists as you felt tears finally falling down your face, dampening your cheeks and blurring your vision.

You reach the hallway that has Peter’s locker, stepping into it, only to be frozen on the spot. No matter how much the tears blurred your vision, you were able to make out Peter, pushed up against his locker by Liz, engaging with each other in a rough kiss.

Your hands fly up to your hair, pulling at the roots until it becomes painful. Turning around, you begin to take small steps towards the front of the school, your muscles barely supporting your weight. You hear cursing behind you, and then Peter’s voice calling out, “No Y/N, I can explain.” Not giving him a chance, you take off, sprinting out of the school and bounding into the parking lot, all the while crying out in pain.

Hearing footsteps behind you, you unlock your car and jump in as fast as you can, yanking the door shut as you make eye contact with Peter for the second time today, allowing the sobs to freely escape your mouth as you hastily click your seatbelt in. You’re unable to properly hear him shouting out at you, given that you put the key into the ignition and hightail it out of the parking lot, the last thing you hear being your name cried out in anguish.

You scream in frustration as you silently thank Tony for the tint on your windows, knowing that your current state would raise unwanted suspicion. Upon reaching a red light, you hit the steering wheel with force, causing it to dent. You were a tidal wave of emotions right now, and there was no telling what you’d do.

Pain; Both emotional and physical, your heart wrenching sobs wracking your body as you attempt not to throw up, at the same time feeling your bruised abdomen protest moving at all.

Insecurity; You feel disgusted with yourself, like a discarded tissue. You got intimate with Peter, revealing your vulnerabilities to him, something you’d rarely ever done. He said he liked you, and you could’ve sworn you saw pure sincerity in his eyes. Was he really that good at manipulation? Using you for sex, toying with your emotions, leading you into a fake relationship.

All the evidence was laid in front of you, but half of you still refused to believe that he isn’t a cold-hearted asshole, that there was somehow an explanation. In your present state, your more impulsive side wins, and that brings up fury. Before you know it, you’ve arrived at the compound, mentally preparing yourself for the questions you were going to be bombarded with once you stepped inside.

You walk around the silent corridors, willing your face to not be bloated and littered with tears. You turn the corner that leads to your room, when you automatically whip back around, pressing yourself to the wall. The conference room was filled with everyone, and the glass doors meant you wouldn’t be able to get by without being spotted.

Before you can think of an ineffective plan, your cellphone rings, causing you to curse and drop your bag. Knowing that by now everyone’s attention must be pointed at you, you sheepishly step into view, glancing at the caller ID. Your stomach drops upon seeing Peter’s silly picture flash across the screen, so you place your phone on silent. Everyone seems shocked at your disgruntled state, seemingly frozen for a few seconds.

Natasha’s the first one to shoot up from her seat, worry flashing across her features as she makes her way over to you. “What happened?” She keeps her question brief, and you have to breathe deeply to avoid any more crying. “I c- I can’t.” You wheeze out, realizing there’s no way you’ll be able to talk to anyone about what happened without breaking down.

You push past Nat and the others, ignoring their words as you jog to your room, only to be reminded of last night’s events. Turning back around, you’re met by Wanda, whose expression matches everyone else’s. They’ve all gathered into the hallway, wanting to make sure you’re okay. You become overwhelmed, breaking down right in front of them.

You hate it. You hate it so much, loathing revealing this much of yourself to anyone other than Nat. Burying your face in your hands, you bite your lip to muffle the cries, whimpering as you feel a hand on your back, rubbing in circles. Nat looks up from her kneeled position, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Who did this to you?”


A/N: so… what’d you guys think? part 6 anyone?

Tags: (Let me know if you want to be added or removed!) @becaamm @briannareneea985 @cutie1365 @multifandom-slytherin @shadowhunter7 @peachpodge @carolldaanvers @lexi-chan17 @muffinfangirl28 

Marichat May Day 8 - Fashion

For the one year anniversary of Ladybug and Chat Noir’s first appearance, the school is having a Ladybug and Chat themed day where students get to dress in outfits inspired by the heroes. Of course, Marinette decides to implement one of her many Chat Noir inspired designs. How will he react seeing Marinette in a handmade outfit that he inspired.

