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whatismarvel · 5 years

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ruin the friendship • tony stark

summary; in which Tony admits his feelings for you.

warnings; i’m terrible at titles omg. fluff. bad writing. one curse word. unedited (the usual).

a/n; this has been sitting in my drafts for a few months now so I thought why not finish it. also I’m kind of experimenting with my writing so I apologize if this is extra shitty. enjoy loves.

“Peter. No.” You jokingly warned him.

“C’mon! He’s never gonna see it coming!” He threw a pillow at you from across the room. “Peter it’s 1am! He’s asleep.” You retorted. “As should we be!”

“We both know Mr. Stark does not sleep.” He stated matter-of-factly.

You sighed, nodding your head in agreement. “Secondly, it’s Saturday. Live a little Y/N!” He grinned.

Picking up the pillow that was recently thrown at you, you flung it back at Peter. He grunted as it clashed with his face. You giggled, taking a seat next to him on your bed.

“So are you in?”

You rolled your eyes. “We aren’t robbing a bank Parker, we’re just going to spray him with silly string.” You reminded, grabbing the can of silly string from behind you.

“Let’s go!” He grabbed your hand and pulled you out of your room.

___

“Do we really have to do this?” You questioned as you both reached the door. It finally dawned on you how dumb of an idea this was. “Too late to back down now Y/N.”

“Is it?” You wondered out loud. He shrugs, “Unless you want me to tell Mr. Stark about your little secret.” He says casually, smirking.

Your eyes widened, “Mr. Parker, are you blackmailing me?”

“Maybe.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me, darling.”

You rolled your eyes once more at the spider boy and huffed. He was the only one who knew about your crush on Mr. Stark and you sure as hell was going to keep it that way.

Peter knocked on the door, the loud sound echoing throughout the halls. “There are assassins sleeping in this compound Peter!” You hissed.

“Right! Sorry-Should we just go in?”

“I guess.” You chuckled, shaking your can. You didn’t really have much to lose at this point. Wearing an old t-shirt of Peter’s and pajama shorts, you were going to silly string Iron Man himself. This was one for the books.

Peter instantly went into stealth mode, he quietly opened the door, trickling in, with you following closely behind.

“What the fuck are you two doing?” Tony snarled, not even looking up from his desk.

“B-But how the fuck did you hear us?” Peter exasperated.

“Mr. Parker this is my compound I know everything that goes on in here.” He chuckled.

“Did you know Sam sometimes sleepwalks?”

“Oh my god. You knew that too?” You jumped in the conversation.

“Yeah-one time he-“

Tony rolled his eyes. “Okay! Okay! Yes I know Sam is a sleepwalker! Can we get back to why you two are in my room at-1 in the morning?”

“Well, Y/N wanted-“ Peter started.

“Wha- Don’t blame this on me! This was your plan!” You jokingly punch his arm.

“Plan? Were you going to assassinate me?”

“We were going to spray you with silly string.” Peter muttered, to himself mostly.

“What? Didn’t hear you Parker.”

He took a deep breath. “We were going to spray silly string at you!” He blurted out.

“Peter,” Tony sighed, “That’s pretty lame.”

“Tell ‘em Mr.Stark.” You muttered, plopping down on his bed as you tried to contain your laughter. Peter was flushed right now.

“Hey! You were part of this too! Stop laughing.” Tony accused, a smile playing on his lips.

“I’m only here because he blackmailed me.” You confessed through laughs.

“Oh really? What’s he got on you Y/N?”

“Something that I’ll take to the grave.” You revealed, trying to regain your composure but failing miserably as you broke out in another fit of giggles when you caught a glimpse of Peter pouting like a little child.

Tony grinned at your laughing state. The way your eyes crinkled as it formed tears of joy and the way your hair lightly bounces around your face each time you laugh, the way it caresses your skin has him feeling some type of way. Your smile disappears for a second as you try to catch your breath, and Tony feels as if his heart stops. A frown is slowly creeping onto his face until he sees your smile reappearing. His mood changes instantly and he feels something. He doesn’t know where it’s coming from, his whole body is tingly but he has a hunch it’s his heart causing this mess. His insides are all warm and fuzzy and his stomach is doing backflips as he is just so smitten by you and it’s like he’s back in high school again.

With your breathing steady, you realize how red your face must be. You’re shaking your head and grinning as you come down from your high. You can feel a pair of eyes on you and you’re suddenly nervous. You don’t bother looking up, you know it’s Tony. Your heart is beating so loud you’re wondering if he can hear it from here. Or worse, if Peter can. He’d never let you hear the end of it. You’re trying your best to not act like your stomach is filled with butterflies, your palms are sweating and a blush appears on your cheeks, for a second you thought your face was on fire.

You constantly reminded yourself that this was just a silly crush that would blow over soon, but goddamn Tony made that incredibly difficult for you to believe every time he was near you.

You both knew there was something there, but Tony and you never acted on your feelings. Why? You didn’t know. Maybe it was fear, maybe it was the thought of ruining your friendship. You really didn’t know.

“This was an absolute failure,” Peter started, “No shit, Sherlock.” You giggled, interrupting him. He rolled his eyes, “I’m going to sleep. Goodnight.” He whined and scuffed out the room.

“He’s such a drama queen.” Tony uttered.

“Tell me something I don’t know.” You chuckled. “I should probably go-“ You were cut off by Tony’s phone ringing.

“Hey Pep! How was your flight?”

You instantly got off his bed at the sound of her name. You didn’t want to hear this conversation. You already felt sick, heading for the door you were stopped by a crumpled up piece of paper hitting your arm. You glanced at Tony, ‘Stay’ he mouthed to you. Your heart fluttered at that.

You opened your mouth to reply but he motioned for you to sit on his bed. You didn’t know what to do. You stood there pondering for a good 10 seconds as Tony wrote something down on a piece of paper. He looked up at you, his brows furrowed as he noticed your uneasiness.

“Pep, I’m gonna have to call you back.” Your eyes widened, you didn’t want him to cut his conversation short because of you. It’s not like you didn’t like Pepper. She was a sweet woman, but god did you envy her and Tony’s relationship. Even though they weren’t together anymore, it still got to you.

“What’s up with you?” He queried, strolling towards you, his eyes never leaving your figure as he plops down on the side of his bed. He pats a seat next to him, you hesitantly sit.

The tension in the air? You could cut it with a knife.

You sigh. “Just tired is all.” You reply, your back hitting the plush bed. You’re not even that close to his pillows but you can smell his cologne. The scent lingers in your mind as you relax. You feel comfortable now. He hums in agreement.

“So, what does Parker got on you?” He asks, shifting his position on the bed so he faces your horizontal figure. He picks up your dangling feet and places it on his lap. You fix your body to suit and now your head hits his pillows. God, it feels so right, being here, lying on these pillows. Him touching you so lovingly. It feels too good to be true. You heart is beating a mile a second and you swear he can sense it with the way your chest moves.

You’re in such a serene trance that you forgot he even asked a question. “Hmm?” Tony mutters. “What? Oh it’s nothing, really.” You shook your head, trying to play it cool.

“Is that Parker’s shirt?” He asks out of the blue, lines appearing on his forehead as he pays closer attention to your choice of garment. “Uhh. It is actually.” You laughed uncomfortably. He locks eyes with you and you know this is something different.

“Hmph,” he grunts.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You questioned, his disapproval slightly exciting you.

“Oh nothing.” He says sarcastically getting out of the bed, leaving you dumbstruck.

“Are you serious right now?” You groaned as your feet hit the soft bed. You were enjoying the very rare and intimate moment you had together and he had to ruin it with his antics. You sighed, as you got out of his bed and faced him.

“Are you? I don’t know how else to say this Y/N. So I’m just gonna come right out and say it.” He rambled, putting his hands on his hips.

“Well?” You ask, folding your arms. He was just blabbering right now and you were in no mood for his jokes.

He opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it. “W-Well-“

“Spit it out Tony. C’mon you can do it.” You encouraged him, the faster he’d say what he needed too, the better for you. You couldn’t handle all this anxiousness.

“I like you Y/N! Okay? Are you happy? There you go I said it!” He says sassily, as he rounds his desk and sits on his chair.

His eyes fell on you. Your whole body was frigid. You were stunned, to say the least. Your mouth was dry as you tried to form coherent sentences. “I-I’m sorry. C-Could you repeat t-that?”

“Uhmm, no.” He murmurs, twirling a pen between his thumb and forefinger. He never breaks sight of you as he tries to appear calm outside but inside, he’s a mess. He’s freaking out. The thought of him ruining the friendship frightened him. He didn’t want to scare you away. He could handle the rejection but living without you just seemed like a hell he didn’t deserve.

“A-Are you serious Tony?” You stammered, unsure if he was playing games with you.

“Yes Y/N goddamn, you’re making me nervous!”

You laughed, walking towards him behind his desk. You leaned against it. “I like you too, Tony.”

“Oh, thank god!” Tony blurted, clasping his hands together, making you giggle. “I love that sound.” He mutters softly, standing up from his chair. Tony gazes into your eyes, and everything just feels right in that moment.

“Can I kiss you?” His voice is soft with affection and you melt, right then and there.

“Yes.” Your voice just below a whisper.

“Can’t hear you.” He teased softly.

“Tony I swear-“ His lips are on yours in a second, his hands gently brush your hair back and then tenderly cups your face. You can feel his grin through the kiss and it makes you so happy. You’ve both waited for this moment to happen so long and it’s just magical for the both of you.

You both break apart, your gazes linger as you stare lovingly into each other’s eyes. Tony places his hands on your hips and brings you closer to him. He goes to kiss you again, but you jump apart when the door flings open.

“What the fu-“ Tony begins, only to stop when he sees who’s at the door.

“You’ve got to be kidding me right now, Sam. You little shit.” He mutters, making you chuckle.

#tony stark x reader #tony stark imagines #tony stark #tony stark fluff #fluff #marvel imagines #mcu imagines #iron man x reader #iron man #mcu #peter parker #sam wilson #x reader #avengers #avengers x reader #peter parker x reader

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saltine-kakyoin · 4 years

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OH SHIT!!!! my clown ass never saw that u rb'd those ask posts, i was Looking at my notifs to see if u would so i could send u some but SOMEHOW I MISSED IT??? clown hours.... ANyways for the emoji one have 🤗💙💘🍀😇 and 👍 (tried to not do repeats from your ask 2 me cause they all apply anyways but, Regardless) and for the questions post, maybe 5, 11, 12, 17, 20, 23 and 25? ;__;/ ily so much and i hope u have a rlly lovely night!!! and that this coming week is kinder 2 u!!!! 💖💖💖💖

ahhh, it’s no worries!!! idk about you but for me, tumblr has been having the Time of Its LIFE lately wrt notifications and most disconcertingly, unfollowing people! D: so i completely get it, it’s no worries!!! ;w;/ i already know for a Fact i’m going to write so so much, so i’m gonna put this under a readmore >w< ruth 🤝 sarah respectful lesbian moments

edit: so I finished writing it and it’s Insanely Long- just in case you don’t make it to the bottom, thank you mein broth-er!!!! ; O; i hope you have a wonderful night too!! writing all of this out made me reminisce on some really nice times, and I’m having an a1 night! ^^ ilysm! it’ll probably be daytime when you read this, so i hope you have a great day! <3

🤗 given the chance I would gladly hug you

on god!!!! ;___; i think i would frfr dissolve if a got a Ruth-Certified hug, things have been so overwhelming lately

💙 you are my closest friend

the feeling is mutual!! <3 we don’t always get to talk often, but fhdhshg when we do we talk about like All of the Madness in Sarah’s Mind^tm, and you are so patient + tolerant of my incoherent ramblings which is something i don’t think i’ve ever fully experienced? anyhow, after a year (more than a year?) of having these kinds of convos and going through the general madness of life together, I totally agree ;w;

💘 I love you so much

i love you too!!! so so much!!! 💃🕺 i don’t think words will ever be able to express how much i love and appreciate you! 💜💛

🍀 i’m lucky to have met you

i know we talk about this often, but seriously i feel the same way! it’s a little crazy that we met, technically, because Joseph Joestar tm deserved more than to be a cheater... there is something hilarious about this wild friendship rooting from him!! of all jojos!! 🤢 but i’m so grateful that we met, it’s been such a wonderful ride ;w; <3

😇 you’re a sweet cinnamon bun

🥺🥺🥺🥺 bro i- fhdhghdhgh thank you!!! ;o;

👍 you are fun to be around

ahhh, thank you!!! i am glad you feel this way bc whoo boy, i think some other people would look at the madness i tell you about and go 👁️👁️ that’s a no for me, luvs. remember last year when i was losing it tryna prepare for ren faire + i cut my palm on that one glass bottle? bc a- i barely do and b- i feel like that moment encapsulates the nicki minaj roman holiday-ness of my life XD i’m really grateful you’ve stuck around through it all 🤗💕💖

now buckle in bro!!!! the essays are incoming!!!

5. Name a movie that makes you genuinely laugh.

i swear on my life the Mortal Kombat movie from 1995 is a national treasure, it is SUCH a solid movie and has so many funny moments. Robin Shou makes such a 🥺🥺 Liu Kang, and jesus fuck he can be so savage when the script calls for it!! there’s one part where he takes Johnny Cage’s luggage and straight up fucking chucks it into the ocean + then bullies him about it later! honestly the Ballad of Johnny Cage and His Luggage is one of my favorite parts from the movie <3 if you haven’t seen it + you like cheesy, old school movies, i really recommend it!!!

11. Describe the memory of the last time you felt true happiness.

So I can’t remember the last time I did, bc my memory is horrifically terrible + probably getting worse as time goes on?? but i will tell you about one of the more recent times I remember! :D There is one crucial expository note for this memory- my brother-in-law makes THE best chili in the entire world. my brother and I were trying to recreate it because it’s such a simple but delicious + filling meal- I think this was our first time trying to create it? and it was SO chaotic, the tomato sauce and stuff kept popping and burning me and we weren’t 100% certain that we’d gathered the right ratios for the ingredients and it was just. madness lmao. Chance’s chili is one that you leave alone for multiple hours at a time (I think this is the case for all chili but i don’t cook often enough to know ;__;), and we were kinda 👀👀👀 because we weren’t sure it’d turn out right? But it did!!!! I vividly remember when it was finished and we taste-tested it + went oOOH FUCK! it wasn’t quite the same as chance’s but ohhh my god it was so good 🥰🥰🥰 but yeah!! we ate it all up and I think this was around the time I started my playthrough of Esteban for Dragon Age 2? which was one of my favorite playthroughs for the entire franchise... he’s just a simple ig beard model mage ;w; i wanted to show you what he looked like in this post but the formatting went wonky so ig i’ll just post him separately?? it’s 1000% in-character for him to infiltrate my jojo blog 😔

12. Name a song that makes you feel ethereal.

hm...I’d say it’s between Forget About or Feet of Clay! They’re both such light and tenderhearted songs, and when I listen to them I feel like I’m in an apartment kitchen slow-dancing with a love, and it’s so dark except for the slowly rising sun. I don’t know if that feeling could be described as ethereal? but it’s close enough for me

17. What is something you own that is important to you? What makes it so important?

I have a small collection of scripts from the shows I’ve been in, and two of the most important ones are from the plays my high school put on during my sophomore and junior years, The Nit-Wits and The Musical Comedy Murders of 1940, respectively! The Nit-Wits has a ton of sentimental value to me because it was the last show I genuinely acted in, and it was a show we had to pull together in 2 or 3 weeks!! We were originally going to do a murder mystery play for the fall, but none of the cast was feeling it and it just wasn’t going to come to life in time (honestly this speaks volumes for how much we weren’t vibing with it, because all of our shows came together at like.. the final dress rehearsals if not opening night lmao). I vividly remember we took a vote during rehearsals about whether or not to switch the show, and then we did and it was SO fun + chaotic!! My character was one of the only regular characters in the show, but I think everyone else had a lot of fun acting as actors who were hired to be maniacal, and that made acting off of them so fun! I remember there was also a night my friend Adonis almost tore the entire set down because he ran through a door and tripped over a set brace in his haste!! The Nit-Wits is hugely important because it was a really fresh acting experience for me, and again, my last time genuinely on the stage and not behind the scenes!

