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still-a-morosexual-help · 3 years

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OBEY ME! LESSON 52 DETAILED SUMMARY + THEORIES

Two locked lessons :( hopefully telling where the fuck Mammon & Luke have been

Lucifer’s immediately suspicious of them, asking who they are and whose in charge of them. MC points at their obviously non-angelic clothes and says they’re angels while Satan says Simeon’s their guardian (weren’t Simeon & Lucifer really close back then? Wouldn’t he have told Lucifer if he got new angels?). He says it’s good luck then that he ran into a seraph’s assistants as he dumbs a load of books on them and says ‘I’m a seraph assist me’ or rather ‘carry these books to the library for me’ – Satan gets ready to protest but Lucifer cut him off saying that assuming they really are angels they’d know who he was (really didn’t like that ‘assuming you really are angels bit’) meaning his orders are not optional so get to work. Satan silently glares at him. Lucifer complains about how this is not even his job but Raphael’s who’s been picking on Lucifer to get back for how much shit his brother’s cause (I’ve so many HCs about Raphael and Michael. Raphael I always see as stoic and stiff who gets into those aggressively polite, passive-aggressive, thin lipped smile, voices hissed out and cutting, arguments with Lucifer about his brothers and punishing them adequately. Considering Michael is supposed to be somewhat childish personality wise and Raphael is serious I also see them having a relationship very similar to Diavolo and Lucifers’, With Raphael being Michael’s weary but fond handler). Satan says if his brothers are acting out then maybe Lucifer’s just bad at supervising them, MC sighs and sympathises with the tone of someone who has lived through the exact same experience which Lucifer immediately picks up and comments on. Beel’s been sneaking food, Belphie keeps escaping to the human world and even though they’re relatively minor things their frequency makes them add up and Raphael won’t stop being snide and sarcastic about it. Satan cuts off Lucifer’s ranting about how terrible Raphael is (given that outside of his brothers Simeon’s the only one Lucifer seems close with in the Celestial Realm and knowing Lucifer he’d never unload his troubles on to his brothers in fear of being seen as not being in control, and Beel mentioned Lucifer usually stuck to staying inside the Celestial Palace it makes sense that he desperately needs someone to rant to) saying that Lucifer complains too much and if he’s so happy here maybe he should just leave the celestial realm and head to – but he’s cut off by Lucifer saying “for an angel you really seem ready to start shit huh” and I’m pretty sure he knows :) Satan just silently glares back. Lucifer tries to tell them what the organising system in the library is but Satan cuts him off saying he can see what it is by just looking and then he diverts his attention to psychoanalysing Lucifer, asking if Lucifer’s pushing them around cause Raphael pushes him around. Lucifer ignores the last part saying no matter how much sully seems like he wants to tear Lucifer’s head off he’s skilful and knows his way around books, when Satan only glares back he asks if Satan likes books to which he replies that every book in this library is precious. Lucifer laments about how none of his brothers like books despite how much he tries to get them into reading and that there’s no one he knows who he can talk to about them since Michael “overcomplicates things and twists them into something they’re not” (do you think Michael has started his Lucifer shrine at this point or does that happen after the fall?) and Raphael “who’s snide and generally unpleasant” (God if they do introduce the angels I desperately want them to be dicks. Like give me one person who’s an asshole that’s not hiding a secret soft side, I want someone who looks at MC sneers and then continues to never fall in love with them) though there is Simeon who’s the most normal of them. He says his life would be easier if he had someone like Sully for a brother (poor Satan’s probably going through a crisis rn). Lucifer says that Satan can look around and pick any book he wants and even points him towards a section meant only for seraph. Satan hesitantly picks up one and asks for permission and Lucifer notes he’s a fan of art. After they’re done Lucifer calls Satan close to look at a particularly interesting book with a blank cover. There’s a flash of bright white light and chains burst from inside the book and wrap around Satan who gets immediately pissed off, demanding what’s happening (earning their trust just to flip on them like that!? Specially satan!? The years of progress that just undid!?) Does he already know Satan is a demon? I mean they’re both pretty suspicious either way but I’m pretty sure he won’t take them to the other higher ups considering how he spoke about them and I’m 100% sure if this was pre-Diavolo angel!Lucifer he would have killed Satan on the spot without bothering to trap him.

Satan yells at Lucifer to do something (I don’t know if it’s sweet or sad that no matter how much Satan pretends to hate Lucifer in the end he absolutely believes Lucifer would never do anything to hurt him and would help him if he was in trouble even when Satan’s usual logic should tell him that Lucifer intentionally gave him the book). Lucifer says it makes sense that Satan got caught and when MC tries to help him Satan tells them to stay back cause he doesn’t want them to get caught either. Lucifer says the book is alive and catches evil beings and the harder you struggle the tighter the chains get (don’t you think Evil has two meanings in the OM! World? The brothers and the demons in general are referred to as evil a lot but when it comes down to it they’re all good people – heavily flawed with pretty loose morals – but more or less good people certainly not bad enough to be called evil. Evil tm seems to be what all demons naturally are but that it seems to have nothing to do with the puppy kicking, baby eating, mass murder you’d usually associate with the term. So yeah two different meanings. I think technically inanimate objects like the book would react to the natural Evil tm in the brothers and actual people like the angels will associate that natural Evil tm with the normal evil we all know and thus believe all demons are puppy kicking, baby eating, mass murderers). Lucifer said he would have known if Simeon got two angels (BOOM!) and that he knew from the beginning they weren’t angels (just look at their freaky ass non-white coloured clothes!). Satan says Lucifer playing dirty is something that has never changed. Lucifer says he has no fucking clue what Satan’s talking about and then looks at MC and says “wtf are you anyway” when MC answers he says that Michael’s being interested in a human sorcerer recently but guesses that’s not MC, he says they’re obviously not a demon or angel but doesn’t seem to believe the human thing fully too because he again asks and emphasises, “Interesting…What are you, exactly…” (This is the second time OM!’s implied MC’s not fully human, demon or angel with the first being in a devilgram. In my first ever HC list I said I see MC as a hybrid of the three while still being mostly human – because when Lilith died she was no longer an angel but she wasn’t fully a demon either and that particular magic unique to only her travelled with her when she reincarnated and then travelled unnoticed through her descendants and was magnified after MC made pacts with the 7 brothers and started sharing their powers). Satan latches on to that, stating MC’s not a demon so Lucifer should only be interested in him but that piques Lucifer’s interest more and he moves closer to MC because why would a demon protect someone else. MC tells Lucifer to let Satan go (and it’s said in a way where it’s implied it’s an order not an option and MC’s a little insane right?) Satan says there’s no point trying to get Lucifer to listen before he transforms into his demon form saying Lucifer never listens, to which Lucifer is silent (Y’all really need to talk after all this is over), before he says there’s no need for Satan to lose his temper and that Lucifer would let them go which obviously shocks Satan. Lucifer releases Satan who asks what Lucifer’s new plot is. Lucifer’s like “wow you have zero trust in me” and Satan’s like “bitch, I have negative trust in you”. Lucifer says there’s no plots and Satan says he’s lying. Lucifer says that the old him would have drop kicked a demon on site and wouldn’t have released them just so they could talk. And what does Lucifer want to talk about? His new demon boo <3 ugh sorry “acquaintance”. He says he never would have imagined he’d have a demon as an acquaintance but here we are. Lucifer says he’s strange, that he doesn’t act like a demon and that the more they talk the less he understands him but that he likes talking to him and there’s a certain feeling he gets from talking to Diavolo similar to the one he gets when talking to Satan (familiarity? Belonging? Kinship? Affection?) and I can’t believe we went from Lucifer complaining about his co-workers to him asking advice about what sounds like his first crush. Lucifer says he also wants to know more about Satan and that he only used the book to make sure he actually was a demon and he asks Satan to forgive him, Satan is silent and contemplative. Lucifer says he’s answered Satan’s questions and isn’t there something that Satan should say to him, more specifically, “thank you for releasing me”. Satan mumbles under his breath “holy shit I can’t believe you made me believe you were nice! You’re as nasty as ever” but still flushes red and says thanks. Lucifer’s pleased by it and says that for his good manners he won’t report anything to Michael but in return they have to follow him again.

Lucifer leads them back to a rooftop? where the brothers are. Mammon says Lucifer’s late and that Beel ate the food they’d left aside for him, while Belphie complains about how after Lucifer told all of them not to be late he was. Lucifer smiles and tells Belphie to not get mad about it in exchange for Lucifer ignoring that Belphie slept on the job. Belphie says that’s playing dirty. Asmo & Levi say that considering all the work Lucifer has these days they shouldn’t be mad at him, they then ask why Satan left and that they were worried about him & MC. Belphie asks since when were they friends with Lucifer, A red faced Satan says they’re not. Beel happily points out that Satan’s face is progressively turning more red and Satan says that all the eggs Beel ate contained reddite and it was fucking up his eyesight and this exactly the sort of BS I’d say to my brother to get him off my back the om! Team writes sibling relationships so well???? Beel questions about reddite and Satan just goes balls deep with the lie, creating a new disorder, explaining how it works and what the permanent effects are to which Beel immediately starts panicking until Belphie says Satan’s just being a lil’ shit. Simeon congratulates MC on their therapy skills but MC says it’s Lucifer who did everything. Simeon says Lucifer shouldn’t get all the credit (because yeah honestly sometimes just having someone to sit with you and hold your hand even if you don’t talk goes a long way when you’re having a bad time). Mammon asks Lucifer why he called them all here. Lucifer uses magic and suddenly the sky daylit sky outside is replaced by the stars and moon and night sky. Lucifer says Michael made Raphael remodel the room (so they’re in the observatory?) to show the human sky as well and Lucifer wanted to check it out before Michael had the chance. All the brothers are in awe. MC asks if Michael will be pissed that Lucifer checked out what is clearly his room first and Lucifer says he doesn’t give a flying fuck about it. Belphie’s thrilled and asks if anyone knows any stories about the constellations, Satan says he knows about every single one. Asmo asks him to tell them and he starts pointing out stars first the three stars forming the triangle of Betelgeuse, then Cator and Pollux – gemini - who are incredibly close and are like peas in a pod which the twins instantly claim as their own, and then orion. Simeon is happy that Satan looks so happy.

Mc is later woken up by Satan, with the others already asleep around the room, he says the stupid faces they make when they sleep hasn’t changed over the years. MC notes that Simeon and Lucifer are missing and asks about it. He says he has no idea and that they must have gone off together, he then asks them to keep quiet about what they saw here when they got back home. MC’s not on board with that and says there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Satan blushes says he’s not but that the brothers will tease him but in the end he’s happy they came here. He thanks MC and they say they’re just happy seeing him being so happy and he calls them mean for teasing him, the twins start moving around in bed and end up in weird positions – Satan fondly complains about that never changing and how they wouldn’t survive without him and goes to straighten them out. MC goes to find Lucifer and Simeon. They then eavesdrop on them talking in the forest. Lucifer says that Simeon looks really good as a human and Simeon says coming from Lucifer that’s a grand compliment. He then says he knows that none of this is real but that he’s truly happy he got to see Lucifer like this one more time. Lucifer asks what he’s talking about considering Simeon sees him so much every day that Lucifer figures Simeon would be sick of him and that nothing is going to change. “This is who we are. And who we’ll be forever” (and this whole thing is so fucking bittersweet and I forget that Simeon lost all his closest friends in the Celestial Realm in one fell sweep and then went through whatever unknown events got him demoted). Simeon looks sad for just a moment before he smiles and says, “Forever, huh…That’s such a wonderful word, but so very fragile.” (actual tears rn). Simeon says he knows Lucifer’s met Diavolo by now and that he’s felt lingering doubt crawl into his heart so when Lucifer says forever even he himself is not sure if he means it (this also explains one of the reasons why Simeon isn’t Diavolo’s biggest fan because while leaving was definitely the brothers’ decision he probably unconsciously or lowkey resents Diavolo for putting the thought into Lucifer’s head and showing him that leaving was an available option) Lucifer stutters and doesn’t know what to say to that. (Okay so ik that some of y’all see the “brothers no more” chat name and see Lucifer and Simeon brothers but I’ve always considered that to mean “brothers in arms”? Not actual siblings? One, because Lucifer would never have left one of his siblings behind, no matter how much they kicked and screamed and refused to leave he would have dragged them down to the Devildom with him. Two, Lucifer treats Simeon as an equal something he doesn’t do to his brothers. With his brothers he’s overprotective and condescending, controlling and overbearing. He’s basically helicopter-parenting and you can clearly see that he doesn’t treat them as equals unlike the way he treats Simeon. Third there’s a clear distance between Simeon and the brothers. I mean they’re all really close but the brothers don’t treat Simeon the same way they treat each other or even the way they treat Lucifer – there always seems to be an underlying layer of respect. I mean sure they respect Lucifer and each other (hard as it may be to see) but they can also call Lucifer and each other ‘dickheads’ to the face something I don’t see them doing with Simeon. The brothers’ relationship with Simeon, I see in the same way I’d treat the composed sweet close friend of a sibling who is much much much older than me. So yeah I see Simeon as being Lucifer’s childhood friend, where they grew up in each other’s pockets, went to war together and fought alongside each other and ended up working in the same place in similar positions).

MC wakes up to someone shaking them and calling their name (you can choose it to be either Luke or Mammon. Because I’m a sim: ) Mammon gives a short relieved laugh when they wake up, asking them what they’re doing sleeping in the middle of the forest and how no matter how much he shook them they didn’t wake up and how he was worried. Satan says they’re back in the real world and Mammon asks them wtf they’re talking about saying he doesn’t remember anything, MC asks where they were and says they were worried. Neither Luke nor Mammon remember anything and didn’t even remember disappearing, saying they walked in the HoL and the next minute they were back to standing in the forest. Mammon and Luke have a brief argument about how they might have actually been in danger and the word chihuahua is thrown and protested to until Mammon remembers and asks what the other two are doing here and MC explains how and why they came here. Luke says okay “but when you say you tripped balls and had a shared hallucination what exactly do you mean…” Satan shuts that down quickly. Luke asks what even happened. Simeon hands him a pamphlet where the whole section about the HoL is gone, in its place is a passage about rumours of fairies who lure people and tease and torment them. Satan says it’s a miracle they made it out alive. Simeon says it’s because of the hawthorn berry powder Satan is covered in because fairies are very fond of hawthorn berries and as a thank you to Satan for bringing it to them they showed him something he’d always wanted to experience. This line makes Mammon & Luke even more curious and Satan threatens Simeon not to say a word but he forgot MC’s a shithead so they begin, “So we found ourselves in the Celestial Realm –“ before Satan cuts them off, telling them to shut up and threatening them with him going to Lucifer and telling him a whole list of bad things Mammon did whether they’re true or not and azkcjbscjwzx I can’t believe Satan just called MC a simp like that right to their face in front of everyone what the fuuuuuuck!????? Mammon oblivious loveable idiot that he is doesn’t understand why he’s being threatened. Simeon reminds them of why they even came out here and MC remembers the fairies/fairy rings, Mammon laments not been able to get their treasure and Luke calls him evil for wanting to steal it. Mammon says treasure or fairy rings it’s still the same but Luke vehemently protests against that. Mammon does note that despite running into fairies there doesn’t seem to be any fairy rings around and Simeon says they may have to give up for now, Satan agrees saying after all the emotional upheaval he’s exhausted. Both Luke and Mammon are really disappointed. (So about the vision/hallucination/reality they saw it reminded me of that thing Dumbledore said in the last Harry Potter book when they were in Kings Cross station. Something about how just because it’s a dream doesn’t mean it’s not real.)