Rated G || 4,511 Words

Cross posted on Ao3 || FF

Hand Embroidered

It was the one year anniversary of Ladybug and Chat Noir’s first appearance. Alya, with the help of Chloe surprisingly enough, was able to convince Principle Damocles to let students have a themed day around the heroes. It was set on a Friday, a few days after the official anniversary. Classes would continue as usual but students would be able to dress in Ladybug and Chat inspired outfits and there would be an extravagant lunch paid for by the Mayor himself.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

What do you know about Georges Washington de Lafayette

All sources from Lafayette by Harlow Giles Unger: 

Georges Washington de Lafayette was born on December 24th, 1779. Adrienne wrote to her husband rather icily at his army camp. She offered sarcastic recognition of her husband’s many responsibilities in the military, she scolded him or not being with her and their new child. The baby’s full name wsa Georges Louis Gilbert Washington de Motier Marquis de Lafayette, he would always call himself George Washington Lafayette. The one he was named after, George Washington, became his godfather.

May 1781, Adrienne wrote that Georges “nearly died teething” and left her “weakened by anxieties”. During Gilbert de Lafayette’s second-to-last visit to America in 1784-1785, his returning ship ran aground and repairs delayed his departure home for a week. General Greene and Henry Knox had come to see him off, and the three spent long hours together reminiscing with Alexander Hamilton. Lafayette urged Greene, Hamilton and Knox to send their boys to him in Paris for several years of European education. He promised in turn, he would send his own boy, George Washington to them. Lafayette said he wanted his son educated at Harvard.

Unlike other European parents, Adrienne and Gilbert did not keep their children at a distance with tutors; they adored their children openly, embraced them spontaneously and showed them off to all their guests. Benjamin Franklin listened with a smile as seven-year-old Anastasie and five-year-old George sang children’s songs in English. Georges used to also help his father attach his sheathed sword and other military trappings.

When Georges was ten years old, one guard unit sought to make him an honorary second lieutenant, his father turned the honor into theater: “Gentlemen,” he proclaimed to the assembled militiamen, “my son is no longer mine; he belongs to you and to our nation.”–and the troops roared as Georges stepped forward and stood at attention in his snappy-looking new uniform in the Paris guards. Felix Frestel was his tutor, starting when he was eleven years of age; he was a principal of the College de Plessis, his father’s secondary school, the Lafayettes retained him to tutor their son privately until he was old enough to enroll in classes.

During the Reign of Terror, while Gilbert de Lafayette was in prison and Adrienne was just being arrested. The police nearly to their home, Adrienne ordered a governess to flee with ten year old Virginie to a nearby farmer’s house, while thirteen year old Georges and his tutor Frestel rushed into the woods and fifteen year old Anastasie hid in a secret in cubby in one of the towers. Unaware of her husband’s fate, Adrienne (on house arrest) grew fearful for the survival her only son–the only person who could inherit his father’s name and fortune. Every once and a while, Frestel would descend from the mountain hideaway late at night and report on her son’s health and his future. They agreed on a plan to obtain a false license and passport as a merchant and go to the port at Bordeaux with Georges, who would feign the role of his apprentice.

When Adrienne was released by Elizabeth Monroe’s manipulation, James and Elizabeth Monroe both aided Adrienne in acquiring a fake passport, ID and changed Georges name in order for him to be able to travel to the United States undeterred. Monroe obtained government counterstamps on their passports for them to go to America, with the boy traveling as “George Motier.” Adrienne gave Frestel a letter for president Washington written in French, which she hoped the American president would be able to read and understand:

[Translated French-English] “Sir, I send you my son… It is deep and sincere confidence that I entrust this dear child to the protection of the United States (which he had long regarded as his second country and which I have long regarded as our sanctuary), and to the particular protection of their president, whose feelings towards the boy’s father I well know. The bearer of this latter, sir, has, during our troubles, been our support, our resource, our consolation, my son’s guide. I want him to continue in that role… I want them to remain inseparable until the day we have the joy of reuniting in the land of liberty. I owe my own life and those of my children to this man’s generous attention… My wish is for my son to live in obscurity in America; that he resume the studies that three years of misfortune have interrupted, and that far from lands that might crush his spirit or arouse his violent indignation, he can work to fulfill the responsibilities of a citizen of the United States… I will say nothing here about my own circumstances, nor those of one for whom I feel far greater concern than I do for myself. I leave it to the friend who will present this letter to you to express the feelings of a heart which has suffered too much to be conscious of anything but gratitude, of which I owe much to Mr. Monroe… I beg you, Monsieur Washington, to accept my deepest sense of obligation, confidence, respect and devotion.”

At Olmutz prison, Adrienne coaxed the prison commander to let her write to specific family members, whom she had identified with each letter obtain approval. He read every word she wrote and rejected a letter written to her son. The received occasional news from the outside, the rest of the Lafayette family heard Georges arrived safely in Boston in September of 1795. Adrienne did not know was that her son’s arrival plunged his godfather, the American president, into a potentially embarrassing political and diplomatic situation that posed dangers to the Lafayette family. George Washington was unable to publicly offered sanctuary to Georges in the America because the French might consider it a threat to their neutrality. Washington decided to leave the boy in New England until the government recessed later in the year and he could move to Mount Vernon. Washington asked Massachusetts senator George Cabot to enroll young Lafayette incognito at Harvard college, “the expense of which as also of every other means for his support, I will pay.” Washington also wrote to his godson: “to begin to fulfill my role of father, I advise you to apply yourself seriously to your studies. Your youth should be usefully employed, in order that you may deserve in all respects to be considered as the worthy son of your illustrious father.”

In America, Georges studied at Harvard, was a house guest of George Washington at the presidential mansion in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and at the Washington family home in Mount Vernon, Virginia. Young Lafayette chose to make his way to New York where he waited in hopes to join Washington in Philadelphia and lived with the Washington’s for the next two years. He also stayed with Alexander Hamilton in his New York home.

The Lafayette family, Georges’s two sisters, his mother and his father were released from prison in 1797, but it wasn’t until 1798 that Georges was able to return to France. In February, on a sunny day, Georges–who had just turned nineteen–arrived back in Europe to the embrace of his family; he also brought with him a letter from George Washington. His father had not seen him in six years. Initially at Cambridge, then a few weeks with Alexander Hamilton in New York, before going to the Washingtons in Mount Vernon after the president’s retirement. On his return to France, George first went to Paris, where he found only blackened stone shell of his beautiful boyhood home on the rue de Bourbon. George’s arrival in Holstein revived the spirits of all exiled families.

“He is perfect physically: tall, with a noble and charming face. His temperament is all that we could wish is all that we could wish. He had the same kind heart that you remember, and his mind is far more mature than is usual for his age.” Lafayette wrote to his Aunt. Virginie wrote to her as well, “My brother is grown so tall, that when he arrived we could scarcely recognize him, but we have found all those qualities in him that we always knew. He is just as good a brother as he was at Chavaniac. He is so like Papa that people in the streets can see immediately that his his son.” While attempting to retain the family land that the Lafayette’s lost when it was all confiscated, Adrienne returned to Paris for a second time to try at negotiation–this time she brought Georges with her, who, she believed might intimidate government clerks more than Virginie.

Georges also was a prod at his father, who was writing his Memoires and who would grow impatient when Georges wasn’t there to coax him to write it. Mid-1799, Gilbert grew impatient with Adrienne’s constant absences, “It is two years today, dear Adrienne, since we left the prison to which you came, bringing me consolation and life… How can we arrange our spending the winter together?”