MCM is important to me because it was the first play I ever stage managed! I’d stage managed our musical the spring prior, but that was a huge undertaking and involved many different people and moving parts. Stage managing a play, at least at my high school, was a calmer and more intimate experience, and one I really enjoyed! Another huge reason I treasure MCM’s script is because it is one of the last shows I had with my friend I told you about- he was a senior. I have little notes and doodles from the cast and crew scattered throughout my book for this show, and I remember being so irritated by this because it meant I was losing space for stage directions, cues, and notes. Now, I’m super grateful to have these scribbles- it’s one of the only things I have left of him.

On that note, relating to him, MCM is also the show which birthed my most horrific theater horror story!! During one of the performances, I guess he forgot his line?? idk. But he ended up jumping six pages ahead of where the current scene was (I knew this bc I was following along in my book backstage + was frantically trying to figure out where he’d gone), which threw the entire cast, who were all tragically onstage, way off-track. This resulted in the most frightening game of script ping-pong I’ve ever seen: he’d skipped six pages ahead, so Adonis ended up saying a line from two pages after the six-page skip, and somehow someone else went!! oh I have a response to that line! And then said something like 9 pages back! I think the lead actress tried to ground everyone back to the lines they were supposed to be saying, but she ended up just saying a lot of their lines? And one of those lines that was supposed to be said by someone else was supposed to cue a black-out that someone got murdered in, but my lighting techie was SO fucking lost (we were both huddled over the script next to the breaker trying to figure out WHERE the hell we were! i think i had a flashlight in my mouth so I could flip through the book with both hands and thus faster??), so ofc the lights stayed up! I remember getting through this scene being the most painstaking endeavor of my entire life, but thankfully intermission was right after it! We actually extended intermission because the cast needed a hot second to fuckign RESET for Act 2 bc sweet jesus that was so bizarre...Needless to say, after that show we never messed that scene up again + everyone who acted in the show became super anal about knowing their lines as the years went on. The Six Page Skip became a legendary part of our hs theater Canon (like biblical canon ;w; although I don’t think anyone’s talked about it since my class graduated) alongside the times one of our ensemble dudes had to break through the roof of the girl’s dressing room to retrieve the keys to the theater + i got stuck on stage!

20. What’s the sweetest thing someone has done for you?

I really had to wrack my brain to answer this one, as I’m generally not the person people do things for, you know? This answer goes wayyy back, to 8th grade :O but so! there is mild exposition for this- when I started middle school, I lived in North Carolina, but we moved to Florida right before 7th grade bc my grandma is ill. We lived with my uncle while we were looking for a house, so I went to the local middle school bc why wouldn’t I? but in November, we finally found a house + my mom was like....So... are you going to switch schools or...I’d struck up some really solid friendships in this time, so i was like Mom I’d Rather Die OAO. So, we struck up a deal that I’d get to stay at that school on a zone waiver + that she’d drive me to school everyday. Sometime closer to the end of eighth grade she was like, yeah so.. I can’t do this for high school, it’s too much gas- which was valid! I was really sad about it, but I sucked it up.

Anyhow, fast forward to the last day of eighth grade, which was perhaps the saddest day I’d lived up until that point, mostly bc I knew I was probably never going to see all my friends again. My best friend, who I was like hardcore v close to + the person I shared all my wacky AUs and OC’s and headcanons with, was waiting with me for my mom to come pick me up, and then!!! When my mom pulled into the school she suddenly whipped out this lengthy letter she’d written to me about how much she enjoyed my friendship and how grateful she was that we were able to have lunch together (lunch was.. tragically ;__; the only time we really saw each other that year), and that she would never forget me! And she’d drawn me a ton of fanart from all the things I was obsessed with back then!! it was so much so fast, but then my mom was yelling at me to get in the car and I had to go :(

We kept in touch through email freshman year + fake-dated bc a senior was stalking me? ;J; and then we went to Megacon together! but I became really heavily involved in choir and theater after that, and we just kind of drifted apart :( we do follow each other on ig tho! It’s insane to think about her and that letter because on GOD ruth, that was a thinly veiled love letter and I never like... wrote her anything back that was as worthy as what she wrote me. But, she’s doing really well in uni now, so I guess it’s all okay? idk! ; o ;

23. What’s your zodiac sign? Do you think you fit the general characteristics of that sign?

I’m a Cancer!! and also a metal dragon by the Chinese Zodiac, which I’ve always thought was pretty sick! :3 I am 10000% your stereotypical Cancer, super emotional and introspective + often prone to tears ;u; My mom always said that dragons are steadfast and loyal people, and I think this also applies to me, to a fault. I checked around some websites to see what characteristics were often applied to metal dragons specifically, and it seems they are pretty strong-willed, ambitious, and generous? I don’t know if you could call me strong-willed or ambitious, but it’s all good ig.

25. What’s a song that gives off good vibes anytime you listen to it?

Ohh man, I went in on this question for Shannon, but bc I was digging around my library for Jules, I actually found an old fave! This song is from one of my all-time favorite musicals, Once on This Island- it’s The Human Heart! This song is so sweet, and god between the writing for the orchestra + the writing for the ensemble, this song is a straight masterpiece <3 I love love love the line, “Through your love you’ll live forever”, and although I am Hardcore Terrified of getting a tattoo, I really want that line tattooed on my body. if you have time, I recommend giving Once on This Island a listen!! I’ve never heard a show that uses its instruments and singers the way OoTI does (and holy FUCK it is so breathtaking live!!! I got to see it on Broadway and bro.... 🥺🥺 it was transcendental..)

#me when i talk to jules- floods her w a wall of songs #me when i talk to ruth- floods her with a wall of incomprehensible thoughts #the lov is stored in the walls of text! ; O ;#thank you again ruth!!!! this was really fun to write out and i may have cried while writing a few bits but it's fiiiine #i loved writing this 🥰#long post #like INCREDIBLY long post!!!!#sriracha ask game #fullmetal-the-last-alchemist

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geneeste · 4 years

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Genie’s SG1 Rewatch: Bloodlines

Season 1, Episode 12. In which Christopher Judge is devastating and I yell a lot about bad writing.

PREVIEW:

2:35 PM oh man oh god Teal'c don't cry uuugggggh Chris Judge is too good I can't take it

2:37 PM jeez Teal'c destroying the house

1:53 PM Time for "Bloodlines All of the stuff with the goa'uld symbiotes are grooooooss Is Teal'c dreaming? Or having visions? Or just torturing himself?

1:55 PM Oh boy what's going on I don't remember this at all Oh Teal'c, my darling 1:58 PM TEAL'C JUST TELL THEM I wonder if it's a lack of trust or just fear of being vulnerable that keeps him from telling them the reason he wants to go back to Chulak Have I mentioned how much I love Teal'c I love him so much I also really love Teal'c and Jack's friendship, it's so special and good They're not there yet here, but you can see the foundations of it and I just really enjoy that

2:02 PM "A warrior becomes vulnerable if his family is held hostage to the enemy." Ah, that answers that then I just want to pause and really take in just what it was that Teal'c did when he defected Because it is so freaking heartbreaking And they really drive it home later when Drey'auc dies (which, yeah, I don't love) "Everything I have done, I have done for you" [Genie’s afterward: I wasn’t clear that that line is from a later episode, not this one.] *cries forever*

2:05 PM I'm kinda mad at Jack right now, ngl Especially father to father, treating Teal'c this way over him wanting to protect his family Like the SGC/US government is this upstanding, morally unimpeachable entity2:06 PMlike. dude. THEY WANTED TO EXPERIMENT ON TEAL'C AND ALMOST DO (REPEATEDLY) So like, maybe calm the fuck down and have some empathy

2:08 PM "With respect, sir" everyone take a drink

2:10 PM "Yes, and where there's one, there has to be...more than one." LOL Daniel, and at Sam for cringe-laughing at that argument

2:11 PM Uh oh, Jack been called to the principal's office somebody's in trouble Oh, Hammond is legit angry which, well, he's not wrong to be This isn't even Sassy Hardass Hammond This is Disappointed Dad Hammond

2:25 PM HEH Sam looking away from spying in the briefing room oooouch this is awkward "Don't you think we owe him something?" There's the Jack I know and love

2:27 PM oof the SFs

2:29 PM uuugggghhh everyone is in a terrible position oh thank god Sassy Grandpa Hammond is back did...did Teal'c just hit the ESC button to shut down the gate that is HILARIOUS why is the serpent helmet looking at me

2:32 PM those robes look pretty ridiculous man that helmet must be so uncomfortable and heavy I don't think the priest is buying it

2:35 PM oh man oh god Teal'c don't cry uuugggggh Chris Judge is too good I can't take it

2:37 PM jeez Teal'c destroying the house

2:39 PM BRA'TAC thank goodness you're here I don't think I could handle more of this seriously Chris Judge PLEASE STOP EMOTING

2:42 PM OH MY GOD BRA'TAC JUST BIT DANIEL I CAN'T

2:44 PM how I forget that I'm gonna need a minute

2:53 PM Okay I had to walk that off I'm back now In related news, Bra'tac is great

3:26 PM don't really get why Jack chooses to split up the team here (I know it's for plot reasons, but in universe it doesn't make a ton of sense to me)} Hey, Jack mentioned a cliche, everyone take a drink

8:52 PM Why is Teal’c suddenly running? This is a weird battle I wonder why this actress didn’t come back as Drey’auc

8:57 PM LOL at Jack pointing his gun at the clearly dead goa’uld Oh no, I forgot Ryac (can’t remember where to put the apostrophe just now) was sick “Do you see where I’m raising your son?” She’s got a point, Teal’c Dude, I get that emotions are (understandably) high, but accusing your wife, who’s been banished from her home and community after you left without a word, of being selfish is not cool

9:01 PM 😬😬😬😬 I do not like the physical stuff in this I’m glad they let CJ handle more of Teal’c’s backstory later on because this is not a good look Ugh Teal’c picking Ryac up and cuddling him though

9:03 PM I’m bored by the stuff with Sam and Daniel

9:05 PM Rya’c’s actor is so gooooood

9:07 PM I do love that Sam’s grossed out by the symbiotes I feel ya Sam “If we killed them now...” OH BULLSHIT If you kill them now they’ll be dead, jesus Sam I don’t buy for one second she would actually think that She said it because they needed a foil for conflict Whatever bad writing, WHATEVER

9:10 PM Like, there is no ethical conflict here, sorry not sorry I’m never totally comfortable by how they handle kids on this show Ew ew ew But also oh Teal’c I do find it interesting that the Goa’uld dress up receiving a primta in ceremony and religion Because of course they have to make it seem like an honor/like achieving adulthood instead of the enslavement that it is And essentially it’s just plopping a symbiote in their pouch, no great formality is required

9:15 PM It’s sweet that Sam is covering Daniel when the grenade does off Love that dynamic

9:17 PM Oy with the sacrilege talk already This is so dumb They know he’s a false god and the religion is bogus I have a tough time believing they’d care about them stealing a symbiote BUT WHATEVER BAD WRITING W H A T E V E R

9:19 PM Seriously I hate all the stuff with the snakes Hate it

9:20 PM Why the hell can’t they come back with him I don’t get it This is stupid So stupid Poor drey’auc and rya’c ugh They got routed by terrible writing

9:24 PM LOL Bra’tac just showing off Teal’c lugging that dumb helmet around

9:26 PM And that was Bloodlines Some great Teal’c moments but otherwise underwhelming

#stargate sg1 #genie's rewatch #bloodlines #1x12

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modern-oedipus · 5 years

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Check-List for the Goals I settled for 2019

The funny mistake I’ve made earlier lead me think about what I’ve expected from 2019 when we started it. I found a list of the goals I made while we were entering the new year’s and here is a realistic evaluation of how it went.

• First of all, I wanted to manage my depressive episodes better. I wanted to have them less frequently. I wanted not to be absolutely crashed if a trigger hit me. Here’s how it went with a rough statistics (yes, because I’m a soon-to-be scientist, I actually made a graph of my own mood swings as if I am a test subject).

✔️ January was absolutely terrible for me. I had so much anxiety because of a toxic relationship and I wasn’t sure if I could ever live without that person. I failed two classes and withdraw a third one. I was super anxious about my internships. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be on the path I was and I was also having financial troubles. Also, one of my pet birds had passed away.

✔️ February was the month I truly felt like something in me was changing for the better. I felt like something clicked after the winter break— when I was, in a funny way, forbidden from consuming sugar for three days. I used to eat a lot of sugar/sweets to cope with my stress back then, to the point I still amaze at myself for not being overweight, plus size, or developing diabetes; because I really was eating too much sweets. But then I had a conversation with my father that feels unworldy, and combinated with the tree days no sugar diet and beginning of the new semester I suddenly felt like, even if I couldn’t fix everything, I could fix something. I had to start, regardless of how little. So I started by eating carefully— so significiantly less sugar consumed than I used to be, but I didn’t force it all at once. So if I were eating 3 brownies a day I decreased it step by step to 2 brownies a day, one brownie a day, and... At November 2019, it is probably a brownie once in 15 days. With even more pleasure than eating 3 brownies at once. (Don’t worry, I still let myself be free of eating whatever I want occassionally. I’m taking care of my health). Anyway. I started to hit up gym in my college for first time ever. I was so painfully inconsistent, but I knew that much was to be expected, so instead of getting angry at myself for not being a regular I just appreciated myself for going despite not being a regular.

✔️ March was a turnpoint. I decided to be bold enough to pursue my ex hobbies that I lost because of depression, one of them being writing. I’ve had a strong muse for Norman back then. I made a new account on Facebook. I knew no one, but to my luck I made so many friends. I drowned in NorRay ship with a very nice roleplay partner. I built new friendships away from the toxic partner of mine who was seriously causing a lot of damage on me. By the end of March we broke up and— surprise, my world didn’t end. I felt so refreshed, so alive, as if I was freed of my chains, and up until this day this feeling stands. I was more eager to pursue new hobbies, talk about my interests and do crazy shit instead of worrying my ex would think. I was happier. Much happier. This too, is still valid.