Back in the train station Mammon and Luke are still sulking and MC says at least they had fun together, mammon agrees minus the part at the end that turned into a scene from a horror movie. Satan asks Simeon why he’s smirking, Simeon says he’s remembering how adorable Satan had looked while he was teaching his brothers the constellations for the first time and how he wished real Lucifer was there to see it. Satan demands that none of this goes back to Lucifer. Simeon laughs evilly and MC says Lucifer would be so happy if he knew and Satan – red-faced – says that’s exactly why he doesn’t want Lucifer to know and sighs about how satan still can’t admit to how much he loves Lucifer. Simeon says that it’s a special opportunity considering this particular group don’t get to travel together that often but Mammon still sulks until he’s back on the train and fawning over how good the food is. Luke calls mammon a simpleton for how easily his moods flip-flop (hey???? I take offense to that) and mammon snaps back at him, Luke says since Mammon’s always talking about him like he’s a dog he doesn’t get to complain and Simeon laughs about how close they seem, Satan’s confused by Simeon’s definition of close and MC says you tend to fight more with people you’re closer to (which yeah it’s true for me at least. I’d always argue with someone I’m close to vs someone I just know and they’re never serious arguments either just stupid shit that you can trade friendly-rude barbs over). Luke says he’d never be close with a demon like Mammon and Mammon says for such a small kid Luke’s got a big mouth, Luke bites back and they continue. Simeon tells MC if they thought they could get rest on the train back they’re greatly mistaken cause Simeon was only able to book 4 rooms so two of them will have to share and that immediately stops Luke & Mammon’s argument. MC feels all of their eyes boring into them before they all start volunteering to share a room with MC. Luke suggests they draw straws or play rock-paper-scissors to decide, Mammon suggests cards but Satan says that he can see in Mammon’s eyes that he plans on cheating and an argument breaks out making the others on the train turn to stare at them and this time MC genuinely seems to consider jumping off a moving train instead they command the demons to stay. Simeon says that never stops being funny and Luke says it actually looks painful and ik MC only uses it when things are getting out of hand and they aren’t listening to reason and are causing a scene that can lead to a (usually) public brawl but the command to stay still feels icky to me.

In the corridor MC finds a silent sad looking Simeon and asks him what’s wrong. Simeon tries to deflect it, gets oddly scatter brained about where he put down his tea, says that even though rock-paper-scissors was a fair was to decide he’s disappointed but the look on Mammon & Luke’s faces when they found out they would be sharing was worth it. MC picking up on how all over the place he seems asks if something is bothering him. He says not really but sort of? He says Satan wasn’t the only one impacted by the whole Celestial Realm fever dream and that seeing the brothers as angels again brought back happy memories until he remembered that they aren’t there anymore and that the Celestial Realm is different now which made him depressed. MC hugs them and Simeon says they’re warm and smell comforting before he thanks them he then blushes and says he would like to kiss them and MC gets the chance to either tell him to go ahead or to gently say “No, Simeon…” he understands that there’s someone else and that whoever that is he’s very lucky. He then gives them the star of patience and tells them they’re gonna be an amazing sorcerer. Simeon says he wished he could’ve had MC as a guardian angel and MC goes “wait…do angels even have guardian angels!?” and Simeon says …no. He then wishes them goodnight.

On the way to bed MC hears voices from the roof and goes to check it out only to find the other 3. The three of them are arguing about constellations. Mammon points out Scorpius correctly and calls Orphiuchus next to it the scorpion bearer, Luke says it’s the goat bearer, Mammon says “what even is the difference between scorpions and goats, Satan says they’re both wrong and MC says it’s the serpent bearer. They pull MC down beside them and Luke says Satan was telling them about the seven sisters and asks if they know what it’s called. MC gets to answer. Mammon asks if there’s a seven brother’s constellation and Luke says there is one in the Celestial Realm, with everyone knowing about the legend behind the constellation being about the brothers’ fall. Mammon asks what they’re like and Luke says they’re seven bright stars with three others watching over them. Luke says he doesn’t know what the three stars are supposed to represent and Mammon suggests it might be Michael, Luke says that’d be weird cause Michael only has two eyes so what’s the third one, Mammon suggests it could be like Michael’s nostril or something and I’m in genuine tears over this, my chest hurts from how much I laughed, Luke says that’s stupid and MC who is actually just as stupid as Mammon but who is also much better at hiding it suggest two eyes and a mouth, Luke goes “…heeeeh?” finally realising one of his role models is a dumbass before he starts protesting asking why the two of them are so fixated on it being two eyes, Satan suggests that they might represent demons, angels and humans and luke says that feels right (personally I think they’re Michael, Raphael and Simeon) Mammon suggests the human star would be MC and Satan agrees. (okay so I think the seven brothers stars are completely BS. Why? Because Michael and the angels had no idea Satan existed. Hell even Lucifer didn’t know until Satan was born after they fell. Michael would have had no relationship with Satan, hell they’ve never even met, for him to be sentimental and it makes no sense that a place Satan has never really been to would have a star for him. They would have a star for Lilith though. That makes sense. But the story of Lilith’s death and probably even her existence seems to be very securely hidden away considering even Luke who’s so close with Michael doesn’t seem to know why the brothers fell. The angels wouldn’t have named stars after the brothers immediately after their fall and it would have taken time for them all to heal, reach a place of forgiveness and start to grieve and miss what they’d lost. So I bet by this time, the news that there was a seventh brother had come up and the angels in the know jumped at the chance to use him as a cover story for the seventh star rather than admit a girl was killed over falling in love and then using her powers to heal a human. So yeah. The seven brothers stars feel like utter BS. Seven siblings on the other hand…). Mammon tells Luke to hurry up and get on with it and Luke gives MC the star of generosity. Luke thanks them for everything, saying that though they didn’t find a fairy ring he had fun and made good memories, he then thanks them for always being there for them all.

#obey me spoilers #my posts #my theories #obey me!#obey me #swd obey me #shall we date? obey me!#obey me shall we date

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oh-mother-of-darkness · 4 years

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Hello. I am, as you know, an American. I turned eighteen in 2014, voted in my first presidential election in 2016, and voted in my second presidential election last week via early voting in the state of Texas.

I’m reflecting right now on the difference between those experiences. This is going to be a very self-indulgent essay.

The 2016 election was in my third and final year of undergrad at Texas A&M University. At the time, I was living with a roommate who grew up in a town of 2,000, all of them members of her church. I loved her very much, but she was the most sheltered person I’ve ever met.

I was only a few years ahead of her. My home growing up was deeply liberal about many of the things that counted, but deeply conservative on equally important things. For me, leaving for college was a radicalization speed-run.

I, a good Memphis girl, moved to Texas and encountered for the first time in my life white homogeny and everything that comes with it. I made most of my friends at A&M through a Christian orientation camp that I attended, then worked at. I went to school at a history department that was overwhelmingly male and war-obsessed.

My second semester, I was randomly sorted into a writing seminar on the American Civil War and Reconstruction. There were eight other students in that class, all of them Texans. By day two I had gotten into a open fight with one of my classmates after he used the phrases “one of the humane parts of slavery” and “the secession declarations are moving and beautiful appeals, if you read them,” and “well I’m not going to criticize my own state.”

We got into at least one yelling match per week from that point forward. It was a formative experience for me-- not just him but the seven other students that took his side every time because they just couldn’t conceptualize anything outside of their own experiences, and frankly, I couldn’t either.

It rocked my world to be surrounded by people who told me, among other things, that their high schools flew the Confederate battle flag or Lee was their all time role-model (because he actually didn’t want to secede! He didn’t believe in it, but Virginia did, so he put his own qualms aside and served his country, and that’s what we all have to do). I ran a survey once by knocking on every door in a dorm hall and asking the two people inside why the Civil War happened.

I feel like you can guess the most common answer I got. Only two said slavery. Six didn’t know what the Civil War was.

The last week of the semester, my class read a collection of recorded oral accounts of freed slaves during Reconstruction. My nemesis told me that he “didn’t realize black people actually had it bad.” At the same time, I was struggling with my sexuality, my relationship to my religion, my relationship with my parents, and a handful of newly-diagnosed but long-existing mental illnesses. I wasn’t having fun.

Over the next three years, I tried my hardest to humanize the people that said disgusting things about minorities, poverty, and me personally. I barely won on that one, and I’m actually really proud that I did, even if it took me a few years. I can trace the biggest change in me directly to my nemesis from the history department, the kid that made me so mad that I started arguing back. I was too scared to do that before.

By 2016, I was in full existential spin-out-- a very suddenly liberal kid fighting my whole family, all of my classmates, and most of my friends in an explosive political climate, the first I had ever participated in.

I voted by Tennessee absentee ballot in 2016. On election night, I ordered takeout for me and my roommate, who I knew had voted red. Confident, like pretty much everybody, that Clinton would win, I was trying to show her that I didn’t hate her. She went to bed after dinner, also so certain that Clinton would win that she didn’t bother to stay up.

I sat in front of my laptop sewing a birthday present for a friend (Kenza, actually), while the votes came in. I wasn’t super alarmed when the map turned red. I just figured the blue states hadn’t finished counting yet.

The map didn’t get any bluer. By 1am, I knew what was about to happen. They called it an hour later, while I was sobbing on my floor. I threw up in the bathroom out of pure anxiety. I got two anonymous messages telling me the asker was going to commit suicide. Neither of them responded to my replies. I don’t actually know what happened to them.

I remember riding the bus to class the next morning and distinctly seeing that most of the racial minorities there had swollen eyes from crying. The girl with the pride stickers all over her laptop didn’t show up that day, and I’m kind of glad she didn’t, considering the way some of our classmates in the back were loudly talking about “the gays.” Hope she’s okay.

My roommate came home completely unaware that Clinton lost. I was crying in my room when that happened. I remember showing her a demographic map of who voted which way. She got visibly upset when she figured out what races how. I think she really did feel guilty.

That Thanksgiving, one of my cousins tweeted, “I can’t wait to go argue with my liberal cousin today. The wins. Keep. Coming,” an hour before he walked into my house. Inauguration day was January 20, 2017. I decided to go to law school a week later, the day the president signed the Muslim ban. That’s when I figured out for the first time just how much power the courts have. The last three years have only enforced that.

I got angrier and angrier during law school, egged on by a few friends but more than anything just... finally conscious of exactly how the American system works and exactly who’s behind it. I still live in Texas, farther west now, and I’m working my first legal job. I’m going to be a licensed attorney next week.

I went back and forth for months about how this election was going to shake out. I knew there wasn’t going to be an overwhelming red majority this time, but my big fear was an election close enough that the Supreme Court could take it. That fear doubled last month, at RBG’s death.

I was hoping for a blue enough victory on election night that there wouldn’t be a week of uncertainty, but that was unlikely, and it didn’t happen. I obsessively refreshed my election map all of Wednesday and Thursday, aware that at least some states would flip after mail-in ballots came in, but unsure which would.

Again, my great fear was a blue victory held down by only one state. Given (I would say “any” chance here, but I don’t mean “any” chance because genuinely jurisdiction or facts or legal merit don’t matter to the Supreme Court) an opportunity to make one (1) decision that hands over a red election, please know that a conservative supermajority would take it. I cannot emphasize enough how true that is and how important it is for all of us to grasp that.

Watching Georgia flip was one of the best experiences of my life, and it’s a little hard for me to articulate why, but I’m going to give it a shot here. I’m southern. I’m from the South, and for this conversation it’s really important that I’m from Memphis, a black city and a center of black music and culture.

When people think about the South, they think of the white South, and on some level, they should. It is absolutely essential to understand the white South in order to understand American history. Let me be 100% clear here. That is not a good thing. American majority history is not good. We are not a good country.

It’s near-impossible to understand why that’s true without knowing exactly what happened in the white South and exactly what is still happening there now. With that, however, is another truth that most folks don’t get.

The SouthTM is white and needs to die. The South as it actually exists is partially white yes, but it is also everyone else that lives here, particularly black folks. Southern culture is black, not white. Georgia flipped because the people that have always, always been there finally got to crack apart the conservative machine holding the South hostage.

That’s amazing. It’s fucking mind-blowing. I watched it happen at 3:30 in the morning days after Election Day, and holy shit holy shit, Georgia flipped. Atlanta won. Holy fucking shit.

I would be terrified right now if only Georgia flipped, because SCOTUS would have found a way to throw out a few thousand votes. Inevitable. Absolutely certain on that one.

With a few states of buffer, I don’t think that’s going to happen. I really do think it’s over.

I came home after work on Friday and immediately went to sleep because I hadn’t really done that since Tuesday. I woke up at noon today, checked the map, checked my messages, and saw what happened while I was gone. After that, I went back to bed until 5:30pm. I’m really just getting up now, after most of 24 hours asleep.

I don’t know if I would say that I’m happy right now, but I am overwhelmingly relieved. I’m under no illusions that a Biden victory will solve everything, but I also do think this is a real thing to celebrate. I’ll take suggestions on how to celebrate right now, actually, since I’m finally awake.

I’ll be angry forever, I think, but this is a good thing, and I’d like to enjoy it. If you’re happy right now, hey, tell me about it. I’ll be thrilled with you. I want to hear it. Congrats to all of us. Love y’all.

#that's me rambling thanks and gig em #there are some things to tag here huh #uspol #politics #suicide #this would be a good time to remind everybody that i am white #so take that into account re: Georgia #personal i guess #not comics sorry

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c-c-cherry · 3 years

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HELL YEAH I HAVE SOME BRUNO :D

I fuckin love Bruno. Can’t really explain it, stoic/parental characters and found family tropes are just drawn to me and writing it just gives me immense joy! It’s time to dive right in this, babey >:)

Also I’m sorry for the recent inactivity. School’s been kicking my fucking ASS and I need to put in more time for that right now, so things might be slower until Holiday break. Hope y’all can bear with me a bit :)

//content warning for whump-related shit (sickness, major injury, drugs etc..)

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Pain Tolerance

-When it comes to physical injury, he can handle almost anything with grace

-With a job like his, it always helps to be quick on your feet and resourceful enough to save your life

-He’s not stupid, either. When he’s hurt in a way that he can’t fix himself, he doesn’t hesitate asking someone who actually can help

-He doesn’t particularly like it when people help him out because he’s supposed to be this omnipotent leader figure, but he won’t be stubborn when it comes down to it. He hates wasting time more than he hates showing weakness

-No one can tell him that Sticky Fingers ≠ instant stitches because that stand can get shit done

-Is it sanitary? Not really. Does it hurt a shit ton? Yeah. Does he care? Take a fucking guess y’all >:)

-This man is used to putting up with shit in order to survive and trained himself to take pain in waves. If he can just ride through it, he’ll eventually be able to function again

-Sometimes hesitating isn’t an option. Neither is acknowledging that the bullet wound in your side is bleeding out and logically you should be unconscious from how painful it is

-It takes a certain person to quite literally hold off on their own pain to help others (partly because they aren’t ready to acknowledge it) but Bruno is definitely that saviour-complex, martyr type

-He could have a fucking bullet still in his side but he’s too busy to worry about it because Narancia might have a concussion or Fugo’s arm is broken or they can’t find Giorno amid the stand battle the possibilities are endless

-The one thing he can’t seem to shake off? Getting drugged.

-He almost always has control over his surroundings with any other mishap but once his brain is messed with like that, he’s basically done for

-It doesn’t really help that he’s a lightweight with recreational things in general, but heavy stuff used for spiking or kidnapping absolutely fucks with him

-His stand completely shuts down, he loses control of all his surroundings,,,basically everything he relied on to get through stuff in the past is off the table

-It doesn’t happen very often, but when the gang has had to deal with him like that, its like watching someone’s entire self completely break down

-Suddenly any kind of feeling or pain is amplified and it’s unbearable. It’s awful seeing someone who’s usually so stoic act in such a manner, but it’s almost,,,,cathartic? It reminds all of them that he’s human and his stoicism shouldn’t be taken lightly

Injury

Rule #1 of Bruno’s moral code that doesn’t really make sense but you can’t really argue with him on it: DO NOT BRING HIM TO A FUCKING HOSPITAL.

-He’ll flat-out refuse to go

-Things are much easier now that Giorno is on their team, but things used to be borderline nightmarish during pre-canon missions that went awry

-He’ll have no problem recommending getting professional medical help to anyone else on the team, but there’s no way in hell you could make him go himself

-He hasn’t set foot in a hospital since his father was in one, and and plans to never go in one again

-To him, the medical system failed him (even though there was nothing they could virtually do)

-It’s an irrational way of thinking, but he refuses to talk about it either way

-Even when he is injured enough to require going to a doctor he can usually repress it, usually because he’s in shock, and his mind convinces him that he’s absolutely fine

-His refusal to acknowledge when he’s injured sometimes can get him in deep shit though

-Abbacchio is beyond counting on his fingers how many times a mission will be over and Bruno will be cooking dinner or reading a book and suddenly stop and get this look and Leone will be like “you good?”

-And Bruno just sets his book down and says:

“I fractured my arm and dislocated my elbow earlier today. I should probably look at it now, shouldn’t I?”

in the calmest fucking voice on the planet.

