watch a grown man cry

Give me Teddy Lupin who does not and has never given a shit about gender roles. Give me five-year-old Teddy practically living in his favorite tutu. Give me eight-year-old Teddy deciding to be Rapunzel for Halloween and making his hair really, really, really long. Give me eleven-year-old Teddy showing up at Hogwarts with sparkly painted nails and eyeliner. Give me fifteen-year-old Teddy taking ballet classes over the summer and having the best time ever. Give me twenty-year-old Teddy who never thinks a grown man can’t cry or watch cheesy romantic comedies, because Harry always made sure he knew better.

huntersmoon1  asked:

Headcanons for prof. Sycamore as a parent please (especially if he has a daughter.). (Most if not all my requests will be family,fluffy,parent/child types of requests hope you don’t mind😊.)

i love it! sorry if this took so long to get around to! thank you so much for the ask!

Dad! Sycamore

- the most, overbearingly loving and doting father a girl could ask for, but with the type of children this man would produce the daughter would love every second of it

- his S/O would have to probably be the voice of reason in the household, not because they’re necessarily the most responsible person in the world, but that man is so wrapped around his daughter’s finger he would do anything for her. he usually tries to be his own voice of reason but once he breaks down for the kid once, he is useless at saying no

- do you,,, realize,,, just how many times this man has actually thought about missing work just so he can spend a little more time with his daughter? He loves researching but if his daughter asked he would have to develop a will of steel to convince himself not to stay at home and just play with his daughter.

- when his daughter was born, sycamore wouldn’t let her leave his side. on nights when it was his turn to deal with a fussy baby at 3:00 in the morning, he would groggily but happily waltz over to his baby’s crib and just pick the little thing up and rock her until she fell back asleep. his S/O found him so many times with him asleep in the chair next to their daughter’s crib that the cute appeal of it had worn off and there was no sympathy left in them for when he talked about how sore he was and how tired he was the next morning

- he is the WORST PTA dad. this bitch,,,showing up with scones that are actually GOOD, and is made the chairman of the P of the PTA by the end of the first semester of kindergarten. god help anyone who has a word to say about his beautiful, wholesome little family, or so help him he will sic the wine mom book club on a bitch

- shows up to every class event for his kid five minutes early, clunky 2005 video camera in hand and a proud tear in his eye. the first day of school? it’s him and his s/o crying as the teacher tries to get them to leave bc the kid has already started playing and it’s making the students uncomfortable. parent lunches? he’s there for every one, and his assistants have learned to schedule around them. school festivals/events? you bet your ass he’s there, ready to cheer and support his daughter on to an embarrassing degree but it’s his kid so she just loves it 
the only one embarrassed is the S/O who is the only one who sees the dirty looks other parents are shooting them, but they cheer just as loud.

- god help this motherfucker at his daughter’s graduation ceremony. he’s a bawling baby and all of the research team/faculty is there to support the kid that he’s practically half raised at the facility anyway, but they just end up watching a grown man cry out of pure paternal love and pride and his S/O having to comfort him. 

- the strongest fucking bond between this girl and her dad, jfc the S/O parent is like their favorite person so it’s like having a mini-sycamore for the first fifteen years basically, and it’s probably the best lol. 

- Sycamore is the best dad, i love him so much, he would dad the fuck out of that kid

Nothing makes me more happy than seeing other artists create things that make them genuinely happy.
Seeing someones face light up when they talk about their work, or seeing them cry when all their hard work culminates into something better and bigger than they could ever have imagined, it just makes me so very happy.

I’m going to preface this with I don’t know shit about Russia: but I do know that there’s serious issues with the government and homophobia.
Headcanon that Tater has a close friend or relative who is gay and has seen what happens when someone is outed because it’s such a taboo in Russia to be queer. Tater has gotten used to “never accidentally out someone” mode because he doesn’t want to put someone at risk. So he always defaults to heteronormative pronouns and whatnot even if he thinks someone might be queer.
But when Jack eventually comes out to the team, Tater’s first reaction is “no one better fuck with my friend or I will fight you” and his second reaction when he sees that most of the team is supportive is “I’m so fucking happy for you, watch a grown man cry on your shirt as he picks you up in a bear hug”.

Just Play Pretend (Luke Imagine, Part Three)

As promised, here’s part 3! I’m so happy we won! It was getting long so maybeeee part 4? ;)

Part One:

Part Two:


“Your girlfriend is pretty pissed.” The girl in Luke’s bed commented as you slammed the door, pulling on her panties. Luke was already choking up, not sure what to make of the situation, but knowing he didn’t want you to leave. Did he really cheat on you? He had been so mad at you, he just wanted to take out his frustrations, and he, of course, didn’t think everything through. He had told you that you were fired, so no, he didn’t cheat. The whole thing was fake -a set up- he repeated over and over to himself.

Then why did it feel so real?

“Look, I’m just gonna go,” The girl awkwardly spoke, watching the grown man cry. She didn’t like emotions, she liked easy fucks.

“Get out,” Luke growled, watching as she vacated the room, wishing he could break everything in it, wishing he could do anything really besides stand in the middle of the floor as salty tears tumbled down his face. He wanted to hurt you, but he also wanted to forget. He was sick of being used, but the face when you saw him upon walking in… that wasn’t the face of someone who was in it merely for cash.