✔️ April was... unworldly. Because something that relates to my society happened as a big improvement and I was extremely positively surprised. This feeling is valid up to this day as well.

✔️ May... May was wild. I got kissed by a random stranger at the spring fest party. This fucking event lead me to write Conflict. Seriously. I built stronger friendships, online and offline, during this month. I felt truly connected.

✔️ June!!! June was so weird! It was my first break after one or maybe two years of depression. It was my first free holiday in which I didn’t reall feel like I was a waste of time, space, effort, money, etc. I got to walk around streets with a burden off my shoulders after so long. I got to look forward to the next days. The insecurities hit me up sometimes, but significantly less frequently, as I aimed in the beginning of the year. At this point I have had lost a good 5 kgs and had been eating very healthily too, and I was enjoying this new healthier lifestyle I adapted. This is still valid too.

Let’s examine June a little more carefully. At the end of the June I was going to go out of town to have an internship at a very prestigious university out of town. Which meant I had to stay in student dorms. I had no background about my field of internship yet. I was going to be utterly alone and I was freaking out about it. I’ve spent last week of June extremely tense because I don’t live in dorms normally and sharing a space with people and being alone at a professional place and things like doing laundry felt terrifying. But at the same time I was proud of myself because I’ve had always wondered how life would be living in a college campus, and this school I went was the best in my country equal to the university I am attending. Overall, it was prestigious and I was very excited.

Another important thing about June was that I’ve had written almost ALL of Conflict in my head with two of my roleplay partners eagerly listening to me and encouraging me whenever I plotted.

Have you noticed this?

My story was completed BEFORE I even posted.

At the end of June, a few days before I was about to leave for the internship, I had a breakdown. I had a bad breakdown. I had first draft of Conflict completed but I could never get to edit it. I could never get to post it. I didn’t even have an account. I didn’t really expect much interest in the story either, I just... I don’t know. I think I just thought, “Wow, this plot is so feelsy. I shouldn’t keep it buried in me. Maybe other people will love it too.” and I... kept Conflict waiting... for so long. Then I had a breakdown thinking I can’t do a fucking thing right and I’ll never get to post anything because I always let my “depression” take over it— which is a funny excuse because I wasn’t even depressed at June. Scared yes, but not depressed. I hate playing the victim. Objectively speaking, I wasn’t at my best but it wasn’t my worst either. Anyway. I left first chapter of Conflict linger there for a few weeks, hopeless that I could ever post.

✔️ Then comes July. I came to the internship city! It was AWESOME. I LOVED the campus, LOVED the experience, LOVED my field, and ENJOYED dorm life. I made many friends. I had roommates. I worked out more often. I went to sightseeing. I extended my network. I did A LOT of fun stuff.

On the first night I was at dorms, my two roommates were out. I didn’t know anyone yet. I had ONE night free to do anything. I was... in an awe. So I opened the documents. I looked at the pretty sight from my dorm room and I said, “Well, let’s do this.”

It was like a torture to finish that first chapter.

I had no expectations when I posted.

But oh my god, it felt like something clicked when I posted! Getting my story POSTED was a significant proof that I was SERIOUSLY moving on from the LAST traces of depression. It was something I created. It was MY productivity. It was ME. But in a way it was everyone. I felt extremely happy. Oh— did I mention Conflict is my first fanfiction?

Anyway, then I began to look forward to updating. Living in campus had it’s amazing advantages, such as no time wasted on transport, and ability to chill at coffee shops or 24/7 open library ALL NIGHT if I wanted. Which was wayyy less depressing than the environment of my house. I wrote. I felt super engaged. The simple fact that I could exist and produce something and have other people respond to it was something I could never imagine myself doing back on my depressed days. (But I could totally imagine this BEFORE I got in depression. In a way, I was back. I am still back. And I’m so grateful.)

I wasn’t only fooling around to write, though. I’ve been learning a lot. Experiencing a lot. Living a lot. It was amazing. I even binge watched Harry Potter with my roommate— and I hadn’t rewatched it before. (I had fucking forgotten that Sirius died, lmao.)

I also briefly fell in love again. It was a nice brief summer thing. Still think she’s amazing.

I need to go now, actually, so I’m abrubtly cutting this post off halfway to edit later. I don’t know what I earn by sharing this. I’m definitely not looking for attention— maybe you’ve realized it before but I give very little fucks about what people around me say (except for constructive critism). But somehow, I felt as if someone needed to see this. I don’t know that person. I don’t know who they are and when they are reading this. I just want people to know that there is an example of a girl who seriously changed a lot within span of a year by constant hard work, gentle-self-talks, and constant push-throughs even when she’s not motivated. Right now I’m far from being depressed nor suicidal, I’ve lost enough weight to dress up all bold clothes I LOVE to wear, I’ve built self-confidence, etc, as I will edit later. I just... want you all to know... even if this is not valid for everyone if you want something to happen you have to MAKE it happen. And it actually HAPPENS when you MAKE it happen. So, you don’t have to stay stuck in a bad cycle. You don’t even need a new year’s eve to do this. I started at february, see?

So do your best! I’m cheering for you!

Edit: I’m back. So point of this post was to check whether I’ve reached my goal of having less frequent depressive episodes. (Because I know I’m human and depressive episodes can hit ANYONE, so I didn’t have an unrealistic “I’ll never experience this again” expectation but I did have the expectation of “I’ll experience this maybe once or twice in a year, move on fast w/o unhealthy coping mechanisms and I’ll stay connected to LIFE instead of dissosciation” and I’ve achieved this.

A fast summary would be,

July built my self confidence at all aspects, from my hobbies to my career, my social skills to my curiosities. It was amazing.

August-September was vacation. One month of having a blissful vacation without feeling like a burden. One month of having full bliss. No depressive episodes not even once. I was regularly working out and I didn’t gain any weight even though I eat sweets and nice food everyday because of “holiday”. I went to a dietician in the end to find out my blood sugar is very healthy and my weight is normal now.

At the end of September & beginning of October I was nervous because of school, but I handled a lot better. I have done my best. I have truly done my best. I attended almost all lectures, I engaged in the material, asked all questions on my mind, went office hours, stayed active in newspaper, continued to hit up gym regularly, built more friendships, ALSO STAGED A THEATRE TEXT I HAVE WRITTEN LIKE THAT WAS AMAZING, and— and—

I don’t know, fast through November it doesn’t feel enough. I don’t know what I’ve honestly expected. But I expected to feel smarter or something, because science is hard shit. I expected better grades than this because I have honestly given it my all best. But the fact that my friends called me to reassure me made me really happy because one of my other goals was to build friendships and to think people, online and offline, check up on me makes me tear up. Especially when they are genuniely by my side as friends. It just feels so nice. So I’m feeling bittersweet.

I couldn’t lose any more weight since June, but I kept gaining/losing in some balance and I’m stable by now. My aim for February is to... lose 10 kgs in total— in a year. Which means I’ve got 4 kgs left to get rid of extra weight. I’m not really obsessed with body image, I’ve never been, but... What will I even do if I do not eat healthy and exercise? I mean, what’ll I even do? I like exercising and healthy eating. So I should just prevent stressful eating further so I can get rid of all the extra stuff. I’m already wearing all the pretty clothes I want and I do get stares because ;; idk they look cute I’m cute. Not in a narcissitic way. But self-love is important. I’m bi anyway, I do think girls are cute so since I’m a girl why shouldn’t I be cute as well?? A very feminine girl in fact, so like, hell yes, at least Nila can now wear whatever she wants and feels like she looks good on them so ONE OF THE MAJOR GOALS OF 2019 is fucking SETTLED!!

I’m planning to meet up my dietician again soon, and say that, “Look, I’ve come this far. Let’s lose 4 kgs in next 4 months. It makes 1 kg a month. Amazingly managable right? So guide me so I don’t ruin my health while thinning.”

So, I’ve managed my three major goals: Get rid of depression (learn how to burn it if it hits you); get a body you not only appreciate but feel genuniely HAPPY to be in; and built friendships and strengthen your bonds with people.

My two other major goals are incompleted, though. To cut it short, I wanted to get a better academic standing— from my first midterm grades I couldn’t really achieve that no matter how hard I tried, which is truly upsetting, but I have no choice but to go on. I love my major. I love science. I genuniely want to stay in this field. I don’t think I’m too idiotic to be a scientist. Sometimes I do think that, okay, but that’s a common thought in STEM majors. I do want to believe that what I work on will make a difference. It will have a meaning. So even though these results... are very discouraging to the point I felt really bad today, as if I could somehow, I don’t know, have a panic attack or something (I did not, I don’t have chronic anxiety or panic attacks or whatever, never experienced this). I just felt close to it, with increased heartbeat and feeling a bit dizzy and also very... imbalanced. But that’s probably because I didn’t eat well today, I unintentionally ate very little hence probably it exhausted me combined with bad news and saturday’s breakdown. Anyway. I have no choice but to go on, believing it will be better. My last major goal was to have a romantic partner, haha. Because I just want to. I mean, I don’t think I need to justify why I’d want a boyfriend or a girlfriend, and I don’t think I worked hard for this goal lol. I mean, I didn’t go out of my way to reach people. I liked like... three people this year, I still like one of them, but... It didn’t... go far. That’s probably because I still haven’t completely shaken off my shyness and unwillingness to get out of my comfort zone.

In conclusion, I have achieved 3/5 of my goals, which is more than half of it! So good job! For the girlfriend/boyfriend part, I, haha, I may neglect it for this year I mean it’s dumb to date someone just because??? You want to date before year ends right??? I mean, I’m not exactly angry at myself for that because it’s not only in my control so I think I forgive myself for not achieving that goal.

Academics though.

Ugh, academics are extremely terrifying to me.

That’s one big thing I need to settle.

On the bright side I have— two months! Silly me thought I have just one! So... let me... work hard in these two months!!!! And I’ll update if I can get a better GPA this semester. And if I get a lover. It’s ok not to have lovers but at least let me keep the GPA high I BEG you.

I’ve got new goals settled for 2020. But I will focus on achieving my last two goals before the year ends (academics mostly) and... update!

I don’t know who needs to read this. But I don’t mind having my journey posted at this point. I still feel very uncomfortable talking about depression, actually. But it was my reality. Now that I truly moved on, I can talk about it and critisize myself for all good and all bad.

I hope, to anyone who bothered to read so long, it gave some hope. That things can get better. That you CAN make things better little by little. 2020 can be your year. Or you can start on this very day like I randomly started on February (I didn’t have a thing for February, I just so happened to decide).

I’ll always be cheering those who do their best to make a difference.

Stay safe and let’s work hard. ❤️

Disclaimer: Some of my kind hearted readers were worried about me because Conflict describes unhealthy mindsets. Don’t worry— more than half of them are not based on my real life experiences! I’m not self-harming (never did, don’t think I ever will), neglecting antidepressants (I never used any actually), have suicidal tendencies (well, that part was real but no longer valid) AND I DON’T HAVE A RELATIONSHIP LIKE NORMAN/PETER sO Y’ALL CAN CHILL thank you for worrying about me I love you all

And I’ll be more than happy to be your goals-buddy if you want to change something about yourself as well!!!

#nila stuff #conflict #some stuff about #new year’s goals #2019 #depression #is not permanent #i believe in u #goals #time managament #college

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faketextsfromlastmight · 5 years

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Best of tags #4

A compilation of my favorite reactions to this blog.

@kumaoftheforest on Mirio inheriting One for All : (Link)

I honestly feel like Mirio’s clothes would get blown off every time he’d us OFA

Best Jeanist could take him on as a sidekick: he repairs clothes, Mirio destroys them. Don’t forget to recycle, kids!

@utsushimi-camie on All for One being an illegal experiment on a live subject: (Link)

#this hilarious to me because i joke about quirk ethics laws all the time

Oh god, I would pay good money to watch a courtroom drama set in a super-powered universe. Can you imagine how busy the jurists must be in a society where people have different abilities yet supposedly are equal in the eyes of the law? They would have to write new rules whenever a new quirk manifested. Complete juridistical nightmare. I think Pixar’s “The Incredibles” kind of touched on that with citizens suing superheroes for destroying buildings while battling supervillains, but it’s framed as them being whiny. It’s a cop-out, in my opinion. The concept of superheroics is deeply problematic from a political and legal point of view, not to mention the issue of secret identities.

Granted, Horikoshi does seem to imply that the laws of BNHA’s universe are indeed complicated. There’s a lot of red tape in place to prevent people from using their quirks in key situations. Shinsou was not able to integrate the hero course because his quirk doesn’t work on robots, but one has to wonder if the entrance exam wasn’t planned to exclude people with mind-control quirks on design. It’s tough determining in which situations people ought to get robbed of their free will, so my guess is that U.A. High saved itself the headache and made sure people like Shinsou failed the exam. Shady.

It’s also apparent in the Stain arc when the police conveniently decides to cover up the way Todoroki, Iida and Midoriya illegally used their quirks. It’s completely absurd that these young people would be punished for arresting a serial killer, so law enforcement agrees to look the other way. But that implies they also do that in certain circumstances for some of their men, which has unfortunate implications. Do the policemen in BNHA’s universe routinely use their quirks even though they’re not allowed to? Urgh.

There are a LOT of things wrong with the superheroic system as it stands today. Gran Torino even admits that he got his hero license so he could use his quirk more freely and that he doesn’t do actual hero work. Apparently no one is supervizing him. The more you look at it, the more you realize that people like Endeavor and (early-series) Bakugou are not exceptions. They’re the extreme examples of the worst behaviors the system encourages.

@meowmeowmin on Todoroki trying to bond with a fly: (Link)

Flies only live for 24 hours

Don’t tell him that! Do you want the entire area to get frozen?

@bandanagiggle on Kaminari buying a vuvuzela: (Link)

Ms Joke sold it to him

The fiend! Worse part is, she told him to serenade Jirou with it.

@iputthepaininpainting on a Todoroki/Bakugou household wife swap: (Link)

Actually I can see this being very good. Bakugo's dad has a nice cup of tea w/ Todoroki's mom so they can talk about how much they love their sons while Mitsuki puts the fear of god in Endeavor!! Good stuff!!!

Let’s hope the children aren’t involved in this, actually. Shouto is very reserved so Mitsuki would always assume he’s sulking or hiding something. Bakugou’s constant temper tantrums would also be difficult for Rei to handle given her aversion to violence. Or maybe I’m being too harsh on Bakugou? He canonically knows she has mental problems, so I imagine he’d make an effort to be less abrasive around her.

That being said, Mitsuki may make Endeavor even worse. The last thing he needs to learn is how to replace his illegal, horrific abusive behavior with socially accepted, casual corporal punishment. Mitsuki is problematic but only insofar as the way she treats Bakugou is something society accepts. Bakugou is violent because he was raised in an environment where violence is a tolerated form of expression. The way she educates her son is terrible but it’s fair to remember that no one really taught her any better (not even her husband).

@pikazuku on Bakugou’s hug deception: (Link)

#This could go two ways#I don't know which one is the true route

When I wrote this I intended Bakugou to actually be sick. So he’s contaminating Deku on purpose and sparing Kirishima. It’s funnier that way, at least in my opinion.