-Sometimes Bruno will just go on about his day and won’t have the chance to tell them calmly because suddenly blood is leaking out of the side of his head or they find him passed out oN THE FLOOR INSTEAD

-Needless to say it gives them all fucking heart attacks all the damn time

-Its actually so common post-canon that the gang has to do routine checks on each other to make sure no one is “withholding any injuries” (but they all know who the rule was really created for)

Sickness

-The. Most. STUBBORN MOTHERFUCKER

-Extremely irritable and hates not being able to do anything. Most people when they’re sick either get very clingy or very bitchy and we all know which one he’d be

-This is nothing like injury. He’ll KNOW he’ll be fine because it's just a fever, so to him that automatically means that no one is obligated to know and/or care regardless of how shit he’s feeling

-He either pretends it’s not happening at all, or he hides away in his room or some zipper dimension until he’s totally fine again

-Hates, and I mean HATES it when people try to take care of him

-Maybe he wants it. Maybe he doesn’t. Either way, he feels too selfless to “make someone do all that” for him

-Though Abbacchio and Fugo would refer to it more as self-destructive than selfless (but they aren’t exactly ones to talk)

-Seriously high fever? It’s just really hot in here, better turn the heat down.

-Can’t fucking breathe because he’s coughing so hard? No no, they still have another mission today to get through. Just have some tea and you’ll be fine

-So nauseous that he can barely stand up on his own? Probably just need to drink some more water today

-The KING of sick denial. The embodiment of the “parents don’t get sick because they don’t have time to” myth

-The times when they do catch him before he can disappear is when stuff is really bad. He’s gotta be too weak to move for them to pounce on him and force him to take care of himself, and even then he will only let Abbacchio do things for him because he doesn’t want to seem like a weak role model for the rest of them ;-;

-Bruno makes the best soup for when the rest of the gang catches something but Mista pulls out the good shit and makes the best fucking food for sick Bruno and it’s very wholesome and nice :)

Emotional Stress

-Bottles up everything, and I mean EVERYTHING until his limbs are fucking shaking and he’s unable to do anything else but sit there and cry

-He feels like he has to be stoic and emotionless most of the time, and although everyone knows that Bruno’s a bleeding heart, he’s also very reserved when it comes to what he really needs

-Things like nightmares or his father or things that happened to him in the past or things that you need to talk about to get off your chest are things that he keeps to himself

-Taking on too much and overworking himself is how he distracts himself from most things. He’d rather just pretend that things aren’t happening then confront it and end up breaking down

-It always comes out in the worst ways. He’ll start snapping at people when he normally would never, stops sleeping and eating, drinks too much even though he knows that it does nothing for him

-He hates the fact that he doesn’t tell people when he’s hurting, but he can’t bring himself to do it without thinking about how weak it would look on his part

-He zips himself away and cries in secret, but everyone can always tell when his nose is too red or the light is gone from his eyes later that day

-When things get bad, his hands will shake. It's almost an unconscious action that happens when he’s thinking too much about things or when he hasn’t gotten nearly as much sleep as he should, but it's extremely noticeable and he despises the fact that he can’t do anything to stop it

-His face and body will look completely put-together but the gang’s eyes will drift to the trembling paperwork that his hands are holding

-Fugo or Abbacchio will usually pull him aside and ask him if everything’s alright and the answer is always arguably a no

-It usually ends up with Leone dragging Bruno somewhere alone or kicking the rest of them out and just letting him let everything out

-Sometimes it’ll take hours and these giant “blow-ups” happen more often than they should, but Leone’s just glad that he’s communicating, even just a little bit

-Once things blow over, they actually talk. They find solutions as much as Bruno doesn’t want to, and things really don’t seem as bad once he starts actually talking about them

-The rest of the fam comes home and makes dinner/finishes up his paperwork for him and they all watch a warm-hearted movie together :3

-He loves giving people hugs because he’s all about that family love, but asking for one is a whole other story (good thing Narancia and his impeccable emotional intelligence always swoop in for a hug when Bruno looks like he’s on his last legs) :))))

-No one said opening up was going to be easy, but he’s got his supportive Passione fam to help him out when he needs it most :’)

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I actually had some fics in mind while writing this list! If you want some Bruno whump to inhale, here’s what I was thinking of while writing this:

The Mighty Fall by @lady-wallace

Only Bend When It Breaks and Night go Slower by roktavor

and Yet here he was by Your’s Truly!!

#bruno buccellati #bruno bucciarati #jjba #jjba headcanons #ask-c-c-cherry #hurt/comfort #whump #jojos's bizarre adventure #jojo's bizzare adventure golden wind #vento aureo #bucci gang

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beesatthedisco · 4 years

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How does this even work...

Okay, so I’ve been on tumblr since before the first time they very slightly changed the shade of blue and I hope that in and of itself is enough to help y’all know... I’m ancient. (I’m 27, and will only rp with ppl 18+, sorry friendos)

Somehow, despite being on tumblr and despite having made about a million accounts for various things in my day, I’ve not made an RP account, and don’t really know how to get started. I guess I’m just gonna put down what I know about myself and what I’m looking for here and hope for the best, but I’d be open to any kind of protips from those of you who have been using tumblr to find rp for much longer.

RIP to your eyes ahead of time, this is a long post. If you want to skip to the part where I share my Original plots, pairings, and fandom cravings, please just scroll to the end and accept my humble apologies. (Highkey I copied this out of my google doc, don’t shoot me.)

I enjoy writing both original plots and fandom stuff. When RPing within a fandom setting, I'm open to playing as canons, as ocs, or any combination of both. I'm open to co-creating settings inspired but not based in fandoms, and open to playing AU or canon settings as well. When originals are involved, I prefer co-creating our worlds together, so we're both invested in the landscape that our characters inhabit. Speaking of characters- I'll play as any gender and in any pairing type- I hope that this is the same for you. I love writing a broad spectrum of characters to keep things interesting for myself and to practice viewing the world through different perspectives. I feel it's difficult to do this when being forced or pigeonholed into writing as a gender you DEMAND of me. However... I can be flexible, and if your ideas are interesting enough, I may just give you what you ask for anyways, haha. I'm perfectly open to playing multiple characters, whether it's a broad interactive cast of mains and background characters, a system of noninteracting or separate sets of doubles, triples, you name it, or whatever other configuration of multiple-character-playing you prefer.

I'm not too terribly concerned about post lengths and am open to writing with people who might be new to the RP scene. I'm pretty flexible about how much I'll write. A good rule of thumb for myself is that I tend to respond with more when I have more to work with. That doesn't always mean that there are more words on your post for me to respond to; instead, I mean that if your post has enough ideas, inspiration, and momentum, I can go buckwild with my posts. My comfort zone seems to be around 4-6 paragraphs per post, but I've been known to write either a lot more in particularly thrilling rps. If I'm writing a huge post- don't feel daunted or expected to match length. I love all sized posts!!! I'm just overly enthusiastic and get carried away sometimes. (This means you can also at any time tell me to chill out on how much I'm writing. ) When it comes to writing style, I only have a few hard expectations of you- I do not engage in roleplay featuring the 'would' style of writing. (For example: "She would pick up the rock and inspect it closely.") I don't exactly know why I dislike this tense so much, but it pulls me right out of the immersion of writing/reading and tends to entirely destroy my interest in the story. I'm sorry. Next, I care at least a little about punctuation and spellchecking. If you're roleplaying online, you have access to ways to make sure that you're not just submitting gibberish. If you need help finding those resources... feel free to ask!

I'm open to the idea of making profiles for our characters, but I'm okay without making them too. I'm also vaguely ambivalent to 'beautifying' our posts, should we do them somewhere that allows that sort of thing. I'm fine with any style of reference images, or with not using them at all. I can't promise I won't send you songs and images and memes that remind me of our story, though! Also- I'm super down for dice systems if we decide to go that route (and prefer dice systems if we include combat of any variety in our story.) I love romance, but it doesn't necessarily have to be the drive of our plot if that's not your style. My favorite genres to write in are science fiction, any variety of fantasy, horror, drama, historical settings, wild western settings, and mysteries.

Last but not least, I tend to like making friends with my writing partners. I prefer writing with people I actually get along with, so for me, the plotting phase is the most important. It helps me get to know your personality a bit more, and you mine, so we both know whether or not it's a good match to write long term! I'll write on most platforms, so let's discuss what makes the most sense for us. Finally, I generally only write with folks 18+, for the safety of everyone involved. Thanks for understanding.

Well, as I said, I've got a big ol list of ideas, if any of this strikes you as 'good writing friend' material, so send me a DM and I'll get back to you asap! Feel free to share your ideas too!!!

Original Ideas

- There's something dire down in the mines to the east of this old Western town. Folks keep goin' in to investigate, disappearin' for days at a time, then comin' back all different-like with the lights gone from their eyes. What could be happenin' out there, sheriff? (horror/western)

- A high-fantasy world's balance is shattered when the source of magic is destroyed. How will the people of this mystical land navigate a now mundane life, and how can they survive when so many magical devices go defunct and awry?

- A no-magic world is suddenly spun into chaos: an apocalyptic event leads to the sudden introduction of magic into a world that had previously never known it. In the post-apocalyptic (and mystically-charged) ashes of a world that once was, how do the survivors compete for resources and control?

- A star falls from the sky! They're rare, and it's dangerous to be one. Are you the star, hunted and lost? Or are you someone who finds a star?

- A lich (my character) is rumored to live in the castle at the foot of the mountains, only a mile or so from your town. It's said they're a true villain, the worst of the worst... but what is the truth?

-Arranged Marriages between physical embodiments of the seasons or planets

-A sailor, pirate, or other seafarer keeps noticing the same shape in the waters near their ship. After a terrible storm, the ship wrecks… now, one’s a mermaid, one’s a sailor, and they’re both idiots trying to find their way back home.

-Disaster has struck! A grisly assassination attempt leads a bodyguard to quickly usher their liege to safety. Drama ensues!

-Stowaways, and the people who catch 'em!

- Androids and more androids! Or... androids and non-androids!

-In a dwindling-magic world, those who cling to the olde magicks and the old way of living struggle against the new capitalist society and its nonmagic technology. In one still-magickal neighborhood where our story takes place, shopkeepers fight against nonmagickal gentrification in an effort to keep their businesses, communities, and traditions alive.

- A wandering traveler gets caught in a storm and chances upon an abandoned home, castle, or manor.... oh no!

- A train hopping crust punk encounters the ghost of a fellow train-hopper who fell under the rails and died.

- A living person's computer, gaming device, or phone is inhabited by a flirty ghost!

- There's a friendly but sad ghost living in a living person's new home! (Can you tell I like ghosts?)

Original (and corny) pairing ideas

fairy or elf / vampire or other dark creature

vampire / human

god / mortal

demon / angel or other dark/light archetypical pairings

dragon / humanoid

naval captain / stowaway

mob boss / citizen

superhero / supervillain

serial killer / investigator

serial killer / citizen

Bounty hunter/outlaw

outlaw/sherriff

outlaw/outlaw

farmhand/outlaw

Current Fandom Interests/Cravings

Pokemon - preferably with ocs and in a custom setting ft. all the ‘mons/us playing as humans

Elder Scrolls - pls, i’m craving this almost more than anything, and have been for years

Red Dead Redemption - it is cowboy time now

Legend of Zelda - i have a couple of cute ideas for this!

Avatar/Legend of Korra

Labyrinth - please please please someone play jareth for me, ill give you my firstborn in exchange

Star Wars - currently a little burned out on playing as kylo for everyone, so please don’t ask me to be him dlfkjdslfj

Game of Thrones

Lord of the Rings

Night in the Woods

Brutal Legend - does anyone but me remember this??? Omfg lets rp in this setting PLS

The Dragon Prince

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salty-donut-collecter · 5 years

Text

Why Stay?

Act II, Part One

Twenty-Seven {Masterlist} Part Two

Chapter Word Count: 1,652

Trigger Warnings: Anxiety mentioned, yelling, talk about bones breaking, insults

Please tell me if I need to tag anything else :)

*Also, I’m planning on having this story as a slow burn, so please be prepared :)

Prompts: “Do I look like I give a fuck?”, “I don’t know what I’m feeling, but I’m feeling a lot of it.”, and “Not to dictate your life, but drop your shitty friends.”

A/N: It’s been a bit, but I’m glad I have a system for this stuff now! Lmao this story is gonna have you guys dying, but I hope you like it nonetheless.

Happy reading! (Also, feel free to comment your thoughts! I love reading comments :))

Also, if you’d like to be added to the tags list, please let me know! :D

_____________________________________________________

You woke up on Saturday morning, a headache forming as you tried to remember what you’d dreamed.

“Whatever,” you mumbled, getting up and stumbling around in the dark until you got into the dark hallway.

Jesus, what time is it? You wondered, looking around at how dark it was. You looked at your smartwatch (something Katie had left in your room for Christmas), sighing as it read 1:22 am because you knew there was no chance you would be able to go back to sleep now.

Okay… you took a deep breath, I guess today is just going to be a lot longer than planned.

And indeed it would.

Now, you didn’t really think the day was long…. Until Micheal called a “family meeting”, which really just meant y’all had to sit in a room and listen to him before discussing a topic he’d introduced. (The last topic you’d witnessed was furries and kinks because he wanted to see Steven die a little on the inside. (You all know he’s a kinky bastard at heart))

You sighed, wondering how long this one would take because you’d been getting ready to try and sleep again. However, you were intrigued to find he was holding a meeting in one of the kitchen rooms, which was just a room with a huge ass table that could fit the whole family. (So this would be the equivalent to a normal family’s kitchen table.)

You sighed and made your way up there, making sure to be the last person in the room so you could sit next to Micheal, letting Maverick take the right side, while you sat on his left.

“Okay, so I know it hasn’t been that long since Y/n’s been back,” Micheal gave a little eye roll, “Buut, I also don’t care.” he shrugged, holding a hand around his torso in a way you found particularly interesting.

“So, due to my inability to give a shit, and my abundant need to call family meetings, I decided to quell my raging curiosity,” Micheal smirked a little, clearing his throat and demolishing all visible joy as quickly as it came. He then proceeded to open his jacket, extract a familiar folder from under his shirt, and toss it far onto the table, where it flew open and spread its’ contents out for everyone to see.

“So,” Micheal looked at you, his contact lenses red because he was into that, “Care to tell me what this is?”

You had no doubt in your mind that he had already read it, and been furious about it. This told you he already knows everything in that folder by heart, and he was ready to both defend you, and rip the team a new one, which was something you actually found refreshing.

“It’s a file of the information I gathered to quell my own curiosity, actually.” You mused, sitting back and letting your feet sit up on the table. Your chair tipped a bit, but you didn’t mind it much.

Clint was doing the same things, actually. You had a small leaning competition as the conversation continued.

“What were you curious about?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

You smirked, taking a break from you small competition as you sat upright again, “I thought you had powers, actually, and no one gave me the answers I needed to make a proper conclusion.” You shrugged, “So I looked into it myself and got kicked out of the Teen Titans.”

Steve glared at you, “Nobody kicked you out, Y/n. You left because you didn’t want to face the consequences of your actions.”

You chuckled, “Sorry, I didn’t know getting my jaw broken by your shield in a world I made just for you was an invitation to stay and continue to be an Avenger…” You looked up quizzically, “Come to think of it, accusing me of killing people behind your back because I’m an apparent rage monster also didn’t seem like a part of the welcome wagon-- wow, Steve, if you’re so good with etiquette and I’m so bad with it, you should probably teach me-- oh wait, you did, didn’t you? After I’d just gotten here? I’m sorry I failed as a student. It’s just so--”

“Y/n, that’s enough.” Rhodey deadpanned, glaring at you from next to an already peeved Tony. Guess they didn’t get much sleep either. “We’re all happy to have you back, trust me.”

Clint laughed, “Wow, Rhodey, that’s rich!” he sat up, arms softly landing at the table as he looked at the Iron Patriot, “You really wanna go down that route? The whole: yeah, we’re happy to see you again, even though we literally accused you of being a psycho killer last time we talked, but hey! It’s all good now, right? Cause Jesus Christ dude!” Clint laughed, “She literally ran around the fucking w o r l d so she could get a break from our fugly mugs. So I say we give her one. There’s no need to drag this on, Steve. Little girls wouldn’t be leaving Christmas presents in her room if she was a horrible person.” Clint rolled his eyes, already done with the conversation that’d just started.

“Barton, we’re trying to--” Vision started

“Don’t give me that logical bullshit cause that’s not happening right now. You, Vision, can logic your way into and out of this, but them? Yeah, no. They don’t have the goals you do, and it’s fucking time you realize how biased they are.”

“Okay, but my husband was literally the Winter Soldier.” Steve deadpanned.

Clint gave him the weirdest smile, “And he had a type of microsurgery done on him that was very painful and unsafe to get HYDRA out of his head.” his smile dropped, “We fucking been knowing about your husband, Steve. The thing is, no one cares anymore because he took care of that problem as a consenting adult.”