In the Spring of 1802, George Washington de Lafayette married Emilie de Tracy, the daughter of Destutt de Tracy, a renowned philosopher who had served in the Constituent Assembly with Lafayette and as a cavalry commander under him at the frontier in 1792, just before Lafayette fled France. Pere Carrichon, the priest who had blessed three of Adrienne’s family members as they marched up to the guillotine, performed the ceremony. After the wedding, the Lafayette’s and the de Tracy’s went south together for a long visit to the Chavaniac–”to share our new found happiness with our old aunt, who still had all her faculties,” according to Virginie.

Italy rebelled against French rule and Georges and his brother-in-law were called to military service. His mother and his father were responsible for caring for his wife, she had just given birth to a little baby girl. He served as a second lieutenant in the French Army under Napoleon Emperor Napoleon blocked every promotion for Gilbert’s son and sons-in-law, prevented them from ranking up in the army despite the highest recommendations of their commanders. During one battle, George suffered a minor wound saving the life of General Grouchy to whom he was an aide-de-comp for and had given up his horse for during battle.

1805, Russia and Austria joined Britain in a new coalition against France, but French armies swept northward through Austria and crushed a combined Austro-Russian army at the decisive battle of Austerlitz in Moravia (now eastern Czech Republic). Two days later Austria sued for peace, and the Russian army limped home to Mother Russia to lick its wounds. In 1806, Napoleon destroyed the Prussian army at Lena and extended the French empire eastward to Warsaw. With peace at hand, with no chance for promotion, and with their military commitments complete, Georges Washington and his two brother-in-laws resigned their commissions. Although his father grumbled at the emperor’s pettiness, Adrienne rejoiced to have the boys home safely; she wanted no more knights in the family and reveled in the presence of the three young couples and their children, all of whom made La Grange their permanent home.  

August 1807, Georges and his father went to visit the elder Lafayette’s Aunt Charlotte and inspect the Chavaniac properties. In their absence, Adrienne developed terrible pains and high fever; she began vomiting uncontrollably, unable to retain any food or liquid. They moved near Paris and Lafayette and George raced up from Chavaniac from La Grange. Both refusing to leave her bedside.

In March 1814, George introduced his father to the young duc d’Orleans. 1821, they both returned to their home on the rue d’Anjou. In his father’s later years Georges was always hovering at his side. Georges helped him with his Memoires and his voluminous correspondence. At six each evening, the courtyard bell sounded dinner, and as many as thirty people poured into the huge dining room–Lafayette’s children and grandchildren. Virginie and Anastasie sat opposite their father as hostesses, Georges always sat beside him. 1820, thirty nine year old Georges and Lafayette organized a group of young liberals into a new political club, Les Amis de la Liberte de la Presse. In the Autumn of 1821, King Louis XVIII posted spies outside La Grange, considering arresting Lafayette and Georges.

On Gilbert de Lafayette’s last trip to America, Georges accompanied him. “My brave light infantry!” his father cried out once, “That is exactly how their uniforms looked. What courage! How I loved them!” In an accident, a boat they were taking sunk and they were assured into lifeboats and rowed to shore. At bunker hill, Lafayette gathered soil from the ground, placing it into a tiny flask and told Georges to sprinkle the soil across his grave when he passed so that he would be apart of two countries when he was buried. Throughout most of the trip, he stayed close company with his father’s secretary, Auguste Levasseur. They visited Mount Vernon again and Georges got to meet Thomas Jefferson at Monticello. 1826, Lafayette and his son thought of America and sailed away towards home.

In 1832, Lafayette sent Georges back to La Grange to help Anastasie and Virginie cope with the needs of the family and the villagers,while he remained in Paris to help the government deal with the emergency. During the battle of the Bastille, Georges managed to hustle his father from the fighting and blood. After the death of his father, Georges Washington covered his father’s coffin with the dirt they gathered at bunker hill.