@jukeydragon on Toga being the only girl in the League of Villains: (Link)

#but#uraraka#what bout magne?

I’m assuming you haven’t read the later chapters of the manga.

LIGHT SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4 OF “MY HERO ACADEMIA”:

Without explaining things in too much details, the League of Villains experience some changes in staff management to the point that Magne is no longer considered part of the League. That’s why Uraraka referred to Toga as “the only girl” in this post.

@pinkcandyphoenix on Midnight curing Eraserhead’s insomnia : (Link)

#Actually a Eraser head and midnight friendship would be really cute and wholesome#Bnha#I am tempted to write about it

As a dominatrix, Midnight is tough on crime and punishes any misbehavior in the strictest way imaginable. Eraserhead would definitely respect that. She falls into the same mold as Present Mic in that she looks like a buffoon but is actually very efficient and professional.

@hotforhandman on All For One being a better father figure than Shigaraki: (Link)

#😂😂😂 I don’t think afo is a good dad but this is funny

If All For One were a good dad, he would have told Tomura Shigaraki about chapstick. Joke aside, I do think that the worst aspects of Shigaraki’s personality (namely his petulance) were actually encouraged by All For One. He needs him to remain in a child-like state because his arrested development is deeply rooted in his devotion to his “Teacher”. The risk being that if Shigaraki matures, he might develop ideas of his own.

That’s probably why All For One is secretly satisfied to be in prison right now. Now that they’re separated, Shigaraki can grow as a leader without any risk of disagreeing with his mentor. In fact, his efforts to free All For One from prison will only make him more devoted. All For One needs Shigaraki to idealize him, not to see him for the piece of garbage he really is. Throughout the series we see that he actually remains pretty distant and communicates with Shigaraki through conference calls, which might be on design. He can’t let his pupil too close to him or the illusion of “good parenting” might be broken. The distance keeps Shigaraki yearning for his approval and affection.

@zerounitrgb on my answer to @eva-white-11‘s criticism: (Link)

I am... really tired of people interpreting everything as romantic/friendship. They didn’t choose their pairings, they stayed together because who splits up during an attack, and you’re right, Toko would probably go crazy for anyone that saved him and got hurt in the process. Not to mention Shouji is training to be a hero so he... you know... did his JOB.

Yes. That’s also why I have my own difficulties with Ochako/Bakugou and Todoroki/Yaoyorozu. I recognize that both boys acknowledged the girls were very good in combat and clever, but that’s not a compliment, that’s a fact. They’re just giving credit where credit is due. Although in Bakugou’s case Horikoshi was probably making a commentary on sexism (with Bakugou treating Ochako as an opponent first and a girl second), people tend to interpret them as him teasing a possible romantic connection. And that’s what unnerves him, actually; that our culture is so sexist that a man acknowledging a woman’s competence is automatically interpreted as romantic interest, because why would a guy compliment a girl on anything if he wasn’t trying to get into her pants?

My gripes end there. I actually like both ships, I just have issues with people presenting these interactions as “canonical” proof that Horikoshi is teasing anything romantic between these people. Characters compliment each other A LOT in “My Hero Academia”, it takes more than that to establish a relationship.

#mha #my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha bakugou #bnha katsuki #bnha midoriya #bnha izuku #bnha kirishima #bnha eijirou #bnha kaminari #bnha denki #bnha tomura #bnha shigaraki #bnha todoroki #bnha shouto #best of tags

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jq37 · 5 years

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well. that was it.

**spoilers for prompocalypse part 2**

Y'all this is it. The end-end. The last recap, at least for Fantasy High.

I honestly could have gotten this up yesterday but I wanted to give myself a hot sec before it was really over.

But, no way out but through. Let’s get to it.

We start back up right where we left off with no break in between. Cast still freaking, Brennan still gaping.

“What the Fuck.” –Brennan 2019

Anyway, Kristen once again appears in corn heaven and she’s very not chill about it. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. On the plus side, she runs into Doreen in heaven who is young and hot again (which I’m sure Fig would appreciate knowing) and also apologizes for her traumatizing speech to Adaine during her death.

Helio playing beer pong. I wonder if that was always a facet of his personality or if Brennan just decided to yes-and all of Ally’s suggestions of him being a frat bro.

The angels being like, “Please be nice to God. He’s our dad,” was kinda adorable.

“Why are you dressed like a weird stripper?”/“It’s too hot in here. He’s the sun!”

So while the gang has been living out Breakfast Club + Stranger Things, Aguefort has been Weekend and Bernie’s-ing Heaven apparently. I want to say wild, but tbh that’s pretty on brand for him. The wild part is that he was able to knock out GOD. Like, how even?

Aguefort tells Kristen that Sol is one god of many and she says, “Cool, I always thought that,” as if this is new information but, living in a D&D world, shouldn’t she definitively know that already? Like, the gods in fantasy worlds are pretty blatant about letting their presence be known and there are clerics/paladins who aren’t Heleoic but still have powers.

OK I have a bone to pick with Ms. Kristen Applebees. You get a chance to talk to the primordial source of all divine power and magic and you (1) ask who you’re allowed to bone and (2) create a TERRIBLE god. Just truly TRASH. She created a reaction gif god. It’s not even a physical representation of the concept. Like, I thought she meant something like Yass from Wreck it Ralph 2 but no. Just a literal Yes! Like, you can trash talk Helio when you come up with something better, girl. Also, wild that you can just…walk into a room and do that. Like you have to knock out Sol first but still. Wild.

“You’ve created a new deity and already you’re fed up with it. I would say that’s par for the course.”

I low key thought Kristen was going to get the option to deify herself. I think because I had just rewatched The Gamers: Dorkness Rising and that figures in to the plot. But, thinking about it, she wouldn’t have gone for that I don’t think.

Aguefort flipping out at Kristen saying that friendship is the greatest magic of all, and rightfully so. That’s BS.

Since when does Kristen have dog tags?

Anyway, as we all suspected, the chronomancy line from episode 1 wasn’t a random line of dialogue, it was a chekhov’s gun.

I mentioned this in an earlier post. Brennan didn’t seem too concerned that the party was wiping and I think this is why. I think he had two paths for this fight to take. In one, Riz successfully rolled for police and like 6 helpful NPCs plus his mom show up. That’s enough to beat the dragon without dying and Aguefort shows up having Die Hard-ed his way out of heaven. In the other, Kristen dies, goes to heaven, and basically that same series of events happens. Chronomancy saves the day. I think he was shocked because the roll dovetailed so perfectly with the story beat.

“Is Arthur Aguefort black? Hell yes. My brotha.” Gonna be honest, I basically had that same reaction when they showed his character portrait in ep 1.

Kristen and Arthur jump back into the battle and Arthur gets possessed by Mr. Gibbons. I guess he’s just been hanging around as a ghost this whole time? Because this seems to lend credence to the theory that that’s who possessed Fig in the arcade but didn’t we see him go to the afterlife (which, I have a question about that too later). But I feel like that must have been Brennan’s way of sidelining him for the fight so they didn’t have like a level 20 wizard making it too easy.

“Oh, and Jawbone!” Murph loses it.

Jawbone stuck in Goldenhoard’s mouth like that meme of the dog smiling, stuck in a fence.

Gorthalax is like, “I don’t feel great sleeping next to this dude.” Fig meanwhile is all, “I wanna sleep between his legs.” She says this at least twice.

So everyone just have a freaking picnic and takes a nap in the middle of this fight. Can’t say I saw that coming exactly.

Fabian tries to stab Dayne, who is already dead, during the time stop.

“What the fuck do they teach you at this school?”

“Are you talking about the time thing or–”/“Yeah Gorgug! The time thing!.”

“We’re gonna kill this motherfucker, sweetie.”

I love Sklonda so much.

Jawbone is a salad guy.

OK so I know people were shipping Sklonda and Gilear and it was like, “But how would that work with the height difference?” so Brennan, the absolute madman, decides to pair her with the GIANT DEMON???

Adaine about Gilear: Cucked again.

Everyone treating the DRAGON like a JUNGLE GYM.

“It’s basically Jeb Bush’s Campaign.” Ally, with the fury of 1000 suns: EXCUSE ME?

“I bless, [Riz], your mom, and [Fabian.] Are you the only ones with vendettas?”

“I think we’re all pretty blessed.” Gorgug/Zac is so good.

Adaine, who has all the wisdom and intelligence points of the entire party at the moment: You need to stay safe because the reason that we died is that you died.

The shot that shows everyone on the giant dragon and then the foreground fuzzes out and shows Adaine a safe distance away in the background is hilarious.

Ice guitar pick. Sweet.

Yeah, Siobhan really shoulda got healing potions out of her jacket, not the freaking wand. Hilarious. The only thing helpful about that was it hinted he was vulnerable to frost damage which they could have guessed.

I wonder what Brennan had in his notes about the freaking city in Adaine’s jacket. It’s wild they weren’t more curious about that.

I low key loved Emily buffing Murph the whole fight.

“Hell yes Sklonda!”

Ragh: Giving a gay pride speech./Adaine, who doesn’t want to get knocked out again: STAB HIM IN THE DICK DUDE.

And, speaking of, OWWW.

Fig shapeshifting to Dayne. The hell Emily!

And another eye gouging.

Fabian is incapable of doing a single thing without doing some ridiculous parkour stunt first.

Kristen,not twenty minutes after Riz said it would be crazy to go inside the dragon: Can I climb inside the dragon’s mouth? (Adaine: KRISTEN!)

Gorgug saving Skonda and Riz going, “Thanks for saving my mom!” from across the room.

Brennan is narrating the epic final battle and what cool thing everyone is doing and Kristen is just being digested.

Riz was my second choice for the coup de grace until it turned out that Kal ate his dad and then he was my first choice. Riz!!!!

What a badass moment for him. The image of him casting a shadow on the wall is super dope.

Everyone flipping off Kal as he dies.

Riz and Sklonda are making dragon casserole bay-bee!

MURPH FAILS WITH BARDIC INSPIRATION AND BLESS AT A 12 DC.

Aguefort. What a chaos monster.

“I fucked that bird! It is my paramour!”

Hold up, hold up, hold up. Did Kristen’s freaking Yes god kick Sol out of his own freaking heaven? WHAT?

I love that what Adaine got out of this experience was, “Wait, so my powers are bullshit?”

“Everything in this world is bullshit, Ms. Abernant.” Preach.

“So is the sun just a yes now?”/“Maybe.”

Literally 6 cop NPCs. Like they all seem like they’re morons but I’m sure it would have helped!

“Fuck it dude, it’s worth asking.”

“Are you my dad?”/“I was about to ask you the very same thing.”/“What?”

“TAKE HIS EYE. CUT OUT HIS EYE. YOU WANT ME TO BITE IT OUT FOR YOU?”

Brennan really likes the word bud.

Freak the fuck out all the time and just fuck things up.

They got their ice cream later! And Adaine says thank you to Basrar, even though he’s not even there.

Adaine as the 7 freed maidens (way to go Sandra-Lynn) are re-killing Goldenhoard: Us and them are the only good students.

Gorgug’s nat20! What a WILD time for the dice to give that to him.

“You gotta ask. I ask everyone if they’re my dad.”

Gorgug’s dad (Gorbag) has just as low an intelligence score as his son. It’s hilarious but also sweet.

THE VULTURE

I thought that Digby and WIlma just found Gorgug in the woods? Maybe I’m not remembering right. I would guess that was their version of the stork story but they straight up told him what docking was so…

“Do any other federal agents want to step to Arthur Aguefort on the grounds of his school?”

The Aguefort way!

I wonder what Sam has to say about her former BFF selling her out like that and also getting murdered.

It seems like Gorgug was put on the guest list for hell by accident (his relieved reaction was adorable) but I thought that was orc heaven?

Interesting Gorthalax still has pull in hell when he’s a high school coach now.

BILL BILL BILL BILL BILL BILL

How did he watch the fight? Do they have pay per view in hell?

“I doubt Cathilda will end up here.”

Bill is just such a maniac. I love him so much. I wanna say I can’t believe that killing the devil dril tweet was serious but I can. It’s Bill.

Bill and Fabian having a casual convo in HELL.

Oh my God, Fabian’s mom stabbed Bill’s eye out and he proposed on the spot. No wonder Fabian is so into Aelwen. It’s in his DNA.

What a dope ship.

I can’t believe Emily tricked me into thinking that her end speech wasn’t in service to some nonsense. She held it together for so long but I should have known bc it’s EMILY.

“Young lady, I have no idea who that is and I’m telling you right now yes. I will make whoever that person is vice principal.”

Adaine: Uhhhh….we should find Zayn.

Aww, Zayn’s parents were also terrible elves.

Unwanted Wingwoman Kristen Applebees

lol at Adaine casting Ray of Sickness on everyone suggesting she date ghost Zayne. Great callbacks to the early eps all around.

Don’t @ me, but Adaine w/ a ghost boyfriend who also had terrible elf parents might be kinda sick.

“Tomorrow, we’re gonna start training you on how to actually swordfight.” Uhhh, I kinda love Fabian’s mom now?

She literally hasn’t been sober in 15 years. Icon.

“I didn’t know you spoke Tornado.”

Siobhan’s late season tendency to just flip things/people off is hilarious.

Wild that Adaine’s parents just legit DITCHED her that hard and she was like, f ‘em. Clean break.

“She’s helping me spread something.”

Gorgug has so many friends now!!!!!

Lol, Fabian’s whole journey has just been about becoming captain of the Owlbears.

Riz got his PI License.

Lou and Fabian immediately being so mad at the idea of his mom (Hallariel?) getting with Gilear. Emily/Fig having an equal but opposite reaction.

“Mama, I will kill this man.”/“I’ll kill you first, it’s not up to you.”

Sandra-Lynn gets with Jawbone. Did Brennan just roll to pair up everyone?

Also, the group is almost all related or quasi-related now. Gorthalax got with Sklonda which makes Fig and Riz sorta siblings. Gilear got with Hallariel making Fig and Fabian sorta siblings. Jawbone sorta adopted Adaine and he got with Sandra-Lynn, again making Adaine kinda siblings with Fig. Plus Fig claimed Gorgug as a sibling a lot of eps ago and if Kristen sticks with Tracker then she’ll marry into this mess. Crazy!

Fabian totally dipping on the sequel hook because he’s gonna be busy trying to break Aelwen out of jail.

I’ve been keeping up with the fanart but there was some in here I hadn’t seen and it was super dope!

I’m so glad we had the after epilogue-epilogue. It was a very nice send-off.

Adaine using her oracle authority to get Zayn back into school! She’s so good.

Lol and she helped Basrar so he can grant other wishes. I love that this is the NPC that she decided she was going all in for.

Riz and Adaine join AV club! Idk why I love that detail.

Riz cutting off Adaine’s very good question about her jacket w/ his PI talk.

“They’re our rivals.”/“Into it.”

“Is ‘The Ball’ not your real name?” I love Fabian so much.

Zac doing Gorgug’s excited crack-y teenage voice when he’s just concentrating on that and not playing the game is so adorable. He’s just so sweet and enthusiastic and a good kid.