“I don't need a surgery.” You gave the people at the table a weird look, wondering if the kids should’ve been invited to this conversation. You felt a small finger tap your lower shoulder. You flinched, but calmed down when you saw Katie.

She motioned for you to come closer, so you leaned down to her level.

“Can I sit in your lap?” She whispered, lifting her arms up so you could lift her.

You chuckled, “Of course, my smol bean.” you replied, gently grabbing her under her armpits and lifting her into your lap, where you’d crossed your legs so she’d be comfortable. You looked over to see Chloe itching at her arms. She’s getting anxious.

“Okay but guys,” Micheal’s voice somehow transpiring over everyone else’s with great intensity. “You’re failing to answer my question.” He looked down at you, as if knowing something you should know too. (Really you thought of it as only half of “sharing a knowing look”)

You just shake your head, nothing coming to mind for now. He also shook his head, disappointed in you for some reason.

Micheal turned to the rest of the adults, looking peeved as per usual.

“Why. Didn’t. You. Tell. Me?” He asked, changing the question to better their ability to answer.

Everyone was quiet. The less everyone spoke, the more upset you got with their inability to take responsibility for their forgivable mistakes. You understood the fact that it was a hard thing to do sometimes, but this was getting fucking ridiculous.

“Okay, I get that this is hard for you but honestly grow the fuck up.” you snapped, your eyes rolling as you moved Katie over a little bit. It’s not like you needed to be screaming in her ear-- she didn’t do anything wrong and was too cute for that anyway.

“Y/n there’s more to this than--” Stephen started, but the excuses were honestly too annoying to listen to again.

“That I obviously know about cause I’m a stupid teenager.” You angrily sighed, “So I’ve heard. However, I’ll also say that we can’t do shit about the other things at hand if you’ve never bothered to-- I dunno-- talk about them?” You huffed, your knee bouncing as you try to maintain your composure. Katie is looking more anxious by the minute.

“Y/n, will you be okay?” Katie asked.

You gave her a sorrowful look. You were almost mad at Micheal for bringing her and Chloe into this.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay sweet pea,” you assure her, sounding sweeter than honey on top of Turkish delight.

Your gaze returned to the conversation at hand, which had actually gotten really heated within the couple of seconds you’d left for. Okay then.

“I don’t have to explain myself to an overgrown lab rat.” Stephen snapped, pointing at Pietro from his place at the table.

You stood up, Katie in your arms for only a moment before you quickly set her down. “Stephen, we don’t need to turn this into a fight.” You cautioned, your eyes starring the Master of The Mystic Arts with a flash of anger.

“She’s right, Stephen.” Tony was also standing, looking at Strange with quite the opposite look. You hadn’t seen Tony look that concerned for someone in a while.

The air was tense. Having so many emotions in one room was bound to create trouble, but the type of trouble was a mystery to everyone, causing a subtle fear that only stirred the pot more.

“Stephen, what kind of trouble are you talking about?” Steve jumped in, also standing.

You were surprised by his random aid to your side of the argument, but you decided that it was the least of your worries right now. Your hand gently squeezed Katie’s, momentarily reassuring her after hearing her softly whimper.

Stephen glared at Steve, as if wondering if he should answer him honestly, or tell him to shut the fuck up because he’s been nothing but unhelpful this entire time.

Well, you were screwed.

_____

Taglist: @introvertedsin @galacticalstarcat @acidrain707

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purplesurveys · 4 years

Text

676

Themed surveys are the shit y’all. There should definitely be more of these.

General

Where is your country? My country is in Asia – specifically in Southeast Asia, which I recently learned a lot of people outside Asia aren’t aware of. We’re situated just right below China and we neighbor Brunei, Malaysia, and Indonesia. How big is your country? It’s moderately large, but when you consider how many we are, we are an extremely small country. What is the population of your country? 109 million. I’m not sure if this is still updated, but we’re around the 12th most populated country in the world. Compare that with how we’re only the 77th in terms of size. How would you describe the landscape? We are an archipelago, which means our country is essentially a collection of thousands of little islands – 7,107 in total. Side note: this means it’s always been extremely hard to make an attempt to be ‘united’ as a nation, due to the fact that we are literally separated from one another. But besides that, yeah we’re made up of a lot of islands which means going from one province to another typically requires you to travel via plane, boat, or ferry. Aside from the tiny islands that we have, our country has three main islands, of which the small ones are a part of – Luzon (which is where Manila is and where I live), Visayas, and Mindanao. The Philippines is also part of the Pacific Ring of Fire, which means we have a number of active volcanoes and that we are prone to hurricanes – and we do get them, badly, every year. We also have a number of mountain ranges consisting mostly of tropical rainforests; these ranges, while beautiful, make traveling from province to province quite a challenge. Which part of your country do most people live in? Oh Manila, without a doubt. Most people, especially from the provinces, want to move to Manila because it’s the economic hub and everyone has an ideal image of it bearing opportunity for them. Unfortunately it is never what it seems and Manila is instead filled with the urban poor, some homeless and some living in shanties or illegal settlements. A lot also live in the cities surrounding Manila in a region we call Metro Manila (or, officially, the National Capital Region) to have closer access to Manila, and also because these cities have proven to give them a better life as well.

Tell me about the main industries there. The main economy is agriculture, but since then we’ve been making a shift to manufacturing and the service industries. While the shift looks good on paper, it has since meant that our farmers have been neglected and they remain extremely poor despite the effort they put into their work. Our biggest exports are sugar, coconuts, rice, bananas I think?, pineapples, and mangoes. Tourism is also an important industry and unfortunately we’ve been hit hard by the coronavirus. Nevertheless, significant tourist spots include Boracay, Puerto Galera, Palawan, Siargao, Baler, Vigan, La Union, and Baguio. Lastly – while it’s not an ‘industry’ per se, millions upon millions of Filipinos also try their luck abroad as OFWs (Overseas Filipino Workers) for better opportunity and higher pay. As a result, their remittances to the country is one of the biggest things that contribute to our economy every year, because these OFWs are usually the breadwinners and thus send money to their families, which obviously end up pouring into the national economy. What agricultural products are produced by your country? I’ve already mentioned them, but we’re essentially powerhouses in producing rice, sugar, coconuts, corn, rubber, several fruits such as pineapples and bananas, and a type of material called abaca.

Food and drink

What traditional dishes are served in your country? Which is your favorite? What’s the recipe? We have many, considering PH has a very rich native culture. A lot of our dishes have been inspired by Spanish and Chinese culture, such as lechon (whole roasted pig) and afritada (meat and veggies in tomato sauce) for Spanish cuisine; and siopao (a bread-like dumpling), siomai (our version of Chinese dumplings), and pancit (noodles) for Chinese cuisine. But besides those, we also have come up with our own such as dinuguan (pork blood stew), sisig (chopped pig’s cheek skin, ears, and liver), and sinigang (meat or seafood in sour broth). My personal favorite is kare-kare , which is oxtail and vegetables in peanut sauce. I dunno how to cook it but both my grandmothers have the best recipes.

What drinks is your country famous for? We’re not particularly known for our drinks as much as for our food, but we do have sago’t gulaman and taho. Fruit shakes are also widely popular, and so is coconut juice. We also produce several variants of coffee, such as barako and arabica.

What alcoholic drinks are produced in your country?Again, not really internationally renowned for drinks but Filipinos LOVE their beer. Popular favorites include San Miguel Pale Pilsen, San Mig Light, and Red Horse. Tuba and lambanog are notable local alcoholic drinks but tbh they’re so native and mostly consumed in the province that as a city girl, I don’t even know what they’re made of, and I mostly read of them in books lmao.

Are there any stories behind traditional foods? Not really. But essentially, Filipinos have historically lived in the wild, with some provinces more remote than others; and a lot of people are generally poor. That means it’s in our blood to have to make do with what we have, which is why a lot of our dishes are composed of things that may be conceived as weird by others, such as duck embryo, chicken intestines, or pig’s cheeks. We’re not ‘uncultured’ or ‘disgusting,’ we’re only from a different culture with very different origins than that of the West.

Political

What is the political system in your country? I just know we live in a democracy, but the official system name for our government is apparently a unitary presidential constitutional republic; thanks, Wikipedia.

Who is in power at the moment? Unfortunately we currently have a garbage of a President, and an internationally notorious one at that – Rodrigo Duterte.

How is your country dealing with the current financial crisis? I honestly don’t know how to answer this. The Philippines has never been one of the top dogs when it comes to global economy, and as far as I know we’ve always played it safe when it comes to this, so we don’t really get seriously hit when financial crises happen.

What can you say about the leaders of your country? Miserable. Most of our senators did not deserve a seat, but there they are. As it stands, we have a TV host, a boxer (Manny Pacquiao, no less), a former police chief, and an actor in the Senate. A number of personalities in the entertainment industry have also found careers in politics. This means a lot of the things that are urgent and need lots of rational decision-making are always handled poorly and haphazardly. A lot of politicians are known to be corrupt, stealing millions of money and spending more than they earn – but they always get away with it, the ones who are supposed to be the watchdogs of corruption are also their allies. The genuinely good politicians are always overpowered, silenced, arrested, killed, ostracized – and lose elections.

The elections system is just as sad. Most, if not all, candidates, appeal to emotion and literally exploit the poor by using them as talent in their commercials to show the other poor people watching TV that they are on their side – and because the poor don’t have access to education and don’t know any better, they end up voting for them, even though these candidates don’t actually give a single fuck about the poor. Many spend hundreds upon millions for TV and radio ads for 30-second spots. Election violence, vote buying, and ghost voting are widespread.

Cities

How would you describe the capital city and any other main cities? Manila is a sad shell of what it used to be. Look up photos of Manila in the 50s and 60s, and you’d see it looks no different than the streets of Los Angeles or New York. Today it’s neglected, overpopulated, congested, and resided by people who were once filled with hopes and dreams about Manila. There’s a side of Manila that is beautiful and pretty wealthy – the part along Manila Bay – but this side is only riddled with Chinese businessmen, most of whom treat Filipinos like shit. Quezon City, Makati, and Ortigas are the economic and financial hubs surrounding Manila and for the most part these cities are known as the hip places and it’s where the youth and adults hang out. It’s where the malls, bars, restaurants are, and these cities are the ones shrouded in Western influence; but because people do flock to these places, the cost of living is extremely high from parking fees to condominiums. The major city in Visayas is Cebu and in Mindanao, Davao; but given that I’ve only been to Cebu once, and Davao never, I can’t say much about them. What special attractions can be found in each city? Manila has Rizal Park and tons of museums but the city itself isn’t a favorite among foreign tourists; these people usually go to our beaches like Boracay and Palawan, or the cities that offer a more local scenery, like Baler, Bohol, and Ilocos.

Sports and games

What is the most popular sport in your country? How do you play it? Basketball, FOR SURE. Every barangay or municipality has their own basketball court – literally. Filipinos are just basically obsessed with it whether it’s the NBA, the PBA, or basketball even at the collegiate level. Are there any sports or games unique to your country? Very few. We’ve mostly gotten eaten up by Western culture and patronize sports such as basketball, boxing, and volleyball. The only traditional sport I know of is arnis, which even I know very little about except for the fact that it’s a martial art that involves sticks. When is the best time to watch them? I’ve never watched a game of arnis. And I generally don’t watch sports, so I’m not the best person to answer this lmao. How well does your country do in international competitions? I don’t follow a lot but we’ve made our mark here and there. Obviously Manny Pacquiao is a boxing legend, but we also have Hidilyn Diaz for weightlifting, Efren Reyes for billiards, Paeng Nepomuceno for bowling, Carlos Yulo for gymnastics, and Lydia de Vega for track. Are there any sports that foreign visitors practice in your country? I don’t think so. Is football (soccer) popular in your country? If so, which are the best teams? Not really.

Weather

Is the weather very different in different parts of the country? No. It’s mainly tropical, with extremely humid summers and it’s moderately cold by the end of the year. Only cities with high elevation, like Baguio and Sagada, get EXTREMELY cold during the Ber months, which makes them popular vacation spots during Christmas haha. Sometimes the temperature will dip down to 10 or 9 degrees Celsius, which is a huge deal here.

Can you describe the seasons? We don’t have the conventional ‘seasons’ y’all have. We have two main ones – warm and wet. Wet is just the season with typhoons, warm is either summer, or a period with no typhoons. Pretty straightforward.

What is the best time to visit? It depends on where you’re going. Going to Baguio, for example, is the best during the colder months (October to December) to really maximize the colder weather. Going to the beaches is ideal in April to June.

Language

What languages are spoken in your country? Nearly 200, but official languages are Filipino and English. What language do you usually hear on the streets? Filipino. But it depends where I am, too. In wealthier cities, I’ll hear English more. How many people speak English in your country? A good number; I’d say 60-70% can understand or speak basic English. Those who can speak it conversationally comprise a smaller amount. Some still live in pretty remote areas and thus have no concept of English.

Customs

Is there a particular national costume? Can you describe it? Yeah, for the woman we have baro’t saya, and for the men we have the barong Tagalog. Just Google them lmao.

Are there any special local dances? What are they like? Several ones, like tinikling (a dance where you have your feet play with bamboo poles routinely beat together or tapped by two other people) and cariñosa, a romantic dance. But due to the Western influence here, people are more prone to get into hip-hop or contemporary dance more. Are the people generally friendly? Without a doubt, yes. Filipinos are extremely known for their hospitality. If a tourist were to knock on our door right now we would definitely let him in, make him dinner, and my mom would probably ask me to give my bedroom to him for the night. What are some special customs or traditions in your country?

We have the mano po, which is when younger individuals would greet their seniors/superiors by taking the older person’s right hand with their right hand, and placing the back of the older person’s right hand it onto their forehead. It’s a significant sign of respect and to avoid doing it is extremely impolite.

We also have the concept of community spirit, or bayanihan. Basically, if one is in need, everyone in the same community steps up and helps. The quinetessential example for this is when one has to move their hut to a new location (Filipinos before were nomadic), all the neighbors swoop in to help lift the hut and carry it all the way to the new place.

Courtship was an important step in traditional society, and the man would do a harana, or serenade the woman while playing the guitar, in front of her house while she looks out her window.

Noche Buena is the traditional midnight meal (kinda like our version of Thanksgiving) that we have by the end of Christmas Eve to usher in Christmas Day

Po and opo are filler words used to denote respect, and is always affixed to the end of sentences when speaking with elders. It’s not required, but of course you’ll look like a disrespectful asshole if you don’t use it with older people.

History

What can you tell me about the history of your country?

Pre-colonial Philippines was rich and vibrant, and one that would be considered pretty fucking progressive even today – transgender people were welcome, women were of a higher social status than men, among others.

This all changed when the Spaniards came and tl;dr ruined everything for us. They wiped out our folk religions, literature, songs, legends, epics, and everything good that we had going. Friars abused us physically, sexually, and economically; everyone was forced to convert to Catholicism; early newspapers were shut down; forced labor was imposed; anyone who disagreed with their rule was killed.

After 333 years we were sold to the US for $20 million. Americans gave us the modern education system, a modern government system, a richer literature, religious freedom, and of course, the English language. But they also brought us colonial mentality and materialism, which persists to this day. Americans were also racist towards us and the only reason we have international schools today is because these were actually started up by American soldiers so that their’ kids would have schools that didn’t have native Filipinos in them.

By WWII, Japan destroyed the Philippines, leaving us to start from scratch. They bombed Manila, raped our women and young girls and made them sex slaves, brutally murdered everybody else who weren’t women and young girls, stole everything from us, and established a puppet government in Manila to bully us further. The only reason they gave us independence was because US had dropped atomic bombs onto Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and they had no choice but to surrender.

Three colonizers has left us pretty traumatized, something we’ve never truly recovered from to this day. Our political system is shaky, our sense of identity is lost, we’ve never been truly ‘united’ as a nation, and the Catholic penetration has made us a widely conservative, pro-life, anti-LGBT country.

Did your country gain independence from another country? If so, when and how did this happen? See above.

#survey #surveys #bruh i feel like i just wrote a research paper #I TOOK 3 HOURS ANSWERING THIS #but it was very fun

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paperficwriter · 5 years

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Walk Like a Man

This fic was written for @a-strange-1ne, and I have a new rarepair, y’all. It’s set in a Quirkless AU for BNHA in which Uraraka, Midoriya and Iida are leaving their first year behind them and enjoying the high-life of the...non-freshman students. But on a trip to the local hang-out, they run into some trouble, and Iida’s going to have to deal with it.*

*he doesn’t want to

(Also, inspired by the Happy Days episode, “Our Gang.”)