“Fuck!” He cried loudly, letting his fist beat the mattress repeatedly until his arm felt sore. What were you? Why did you have to look at him like that? Like he was some life preserver that couldn’t keep you afloat? Why did he care? He didn’t want to care about you. You were supposed to be fake, there for the cameras, not to inhabit his thoughts and weasel into his heart, which he had carefully protected since it last got shattered painfully not so long ago. You weren’t supposed to love him, and shit, he wasn’t supposed to love you. At all.

Then why did he feel like such scum?

Because he cared, he realized suddenly. He cared, a lot. You had become his friend, you had been there for him, and for you, those lines had gotten blurred. If he was being truthful, sometimes they got blurred for him too. But what could he do? He had fucked up too much. He always did. But he wanted you, and he at least wanted to explain himself to you. You deserved that much.

Swiping under his eyes, Luke made his way out the door, determined to find you. With each footstep, he felt more sure of himself, realizing that this was what was important to him more than anything. To right things with you.

He tried waiting patiently for the elevator, but in a grand hotel with over 20 floors, he figured the four flights of stairs down might just be quicker. Running down the hall, he broke through the door and into the chilly air of the concrete stairwell, which really was only used for fire escapes. He started descending the stairs, but paused when his ears picked up on a strange muffled sound that echoed from above. He couldn’t see much, so he started running up, taking the steps two at a time, knowing the sound had to belong to you. Six flights later, his legs were still pushing him up and up, and he stopped as he got to the landing, heart clenching as he watched your body shake with sobs, your head pressed tight against your knees in the corner if the concrete stairwell. You didn’t notice him, and he wasn’t sure how to make himself known.

Luke tentatively reached out a hand, letting his fingers skim your shoulder, your head whipping up so fast that the back of it smacked against the wall, a whimper leaving your mouth as you moved to cradle it.

“Fuck! I’m sorry,” Luke gasped, kneeling next to you quickly to try and assess your wound. At his proximity, you scooted back further, shaking your head.

“Leave, please, just leave,” you murmured, trying and failing to hold your voice steady.

“Y/N, please, listen to me.”

“What Luke? Are you going to remind me I’m worthless and using you? You want to hurt me more?” You snapped, shoving at his shoulders in an attempt to give yourself space.

“No, I-”

“Fuck off Luke,” You cried, giving in and collapsing against the wall, wanting to soothe your throbbing skull. “This is what you wanted, right? To make me go? Well, I’m gone.”

“I’m sorry!” Luke suddenly screamed, the sound echoing around and scaring the shit out of you. You stared at him, wide eyed, as tears tumbled down his face. “I’m fucking sorry, Y/N! I didn’t think I was cheating, I didn’t think you cared at all about me until I saw your reaction. I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

He repeated the phrase over and over again, and you watched him crumble right in front of you as he brokenly explained how he felt, every feeling from first meeting you to present. Every insecurity that had been carved into him, making him assume no one would ever really love him for him, only for his title.

As he finished, his tired blue eyes stared at you, waiting for your reaction. He had tried, but he figured it wouldn’t be good enough. He was never good enough for you, fake or not.

“Please say something,” He begged, searching for your emotions desperately. You shifted under his gaze, trying to concentrate through the dull throbbing in your head. This was it.

It was time to stop playing and face reality.

anonymous asked:

you start crying in the middle of a fight and niall feels like a dick

“Shit,” Niall breathes out, the curse word heavy and thick on his tongue, at the first sign of tears. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

Your shoulders are slumped, your face bowed low so you can swipe at your cheeks without having to let him see. His fingers clench in his sweatpants pockets and he watches you, eyes wide, cheeks and throat flushed red. He makes a noise in the back of his throat that’s half-protesting and half-sympathetic, meaning to say something although nothing is coming out. 

The distance between you two is vast; he’s standing on one side of the room while you’re at the other, even though your voices had been loud enough to carry throughout the entire flat. 

“I’m such a dick,” he starts gruffly, long legs carrying themselves to you. “That was so out of line. I’m such an arse, ‘m so sorry, baby. Please don’t cry." 

His arms are encased around you before another tear can drip out of the corner of your eye. His index fingers slip around both sides of your head to rub the back of your ears while his thumbs get rid of the moisture on his cheeks. His Adam’s apple bobs and beneath the harsh sound of your hiccupy breaths, you hear his heartbeat racing somewhere close by your ear. 

"I’ll let you kick my ass,” he murmurs, hands holding your face up to his. He looks so guilty, chest heaving in gulps of air he feels are necessary because watching you cry is enough to tear a grown man down. “Shit, I deserve to have my ass kicked for making you cry. You’re breaking my heart." 

You breathe out air through your nose and he leans down to kiss it, his mouth picking up some of the moisture left from your tears. He pulls you in close, tucks you in so you’re safe in his arms, and rocks you back and forth, side to side. 

It’s a few moments later, after he’s said sorry about another fifty times, genuine and freaked out and properly feeling bad, when your tuck your head underneath his chin and hold him back. 

her-roses-never-fall  asked:

Joe Simon and Jack Kirby's Jewishness is why Captain America even exists. He's a big middle finger to Hitler, Nazi eugenics and Aryan superiority and he came out when America was still staunchly isolationist.

The German American Bund was furious at Kirby and Simon. Fiorello Laguardia, the mayor of New York at the time, actually arranged for police protection for the offices of Timely Comics. Kirby and Simon desperately wanted the US to enter the war. Captain America was their battle cry. 

Kavalier and Clay is in part a fictionalization of their creation of Captain America (as well as a whole slew of other things). If you want to see a grown man cry, you should watch me read the part where Joe Kavalier said “I wish he was real.” Gets me every single time.