“Guess that tin flower worked, huh?” I cry.

I love that Gorgug’s happy ending is basically just that he has friends now. And that’s literally all he wanted starting out.

“FIG! GO TO BARD CLASS!”

Aww, Ragh and Gorgug are friends now.

I knew it! I at some point pitched the idea of Ragh ending up with one of the AV guys so he would be w/ someone who had enough intelligence to keep him from dying and I’m 90% sure it’s somewhere on my blog but I can’t be bothered to find it right now. But anyway, he’s in the lgbt club w/ Ragh and Kristen so it’s def a possibility!

“My bitch sister? Don’t you fucking dare.” (lol, if that happens then the group will be even more related)

Fabian considering recruiting the Cubbys for his rescue attempt of Aelwen.

“Gilear!” I love that Fig loves Gilear now but still calls him by his first name.

And that was Fantasy High!

I have at least two more posts in the hopper: And epilogue retrospective type deal and also the official JQ37 ranking of all the adults in Fantasy High.

Thanks for sticking with me this far you guys. I can’t draw to save my life and I don’t really do fic so this is the one little way I can contribute to this thing I love so much.

It’s been real and I’ll see you all soon for an epilogue because, no surprise, I have more things to say.

#fantasy high #asks #anon #Anonymous

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creativitytoexplore · 4 years

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Announcing the 2020 Winners of the Insider Prize https://ift.tt/2DNkREu

For the last three years, American Short Fiction has sponsored a contest for incarcerated writers in Texas. A group of writers at the Connally Unit, in Kenedy, Texas, came up with the name: The Insider Prize. Each year we get dozens of essays and short stories from men and women in prisons and jails across the state, some handwritten and others produced on typewriters. They tell stories about their lives before prison, about the conditions inside, and about the many places their imaginations take them.

This year’s award is marked, like so much in our world these days, by tragedy.

Back in April, as we prepared to share the good news with the winners and finalists, we learned that finalist Timothy Bazrowx had died at a prison hospital after testing positive for COVID-19. He was 63. As the virus continues to rip through shockingly ill-prepared prisons and jails, the men and women inside remain especially vulnerable. Bazrowx knew this—he wrote to one correspondent that in prison, “sickness runs like a crazy horse through a flower bed.”

Through three books and countless shorter pieces, Bazrowx had cultivated an incisive, vivid, and frequently hilarious style, which he didn’t abandon even as his home became a deathtrap. As the virus spread in his prison, officers threatened to punish his peers for going shirtless in a common area. “The world is dying and these bastards want us to be fully dressed to see it happen,” he wrote. “Geewiz.”

It is with his unique spirit, of smiling while speaking truth to power, of finding joy in the face of horrors both natural and manmade, that we present this year’s winners, along with Bazrowx’s own submission.

The winners were selected by guest judge Justin Torres, whose award-winning 2011 novel We the Animalshas proven popular among writers behind bars.

In the fiction category, Torres selected “That Place on Daniel Island” by F.R. Martinez. Martinez also won in the fiction category last year, when Joyce Carol Oates selected his story “Mother’s Son.” This new piece is told entirely in dialogue, and Torres wrote that it “feels so alive, to not just the syntax and rhythms of everyday speech, but also to the very need for dialogue itself. Talking is a way to both dig up trouble, and put it to rest. The two characters are talking from two very different sides of a shared experiences—marriage, incarceration—and the effect is quite moving.”

In the memoir category, Torres selected “The Promise” by Steven Perez. “What I loved most about this piece,” Torres wrote, is “that the story moves beyond the narrative of the gruesome attack that serves as the inciting incident to raise important questions about witnessing, responsibility, codes of conduct, failed guardianship—all the systemic issues that foster and allow for prison violence. It is tremendously well written.”

The memoir runner-up this year was “My Time Paradox,” by Jacob Jills, which Torres called a “real achievement in prose style” that “provoked an eerie claustrophobic feeling while reading.” The fiction runner-up this year was “Classic Rock,” by John Rodgers, which Torres called “troubling, funny, and hazed with a kind of dreamlike nostalgia.”

We hope you enjoy this year’s winners.

—Maurice Chammah & Emily Chammah

So I said to her ‘Let’s go to that place over on Daniel Island where we used to go.’ And she said ‘What place?’ I said ‘You know, that place that was kinda like a beach bar or something.’ ‘Beach bar? I don’t know what you’re talking about. You mean the bagel place? The one that had the everything bagels?’ ‘No, no. Well— is that still there? We used to go there.’ ‘They only open for breakfast and lunch. Not dinner.’ So I said ‘I mean that place that had the jukebox with that Billy Joel song we like.’ ‘Juke box?’ ‘And there was a bar in the front, even though it was always half empty. They had good burgers.’ ‘You don’t mean the hotel? The restaurant in the hotel where we went with Nick and his wife before they broke up?’ ‘Damn. That must be like twenty years ago. No. Is that still there? I don’t even remember how to get there.’

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‘Well, I’ll drive.’ ‘I sure would like to go to the other place though. I used to think of it when I was down for some reason.’ ‘Really. Were the burgers THAT good?’ ‘No. I mean they were good but—I don’t know I just liked the place because it was so laid back, so peaceful, so—Charleston. I mean, I know there was no beach there on Daniel Island, but when I remembered that place it felt like there shoulda been one nearby, like right down the road or something. It’s hard to explain, but when you’re locked up a place like that just seems like heaven, you know? To be away from everything. . . ’ ‘There’s that other place on Daniel Island over there by where we used to live.’ ‘That’s right. I forgot we lived on the island for a few months when they were building our house.’ ‘Over there in the mall, where the Ross was,’ she said. ‘Yeah,�� I said. ‘That’s gone now. It’s been gone for like–I don’t know—ten years?’ ‘Ten years—’ ‘You were gone a long time.’ ‘Yeah. I barely recognized that part over there when we come into our neighborhood off the highway. That used to be a Piggly Wiggly over there.’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘What happened to the Blimpie’s?’ ‘That’s gone. Been gone.’ ‘I was down a long time, but I bet that place on Daniel Island is still there. Maybe with a different name and a different owner.’ ‘Maybe. But don’t have to go there. There’s lots of new places. There’s one by Folly Beach. I’ve gone there with Tina and Rosemary.’ ‘Rosemary?’ ‘Yeah. She used to work with me at Bosch, remember? She retired before I did.’ ‘I didn’t think you were friends with people from Bosch, I mean except for Dennis.’ ‘Dennis died two or three years ago. I don’t remember exactly when. You know how memory is. I didn’t go to the funeral. It was too sad.’ ‘I remember you told me he died. . . on the phone.’ ‘You’ve been gone a long time, baby.’ ‘I feel like Rip Van Winkle. I used to hear people in prison talk about their lives outside. I’m talking about people with fifteen and twenty year sentences. They had a long way to go, and they’d just started. I used to wanna say to them: listen, forget that life, man. It’s over. But I did it too, talked about my life, you know, with you and the kids here. But that was at first. After a couple of years, I stopped that. I didn’t talk to anybody. What for? People left. Or they got transferred to other prisons. Or they died. What was the use of trying to make friends, to get close to anybody.’ ‘You used to talk to me on the phone about your ‘friends.’’ ‘That was nothing. Just people I met. People to hang out and bullshit with, people to bitch about the conditions and whatever was going on. There’s no real friendship in there. The place is like a bus station, or an airport. Anyway, it’s illegal to contact other ‘felons.’’ ‘Is that what you are now? A felon?’ ‘No. I’m still me. I’m still the same guy you married.’ ‘No. You’ve changed.’ ‘You’ve changed, too. I mean, c’mon, thirteen years. I swear. I thought I was gonna die in there. I had one celli who was a psycho, another one was a drug addict, another one almost killed me with B.O. Another was a pest, always begging for attention, bugging me with his problems. And then you had that stroke. I thought you were gonna die. The kids wouldn’t answer their phones.’ ‘I know. That must’ve been terrible.’ ‘More terrible than you think. I thought I’d have nobody left when I got out, you know? And then I used to think you didn’t forgive me—for what I did.’ ‘I was angry. I still am. You fucked up our lives.’ ‘I think you need to put some of the blame for that on the wonderful government.’ ‘No. I put it on you. What you did was wrong.’ ‘Not thirteen years worth of wrong! For God’s sake! I didn’t kill anybody!’ ‘You should have known better.’ ‘How could I? It’s not like they tell people what kind of sentences they’re giving out.’ ‘You should’ve known. Somebody smart like you should’ve known. What you were doing. . . didn’t you ever think there were consequences?’ ‘Okay. Right. Whatever. I just felt like all of you just let me rot in there. That if I died no one would care. I mean sometimes it was months before I heard from any of you.’ ‘You think it was easy for us? Paying the bills, keeping things running, ignoring all the people that kept telling me I should divorce you, that you were no good. It was no picnic, all right?’ So I said to her ‘Okay. Well. . . can we go to that place on Daniel Island? It was nice there. I remember we used to drink Coronas under one of the umbrellas in the tables on the patio.’ She was quiet for a minute, and then she said ‘Oh! THAT place. The one with the patio furniture outside.’ ‘Yeah! That’s it!’ ‘It closed down. About six years ago.’

—

Cuban-born writer and composer F.R. Martinezimmigrated to the U.S. as a result of the Cuban Revolution. He grew up in Miami then moved to New York City to attend the Juilliard School where he studied with David Diamond and graduated with a Bachelor’s degree. He went on to compose music for film, television, radio, and theater. He is the recipient of two Emmys (in conjunction with the writing team at Children’s Television Workshop, currently Sesame Workshop), and a Grammy for the Sesame Street album Elmopalooza in 1998, on which his song “Mambo I, I, I” is performed by Gloria Estefan. He worked with several other notables such as Cindy Lauper, Celia Cruz, Tito Puente, Trini Lopez, and various Latino music stars of the late twentieth century. In 1998, along with writer Luis Santeiro, he was the recipient of the Richard Rodgers Award offered by the American Academy of Arts and Letters, for the musical Barrio Babies. He worked for Disney on the show “Handy Manny” as a composer, completing background music and songs for 100 shows. “Handy Manny” was also nominated for an Emmy in 2009. With the Charleston Symphony Orchestra he worked on various projects including one for Darius Rucker of Hootie and the Blowfish fame. He’s been creating poetry and fiction since the age of twelve and has only returned to a more serious involvement with writing in recent years. In 2016, his poem “300 Min” received an Honorable Mention from PEN America. In the past five years, he has completed over a hundred poems and five novels as well as a number of short stories. He is looking to publish more fiction and poetry and would be grateful for sample copies of literary journals and submission guidelines. For his mailing address please contact insiderprize[at]americanshortfiction.org.

Two days ago, ATX, a five-foot-two pallid hispanic prisoner on our cell block in his mid- to late-twenties, got his throat slit with a razor from ear to ear. I was at the law library when it happened. I came back, and the officers were locking us all up in our cells while three prisoner janitors mopped blood off the floor. The bright sun and the smell of fresh air seemed miles behind me.

ATX had had a fistfight in the dayroom with Bubba, a fifty-sevenish bald-headed five-foot-seven clean shaven black man with another thirty years in prison, before I left to the law library. I caught the end of that fight when I came back to the cell block after lunch.

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Seeing Bubba exchange punches with ATX puzzled me because since I had moved in to the cell block two weeks before, Bubba had been polite, helpful, and respectable. He would life coach some of the men on the cell block. He was also an expert tailor. He had recently hemmed up my visitation pants. And I had been helping him identify some legal problems he had with his conviction. He complained about misidentification. I had written down some case citations for him so he could look into them.

ATX had only been on the cell block for about four days, but he too had been laid back and respectable. He and Bobby, who lived two cells down from ATX, had been exchanging ideas about God and the Bible.

The hispanic and black gang members in the dayroom (Tango Blast, Bloods, and Crips) were unsettled. There’s an unwritten G-Code on this building that the youngsters do not fight with older prisoners. ATX was violating that code. Bubba and ATX had had some kind of falling out in line in the chow hall. Bubba had accidentally bumped into ATX. ATX said, “You must think I’m some kinda ho!”

Bubba’s from the old school. He spent years in lockup for killing one of his cell mates. He couldn’t overlook ATX’s hostility.

ATX said, “If you fucked up about it, we can get under the TV and get that.” So they fought under the TV, and ATX got a good hit in and busted Bubba’s lip. After the fight, ATX kept bringing the issue up to other men on the cell block out loud. In doing so, he kept the fire burning. For the next three hours, Bubba told the men he wanted to cut ATX.

Those men tried over and over to talk Bubba out of it. Bubba wouldn’t listen. His mind was set. To make matters worse, with Bubba’s old school penitentiary mentality comes the idea that once you say you’re gonna do something , it’s like making a promise. And you gotta follow through with it. You gotta keep your word. Even if it doesn’t make any sense. Even on some shit like this. Never mind the fact that Bubba’s sister was talking to him about hiring a parole lawyer for him. That’s the old school penitentiary mentality. That’s what this system does to you.

Twenty years in prison is enough for a man to learn his lesson. Anything after that pushes you to the limit. The point of no return. If you’re not strong enough mentally, physically, and emotionally, the system turns you into a fully programmed machine. Bubba had reached that point.

These days, no one expects you to keep that kind of promise. Instead, they try to talk you out of it. The younger generation of experienced prisoners have to counsel the older, more experienced, more traumatized lifers. We have to carry the burden of trying to talk these men out of keeping those kinds of promises.

My neighbor Rudy was sitting next to ATX on the bench. Rudy told ATX, “Watch out because that old school’s gonna try to shank you.” ATX didn’t listen. He fell asleep on the bench while sitting down in front of the TV in the dayroom. Bubba snuck up behind ATX and slit his throat ear to ear.

ATX stood up and started walking around the dayroom talking shit. “I’m ready to die in here!” Blood leaked out of his neck and soaked into his white T-shirt. The gash on his Adam’s apple was wide enough and deep enough to stick the tip of your pinky into all the way past your pinky nail. “Somebody give me a blade!” No one did.

Yesterday, after Rudy and I finished working out, we got into a conversation under the stairs of the cell block about what happened. Me, Rudy, and Bobby. Rudy stands six-foot-one. He’s lanky, but physically fit. A hispanic thug out of San Antonio who recently told me that he used to inject into his veins a half an ounce of meth every day before he came to prison. He’s thirty years old. He has the San Antonio Spur emblem in the middle of his chest with Aztec Indian art all over the rest of his upper back. He will discharge a four-year sentence in eight months, and he complains that his lawyer fucked him over. His modus operandi is car theft rings.

Bobby is a five-foot-three white boy in his early forties with the body of a middleweight weight lifter. He’s got fifteen years in on a ninety-nine-year sentence for bank robbery. His brother-in-law testified against him at his trial. He’s a recent revert to Christianity and a recovering alcoholic with salt and pepper hair. His sister and two of his nieces were shot and killed in the mass church shooting at the baptist church in Sutherland Springs, Texas, in 2017. His nephew was shot five times and lived. Another niece looked into the eyes of the killer and lived without a single gunshot wound. He told me yesterday that when his sister and the kids got shot, his sister covered his nieces with her body to protect them. He said, “She tried to cover their mouths so they wouldn’t make any noise. My sister was bigger than me. She wasn’t huge, but she was big boned.”