Cut is for length, not for content.

"Whoa! This place looks amazing!”

The cafe wasn’t particularly busy, but there was just enough activity for Iida Tenya to narrow his eyes a bit. He didn’t quite share his companion Midoriya’s excitement. At least not yet. “I am not sure if this will be a suitable place for us to study.”

“Look!” He jerked as Ochako snagged his arm and pointed. “They have a bar with a conveyer belt! And it’s not just sushi!”

Indeed, the restaurant had been built close enough to Yuuei for it to be both accessible and not entirely inappropriate for them to be there unaccompanied. In fact, as they looked around, it became apparent that other people from their class as well as several more upperclassmen had decided to come by after classes ended for food and entertainment in the form of comics and video games.

“Oh my gosh!” Midoriya squeaked, immediately running over to the row of machines. “They have the new All Might Super Man Fighting Hero Deluxe Game! This hasn’t been released anywhere else yet!” Come to think of it, Iida noticed now that the whole place was themed around masked men and women. The walls were plastered with comic pages, and a huge bust of All Might towered over the center of the food prep station, where sushi, mochi, taiyaki and finger foods were placed to make their way around the track.

Iida set his jaw and sliced the air dramatically with his arm. “I do not know how anyone can be expected to study with so many distractions!” The potential for a new reading spot was, after all, how his comrades had gotten him to come along...

He had turned to leave just when he was beseeched upon by two pairs of large, sad eyes. “Iida-kun, please don’t go! Just stay for a little bit!” Uraraka begged.

“We’ve been waiting to be allowed in here since we were first years! Now that we’re not, we can finally get in!”

Iida took his glasses off and rubbed between his eyes. “How many times have I had to tell you that there has never been a moratorium on us coming into this establishment? There is no age limit or anything like that. We could have come any time!”

“Not without being boo’ed out! Remember, that happened with Mineta!”

Iida sighed. “I am not unconvinced that the same thing would not happen now, regardless of his class status.”

It was no use, though. Iida couldn’t say ‘no’ to his friends. Shifting his backpack, he walked over to an open booth and sat down while Ochako brought over several plates worth of food. Midoriya grabbed a bun and a manga he had found on one of the cafe’s shelves. Iida had just brought out his English language textbook when a voice behind him caught his ear. “Oi.”

He ignored it.

“Oi.”

Then, another, louder voice chimed in, closer tohis ear. “Dude, are you listening?! The boss is trying to get your attention!”

Now Iida did turn to regard the small collective of young men who had arrived at the table. They were all wearing school uniforms, but they were open, sleeves pulled up, pants loose. The one speaking was a blonde with a black stripe in his hair, who honestly had a face way too friendly to fit how he was trying to talk to Iida.

“Oh.” He turned to the tall, lanky boy beside him whose shaggy black hair was hanging around his face. Proximity seemed to make it logical that this was the one he was referring to. “I beg your pardon. How can I help you?”

Both of them exchanged a glance, and that’s when the angry bundle of fury in the form of crimson eyes and soft wild hair shoved them both out of the way, baring his teeth and glaring down at where Iida was sitting. “He meant me,” he said, an undercurrent of vicious indignation dangling under the surface of his voice like a blade.

“Kacchan!” Midoriya squeaked, bringing up the manga before realizing too late that there was no way to hide himself away from the other young man.

“Kacchan? Do you know this person, Midoriya?” Not that the angry, punkish boy looked like the type of person Midoriya would associate with…

“W-we went to Middle School together. He’s, um, he’s pretty rough, Iida…”

“Is this the delinquent kid you’ve talked about that gave you trouble, Deku?!” Uraraka put down one of the glass plates hard on the table as ‘Kacchan’ sneered at her.

“Where do you think he got that useless nickname from, roundface?” His cronies laughed at that, and she huffed in her seat. “And it’s Bakugou, by the way. Don’t call me by that stupid fucking kiddy name…”

At that, Iida finally rose and gesticulated wildly. Both the other boys in the black, open jackets and caps balled up their fists - did they think he was going to start a fight? - but Bakugou just raised an eyebrow. “I am Iida Tenya! And not only do I think you are terribly mean and rude, but also those uniforms are not appropriate attire, even when classes are over! Do you want to bring shame to your school?!”

“Like I give a shit what you think.” Bakugou curled his lip, cocking his chin to meet his eyes. He wasn’t saying it in a way that was exactly as crude as Iida would have expected, but he didn’t back down regardless.

“You should! You will never get into a respectable university or any other post graduate establishment if you act that way.”

Bakugou took a step closer, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Midoriya grab Uraraka’s arm. “You’re not going to live long enough to get home if you don’t clear out of my booth.”

Iida blinked, confused. The booth? “This type cafe does not have any system of assigned seats in it.”

Behind him, the two boys flanking Bakugou choked a little. “Damn right it does,” Bakugou growled.

“What is that?”

Iida jumped back, though more in disgust than fear, as Bakugou’s thick black shoe came down on the corner of the bench where he was sitting, sending little bits of detritus onto his school books. “I say where my gang sits, and everyone else gets the fuck out of dodge. Or else.”

It took every iota of self control for Iida not to immediately go about cleaning off his possessions. “Or else what?”

Bakugou glanced back at the other two, pupils small, brows knit, his eyes clearly communicating, ’Are you hearing this guy?’ “Or else we go.”

That still didn’t quite make sense to Iida. “Go where?”

The taller of the two lackeys laughed, and the shorter one with the stripe punched him in the side. Bakugou’s face flared into a dangerous shade of red. “We fight! What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Iida chewed his bottom lip. Was this really worth all the effort? It was just a bench, after all. They could move. Before Iida could say anything, though, Uraraka shot back, “Fine! We’ll fight you!”

Midoriya seemed to disappear, escaping as quickly as possible for either the bathroom or the exit, Iida wasn’t sure which. “Uraraka!”

Bakugou nodded. “Fine. But one-on-one..” He knocked his chin at Iida, his eyes going cool. “Him and me.”

“Fine!”

“I have not agreed to anything!” Iida gesticulated again, like he could actually break the moment through force and speed of his hands. But even after a year, he should have known there was nothing to deter Uraraka when she had focused her gaze on a goal...

“Tonight at midnight,” Bakugou said, “at the park outside of campus.”

Iida balked. Suddenly the thought of ruining his good record was more important than the fact that he was giving this genuine consideration. “It is a school night! I cannot be out past curfew!”

This time, Bakugou actually smirked and chuckled, and as though that was permission enough, the two with him giggled as well. “You’ve got to be fucking shitting me with this...fine. Saturday, then.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Unless you’ve got plans…?”

Iida rubbed his chin. “I would have to make sure to finish my weekend studies early so I can have a nap, but--”

Bakugou turned on his heel. “I don’t give a shit what you have to do. Just be there.”

“He will!” Uraraka crowed in triumph.

Finally, the situation caught up with him. God, what had he just agreed to?!

---

“Is that seriously what you’re wearing?!”

Uraraka and Midoriya had agreed to walk with Iida to the meeting spot, and as they left campus under the bright streetlights, Iida nodded and straightened his suspenders. They were paired with black slacks and a white dress shirt, complete with a bowtie. “I want to look my best. And this is practical, because I would hate for my pants to droop. It also makes it less likely that I will be recognized. I do not want to embarrass the school with my tomfoolery.”

“It’s certainly...dapper, Iida…” Midoriya sighed. “You know you don’t have to do this.”

“Yeah, sorry for getting you into this, Iida.” Uraraka had cooled off within minutes of the encounter at the cafe, and ever since she had apologized profusely to Iida for goading Bakugou.

“Please, do not worry, either of you,” Iida said with a decisive chop of his arm. “I do not actually think this will come down to fisticuffs.” He certainly hoped, anyway…

When they arrived at the park, Bakugou was already there, alone. He was dressed down (not that that was much of a surprise, compared to Iida), with a black shirt and jeans. He looked up and locked eyes with Iida and for a second, he seemed different from the delinquent at the cafe: young and rough around the edges, sure, but also...tired.

He bristled when he saw Midoriya especially. “It’s just us, remember? Fuck off, shitty Deku.”

Midoriya was ready to fully comply, but Uraraka grabbed his shirt. “We’ll be nearby, okay? Just call.”

Iida smiled. “I will.”

They watched together as the two walked away, and when they disappeared beyond the curve of the path, Bakugou finally said, “I didn’t actually think you’d show up.” Did he sound impressed? It was hard to tell. It could have just been cocky.

Iida nodded. “I said that I would.”

When Bakugou stood up, Iida raised his fists and hunched his back a bit. The other young man immediately laughed. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I-I am preparing myself in case you just go at me. I learned this stance from several reputable boxing tutorials on the Internet!”

“You still have your damn glasses on!” He smirked. “What? Do you think I’ll go easy on you just because you’re a guy wearing glasses?”

“What? No! I need them to see! How can I do anything if I cannot see?!”

Bakugou kicked at something on the ground. He didn’t seem to be in a rush to fight… “Dumbass. Why did you even agree to this if you don’t know how to fight? Have you ever even been in a fight before?”

“Of course not! Why would I have?” Iida relaxed just a little bit.

“Don’t you do any sports at that fancy school of yours?”

Iida scratched at the back of his head, suddenly feeling sheepish. He was hoping they would be able to talk things out, but talking like this wasn’t exactly what he thought it would be. It felt like Bakugou was trying to get to know him. Not that he minded, but… “Yes. Track and field. Mostly running. Cross country, sprinting, that kind of thing.”

Bakugou glanced up, jutting his jaw out a little bit. It was almost like he was trying to compensate for his short stature compared to Iida. “But you didn’t run from me.”

“No.” Iida took a breath. “But it is sort of like track, I suppose...coach tells us that it is better for us to run like we are heading toward something rather than away.” He gestured, palm against his chest, the other straight out. “Always approach your goal. Run to those ahead of you, and forget the ones behind.”

“Tch.” Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

Running his thumbs up and down his suspenders, Iida paused a moment and then chanced asking, “Is it true? That you bullied Midoriya at your old school?”

Bakugou brought a foot up and down to crush a can sitting by the bench. It flattened under him. “Fucking Deku…” His voice curled with his mouth, disgustedly, but he didn’t raise his gaze from the ground. “He was always following me around like a yappy fucking dog, and one time I tried to scare him off. And it worked.”

“You...don’t sound proud of that.”

“What’s it to you?!” Bakugou stepped hard toward him, and Iida raised his fists again. But he just got close, like he had expected Iida to back off. When he didn’t, they ended up precariously hovering in each other’s space, where Iida could see Bakugou’s eyes shining red in the light overhead as he was forced to crane his neck back to glare.

Iida was the first to break the intense eye contact that had started cemeting between them. “Are we…?”

“What?”

“Are we going to fight?”

Bakugou puffed out a breath through his nose, body relaxing. “It wouldn’t even be a fight. It would be a murder.”

“I would not go that hard on you.”

Bakugou laughed again. He didn’t seem so menacing when he laughed, and Iida liked that (more than he probably should have, he thought, giving himself a little mental kick). “Gee, thanks, four-eyes.”

“Do you really fight all that much?” Iida asked carefully. Every question seemed to take more than a lion’s share of caution.

Shrugging, Bakugou walked over to the vending machine across the path. He fished a few coins out of his pants pocket - he could probably use some suspenders too, Iida thought to himself - and then pointed at the buttons. Was that…an offer? Bakugou gestured again with a growl, and Iida came forward quickly, pressing the button for an orange drink. Once he seemed satisfied, Bakugou said, “Most people don’t show up. I have a reputation.”

“When was the last time you even struck someone?”

“What the fuck do I look like? A goddamn desk calendar?” Even though Bakugou gave him another toothy, growling snap, this time Iida just let it roll off his back. “Those assholes just think it’s cool that I’m so scary to everyone. It’s such bullshit. I hate it.”

A wind blew through the corridor of the park, and Bakugou shivered. Iida scooted a little closer to him, until their legs were touching. The night was cool and quiet. “You do not have to posture all the time.”

“You don’t know me.”

“No, but you seem like someone who could be worth getting to know, especially since what I have known has been so...obviously wrong.” Bakugou didn’t reply, but he also didn’t leave, so Iida pressed on. “Are you in school?”

“Yeah. Duh.”

“Where?”

“Yuuei.” At Iida’s gasp of surprise, Bakugou slouched, mumbling, “‘m in the advanced classes with, like, these two fuckin’ rich preppies. And they’re only half day. The rest is independent studies. So Soy Sauce Head and Pikachu think I’m a drop-out. Idiots.”

Iida couldn’t help it. He let out a snort of laughter, and when Bakugou narrowed his eyes at him and told him to shut up, he just doubled over. “You wear a variation of our city’s standard school uniform! How could they not know?!”

Bakugou’s mask of anger broke a bit, and he chuckled. “They think I’m trying to look the delinquent part. Like it’s my style.”

“That is so silly!” Iida finally straightened again and when he finished his drink, he tossed it into the bin. “Well, if we are not going to fight, would you maybe like to go get something to eat?”

Bakugou stared at him as he seemed to consider what he was saying, then squinted. “Not too late for you, nerd?”

Oh, right. It was after midnight, wasn’t it? “I...was too nervous to eat. I suppose I lost track of the time.”

“Feh.” Bakugou stepped toward him and raised his knuckles. This time, Iida didn’t even flinch, and he grazed his chin with them softly; harder than a glance yet not anything like a punch. “Fine. C’mon. I know a place. But you’re buying.”

In perhaps the only semblance of manhandling during the whole fight, Bakugou hooked Iida’s suspenders with his fingers and dragged him away.

#my paperfics #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bakuiida #bakuida #bakugou katsuki #iida tenya #cute cute cute

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things-we-used-tc-share · 5 years

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You say things with your mouth, flies and cobwebs come out

(I wrote a twenty one pilots fanfic of the same name a few years and this is loosely based on that, except this one is very long, It’s split up into 5 parts in case you need a break and come back to it, but I didn’t particularly want to make this a multi-chapter fic)

Warnings: Suicide attempts, depression, intrusive thoughts, general poor mental health, bullying, shitty parents, abuse ((Very slight NSFW in Part 4, I will put it in italics so you can skip over it))

Ship: Prinxiety, background Logicality

Plot: Roman Prince finds a startled, quiet boy outside the school, surrounded by three known bullies, and deploys a rescue attempt, in the long run, he doesn’t quite know what this will come to be, or that Virgil is hiding several big secrets. (Jock!Roman) (Selective Mute! Virgil) (Title is taken from Lovely by Twenty One Pilots)

Virgil is huddled between a brick wall and three very large men who have anger sewn into their faces. He doesn’t talk too them, the fear closing up his throat as he stares up at the men, boys really, but they’re built like steroids are part of their diet. They’re talking, words full of anger, but Virgil can’t really hear over the static of his anxiety, so he just screws his eyes shut and waits.

“And just what do you think you are doing?” This is a new voice, a voice he hasn’t heard before, a voice that he can’t tell whether is angry at him or them. He remains silent but peaks his eyes open to see the men backing away. “Y’all need a fucking hobby,” The newcomer speaks calmly, but there’s a fire brewing behind his words “I would hate for the coach to find out exactly what you’ve been pumping through your systems to win this game,” Various noises of protest, anger, and disappointment are elicited from the men, as they shove past the newcomer and walk away.

“Are you alright kid?” Virgil peers through his heavily lined and watery eyes before nodding. He’s trying to assess the newcomer, trying to figure out where he knew him from. It clicked, finally, and his eyes widened.

Roman Prince, quarterback of the football team, dream child and perhaps the most untouchable guy in the school. He was the only person in this entire school who could get away with his sexuality, perhaps because he’s rich or perhaps because he has the most dazzling smile anyone had ever laid eyes on. Either way, Virgil hadn’t known a jock could have a heart.

The young man holds out a hand for Virgil to take, hesitantly and with shaking hands, he does. Roman smiles that award-winning smile and Virgil blinks like he’s just been blinded. In a way, he has; blinded by the fact that this man cared enough to put his own reputation on the line, and also blinded by the fact that that really is a nice smile. “Is there anyone I could call for you? Anywhere I can escort you too? You look pretty shaken up,” Virgil hesitates, and now more than ever he wants his voice to just work, but he supposes he can’t just blurt out his life to the first stranger that’s shown him kindness. He shakes his head.

Virgil thinks he probably looks a mess right now, mud on his jeans, jacket half hanging off his shoulder and shirt rumpled. He realized with a start that his head was sore, from being pushed into the wall. He touches it gingerly and a hiss escapes through his teeth, when he pulls back his hand there’s the slightest bit of blood on his fingertips.