Georges Washington de Lafayette had five children total with his wife, Emilie de Tracy:

Oscar Thomas Gilbert Motier de Lafayette (1815–1881) was educated at the École Polytechnique and served as an artillery officer in Algeria. He entered the Chamber of Deputies in 1846 and voted with the extreme Left. After the revolution of 1848, he received a post in the provisional government; as a member of the Constituent Assembly, he became secretary of the war committee. After the dissolution of the Legislative Assembly in 1851, he retired from public life, but emerged on the establishment of the third republic, becoming a life senator in 1875.

Edmond Motier de Lafayette (1818–1890) shared his brother’s political opinions and was one of the secretaries of the Constituent Assembly and a member of the senate from 1876 to 1888.

Natalie de Lafayette who married Adolphe Périer, a banker and nephew of Casimir Pierre Périer.

Matilde de Lafayette who married Maurice de Pusy (1799–1864, son of Jean-Xavier Bureau de Pusy).

Clementine de Lafayette who married Gustave de Beaumont.

None can direct agnatic claim to the Lafayette name. It disappeared after Georges sons both died before having a male son. He spent the remaining years immediately following his father’s death organizing Lafayette’s letters, speeches and papers and compiling together his Memoires and more of his writing which was published in a six volumes in Paris in 1837-1838 he retained is seat in the Chamber of Deputies until the summer of 1849, remaining a loyal member of the ultra liberal minority his father had organized to oppose the restrictive dicta of King Louis Philippe. He lived to see the third French revolution of his life in 1848. 1848, Georges won reelection to his old seat in the Chamber of Deputies, but he failed to win the following year. He died in November 1849, never achieving the celebrity of his father.

anonymous asked:

Am I bad for being straight? I feel like this site makes me feel that way. I do support the LGBT community fully, but I feel like anytime I show support people go ''that's a straight girl she doesn't belong with us". Am I?

God, dude. Look. I think you need to understand the reality of what you’re talking about here. The entire world thinks you’re good for being straight. You have every country thinking you’re the best a woman can be & teaching their kids to be just like you. You’ll never be feared or hated or abused or harassed or killed for being straight. You’ll never hate yourself for your sexuality. You’ll never have the whole world tell you you’re disgusting & revolting & a subhuman monster just because of who you love. You won’t realise as a child that your family’s love is conditional on who you want to bring home. You won’t feel fear going outside in case someone clocks you for what you are and gets violent because they’re so disgusted. You won’t sit around as a kid deciding whether or not suicide might be the better option to having anyone find out that you’re not straight. I’m sure your first crush felt sweetly painful in a fond childhood way, & not life-ruining with its implications. You’ll never experience that, and it’s so fucking unfair that you can just skip all of it, and I can’t. No LGBT person can. And you won’t even know the half of it. The most difficult thing about your sexuality that you’ve got to deal with is that sometimes you pick up your phone & open your tumblr app and see in a tiny corner of the internet some LGBT ppl you follow saying ‘god, straight people are so annoying [when they rob me of a happy life & make me hate who I am & try to hurt me every fucking day].’ & you get angry, and take it personally, and think it’s Just So Unfair. So no, you’re not ‘bad’ for being straight, but if you look at LGBT people feeling safe enough in their own communities to make jokes about disliking the people who have so fully & without acknowledgment hurt them by telling them they’re not human, that they’re something intolerable and indecent that can never be accepted by good & normal people, by beating them & taking away their safety in the streets & in their homes, and by killing them, & you see them cope with this pain by jokes or harmless complaints on the internet & your sole reaction is 'this makes me feel bad bc I’m part of the group doing it :(’ then yeah, that’s pretty fucking 'bad’.

In His Dorm, In His Room (3)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader
Genre: Fluff, Smut
Summary: The inner-workings of your relationship with a dance partner, friend, and crush, Jeon Jungkook.

{credit to original photo} [Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5]

The wind whipped violently, a cool breeze akin to spring rather than winter. You sighed as you watched the leaves fly by. “This wind is a great representation for how I feel inside.”

Yoongi shifted next to you, probably trying to make sure he didn’t fall off the ledge as he lied to rest. “Pushy and cold?” he guessed.

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