Me, I’m forty-one years old. Chicano brown skin. Thirteen years in on a sixty-year sentence with a murder conviction under the law of parties.

Rudy was sitting on the bottom flight of the stairs. He said he saw Bubba coming. He got up from the bench and shied away. He said, “I got up and left.” He cracked a slight smile. He had a shadow of guilt in his eyes. He looked at me and shrugged his shoulders.

Bobby’s lips took the shape of a seagull in the distant sky back home in Corpus Christi, at the beach on North Padre Island. I saw parentheses at each end of his lips. His eyelids formed a straight line and almost halfway shut. His eyebrows curved up toward each other. He looked at Rudy with disappointment. Bobby said, ‘How would you like it if I got up and left you there to get your throat slit?”

Rudy said, “I told him to watch out. And what did he do? He went to sleep. Shit, Old School could’ve cut me! If I’d have got in, it would’ve started all kinds of shit. He shouldn’t have been fighting with that old school. And he should’ve listened to me when I warned him.”

I said, “He should’ve stayed in the cell. He was already in there. He shouldn’t have come back out.”

Bobby said, “I thought about trying to make peace between them. We all ate on the same table at chow. But Bubba was already with that mindset. He probably would have come after me. You saw the way he got after his own people for trying to get involved. I could’ve said something or tried to do something to prevent it.” He told us that Bubba had big-faced ATX in the chow hall. He concluded that he and Rudy had cowered by not intervening.

Unsure of what to say, I took a deep breath and rubbed my head. I looked down at my brown skin; at my threadbare tennis shoes; at the snake and dragon wrapped around my leg that I paid a thousand dollars for twenty years ago during the cocaine-dealing chapter of my life, at Axis Tattoo shop, in downtown Corpus Christi across from the Greyhound bus station, before U.S. District Judge Janice Graham Jack sent me to federal prison, where I lost my wife Iris to cocaine, meth, Xanax, and other men. I can still hear her in 2001, eighteen years ago, behind limo tint, singing to me in the passenger seat of the red Grand Am I bought her while I drove through palm trees past the million-dollar mansions on Ocean Drive on the way to our house with the sparkling salt water bay to our left. Serenity, our then one-year-old baby girl, our pageant prize and trophy winner, sat in the middle of the back seat in her car sucking on the nipple of an empty Enfamil bottle. I can still see Serenity’s long eyelashes curling up and her black button eyes, blinking. I can feel Iris’s smooth milky skin at my fingertips; her long reddish brown hair in between my fingers. I can still hear her sober million-dollar voice in my head. The only woman who’s ever called me handsome. “How will I live without you?” The song from Con Air. Her voice echoes in my memories. I remember thinking, My life is complete.

Bobby said, “We’re supposed to stop things like that from happening.”

Rudy said, “Fuck that!”

I said, “We gotta be prudent in what we do. It’s like being in a war. We gotta get out of here alive.”

Later on, I reflected on the conversation. I thought, It’s like a war in many respects. But not all. ATX was not a fellow soldier. We didn’t even know him. And he violated too many prison principles. But does that make him less human? Does that make him deserving of death? We gotta make sure that we get out of here alive. That’s a duty we owe our families and ourselves. If you were there, what would you have done? And don’t tell me you’d have told the officers. You don’t do that in prison. If you do, then you might be the one getting your throat slit. Besides, the officers want us to kill each other. Not all of them are like that, but it always seems like the worst ones are around at the worst times. They won’t do anything for us until the deed is done. Then they’ll throw it in our faces as if we proved them right.

Weeks later while I sat in my cell thinking about how to end this story, I thought about promises. How promises are so easily broken. I remembered being in federal prison and promising myself that I’d never come back to prison. I was released. Yet here I sit. I write. Some promises you just don’t keep.

—

Steven Reynaldo Perezwas born in Corpus Christi, Texas, on July 5, 1978. He is a member of the Pen City Writers inside team at the John B. Connally state prison in Kenedy, Texas, which was established and is led and taught by author Deb Olin Unferth of the University of Texas at Austin. Steven is a self-taught paralegal; a staunch prisoner advocate against unlawful convictions and sentences and mass incarceration; and an avid defender of prisoner rights. In 2019, he earned a creative writing fellowship from the U.T. Austin English Department. He is in his 14th year of a 60-year sentence.

Back in the age of the dinosaurs, which most consider around 1964:

My family and I lived in a small town called China, Texas. We had a huge rice farm/ranch operation with an average cattle count of fifteen-hundred head. We also had our cow horses (around twenty) and two Shetland ponies.

I was, at the time, around eight years old. My brother was eleven months younger than myself.

In my family, there were six kids, and at this time of year, in the dog-days of summer, us kids were not in school and pretty much had to make our own adventures manifest.

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Mom had a new baby, another girl, and now there were four of them, with just the two boys, so the girls pretty much stayed in the house playing with Barbie dolls that had broken knees, for I couldn’t figure out how they worked. So, to make a long story short, my brother and I were pretty much exiled to the outside of the house to keep the peace. Besides, mom breast-fed, and we certainly didn’t want to see that; it was better this way because we got to play with our many dogs, and we killed water moccasins, which were in abundance because of the small rice field we had by the house. So my brother and I were guards of the ole homestead, terrors incarnate in the bodies of two rambunctious small boys.n other words, we were normal, mischievously under-supervised little boys doing what we considered fun.

My stepfather worked the big fields, and we had some chores that took place mainly if we were being watched closely, or if it had to do with our horses. We liked our horses.

We liked going out into the next pasture. Our house was surrounded on three sides with pastures, and rice fields.

The horses, or most of them, liked it when we went there. A couple of them always got special treatment. Blaze was my regular riding horse. A standard quarter horse mare with a white face and white socks, roan in color, a lustrous red, she knew that when she saw me, she was in for a good curry-combin’ and brushing, along with the sugar cubes that we gave those horses that would come to us.

Most were on to us. We went in the pasture with an empty bucket making them think we had sweet oats for them. When they got fooled a few times, only the sugar-addicted horses would stay for their rewards of sugar cubes, and yes, sweet oats, for my brother and I liked playing tricks on the horses. We only wanted to curry-comb the horses that liked us.

Of course, we made sure the water trough was filled. Playing with water in the hot summer days was fine with us, and when we got wet, who cared? That was our job.

Now the bigger horses were fun to mess with, but it was rare that we could saddle or ride one of the cow ponies without the help of our stepfather. Even though we rode them a lot, they weren’t kid horses, and when the saddles came out, it was work time for them, and they knew this. We did ride bareback at times, but this story isn’t about that.

We had two Shetland ponies, which this story is about, for they were the kid horses. They were for the girls, but we rode them more than anyone.

SugarBee was one of the most genial of creatures, and very tolerant of us. We liked her, she never tried to bite us. She liked sugar cubes, and to be combed as well as saddled and rode.

I don’t know where she came from, but she was such a sweetheart that even with two miscreants around her, her disposition rubbed off on us, and we always gave her special attention.

Frisky, though, was another matter. Frisky was an un-castrated cattle stud with a painted hide. He could have almost been an Indian Pony had his legs been longer. What he didn’t have in height, he had in malignity.

He would bite, he would kick, and step on feet with sharp little hooves as well as buck you off. . .if you could get on him that is. He was won by our neighbor during a raffle at a Catholic church fundraiser. When our neighbor came over to our place and just gave this critter to us to be rid of it, we knew that there had to be a good reason. I had to ear-hustle his conversation with my stepfather.

The neighbor was explaining how mean this pony was. He was also telling him that this horse didn’t like the sulky wagon, which basically is a seat with two wheels in it. You see harness racing with these wagons.

It seems Frisky waited for our neighbor to hook up this wagon, then, after he got in, the pony went into “stupid-gear” when the reins were snapped over his back. Frisky went to kicking, and bucking as well as snapping like a mad Chihuahua, then kicking the buggy until the neighbor fell off. The pony then kicked the light-weight wagon over his head, then backed out of the harness. He ran down old Highway 90, causing a cussing, winded foot race with the neighbor. Frisky now became ours, and with rascally glee I ran to tell my brother the good news.

Time would go on, and the summer dragged on. We had got Frisky in the spring, and got him used to us. I even rode him bareback, and was bit a couple of times, as well as had my toe stepped on, but he would come to us readily enough.

We kept these horses in the small field with the horse barn that had hundreds of mesquite and Chinaberry trees — which by the way, is where China, Texas gets its name.

One morning before it got too hot, my brother and I, like each day during the summer, were off and running full tilt into our shenanigans.

Being met at our front door by our mismatched pack of dogs (somewhere around fifteen of them) we headed off to the horse field.

Dogs were running all around, chasing rabbits, and finding snakes and killing them. My brother and I were just accepted members of the pack.

We went into the horse pasture, grabbed the bucket, and were able to get SugarBee to us, then Blaze, but the others weren’t falling for these two human pups’ tricks. It made us no difference, because we were just out and about trying to stay away from the stupid girls that always wanted to dress us up in dresses. No sir, we was off and running because both my brother and I knew to get caught by that female horde might mean my other ear was getting a needle driven through it. It was safer out with the snakes, nutria rats, gators, horses, and such.

When we had finished messing with SugarBee and Blaze, we saw Frisky wandering slowly toward us. I had a couple of sugar cubes left, so when he got to us we were able to comb him, which he liked, and he smelled the sweet oak bucket, but we hadn’t gotten that far yet.

Now horses aren’t known for their proper etiquette, so while we were treating this mean little fart with kindness, he of all things decided to pee on us. He just flowed the ole whiz-wand out and peed like a racehorse on us, causing it to splash all over both my and my brother’s feet and legs.

“Oh no you didn’t!”

Yes he did, and now my brother and I backed away from the flash flood this guy caused.

Oh yeah, the horns came out on both my brother’s and my head. In fields like this what we called crawdad holes were everywhere. Small towers of hard mud-balls that crayfish have erected were everywhere, and ready ammo for two pissed off, and pissed on, boys.

We, of course, started throwing these things at the pony. I know it was wrong, but being seven and eight years old in 1964, we didn’t care, for retribution was at hand.

The pony must have held all that water through the night just for us. He continued on while we threw small clods of mud at him surely aiming for the offending member.

What we didn’t see was that menacing look and evil, what looked like a smile I later remember seeing; which, come to think of it, looked more like a snarl.

With his ears laying back now, as we got closer to throw these mud clods, that little fart’s back feet started flying up. He kicked me in the arm, throwing me to the ground.

My brother was close to a barbed wire fence, and he got kicked over and over as he went under the fence. I jumped up, and found an old rotten stick, then whacked him, breaking the stick. He then started chasing me with blood in his eyes, kicking and snapping at my butt with those sharp horse teeth while I tried to find a faster gear to get in.

My brother chased after the horse, or Shetland pony, which is what he was. He grabbed the tail, getting another kick in the leg, while the horse spun around, I yelled for my brother to climb a Chinaberry tree that was close by. I also headed for our ethereal heaven.

This heathenish fiend saw both my brother and I was out of reach now, so he started cropping grass under the tree. My brother and I could just look at each other and laugh.

Oh no, it wasn’t over though. Each time the horse edged away, we would try to sneak down the tree, and Frisky would lay his ears back, then start bucking, and running back and forth under the tree, thus keeping us stranded up that Chinaberry tree for at least two hours, until he finally wandered away. We got down and ran out of the pasture. I wanted to get even with him for doing that to us, but he had got our attention.

We never threw dirt clods at him again, and we seemed to have some deep rooted respect for each other. I would ride him, and he would bite me, or step on my foot, and I’d push him off, limp a little, then get on. I kept a small switch handy.

We would leave a year or so later because Mom was looking for another life. She took us with her, but I’ll never forget when that wild pony ruled the day.

—

Timothy Bazrowx grew up in China, Texas, and his writing about life in prison and out was published by The Marshall Project, Prisons Foundation, and Uncaptive Voices. In April 2020, he died due to complications from COVID-19.

About the Organizers & this Year’s Judge

Emily Chammah and Maurice Chammah are assistant editors at American Short Fiction and co-direct the Insider Prize. Emily is a Fulbright Fellow, and the winner of the PEN/Robert J. Dau Short Story Prize for Emerging Writers. Her fiction can be found in The Common. Maurice is a staff writer at The Marshall Project, where he reports on the U.S. criminal justice system. His first book, Let the Lord Sort Them: The Rise and Fall of the Death Penalty will be published by Crown Books in January.

Justin Torres has published short fiction in The New Yorker, Harper’s, Granta, Tin House, The Washington Post, Glimmer Train, Flaunt, and other publications, as well as non-fiction pieces in publications like The Guardian and The Advocate. A graduate of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, Justin’s novel We the Animals has been translated into fifteen languages and was recently adapted into a film. It premiered at the Sundance Film Festival and was nominated for five Independent Spirit Awards. He was a Wallace Stegner Fellow at Stanford University, a fellow at the Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Study at Harvard, and a Cullman Center Fellow at the New York Public Library. The National Book Foundation named him one of the 2012’s 5 under 35. He was the recipient of a grant from the National Endowment of the Arts, a Rolón Fellowship in Literature from United States Artists, and the VCU Cabell First Novelist Award. He lives in Los Angeles, where he is an Assistant Professor of English at UCLA.

#American Short Fiction

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thumper-darling · 7 years

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Will you send 65 questions my way?

1. Do you ever doubt the existence of others than you?

Oh my gOD YES. What if there is no life apart from my own and every person I come into contact with is just a highly thought out illusion in my head and nothing is real?

2. On a scale of 1-5, how afraid of the dark are you?

2. It definitely depends on where I am when it is dark? Like, I’m not going to be scared when it’s dark in my bedroom because I’m comfortable there, but I’m gonna be heckin terrified of the dark if I’m in the woods? You feel me?

3. The person you would never want to meet?

Ronald J. Stump

4. What is your favorite word?

Cluster or Truffle

5. If you were a type of tree, what would you be?

Birch tree binch

6. When you looked in the mirror this morning what was the first thing you thought?

“Wow, I really let myself go” :’)

But no, I thought about how I have mascara rings under my eyes but haven’t worn mascara in 2 days and I have for sure showered since then so why in the frickin heck do I have mascara marks under my eyes?

7. What shirt are you wearing?

An old man’s sweater that I thrifted

8. What do you label yourself as?

Interesting? Adventurous? Quirky? I don’t know, what do you label me as?

9. Bright room or dark room?

Dim room

10. What were you doing at midnight last night?

Being bullied by @parkersenses

Nah, but I was actually having a deep conversation with my little step-sister about life and school advice.

11. Favorite age you’ve been so far?

12. Who told you they loved you last?

Lulu @doctormelapples

13. Your worst enemy?

McDonald J. Rump

14. What is your current desktop picture?

….

a racecar…

15. Do you like someone?

I really like my doggo

16. The last song you listened to?

Adolescent by Lostboycrow

17. You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up?

I could never hurt somebody, no way. like, how do you expect me to deal with that radical guilt. my conscience is way too pure for that.