“Shit,” Roman curses “Fucking assholes, we need to get you too hospital,” Virgil makes a noise at the back of his throat, like air being released in protest. “What? Why?” The purple haired boy blinks and then makes a hand gesture that was universal for ‘money’ Roman’s lips made an ‘o’ shape like it’s never dawned on him that people actually worry like that. He feels almost ashamed. “Okay, I know who to take you too, trust me,”

It’s a short walk to Roman’s house, although to Virgil it looked more like a fucking mansion. They’re barely through the door before Roman is shouting “Logan! Logan!” Looking rather tired, a tall and thin man with stubble and a mess of brown hair comes downstairs. He can see Roman’s face in Logan, except older and more exhausted with the world.

“What seems to be the problem, Roman?” The younger gestures to the back of Virgil’s head. Logan finally actually takes in the other boy stood next to Virgil, who has several more scrapes and bruises than first realized. “Jesus Christ,” He doesn’t ask questions, simple gestures for the other to follow him. On the way up, Roman explained Logan is a training doctor and also his older brother.

Virgil sits on the bed, as the elder man examines the wound “What happened here?” He finally says “This is going to need stitches, it’s a good job I have a lot of supplies around here,” Virgil keeps very still as Logan gets to work on his head wound. “Really you should go to the hospital, you might have a deeper wound than can be examined externally,”

“He...He can’t afford it Lo,” Virgil’s cheeks go dark red and he fiddles with his hands in shame, Roman notices and kneels down in front of him “It’s nothing to be ashamed about, it’s not yours or anyone’s fault, except the shitty medical system we have in place,” Logan hums in reply, finally pulling away.

“Okay, you’re all stitched up, your other wounds seem mostly superficial, they’ve stopped bleeding at least, wash them and take some painkillers, come back tomorrow so I can check on them, just to make sure, okay?” Virgil nods slowly, and it seems to only have just occurred to Roman that Virgil doesn’t speak. He was used to doing the talking all the time, so people rarely spoke around him, but this boy hadn’t spoken a word. He didn’t even know his name.

He doesn’t ask, he just grabs a notebook and pen off Logan’s desk and hands it to Virgil “What’s your name?” He asks softly, and the young man blinks for a moment before scribbling down on a piece of paper ‘Virgil’ Roman nods. “It’s a nice name, suits you,”

“In future Virgil, if you sustain any further injuries, please come and see us,” Roman has to blink twice at his brother because kindness was usually his partner’s forte, but he remembers that Logan loves his work perhaps more than anything, and he was passionate about fixing people up. “And if there are any worse injuries I am more than happy to pay for it, I won’t have Roman’s only friend dying in my house,” For a moment, the stern appearance breaks and a small smile peaks across Logan’s lips. “If you’re staying for dinner, let Patton know, and you can keep the notebook, I have plenty more,”

As Roman leads Virgil out of Logan’s room, the younger feels overwhelmed with kindness, tears pricking his eyes. The quarterback notices and offers out his arms, not wanting to overstep a boundary, Virgil all but collapses into them.

Patton, as it turns out, is Logan’s husband, a peppy young man who is over the moon to be feeding an extra mouth tonight. “Do you have any dietary requirements? Allergic to anything? Vegan or vegetarian?” Virgil writes down in the notebook that he’s a vegetarian, and Patton nods “Wonderful! Me too! Unfortunately, these carnivorous animals simply won’t have any of my delicious Quorn meals,” He’s laughing and ruffling Roman’s hair. Virgil has never seen a family so happy before.

“That’s because it tastes like cardboard, Patton my dear,”

Later, Virgil and Roman sat on Roman’s bed, although Roman had insisted on giving the other clean clothes. Virgil wondered where Roman’s parents were, but as soon as Roman had read his question, his face had fallen.

“We don’t speak to our parents, well Patton speaks to his parents because his parents are lovely, but me and Logan don’t,” he sighs “My parents threw Logan out when he was 16, when they found out he was gay in a rather interesting way,” Roman laughs “I’d found it hilarious if not terrifying, every kid has nightmares on their parents walking in on them, when everything blew over me, Logan and Patton had a good laugh about it,” He shrugs “I told my dad I was gay, and I followed Logan right out the door, Logan had a job, and so did I, and Patton was more than happy to help, we all lived in a small flat at first but we saved and eventually got this place, which has a lot more room in it,”

“So Logan is your older brother?” He writes

“Yeah, by six years, he adopted me though, after I registered as estranged from my parents, he legally adopted me, with Patton, then on his 18th birthday him and Patton got married, I wasn’t surprised really, they’d been together longer than I could physically remember, I think they went to primary school together, I was the best man and the flower boy,”

Virgil smiles, he liked happy endings, he’d never seen one outside of a book before.

Virgil’s voice comes back a little while after dinner, he uses it to stutter out a “thank you,” to Patton, offering to do the dishes, in which the other man waves a teatowel at him.

“Don’t be silly, you’re a guest, plus this is the only peace and quiet I get before these two starts fighting over movies,” Virgil giggles, Roman feels like he’s been doused in cold water. It’s not a sudden realization that Virgil is attractive, but his laugh might actually be the nicest music he’s ever heard.

Virgil doesn’t tell Roman about his family. He doesn’t tell him about the burns on his arms. He doesn’t tell him about his depression. Not yet.

But he smiles all night, he laughs, he feels a sweet intimacy with people that he’s never felt with anyone in his life. He blushes as Roman compliments his laugh, his voice, listens too him gush about Virgil in general. That’s not something he’s ever experienced before.

He also tries not to smile when Roman kisses him on the cheek and tells him to get home safe.

Part 2

Roman knows there’s something up with Virgil, a few weeks into their friendship, he knows there’s something the other is battling with. Yet the younger boy had a heart made up of walls, and somehow Roman knew it was more than just the pricks at school that put those walls there. On Virgil’s 18th birthday, he didn’t go home, he stayed at Roman’s, and Roman wondered why he didn’t want to see his family on this day, the dots connected in his head.

Patton baked him a birthday cake, it was purple and it had little white stars on it and Virgil cried. He cried and he hugged Patton and told him “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,” Roman’s heart breaks. They’d all bought Virgil gifts too, and the other fell mute as he became overwhelmed with emotions. Patton and Roman sat next to him as he choked on his own breaths, whilst Logan sourced all the blankets in the house and piled them on top of the shaking boy.

“Breathe Virgil,” Logan says calmly, whilst Patton rubs his arms and Roman offers him a hand to squeeze. “I need you to breathe with me okay, copy my breathing, alright?” Roman had never been so thankful for his brother in his life as Virgil began to breathe firmly, eyes not leaving the elder’s worried gaze. “Patton, could you go make Virgil a hot drink? Hot chocolate perhaps?” Virgil nods, wiping away his tears. “Patton makes the best hot chocolates,” Logan informs Virgil, a gentle smile on his face.

He could really see why this man was a doctor, and although he understood that Logan was often a very calculated man, (”Sometimes he’s honestly like a robot, usually when he’s stressed, he used to be a lot worse though” Roman had told him one night whilst they watched re-runs of friends on Netflix) he also knew that when the situation called for it, Logan would do anything for those he cared about.

In truth, Logan and Patton were becoming the closest thing he’d had to a father in his life.

Patton sets the hot chocolate on the table side before gingerly offering the other his present. It’s a small box, containing numerous fidget toys, something that Virgil had voiced previously he wanted but couldn’t afford, and now he had a whole box of them. He could feel his eyes tearing up again as he signed a ‘thank you’.

Logan gives him a notebook, it’s fancy, with textured paper and sleek binding. Virgil thanks him, and pauses to wipe away his tears. Roman’s present is the biggest, it’s wrapped in shiny red wrapping paper that's just so Roman. He unwraps it slowly, his hands shaking slightly, then he beams. It’s a calligraphy set, of different pens and inks all, packed neatly into a beautiful wooden box. ‘Thank you’ he signs, setting it on the floor, before hugging the other firmly, his face buried in his neck.

Virgil stays at Roman’s the night, somewhere between 3am and 5am he kissed him.

His hands were shaking and his lips were cold, but he felt like he was on fire as the other held him like the world would stop for the two of them. He thinks he can taste love in Roman’s lips, amongst the cinnamon and birthday cake and something else that was nothing like anything Virgil had ever tasted before. He kisses him like he’s begging the other not to break his heart, to help him.

Roman kisses him like he’s never been in love before.

Part 3

Roman finally asks Virgil straight out “What’s going on?” Virgil blinks with confusion written into his eyes like a bad parody of what it should be. He knows what Roman’s asking, he doesn’t know if he can tell him. “Virgil, I care about you so much, but you need to let me help you, there’s something wrong I can tell, I’ve always been able to tell but...I really can’t stand to see you look so hurt,”

They sit in Roman’s room and Virgil pulls off his jacket, at first the elder is confused, trying to understand until he sees his arms. He almost doesn’t want Virgil to take his shirt off, but he does. Not for the first time since the elder boy has met him, Roman’s heart shatters in his chest; so hard that the air in his lungs feels like there’s glass lodged in them.

Scars.

All over his arms, chest, back, bruises making patterns of purple and black on the other’s porcelain skin. Burns made ripples up and down the lines of his forearms. Roman feels sick, he feels the weight in his stomach and he stares and stares, trying to understand. Finally, he understands and finally, he speaks. He gathers his calm, and places it in his heart, Virgil needs him to stay calm “Okay, firstly, you need to get those looked at, I think they’re infected,” His voice shakes as he stands “Secondly, we need to get you out of that house,”

It’s a strange sense of deja vu, when Logan’s face pales at the sight of Virgil’s skin, ushering him into his room. Patton calls the police, Virgil can hear him crying. Roman paces, fury in his breathing, and Virgil just feels...numb. He doesn’t know what to do or say. He just holds out his hand, and the other takes it, pressing kisses to his knuckles (Virgil can feel the other’s tears, but he doesn’t know how to console him).

Logan cleans the wounds, some of them need stitches, some of them need bandaging, some of them just need a few plasters. He’s very meticulous, careful, his eyes focused and his body language calm. But Roman knows his brother, Roman knows that Logan’s calm is his anger, but he’s thankful that the other doesn’t rage over the situation. Once again, Roman has never been more thankful for his brother. Virgil is starting to feel the same way about the elder of the two brothers, who had at this point become a surrogate father.

Patton enters the room balancing cups of tea on a tray, he sets Logan’s on his desk, hands Roman his, and places Virgil’s in his hands. Then he sits cross-legged on the floor, muttering encouragements to the three of them. “The police are on their way here, they’ll want to see your,” He gestures “Wounds, Virgil,” The eldest swallows, but there’s no anger in him, only melancholia.

“They’re also going to want to ask questions, some of them will be incredibly invasive, but we will be here if you need further support,” Logan finally speaks. “They’ll take pictures of your scars, they’ll want you to give a statement, your address, your relationship with your family, they’ll ask you so many questions you’ll probably ask if it’s worth it,” He finishes the last wound and stands up, moving to kneel in front of Virgil “But it is always worth it, Virgil, believe me,” The younger nods. “We’ll leave you two alone for now, we’ll let you know when they’re here,”

Roman and Virgil sit on Logan’s bed, with the younger’s head resting on his partner’s shoulder. His expression is blank, but there are tears rolling out of his eyes. “Why are you all so kind to me?” He finally asks.

“Well, we don’t need a reason to be kind to you, initially we saw you needed help, and we helped, because that’s how humans are supposed to be,” He struggles, like he’s trying to recall a fact “Logan says Humans are social animals, that we thrive off being in a society, helping each other and stuff, it’s been that way since the dawn of time, so normally, humans are supposed to help each other,” He pauses “But now, it’s because we love you, Virgil, Patton, and Logan practically see you as an adoptive son that came wandering into our lives a year ago, and I, love you, as a friend, as a partner, as someone I care about very deeply,”

Virgil cracks then, he doesn’t understand, he can’t understand why these people would care so much, he can’t understand what he’s still only learning, at age 18, that people love. That he loves them all, and they love him too, and that despite only knowing him a year they would put everything down to support him. “Thank you Roman,” He whispers.

The police come, they do everything Logan says, by the end of the questions, the photographs, the statements and everything else, he felt like a puppet on display for the world. Patton makes them all dinner after they’ve gone and they sit in silence for a moment before Logan puts down his knife and fork. “Virgil, me and Patton have been talking,” The young man pauses mid-chew too look up at the other “Whilst you are now, 18 years old and free to go anywhere and live anywhere you so desire, we understand that you may need a place to stay,” Virgil’s heart jumps straight too his throat. “We are more than happy for you to stay here, of course, I would need to register you as living here, but we can more than cover the cost of your rent, food and such for a good few months whilst you recover,”

Patton beams at him, and Roman smiles around a forkful of mashed potatoes as the realization sunk in on Virgil. “You’d...do that...for me?”

“You mean a lot to us, Virgil!” Patton speaks, placing a gentle hand on the other’s back. “You practically live here anyway, so, I don’t see why not, plus I love having someone to make veggie dishes for, all my salad and stuff goes out of date before I finish it, so really, I need an extra mouth to feed,”

Virgil laughs, mostly in disbelief, before nodding “Thank you, so much,” But Logan wasn’t finished yet.

“In addition, if you so desire, I have contacted my former trauma counselor, he does excellent rates and helped me a lot through similar situations in which I have found myself...feeling how you may be feeling right now,” Roman looks at his brother, it was a topic that wasn’t often discussed in the house, and a part of the story that the younger of the two brothers had left out purposefully.

The part where their father had put Logan in hospital. Three times.

See there had been points in Roman’s life where he’d remembered the things that their father had put Logan through. The elder was a stubborn boy, he refused to change himself for anyone, and certainly not their bigot of a father. Roman had only been ten when he’d followed Logan out of the door, already very aware of his own sexuality, before that Roman only remembered bits and pieces. Pieces like Logan’s bones on an x-ray, pieces like the black eye he’d been sporting for a week, pieces like bottles smashing, screaming and crying.

He wasn’t surprised when Logan drew into himself after they'd left, he wasn’t surprised that the other had become so stoic that it seemed like there was nothing there. He also wasn’t surprised when Patton booked him a therapy session and patiently helped the other man into his own skin and heart every morning.

Without Patton, Roman doubted there would be a Logan to talk to today.

Virgil stands up and hugs Logan, then Patton, and then Roman, he holds Roman like he’s holding his own heart, firm but gentle. “Thank you so much, all of you,” He whispers, his voice feeling hoarse from all the crying of the last day. “You’ve...you’ve saved my life,”

Part 4

Therapy was not as bad as Virgil had expected at all. He saw Dr Picani once a week, on a Wednesday evening, and the man was...a strange person indeed. He was helpful, however. He spoke mostly in references, all of which Virgil got and understood, and smiled genuinely. In a way, he kind of reminded him of Patton, bubbly, confident, cheerful, but serious when it needed.

He started helping Patton make dinner once he came in from college, which he’d started a month ago and loved it. He was studying Graphic Design, because now he could actually focus on his work and Fine Art, although interesting, was not a path he particularly wanted to follow. Roman bought him a graphics tablet, and he spent his free time drawing, whilst Roman was in college on a football scholarship, although somehow managing to balance two majors. The second being Performing Arts, Virgil could not say he was surprised.

His life was not particularly at it’s best, but he was improving. After he was diagnosed with PTSD, Anxiety, and Depression, he was prescribed medication, which he got benefits to pay for. It had been a long few-month process, but he’s managed it.

Roman had been lovelier than ever, patient with his panic attacks, learning the process in which to calm him down. He read Virgil stories until he fell asleep and kissed him like they were floating on clouds, or at least, it made Virgil feel like he was flying.

His father was currently in prison, awaiting trial, something which Virgil was not looking forward too, either way, he was looking for a distraction. His best distraction was always Roman, who kisses him and touches him like he’s fragile. He appreciates the concern, but for once he wants to feel unbreakable.

When Virgil plonks his bag on Roman’s floor, the other looks up with a smile, greeting him; the words have barely left his mouth before Virgil’s mouth is on his. The younger kisses like a fever, his hands everywhere and anywhere at once and Roman can barely choke out a “Virgil,” Before his lips are pressed to his neck. He swallows his doubts for the favor of the heat crawling underneath his skin.

“Are you sure?”

“Never been more sure in my life,”

It’s a struggle to keep quiet to say the least, although they’d been pointedly ignoring the sounds coming from Logan’s room over the last few months. Virgil doesn’t take his time, it’s not particularly romantic, it’s a lot of noise and bite marks and muttering each other’s name. Until afterward, when they’re cuddling and smiling and holding on to each other like the world is going to end.