18. Who would you really like to just punch in the face?

I would rather not punch people in the face? Does it count if I answer with who I would like to punch me in the face?

19. If anyone could be your servant for a day, who would it be and what would they have to do?

Um, I would want to have Harrison Osterfield be my “assistant” for a day. I would literally just have them hang out with me because I need friendship to thrive

20. What is your best physical attribute? (showing said attribute is optional)

My eyes? or my freckles, even if they are faint

21. If you were the opposite sex for one day, what would you look like and what would you do?

I don’t heckin know what I would look like. Like me but more testosterone? I would like to just live my everyday life, but observe the differences from male and female treatment that’s incorporated in our society.

22. Do you have a secret talent? If yes, what is it?

I can juggle really terribly

23. What is one unique thing you’re afraid of?

I’m not afraid of anything

the past coming back to haunt me

24. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your disposal.

Bagel for bread, jalapeno cream cheese, lettuce, tomato, smoked turkey, and havarti cheese

25. You just found $100! How are you going to spend it?

Either on a tattoo, or put it in my college savings. But probably on a tattoo because I have no financial security.

26. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere in the world, but you have to leave immediately. Where are you going to go?

Montreal Canada binch. Okay no, but probably like NYC or LA or something super stereotypical like that.

27. An angel appears out of Heaven and offers you a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. “Be brand-specific” it says. Man! What are you gonna say about that? Even if you don’t drink booze there’s something you can figure out… so what’s it gonna be?

Mike’s Hard Lemonade for decades. honestly, I love lemonade and those drinks are so heckin tasty.

28. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place?

You have a right to your own opinion, until it infringes on the basic human rights of others. Then ur fined and thrown in jail for being a rude ass disrespectful person thx.

29. What is your favorite expletive?

fuck

30. Your house is on fire, holy shit! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object. Don’t worry, your loved ones and pets have already made it out safely. So what’s the one thing you’re going to save from that blazing inferno?

My book “The Perks of Being A Wallflower”

31. You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?

The drama that went down with my family last summer and earlier this year

32. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-traveling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But check out this cool shit… you can move to anywhere else in the world!

Oooh, maybe London or Barcelona? Or Italy. OH ITALY WOULD BE WONDERFUL

33. The Celestial Gates Of Beyond have opened, much to your surprise because you didn’t think such a thing existed. Death appears. As it turns out, Death is actually a pretty cool entity, and happens to be in a fantastic mood. Death offers to return the friend/family-member/person/etc. of your choice to the living world. Who will you bring back?

There was a girl who got into a car accident a few weeks ago, I didn’t know her, but I do know that she was 18 and had just graduated Valedictorian of her class. She had a full ride to college, so I think I would bring her back.

34. What was your last dream about?

A hotel room

35. Are you a good….dancer?

THE ANSWER TO THAT IS YES

36. Have you ever been admitted to the hospital?

Ah yes

37. Have you ever built a snowman?

Not well

38. What is the color of your socks?

White.

39. What type of music do you like?

All of it idk

40. Do you prefer sunrises or sunsets?

sunrises

41. What is your favorite milkshake flavor?

Vanilla

42. What football team do you support? (I will answer in terms of American football as well as soccer)

I don’t know, Michigan State

43. Do you have any scars?

I have a few from accidents when I was younger. I’m a clumsy oof

44. What do you want to be when you graduate?

After I graduate college I’d like to be involved with writing somehow. I really want to work on films or work with manuscripts.

45. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

I’d like to be a more energized person

46. Are you reliable?

I like to think so

47. If you could ask your future self one question, what would it be?

Are you happy with your life?

48. Do you hold grudges?

I really try not to. I don’t like to hold on to hatred or anger.

49. If you could breed two animals together to defy the laws of nature, what new animal would you create?

A fox and a golden retriever? That’d be a fun mix

50. What is the most unusual conversation you’ve ever had?

I once had a conversation with someone about who had cooler socks? And kept sending pics to each other of our goofy sock collection. That was a strange one.

51. Are you a good liar?

God, I hope so

52. How long could you go without talking?

I once went 24 hours without talking, soooo

53. What has been your worst haircut/style?

I LET MY FRIENDS CUT MY HAIR THE SUMMER BEFORE MY SOPHOMORE YEAR AND I ENDED UP WITH A CHERRY RED ASYMMETRICAL BOB AND IT WAS WAY TOO SHORT FOR MY FACE SHAPE AND IT WAS AWFUL

54. Have you ever baked your own cake?

I cheated and did like an eggless cake or something like that?

55. Can you do any accents other than your own?

Hecking, no. Accents are not my strong suit

56. What do you like on your toast?

Peanut butter or butter with cinnamon sugar

57. What is the last thing you drew a picture of?

a little doodled heart probs

58. What would be you dream car?

Ford fiesta? Idk

59. Do you sing in the shower? Or do anything unusual in the shower? Explain.

I sing in the shower when nobody else is home. That’s about it.

60. Do you believe in aliens?

YES It is literally impossible that we are the only living and thriving society in the entire universe? Like?? The possibilities are endless.

61. Do you often read your horoscope?

Not always, but if it pops up on my dash I’ll look at it

62. What is your favorite letter of the alphabet?

S or T

63. Which is cooler: dinosaurs or dragons?

Dragons! Was that even a question

64. What do you think about babies?

I get nervous around babies. They’re such small, delicate humans and I feel too much responsibility being around babies.

65. Freebie! Ask anything interesting you can think of.

You didn’t ask anything, so I’ll just tell you about my day?? I had a college freshman event today and I met some pretty cool people and it has me less worried about starting college. I also think I’m gonna read and write a bit today, so I’m pretty excited about that. Also, my mom comes back from out of town in an hour or so and I can’t wait to see her.

#Get to know me #ask

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ylla · 7 years

Text

Friday Night Gurus - Chapter 3

Series: JJBA Ships: josuyasu, koichi/yukako (others will eventually happen too, but im tagging as i go) Tags: au where theyre famous, modern au, pining, recreational drug use (smoking that wacky tabaccy), some angst in this one lads Rating: M (eventually there will be sex, so that rating will keep climbing)

AO3 link

i have never not been ready to be murdered by my own two hands.

“Oh fuck,” Josuke moaned, white knuckling his kitchen counter as he was thrust into over and over again. Rough hands were gripping his hips hard enough to leave bruises, and by God, Josuke hoped they did. He had always been way too loud during anything remotely sexual, and right now was no exception. The right spot was hit, Josuke felt like electricity was passing through his body, “God, right there, I’m close—“

One of the hands on his hip reached up for his hair, pulling up him with a gentle, yet firm grip, causing him to arch his back against the person behind him.

A mouth pressed against his ear, breath hot and voice harsh, “Beg me.”

“Please, please, please let me cum, please—“

Josuke’s earlobe got caught between teeth, while the hand tugging on his hair moved to his dick, roughly jerking him off. He was seeing stars, his voice going up a few octaves as he neared the edge, “Fuckfuckfuckfuck.” Josuke’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, inhaling sharply as he started to orgasm, “Oh fuck, Oku—“

“PEOPLE’S ELBOOOOW.”

Josuke woke up to a sudden, crushing elbow to his gut, shrieking in a totally manly way. It was completely dark in his room, but he could make out the black outline of a hulking man rolling around on his bed, snorting like the piggy bitch he was. “Man, I wish I would have turned on the light so I could have seen your face,” the big asshole wheezed, his laugh almost coming out in a stereotypical French ‘honhonhon’.

“JEAN PIERRE POLNAREFF, I’M GONNA LITERALLY MURDER YOU,” Josuke roared, struggling to sit up to push Polnareff’s muscly ass off of him.

Polnareff cackled like a witch, jumping up before Josuke could start punching him, “Up and at them, Josuke. It’s time for our run. I’ll be waiting downstairs.”

After Polnareff retreated, Josuke flopped back down, heart still racing. Waiting for his heart rate to return to normal, he grabbed his phone to check the time. It was 6 o’clock in the godforsaken morning. He regretted many things. He regretted giving Polnareff a key to his house. He especially regretted the dream he woke up from and the puddle of cum that had pooled in his underwear.

He put his pillow over his face and screamed. What a fuckin’ mess.

Three hours later, at a much more acceptable time to be awake, Josuke found himself sleepily watching Pol sashay around his kitchen while making omelets. Polnareff was a nutritionist, gym owner, fitness model, and Josuke’s personal trainer. He’d met Polnareff when he was introduced to his father’s side of the family so many years ago; he had been Jotaro’s roommate in college, and Holly, Josuke’s sister, basically considered Pol to be a second son (much to Jotaro’s chagrin and Polnareff’s delight). So not only did Polnareff wake him up at an ungodly hour twice a week, he got to nag and annoy Josuke at all other times as well.

“I have to say, I’m surprised that I didn’t see your friend in there with you this morning. You two are together a lot.”

Polnareff was keeping his tone casual, but Josuke knew exactly where this was headed, “Me and Oku don’t hang out all the time—“

“Josuke, this is the first morning in almost three months that I have walked into your room to wake you up and didn’t see him,” Polnareff pointed a spatula at him, “Can’t argue with the facts.”

He couldn’t, and Josuke despised it.

Ever since the first night he came over, Okuyasu had kept his word about making sure Josuke wasn’t lonely. Between Arrowhead slowing down their activities between their last tour and recording their next album, and Josuke taking a yearlong vacation, they both found themselves with a lot of free time. So, Okuyasu was stayed the night at least three or four times a week. They got high, played videogames, watched stupid movies, took late night drives together, ate food that was terrible for them. Slept in the same bed, and basically cuddled every night they watched a movie together. You know, normal friend stuff.

People like Okuyasu were so rare in Josuke’s life. He never put him on a pedestal like Josuke was some untouchable god or free ticket to fame. He was so grateful to have a friend that saw past all of his fame and fortune, and saw him as he was: just Josuke. It was wonderful and so refreshing.

However, there was one caveat.

Josuke had found himself head over heels in love with Okuyasu, and had to physically restrain himself from making any moves onto his friend. The better he got to know him, the worse it became. He had a sharp ache in his chest whenever he thought about his feelings, and his brain shrieked KISS HIM KISS HIM KISS HIM anytime Oku’s face got remotely near his, or whenever Oku would look at him with a shy smile, or even when Okuyasu cried over something like shelter animals or sad movies. It was all so endearing and Josuke couldn’t get enough of him. For all his flirtations, and for all of the content in his songs that implied that Josuke was some kind of suave, smooth talker, he couldn’t bring himself to risk the first real friendship he’d had in years.

“So what? We hang out a lot, it’s not a big deal,” Josuke forced his voice to remain neutral, “Didn’t you use to bitch and moan at me about never hanging out with anyone besides you assholes, Jolyne, and Koichi?”

“Ignoring your hurtful words, yes I did complain,” Polnareff flipped both omelets onto separate plates; he placed on in front of Josuke and then sat across in the table from him, resting his chin on the top of his water bottle, “But that’s not my point.”

“Then what is?” Josuke arched an eyebrow at him, daring Polnareff to say what he was thinking.

Polnareff was quiet for a few moments before answering, “You should tell him that you’re in love with him.”

Of course Polnareff knew how Josuke felt. He had been the one who had barged in on Josuke lovingly pushing stray hairs out of Okuyasu’s face while he slept one morning. Josuke blurted out everything in a panic while they went for their run, begging him to not speak of it to anyone, especially Okuyasu.

“Absolutely not,” Josuke said flatly.

“You are fucking up, my friend, but it’s your decision,” Polnareff sat up straight and pointed at the omelet in front of him, “Eat that before it gets cold.”

The rest of the conversation was Polnareff talking about some kind of nonsense, Josuke was only paying half-attention because he was still really tired, hungry, and slightly irritated at the earlier conversation. Yeah, like it was so easy to tell your best friend that he was hot and you wanted to kiss him all over, and you were in love with him, haha, full homo bro—

Josuke was pulled out his thoughts to the sound of his text notification going off. His heart did some weird somersault when he saw that Okuyasu had texted him (Josuke finally got his number when Oku put it in his phone for him):

Oku: mornin dude :D

Oku: u doin anythin tonight?

Josuke: nah I aint got anything going on, why?

Oku: were playin a secret show at echoes bar tonight. u wanna come?

He wants me to come see him play, Josuke wheezed inwardly. He responded immediately:

Josuke: HELL YES I DO

Oku: :D hell yeah dude

Oku: i think yukako is gonna invite koichi too, so ill let hazamada kno that yall are gonna be there. he’ll have ur backstages passes ready.

Oku: also word to the wise, wear shorts and a tanktop. the bar gets super hot during shows. ull die in anything else

The rest of their texts were directions, Josuke saying he was excited, and an abundance of smiley face emotes from Okuyasu.

“Oi! Josuke! Stop ignoring me!”

“Oh shit, sorry dude,” Josuke had completely forgotten Polnareff was there, “Did you ask me something?”

Polnareff pouted, “You are so rude to me. I was asking you if you wanted to get dinner with me, Noriaki, and Jolyne tonight. Jotaro is still out in the field and Mo is doing some college thing, so it’ll just be the four of us.”

Josuke couldn’t stop himself from breaking out into a huge grin, “Sorry, I got plans tonight.”

The upside to having a signature look was that if Josuke had his hair down or in a ponytail, no one recognized him. So when he stood in the very back of Echoes with Koichi, trying to not get trampled by the massive crowd, no one bothered him.

Not that they would’ve anyways. What was happening on stage was infinitely more interesting.

The music was so loud, Josuke could feel it vibrate into his chest. His ears were starting to ring a little, but he didn’t care. Oku’s voice was amazing when he recorded in a studio, but listening to him live was almost like an out of body experience. His voice just crashed over him like the tide, and Josuke wanted it to sweep him out to sea.

Oku hadn’t been lying when he said the club got too hot; all four members of Arrowhead were various states of undress. Josuke could only see half of Yuuya, but he looked like he was naked behind his drum kit. Yukako had her hair up in a high ponytail, wearing ass eating shorts and a cutoff tank top. Keicho was shirtless and in shorts, hair down out of his normal…whatever he had going on there. Oku was dressed more or less the same, but the difference was Okuyasu was infinitely more attractive. Josuke could see the band of his boxer briefs peak up over the waist of his shorts, and licked his lips unconsciously.

Okuyasu was sweaty, loose hairs from his ponytail were falling his face, and looked like he was having a blast, giving all he had and then some. Josuke didn’t think it could’ve been possible, but he fell more in love with him as he watched. All he wanted was to find out what skin that stretched over his hip bones tasted like.

“Koichi, I’m gay.” Josuke moaned.

“What did you say? I can’t hear you,” Koichi called back.

“I said I’m gay!”

Koichi just gave him a very confused look, clearly not understanding what he was saying.

“I’M GAY!” Josuke hollered, grabbing Koichi by the shoulders and shaking him for emphasis.

“Agh! I get it, I get it! Stop!!!”