Part 5

“I can’t believe he’s getting away with it,” Virgil hisses, whilst Roman tries desperately to keep it calm “The bastard is actually fucking...”

“Virgil breathe, please, honey,” Virgil looks into Roman’s eyes and nods, evening his breathing before it becomes too desperate. “Breath, it’s okay, you’re still safe, you have a restraining order, I know it’s not fair, it really isn’t, but you’re safe here with us, you always will be, I promise,”

Virgil didn’t feel safe. Not from his father, not from himself.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

Roman’s crying, Patton's crying, Logan looks like death warmed up when the ambulance arrives. The elder of the two brothers had spent the last half an hour stitching up wounds and trying to stop his friend from bleeding out all over the floor. Virgil’s blood was very literally on his hands. The bathroom looks like a murder scene. Patton throws up.

“I should’ve stayed with him,” Roman is gasping through tears “I should’ve...oh god, Logan is he going to die?” Logan shakes his head, washing his stained hands before bringing his younger brother into a hug “Will he be okay? What...what do I do?”

“Breathe, Roman, breathe, he will be fine,” His voice is firm, hard, determined and concentrated “He lost a lot of blood, but he’s otherwise okay, he didn’t hit an artery or vein as far as I could see, and I prevented further blood loss, he will be safe at the hospital, which is where we need to go, now,”

Patton is fumbling for his coat and keys, his body moving in directions that he’s not consciously telling it to go. Roman had never seen him look so frantic or lost.

Roman hates hospitals, nothing good ever goes into a hospital. Virgil looks so pale, lips cracked, eyes swollen and red, skin almost translucent. He starts crying again. Logan has seated himself in the corner of the room, legs up as he cracked open a book, whilst Patton sat with his back against the wall, staring at the clock as it ticked.

Roman holds Virgil’s hand, his head resting on the bed as he watched the other man.

When he looks up, Virgil's dark eyes are watching him, he looks exhausted. The machine next to him beeps, there’s an IV in his arm. Virgil looks like a corpse, a living corpse. Roman can’t breathe.

But he does, he breathes because Virgil needs him as he presses a weak kiss to the younger’s hand “Hey there sleeping beauty,” A small smile peaks at Virgil’s lips then falls again as he stares tiredly at his lover. “You’re okay, you’re safe, I’m here, we’re all here,” Virgil looks over at the elder couple, who looked as exhausted as he himself feels.

‘Sorry,’ he signs loosely, but Patton shakes his head.

“Don’t be kiddo, we’re just glad you’re okay,” Somehow, he’s glad too.

It takes a couple days of psych assessments and fluids before Virgil is discharged, he looks like he barely remembers how to walk, stumbling beside Roman, who is supporting him. Logan drives them all back home and helps Virgil upstairs into bed, where the other finally feels he can get a good sleep.

He wakes up at 8PM, too the smell of Patton’s cooking and the sound of music playing. His arm is sore from all the needles that have been in and out of his arm, but he’s enough energy for some real food. Patton smiles at him when he comes downstairs, fussing over him in a way that really, only a parent could with a child. He doesn’t call either of them dad, but he knows they know that they’re the closest thing he’s got.

Which is probably why it had terrified them so much.

Logan smiles at him and offers him a warm hug, rubbing the other’s back. He’s never seen Logan cry before, but his eyes are watering right now. “I feel like I failed you,” The elder admits “That I was supposed to protect you and now...” Virgil shakes his head. He writes with shaky, unpractised hands.

‘it’s not your fault, you’ve not failed me, you saved my life, Logan,’

It’s true, he had, both he and Patton had spiritually saved him, brought him into their home, gave him a life he didn’t even realize he’d deserved. But Logan had stopped the bleeding, stitched him up and made sure he kept breathing whilst the ambulance had been on its way. He’d literally saved his life.

And Roman, Roman had given him the realization that he’d deserved to be saved, and that he could save himself. Sitting in that hospital room, the other man had told him stories about his life, taught him what it meant to be alive and had kissed him so gently his heart felt like it might come back to life from the coldness it had been feeling.

He knew now, with the three of them, when he’d been standing on the edge and ready to fall, he hadn’t wanted to die for a moment. He’d wanted to tell Logan it was okay, tell Patton that he was doing so well, tell Roman that he adored him.

There was a line called depression in his mind, most days he stood on the line and that was okay, some days he stepped back from it, and it was wonderful. Some days he fell over the line into a darker area, like the day he’d made the decision to take his own life. But this day, these days, these were the days that should be worth living, these are the days that on the grey days, he should tell himself will come. Surrounded with the people he loved and that were willing to support him.

He knows he can’t do this by himself yet, that he needs their help for now, but he has to also let them help too. Virgil remembers that feeling, standing on the edge and wanting to turn back. He’d known then that death was not what he wanted, not yet anyway, he didn’t know what he wanted either, but he stored that memory for the next time.

In a couple of weeks things fell back together, although the others were still rather jumpy, they stopped the overbearing and consistent asking the other if he was okay every five minutes. For this, he was thankful. He and Roman decided they needed to get away for a bit, and despite missing them, Logan and Patton were rather happy to have the house to themselves for a bit.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Roman called over his shoulder.

“That doesn’t lower the bar Ro,” Logan had retorted with a snort, hugging Virgil and Roman as they made their way into the airport. Patton’s arm goes around Logan’s waist and he presses a kiss to the other’s cheek. “Are you worried? I’m worried, I feel like an old man,” The younger of the two mutters too his partner.

“You are an old man,” Patton laughs lightly, tugging Logan’s hand. “This is the first time Roman’s really been away from home it makes sense...”

“It’s not really Roman I’m worried about,” He admits “Roman’s not...he’s not the sort of person I need to be worried about, I worry that he’s going somewhere new like any...adoptive father would,” Patton smiles, squeezing the other’s hand “But it’s so soon after Virgil’s...”

“Do you trust them?” Logan nods “Then trust that they will look after each other, and they will be okay, it’s only a week Lo,”

Virgil and Roman made it back safe.

Roman got a tan, Virgil got a sunburn. And they all got their happy ever after, in a way.

((This took me three hours to write, I feel like I’m going to c r y))

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terato-kiss-blog · 6 years

Note

Scenario with Jirou (Earphone jack) and Kendo (Big fist) comforting a s/o having an anxiety attack please?

Hoo boy. These kind of turned into monsters? I dealt with anxiety attacks pretty regularly in high school, and though they’re rarer now I still have them, as do a good number of my friends. So as you might be able to guess, this was an ask that hit close to home. I’m putting them both under the cut so as not to take up the entire dash, but before I let y’all get to business I want to make it clear that my inbox is always open for anyone who needs comfort or a space to vent. Mental illness is a hell of a thing, and you all deserve love and support like these two lovely kids provide. On that note, I hope you like it, anon.

Jirou

It was supposed to be a nice day, and now you were ruining it.

You had been so excited when you found out about the concert in the park - it wasn’t a very well-known band, but bonding over your mutual enjoyment was one of the things that brought you and your girlfriend together, and (most importantly) it was free. You’d met at her place bright and early, her parents cooing over your ensembles of ripped jeans and shredded band tees until she dragged you out the door, ears red and a not-entirely-convincing scowl.

You hadn’t noticed at first, too busy screaming lyrics at the top of your lungs and rocking to the wild beat, but the crowd has grown since you’ve arrived, a mass of moving bodies surrounding you and you know, somehow, that there are eyes on you. Only you, the one person in the crowd not dancing, the one whose heart pounds louder than the drums, the one whose eyes are starting to fill with tears. You know that they’re watching you, wondering why you’re here if you can’t even handle a crowd -

You don’t realize that you’re moving until you burst out of the wall of people, the cool air a shock to your system. It takes you another second to realize that Jiro is the one moving you, fingers locked tight around your limp wrist, and now you’re crying for real because this was supposed to be good and you couldn’t handle it.

She leads you to a bench, sitting you down and guiding your head down to rest on her narrow shoulder. She gently shushes your choked-out apologies, murmuring reassurances that you’ve done nothing wrong, that she doesn’t blame you in the least, that it will be over soon and you’ll be okay. You’re dimly aware of her earlobes extending before her Quirk activates, the not-so-distant sounds of blaring guitar and screaming crowd fading to nothing until all that’s left is the sound of your breaths - hers deliberately slow and steady, yours rapid and uneven.

It still seems to take hours before you can match your pace to hers, exhausted and shaking in the aftermath. “Fuck,” you squeak, tongue dry and heavy in your mouth. Then you say it again, firmer this time, and she laughs a little.

“Yeah. You feeling better?”

“Getting there,” you say, gently prodding at your face. You groan when your fingertips come away streaked black, flopping back onto her shoulder. “Shit. Do I look ridiculous?”

“Nah, messy makeup is a super punk look.”

You smile, weak but genuine. “I think that’s more of a goth thing. Or maybe emo?”

“You can pull off anything, so it’s not like it matters,” she says with a deceivingly casual shrug and rising to her feet. “Listen, Momo told me about this really cute smoothie place nearby. I was gonna take you after the concert, but I’m ready to go now if you are?”

It doesn’t take long for your relief to override any lingering guilt, a weight lifting from your shoulders at the prospect of getting somewhere nice and quiet. You grab her offered hand, rising on steady legs and using your grip to tug her closer and press a chaste kiss to her lips. “Thank you for taking care of me, Kyoka. I’m lucky to have a girlfriend like you.”

If anyone else made her blush like that, you know she’d scoff and brush them off, maybe even inflict a light punch if particularly embarrassed (you’ve seen this happen to Kaminari more times than you can count.) Instead Jirou kisses you again, lingering for a moment before pulling away and leading you towards the smoothie shop, chattering softly about Momo’s recommendations for the menu. She doesn’t let go of your hand.

Your heart’s still beating fast, but you know it’s for a much more pleasant reason now.

Kendou

The worst thing about anxiety attacks, really, was when you felt them coming on - felt the world start to shift, the words of your classmates melting into static, your heart rising into your throat - and yet there was nothing you could do to stop it.

They’re hard to pinpoint as attacks to most people, which is why it took so long for you to get a diagnosis (even though you’d been having them since you were barely walking.) You’ve never (as far as you can remember, at least) fallen into the kind of hysterics media tended to display panic attacks as, the sobbing or shaking or tearing of hair. Instead, you just… retreat, unwillingly stepping sideways out of a body that no longer wants to respond to your brain, remaining outwardly silent and still even as you beat yourself bloody on the walls of your own skull. You know that your tells aren’t particularly obvious.

Well, except to one person.

Your phone buzzes gently against your desk, screen flashing. Dragging your eyes up from your lap seems to take herculean effort, but there’s a palpable sense of relief when you focus enough to read the message on your screen.

Itsuka 💕: Can you talk?

You’re pretty sure that’s a no, and in all honesty you’re afraid of what you’d sound like if you tried, so instead you muster up enough strength to shake your head, feeling more like a malfunctioning robot than a human.

Another buzz, and a second message fills your screen.

Itsuka 💕: Do you need to get out? Can I touch you?

You think your nod looks a little more natural this time, but you could also just be fooling yourself. Kendou’s thoughtful enough not to lay a hand on you until she’s in your field of vision, gentle smile not quite masking the concern in her eyes. She has to practically carry you out, an arm wrapped tight around your shoulders; as much as you will yourself to walk with her, your legs won’t cooperate. As it is, you only just make it to a bathroom before your knees buckle and you slide inelegantly to the floor, leaning your forehead against the cool tile wall. It helps. Barely.

She doesn’t touch you, though you know she wants to; she’s a physical comforter by nature, but you know from years of experience that when you’re like this, the last thing you want is to be touched. Instead she joins you on the floor, position innocuously prim in your mundane surroundings - not quite close enough to touch you, but close enough that you’re intensely aware that she’s here. That she won’t leave you.

That helps. A lot.

It’s quiet for a long time, only broken by her hums and the sharp twangs once you come back to yourself enough to snap the rubber band looped around your wrist. It’s always a slow return, but you get there eventually, and she waits with the patience of a saint as your breathing evens out and the jitters running through you slow to a stop.

“Monoma’s going to ask what happened, you know that, right.” Your voice comes out flat and inflectionless, too weary to bother making it a question. Kendou nods knowingly.

“Well, he can be a dick -” and that startles a snort from you, hearing the ever-composed big sister of 1-B use such language, “- but even he has limits. He won’t push if I tell him not to.”

You grunt in acknowledgement, rising to your feet and immediately regretting your life choices as your knees cry out in protest after kneeling for - how long? Almost fifteen minutes, a cursory check of your phone reveals. For you, that’s actually not terrible.

“You still have a few minutes before class starts,” Kendou says, offering your bag. You brush your fingers lightly against hers as you take it, slinging it over your shoulder as you consider your options.

“Can you let Yamada-sensei know I’ll be a little late? I want to…” You trail off, realizing that they’re probably isn’t any physical evidence to clean up. Still, a splash of cold water would do you good. Kendou understands.

She extends her hands but stops just short of actually touching you, letting you return the gesture and link your hands with hers. Another shadow of concern darkens her blue eyes at the red welt forming on your skin, and she slowly raises your hand to her face, eyes on yours to search for any sign of disapproval. She finds none, and you sigh contentedly at the press of her lips to the stinging skin, turning your hand so you can cup her face.

You step into her embrace for only a heartbeat, bumping your forehead against hers before playfully shoving her towards the door (at least one of you should get to class on time.) She blows you a kiss as she leaves, even though you’ll only be apart for minutes at most. You’re dating a dork.

Still, you think to yourself as you meet your own gaze in the mirror, cheeks pink and eyes tired. Anxiety attacks may be one of the banes of your existence, but with her by your side, they always seem a little more tolerable.

#bnha #bnha imagines #my hero academia imagines #jirou kyouka #kendou itsuka #my writing #WOW THESE ARE LONG #I HAVE NO SELF RESTRAINT APPARENTLY WHO KNEW #also i wanted to show that like. not all anxiety/panic comes thru the same way? bc i think there's a stereotype of what they look like that #doesnt apply to everyone #a lot of the reader in kendou's is based off of my experiences/ways of coping but like everyone is valid and so on #rant over love u all

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i-am-made-of-memoriies · 6 years

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Portals, Clones, and Time Travel. Oh My! (Part 6)

Part 5

“I’m glad we’ve all decided to kill Hiroyuki, but we don’t know how to get to him. How are we supposed to locate him? Who knows how big this dimension is.” Sarada sighed.

Naruto tapped his chin thoughtfully, “You know what would really help?” He asked, “A bird’s-eye-view of this place.”

“Sure dobe, but how are we going to get one of those?” Sasuke smirked.

Boruto and Mitsuki looked at each other devilishly. “Wind jutsu.” Boruto cackled, “We can shoot anyone straight into the sky. I mean we’ve only done it horizontally with Sarada, but vertically can’t be that different, right?”

“Wait, so we’re going to have to rely on your probably-faulty-because-you’ve-never-tried-it wind jutsu to launch Naruto in the air? What if you kill him? Then you’ll just cease to exist!” Sakura exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air.

“What other choice do we have? We could wander aimlessly for days and probably not find Hiroyuki’s abode.” Sasuke replied, siding with Naruto for once.

“I suppose you have a point.” Sakura admitted, finally capitulating to Naruto, “Who wants to be the test subject? I don’t think Naruto’s the best choice.”

Sarada looked around thoughtfully, “It can’t be Boruto or Mitsuki since they’re performing the jutsu, and neither you nor Naruto have good enough vision.”

“So you’re saying it has to be either me or you.” Sasuke concluded. “I’m not doing it.”

“Why do you get to disqualify yourself like that?” Sarada retorted, placing her hands on her hips.

“Because I don’t trust mini-dobe.”

“You’re lying.”

Sasuke looked away uncomfortably. He had been caught in a lie by his future daughter. “Fine.” He spit out, “It’s because your sharingan is more developed than mine.”

Sarada smirked victoriously. She had finally gotten the Sasuke Uchiha to admit one of his shortcomings to her. Exciting. “I suppose I’ll do it then.”

Boruto and Mitsuki stood in the middle of the clearing, Sarada standing between them, her body poised.

“We’ll try not to kill you Sarada-chan.” Boruto said, cracking his neck.

“Yes Sarada-hime. We will be sure to not end your life.” Mitsuki added on, nodding in agreement.

“Why’d you call me ‘Sarada-hime’?” Sarada asked, looking quizzically at Mitsuki.