Yukako noticed them first. After they finished a song, and was in the process of swapping guitars out, Yukako grabbed Okuyasu by the bicep and whispered in his ear. He looked over to the corner Josuke and Koichi were in, and his face lit like the sun. He waved excitedly, which Josuke couldn’t help but wave back, matching his enthusiasm and smile. Okuyasu walked over to a short, sallow looking dude and pointed over towards them. A few minutes later, the roadie appeared beside them, “Here’s your passes, follow me.”

The backstage was kind of cramped, filled with at least a dozen good looking women. Josuke tried to stand away from them, half afraid of being recognized and half wanting to avoid hearing about which band members they wanted to fuck.

When the show ended, the groupies rushed at the bandmembers as they filed off stage. Yukako lips curled into a snarl and elbowed her way over to Koichi; when in front of him, the ice melted and she gave him a sweet smile before planting a kiss on his lips. Koichi froze momentarily before returning the smooch. Josuke had asked Koichi a few weeks ago what was up with him and Yukako. All he got in response was a shrug and a “We’re dating??”

Keicho and Yuuya were wrapped up in all the attention from the groupies, who were fawning over all over them (Yuuya wasn’t naked, and Josuke thanked his lucky stars he didn’t have to see Yuuya’s penis). Girls were too busy playing with Keicho’s hair and rubbing on Yuuya to notice that Okuyasu had quietly slipped in behind them. Good, Josuke sighed with relief, He’ll keep it lowkey.

Which he immediately ruined by shouting, “JOSUKE!” and pounding over to him, nearly knocking Josuke off of his feet with a hug, “YOU CAME!”

Okuyasu was too warm and sweaty, and if there was a god, he would prevent Okuyasu from feeling how hard Josuke was getting from feeling his bare chest press against him. Josuke returned the hug with ferocity, “Of course I did, I said I would.” He pulled back to look Okuyasu in the face, and also prevent his errant boner from rubbing up against him. “It were fantastic, I’m so blown away! You’re amazing, Okuyasu.” Josuke beamed at him, and the tears that filled Okuyasu’s eyes made his stomach flutter.

“You mean that?” he croaked.

“Yeah!”

“Pinky promise?”

Josuke hooked his pinky with Okuyasu’s, “Pinky promise.”

Okuyasu gave him a watery smile before hugging him again, “Thanks. That means a lot, coming from you,” Oku whispered against his shoulder.

If there wasn’t a million pairs of eyes on him, Josuke would have said ‘fuck it’ and kissed Okuyasu right then and there, but he was too chicken. “You’re welcome, Oku,” Josuke pulled away again, “Go shower and then we’ll get out of here.”

“Oh shit,” Okuyasu rubbed the back his neck, looking sheepish, “Sorry, I got like super sweaty and gross.”

Josuke gave him a friendly punch in the arm, “S’fine dude, I don’t care. I’m gonna go smoke, so just come outside when you’re done.” Okuyasu made an assenting noise before jogging off to go shower. Pointedly ignoring Yuuya’s waggling eyebrows and some indecipherable look from Keicho, Josuke swiveled on his heels and left.

It was late summer, but the air felt a 1000x times cooler than it did inside. Josuke had been enjoying his few minutes of peace and quiet while he sat the backdoor’s staircase when he heard someone walk out behind him. He almost greeted Okuyasu, but an unfamiliar voice spoke.

“Why are you here?”

That was not Okuyasu.

Josuke turned to find a still shirtless Keicho peering down at him, hair hanging in his face, unlit cigarette in his hand. “Oku invited me,” Josuke replied, not liking the look on Keicho’s face.

“Why?”

What fuckin’ kind of question is that?? “Because we’re friends? And I told him I wanted to see you guys perform sometime?”

Keicho lit his cigarette and took a drag, his eyes never leaving Josuke’s, “Why?”

Josuke was about .3 seconds away from losing his temper, “Why what?? What the fuck are you asking me, dude??”

“Why are you friends with him?”

It was a huge effort to not start shrieking into the night, “Because he’s a cool guy? And funny? And I enjoy his company? What fucking kind of question is that?” Josuke snubbed out his cigarette, drawing himself up to full height, “What exactly are you trying to say here?”

“Okuyasu doesn’t have friends, and I don’t trust you,” Keicho responded coldly, “I wanna know what you’re after.”

“I’m just after his friendship, you clown!” Josuke exclaimed, rapidly losing his patience, “Is that so fuckin’ hard to believe??”

Before Keicho could retort, the door banged open. “Keicho, you got girls here who wanna inflict terrible things upon your penis, you better get in here and give ‘em what they want,” Yuuya grinned, leaning against the door frame. Purple bruises marred his neck and Josuke could hear whining from behind him.

Without another word to Josuke, Keicho dropped his cigarette, ground it out with his heel, and shouldered past Yuuya. The door swung closed, and Josuke exploded, “What the fuck is his deal??”

Yuuya shrugged, “That’s just Keicho.”

Josuke pointed at Yuuya, “No, that’s just being a cock goblin. I’ve never done anything to that guy, why’s he being such a dickhead??”

“I’ve known Keicho and Okuyasu since I was about 12,” Yuuya started, “There’s a lot of reasons why they’re both the way they are. Good or bad, right or wrong.” He kicked an empty cigarette pack off of the stairs, “Keicho’s got this thing about controlling things and people,” Yuuya took a seat on the top step, “Oku being with you all the time prevents Keicho from having his brother under his thumb.”

“With the way Oku talks about him, it sounds like Keicho fuckin’ hates him.”

Yuuya shrugged again, “Keicho makes it a point to be an absolute bastard to Oku most of the time. Though, he did take a knife to the gut when Akira tried to stab Okuyasu, so that’s something.”

Josuke was thoroughly confused, “Why?”

“Obligation to their mom, I imagine. Keicho got really drunk once and told me that before she died, she made him promise that he would always look out for Okuyasu. So he does, in some way or another.” Yuuya sprung up to his feet, “I will say this, Josuke…it’s nice that Okuyasu’s got a friend not linked to his brother in one way or another. Good for him, ya? But,” He stared Josuke down, all friendliness gone, “I’m pretty perceptive on how you feel, so no need to try and deny it to me. It’s obvious to everyone save for Okuyasu himself and probably Keicho. So, this is a warning: Don’t hurt Oku, or I will find you and whoop your ass. We clear?”

I rather die than hurt him. “Crystal.”

Before either of them could say anything else, Okuyasu walked out of the backdoor with a bruised right cheek, bloody knuckles, and a nose dripping red, “Ready to bounce?”

“Dude, super fuck your brother.”

Okuyasu sat in Josuke’s kitchen while Josuke did his best to doctor him up. He waved a hand, “S’fine, we do this sometimes. He gets too mouthy and I gotta stand my ground,” Okuyasu hissed when Josuke sprayed antiseptic on his oozing knuckles.

“You still haven’t told me what he said.”

As he rarely did, Okuyasu evaded the question, “S’not important. What matters is that I shut ‘em up and he won’t be running that big, stupid mouth of his for a while.”

According to Oku, Keicho walked away from that scuffle with a split lip, black eyes, and probably bruises all over his chest. Not that would’ve deterred the groupies from trying to touch his dick anyways, Okuyasu had theorized on the way to Josuke’s house (Josuke had insisted on driving and went extra slow in fear that he would fuck up Oku’s baby), so Keicho couldn’t be too sore at him for long.

Instead of pushing the matter any further, Josuke took to wrapping Oku’s knuckles, “Tell me if I’m not doing this right.”

“Wrap it a little tighter, and you’ll be aces.”

After he finished, Josuke got up and took an ice gel pack out of his fridge. Thank God Polnareff had insisted he buy one a few months ago, “I’ve been in a fair amount of fights, but that’s the first time I’ve ever had to bandage someone else’s hands.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” Okuyasu flexed his fingers, pleased with how the bandages felt, “You did good kid, I used to wrap ‘em up like this when I did bare knuckle boxing matches.”

Josuke walked back over to him, cold compress wrapped in a dishtowel, “You used to box?”

Okuyasu winced as Josuke pressed it to his right cheek, “Yeah, I did underground fights for money. Helped rent out the studio when we recorded our first demo.”

“That’s unsurprising,” Josuke sat on the edge of his table so he could hold the pack to Oku’s face without getting too tired, “You still box?”

“Nah, not really. When I hit the gym, I just beat on the punching bag instead. Keicho’s good practice too,” he snorted. Josuke rolled his eyes; Okuyasu yawned and then gave him a lazy smile, “Josuke, why am I so sleepy right now?”

Josuke peered down at him, eyebrows raised, “Oh, I don’t know. Could it have been the fact that you just played a show in a cramped, hot bar, and then got into a fist fight with your older brother?”

“You may be onto something, boss.” Okuyasu exhaled, closing his eyes and pressing his face slightly into the cold pack. After a few minutes of quiet, he spoke softly, “I know I said this earlier, but m’really glad you came tonight…meant a lot to me…I ain’t never had a friend who actually cared enough to come to a show jus’ for me.” Okuyasu raised his bandaged right hand and placed it over the hand that held the compress to his face, rubbing circles into the skin, “Thanks.”

Josuke does the stupidest thing he has ever done in his entire 24 years of living: he leans over and kisses Okuyasu right on the mouth.

It feels like time stopped before Josuke pulls away. Okuyasu’s eyes are wide open, face glowing red like he has a sunburn. He stands up, startled, “I—I gotta go, I-“ he’s tripping over himself, the chair, and hightails it out of the front door.

Josuke’s brain takes a minute to grind back into motion, and he runs after Oku, “Wait! Dude I’m—“

By the time he gets outside, he can make out Oku’s taillights buzzing down the road.

He stands on his front porch for a long time, staring out into the street, hoping, begging to see Oku’s car return. For him to jump out of his car and holler, “IT’S JUST A PRANK, BRO” before bounding up the steps to return Josuke’s kiss with gusto.

Rain starts falling, and Josuke remains rooted the spot. Dimly, he registers that he is now soaked to the bone, and Okuyasu was not coming back. He did it. He ruined his friendship, because he couldn’t fucking help himself. He couldn’t just be satisfied with how things were.

In a numb haze, Josuke walks back inside, closing the door and locking it behind him with a soft click. He turns the shower on the hottest setting he could stand, sits in the floor as hot water pours all over him, and just trembles.

When the water runs cold, he finally steps out. Mechanically, Josuke pulled on some old sweats and his favorite t-shirt. He can’t bear to look at his bed, let alone sleep in it, knowing that it was bound to smell like Okuyasu, and that was something he couldn’t even begin to handle.

The couch it was. Josuke checked his phone, hoping to have missed a call or text from Oku, but nothing greeted him; he turned it off and threw it across the room. Curled up under a blanket, he listened to the rain pelt the windows, and finally allowed himself to cry.

Something was banging against the front door.

Josuke jerked awake, feeling awful. It took a few seconds for his brain to process where he was, and when he remembered, he had to quickly wipe his tears. He had to keep it together.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Josuke mumbled to no one, cocooning himself in his blanket. The banging was incessant; Josuke figured it was a drunk Tamami who had forgotten his key to Josuke’s front door back at his apartment. It was something that occurred more regularly than it should. As he passed the entrance to the kitchen, the oven’s clock blared the time: 3:24 am. He was going to murder whoever it was.

He unlocked the front door and jerked it open, ready to snarl something at whomever made the mistake of waking him up, when he came face to face with Okuyasu.

Oku looked fucking awful. Soaked to the bone with chattering teeth, red-rimmed puffy eyes; it made Josuke die a little on the inside to see him in such a sorry state, “Jesus Christ Oku, how long have you been out here??” Josuke reached to pull him inside, but Okuyasu smacked his hand away. Tears threatened, and anger rose up inside him like bile, “Why did you come back?” he asked, placing his head into his hands so Okuyasu couldn’t see his face. After what feels like an eternity stretches on, Josuke half-contemplates just slamming the door closed, so Okuyasu would be spared the trouble of having to devastate Josuke anymore.

“Kiss me again.”

Slowly, Josuke lowered his hands to look Oku in the face. He could see that Okuyasu was crying, tears running hot down his scared face. “I’m sorry for leavin’, I’m sorry for runnin’. I’m a fuckin’ idiot fool,” the words burst out of Okuyasu like a dam had broken, “You’re the most perfect thing on this stupid planet, I’ve been crazy over you ever since we first met. I didn’t know if you were makin’ fun of me or somethin’ when you kissed me, so I got scared and ran, but I just ended up making you upset, which is—“ His breath started hitching and he was crying even harder, “The last thing— I ever w-wanna do is hurt y-y-you. Y-you m-mean everyth-thing to me.”

Josuke also had tears running down his face; he pulled Oku into a tight hug and ran his fingers through his hair, shushing him softly, “It’s okay, don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry,” he wailed, face buried into Josuke’s neck, “Please forgive me, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“I forgive you, it’s okay. You came back.”

“It’s not okay,” Okuyasu pulled himself away to look Josuke in the eyes, “I hurt you.” Hesitantly, he wiped the tears off of Josuke’s face. Josuke couldn’t stop himself anymore; he pressed his lips against Okuyasu’s. This time, his kiss was returned enthusiastically, and it made Josuke’s very soul sing. Taking great care to not trip over something, Josuke lead Okuyasu into the house without breaking their kiss, closing the door behind him. Josuke couldn’t get enough of how Okuyasu tasted; the kisses were sweet, chaste, and everything Josuke imagined it would be like.

“Do you wanna stay the night?” Josuke murmured against Oku’s lips.

“Yeah, if that’s okay with you.”

Josuke pulled away and kissed the tip of Okuyasu’s nose, took his hand, and led him upstairs.

After Okuyasu’s quick shower, they found themselves tangled up in each other’s limbs, kissing just as slow and gently as before. “Hey Josuke,” Okuyasu’s whispered, voice raspy.

“Yeah?”

“M’really tired and stuff,” Oku stifled a yawn, “so I dunno if we should talk about this now or—“

Josuke brushed a thumb across Oku’s cheek, “I think we should wait until tomorrow morning, after we get some sleep. Okay?” He pressed a kiss onto Okuyasu’s forehead, which turns warm underneath his lips.

“’Kay,” he mumbled, pressing his hot face into Josuke’s neck, “Uhm, I do got one question though, and I don’t wanna wait to ask.”

Josuke pulled back to look him in the face, “Yeah, what’s up?”

Okuyasu was blood red, looking rather meek. “Are we boyfriends now?” he asked softly, as if he scared to hear a rejection.

Butterflies had taken up permanent residence in Josuke’s stomach, and it was taking everything in him to not start wiggling around like an excited puppy, “Do you want us to be boyfriends?”

He got an enthusiastic nod in reply; Oku was too shy to say it out loud, but he did grab one of Josuke’s hands so he could kiss his knuckles.

A grin spread across Josuke’s face, “I guess that makes us boyfriends then.”

The smile that lit up Okuyasu’s face would be one that Josuke wanted tattooed to the inside of his mind, so he could remember it forever.

The slow, lazy kisses they traded relaxed him enough that sleep was moments away. Faintly, before succumbing, Josuke was certain he heard “I love you” whispered into his ear.

#josuke higashikata #okuyasu nijimura #josuyasu #josuke x okuyasu #jjba

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