“It is proper to treat someone with utmost respect before you possibly take their life-correct?”

“Absolutely not!” Boruto exclaimed, “Where the fuck’d you hear that?!”

“My parent.”

Sarada and Boruto groaned. “Just launch me in the air, would ya?” Sarada sighed, activating her sharingan.

“Let’s do this then.” Boruto and Mitsuki quickly weaved the hand-signs for the jutsu. “Brace yourself Sarada!”

Sarada shot up like a rocket, flying over the trees and into the blue sky. From her absurdly high vantage point, she was able to make out a dark building in the west edge of the expansive forest.

“There’s some fort-building thing on the west edge!” She exclaimed, praying that her teammates would hear her. After relaying her message, she turned until she was spread-eagle in the air, waiting for the ground to come closer so her teammates could lower her down with wind jutsu. As the ground came nearer, she noticed that the clearing wasn’t directly below her now. In fact, her teammates were at least several hundred feet away from her approximate alighting point.

“Damn it!” She cried, the ground coming nearer and nearer. She didn’t know what to do as there were mere seconds before she hit the ground and probably hurt herself. She tensed her muscles and hardened her body for the inevitable painful impact, hoping that she would somehow manage to survive the fall.

“Mitsuki, Boruto!” Sakura shrieked, “Sarada’s not above us anymore!”

“What do you mean?!” Boruto replied urgently, scanning the sky. His eyes caught a flash of quickly falling red. “Shit! She’s gonna fall before I get there, what do I do?!” He began to sprint towards her.

“Uh, I don’t know!” Sakura panicked, worrying that her future daughter was about to perish before her eyes, “Try to cushion her fall from where you are!”

“It won’t do enough!”

“But it’ll do something!” Tears pricked at the edge of Sakura’s eyes, but she willed them not to fall. She berated herself for watching someone dear to her get hurt and do nothing but watch and cry. More than anything, she wanted to not be a hindrance, but her teammates were just so damn strong and fast, what was she supposed to do?

3...2…. Sarada suddenly felt a strong gust of wind soften the still-painful fall. She breathed a sigh of relief before succumbing to the pain and falling unconscious.

“Is she alive?” Sasuke asked, panic leaking into his voice.

Sakura put her hand to Sarada’s jugular and gave a relieved nod. “I think she broke some bones, but I don’t know how to fix them!” She looked at Sarada’s ankle, bent in a way no ankle should bend. If she didn’t fix it, Sarada wouldn’t be able to walk, much less fight.

“In our time, you’re a really badass healer.” Boruto said, looking worriedly at Sarada, “Maybe you could try to heal her?”

“I don’t know how it’s done!” Sakura cried, “Sure I’ve read a couple texts, but they’re mostly just on basic first aid. I don’t know how to fix something of this caliber.”

“Are you sure it’s just broken bones?” Sasuke inquired, “I mean, she’s unconscious right?”

“She could’ve passed out from the pain of breaking so many bones. It’s not necessarily brain damage.” Sakura replied, inspecting Sarada’s body. “So the ankle is definitely broken. Along with the right wrist and a couple others in the same arm. I’m not entirely sure about the ribs, but I can suspect some of them were at least bruised upon contact.”

“She seems pretty damn beat up.” Naruto muttered, grimacing at her bruised body, “At least we know where that Hiroyuki bastard is hiding.”

“That is true.” Sasuke agreed, “The problem is that we can’t do anything if Sarada can’t walk or fight. We can’t afford for her to be a deadweight.”

“I’ll try to fix what I can.” Sakura announced, “I’m not experienced in any right, but I can set the bones and hopefully speed up the healing process. I doubt I have the chakra to do anything substantial though.”

“I’ll lend you some.” Sasuke looked Sakura dead in the eye. “She is..” he hesitated, “our daughter after all.”

Sakura wanted to squeal with satisfaction, but she made the decision that there were better times to show her fangirl side. “Alright.” She said firmly, “Let’s get started then.”

Sakura kneeled by Sarada’s side and began with her ankle, since there’d be no point in healing the other bones if she couldn’t walk. “Mitsuki, Naruto, Boruto,” she started, “hold her down. This is going to be painful.”

Once Sarada was securely pinned to the ground, Sakura took a deep breath. She remembered what she had read in the medical textbooks: always begin to pull slowly. If the bone is out of place, the muscles have likely tightened around it. If you pull quickly, the muscles will tighten more; if you pull slowly, you can loosen the muscles and ease the bone back into place.

Sakura began the procedure, slowly moving the ankle into its proper position. She saw Sarada’s face contort in pain, even in her unconscious state, and hoped that she wouldn’t wake up during the healing session.

Once Sakura was satisfied with the positioning, she motioned for Sasuke to sit next to her.

“I’m going to begin the healing jutsu now.” She said with as much confidence as she could muster, “I’m going to need your chakra.”

Sasuke nodded and placed his hands on Sakura’s back. Her body shuddered with the sudden rush of chakra and she began to heal. She focused her chakra on the fracture, closing her eyes and navigating the limb. Sakura was amazed at the way she could see the bone using only her chakra. “Okay. I’m going to try and stitch the bone back together.” She willed her chakra to meld the separated bones together. She could feel the fibers moving towards each other like magnets, finally meeting in the middle and weaving together until they were whole again. Sakura basked in the feeling of successes, her cheeks flushed with happiness as she realized what she had done.

“I did it.” She whispered breathlessly, “I fixed something. I really, truly fixed something!”

“I believed in you the whole time Sakura-chan!” Naruto exclaimed, “Now onto the next bone!”

Sakura nodded. “How are your chakra levels holding up?” She looked at Sasuke.

“They’re fine.” He replied, “Keep going.”

“I don’t have to set the bones in that arm, but I still have to be careful to not hurt Sarada.”

She cradled Sarada’s arm gently, inspecting the breaks. She sighed with relief when she realized that they weren’t particularly serious and easier to heal than the ankle. Sakura took a deep breath, channeling Sasuke’s chakra through her own system. She realized how rough his chakra was compared to hers; as if hers was made for healing and creating, and his for destroying.

“Alright, moving onto the next break.” She announced, willing her hands to glow a soft green. It was easier this time, but she still couldn’t control the flesh and bone the way she wished she could. She figured that she would need a whole lot more training before she would be able to perform this procedure with ease.

Once she felt satisfied with her work, she leaned back and took several deep breaths. Even though Sasuke was lending her chakra, the act of transferring it and controlling it was rather taxing.

“Are you okay?” Sasuke inquired, taking his hands off Sakura’s back, “She’s not dying anymore.”

“I’m fine.” Sakura insisted, “I’m going to fix every bone in her body.”

Naruto admired Sakura’s resolve. The past 24 hours had really changed the kunoichi; she had started as the Sasuke obsessed fangirl that constantly hit and criticized Naruto and had metamorphosed into a strong, determined medic.

“You’re really fucking awesome Sakura-chan.” Naruto said, and he really, really meant it.

A/N: BAHAHA! IT’S THE NEW CHAPTER! Yeah, I hope y’all are as excited as I am. Anyway, sorry for the brevity, I just wanted to get this over with so I could start the chapters leading in to the climax. Good news! I have a clear view for the ending of this fic, meaning that it won’t be one of those ‘forever WIPs’.

How do y’all think that Sakura’s early start on medical ninjutsu will change her future? Do you think it will change it at all? Comment your opinions!

Since I never formally said it, the pairings are as follows: Sasusaku (of course, as it’s my OTP), Mitsu-no one (that boy is NOT up for a relationship, Borusara (I was leaning a bit towards Mitsusara for a hot second there, but Borusara takes the cake), and NaruHina (you probably won’t see Hinata, but the pairing will be heavily implied).

Please read and like and shit. Support is good!

Next chapter

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glitchinthesystemspiderbyte · 6 years

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[35] Glitch in the System - Chemicals & Circuitry

We didn’t have anything ready for y’all, but then @illegalanger dropped a perfect standalone prompt in our lap which means you get a story and we feel better about ourselves (we’re still working through the rest of them too, they’re just taking a bit more time). Enjoy!

A shower happens.

“Dammit.”

Widowmaker looked up from her cross-legged position on Sombra’s bed, briefly detaching herself from the book she was reading to glance across the room at where the hacker stood before the mirror in her attached bathroom suite, attempting to shave her head.

“Problem, cherie?” she asked, slipping a bookmark between the sheets of paper to mark her spot. Long legs unfolding, she slipped off the mattress to join Sombra in the bathroom.

“Just didn’t think too hard about basic style maintenance when I got these installed,” she grumbled, setting the electric razor down and running a hand over the bare spot she accidentally clipped too close to her skull. “Years later and this is still the hardest thing I have to do.”

“Not as simple as hacking into complex corporate mainframes, I’m certain,” Widowmaker mused, reaching up to touch the newly soft fuzz at the back of Sombra’s neck. “Would you like help?” “You want to shave my head?”

Widowmaker smiled, somehow managing to look both endearing and patronizing at the same time. Of all her expressions, the unintentional haughtiness with which the sniper showed amusement was by far Sombra’s favorite. “It is better than listening to you curse for an hour.”

“I try and use a variety of colorful words to keep it interesting,” Sombra said, grinning, and handing over the electric razor. “Good luck. Don’t make it worse.”

“Not to worry. You have set a low bar for me.”

Sombra rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, letting Widowmaker get to work.

“Sit,” the sniper said, pulling over one of the many large chairs in Sombra’s room. “It will be easier for me.”

“Yes ma’am,” Sombra replied, flopping into the big red chair. Widow positioned herself behind her, and Sombra watched the sniper carefully assessing the damage she’d wrought upon her own head. She ran her fingers gently over the growing hair along her part where there was always an irritating, haphazard ridge of spiky hair that grew in whichever direction it chose. Usually Sombra got to it before it grew out long enough to be noticeable, but she’d been lazy lately and it was more than ready to be tamed.

The buzzing of the electric razor pulled her attention back from fixating on the state of her hair, and she winced unnecessarily as Widow pressed it against her scalp.

“Did I hurt you?” she sniper asked, pulling back slightly and tilting her head.

“No, I just always hate the feeling of vibrating metal against my skull,” Sombra replied. It was a fleeting discomfort, but one she experienced every time regardless.

Widowmaker nodded, gently placing it back against her scalp and drawing the blade down in a straight line. “I imagine it would be unpleasant.” She brought the razor flush against one of the curved cybernetics, taking care not to rattle the metal against it. Pulling back, she switched the machine off for a moment to run a finger along the shining pink metal. “I would imagine this was not pleasant, either?” she asked.

“Not really,” Sombra said, shrugging. “Not unless you’re into having drill bits crammed into your skull.”

Widowmaker nodded, resuming her work. She persisted in silence for a minute or two, assessing Sombra’s head with an intensity she usually reserved for the movement patterns of those she intended on killing. “How was it done?” she asked after a while.

“How was what done?” “These,” she pointed at her cybernetics. “How were they installed?” Frowning in thought, she moved the razor down to the back of the hacker’s head. “I have never endured cybernetics. How did it feel?”

Sombra laughed lightly, remembering the day she decided to have the work done. It had seemed an almost casual decision at the time, considering she’d felt like she’d had no option but to have them done. “Like hell, really. It felt terrible. Heads weren’t made to be fucked with like that.”

Widowmaker chuckled knowingly. “That is a sentiment with which I can agree.” “Oof, sorry spider.”

Widowmaker gently smacked the back of her head. “It is fine. I am curious.”

Sombra sat for a moment as Widowmaker brushed the wretched small hairs she’d shorn free away from the back of her neck. They always got everywhere despite her efforts at preventing or brushing them away. She rarely made the effort anymore, but she appreciated Widowmaker’s attempts. Only a shower would eradicate them at this point, and even that was debatable.

“It was weird, really. Uncomfortable more than anything. The physical implantation was done with so much local anaesthetic that I didn’t really feel much, but I felt like I should be feeling a lot, so it was almost the same thing.” She shrugged her left shoulder, Widow’s hand on her right as she reached around her for a hair tie to restrain the longer hair cascading down the other side of her head. “Phantom pain, you know? It’s like your body knows something’s being done to it, and it hates it, so it reminds you that you’re fucking with it even if you can’t feel it by the usual means.”

“Oui,” Widow murmured in response. “I understand this.”

“The weirdest part, though?” Sombra said, regarding her reflection in the mirror. The sniper wasn’t doing too poorly. “Afterwards.”

“Afterwards?”

“Yeah, like once the implants had been completed and the nervewire had snaked its way through the tiny holes the cyberneticist drilled into my skull.”

At this, Widow paused, holding the razor above Sombra’s head. “Drilled holes?”

“Sí, araña. Wire’s got to get in there to complete the neural interface somehow.”

“I suppose that makes sense.” The sniper shook her head. “I dislike the imagery.”

Sombra laughed. “Yeah, fair. Nervewire’s terrible. It’s just a pile of weird, thin silver tendrils until you get it near organic material. Then it moves and wriggles and reaches of its own volition. Like it’s alive,” she shivered involuntarily at the memory. “I mean I’d do it again, but at least I’d know going in that it was going to get weird.”

“I did not realize such a thing was required.”

“It’s needed to bridge the gap between meat and machine. My cyberneticist called it ‘ubermensch ribbon.’ I think she thought she was being funny.” She leaned away slightly as Widow pushed against her head. “It replicates nerve endings and pathways, getting into muscle striations and other areas to complete delicate connections. Feels like someone’s pushing ice water with shards of glass floating in it through your veins, though. If you feel like being really grossed out, you can even watch it winding around under your skin.”

Sombra looked up at Widowmaker pulling a particularly discomfited face, and cut her description short.

“After that?” Widow asked, resuming her attentions under the right side of Sombra’s head. The undercut was trickier, but no one had steadier hands than the sniper.

“After that, cielito, I was fucked up,” she laughed. “It was like every emotion was turned on in my head and I had no way of reacting to it. I’d go from angry to sad to really, really excited in the span of a minute.”

“Ah, yes,” Widowmaker nodded. “I empathize.”

“Shut up.” The spider grinned.

“It was like grasping at smoke, you know? You could see it - it was there - but the moment you tried to hold onto it, it was gone. Sometimes I would just stare into space mid-thought and forget entirely what I had been doing.” Sombra held still as Widowmaker brought the razor around to the side of her head. She always hated the way it buzzed against her ear. “Plus I could feel the nervewire creating new pathways in real time.”

“The brain cannot feel,” Widow commented, raising an eyebrow.

“It wasn’t painful so much as just this creeping knowledge that it was happening. The same disembodied discomfort as when I had it installed. It felt like it should hurt, but it didn’t.”

Sombra shook her head as Widowmaker unleashed her tied back hair, watching the purple ombre fall back into place. “It was even stranger watching as things turned on. First my hard light screen, then wireless connectivity. It took a week for my arm cybernetics to sync with my cerebral ones, but as soon as it did it was like someone turned on all the lights at once: blinding at first, but then I could see absolutely everything.”

Widowmaker ran a brush through Sombra’s hair as she scrunched her curls back into shape, adding a bit of water to form them better. “I suppose I did not realize they were so connected to you.”

Sombra raised her eyebrows suggestively. “I can look up anything without lifting a finger. Direct hardline to the brain means I can think my searches into existence.”

“I can’t imagine that ever goes wrong.”

Sombra winced. “There have been some times.”

Widowmaker stepped back from Sombra’s chair. “I believe I am done,” she said, tilting her head to assess her work. “Does it look all right?”

Sombra stood up and leaned closer to the mirror, running a hand between her cybernetics. “Perfecto. Thank you, that was much easier than doing it myself.” Standing on her toes, she kissed Widow’s cheek. “Now I’ve got to shower all this fuzz off before it drives me nuts.”

“Do you need help with that, too?” Widowmaker asked so nonchalantly that Sombra nearly dismissed it out of hand.

She grinned back at her. “Oh, absolutely.”

*Read from the beginning or check out our intro post! All stories tagged under #glitchfic. Table of contents located here.

#spiderbyte #sombramaker #widowsombra #sombra #widowmaker #sombra x widowmaker #widowmaker x sombra #olivia colomar #amélie lacroix #amelie lacroix #overwatch #overwatch fanfic #overwatch fandom #overwatch fic #glitch in the system #glitchfic

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sandstonesunspear · 7 years

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Bad Idea

Or alternatively known as: Why you shouldn't bring up the supposed merits of slavery in front Alex or her crew Note: Takes place after the Starship DEO makes it back to Earth.

Okay, here’s the second installment for Space Pirate Alex. Sorry if it’s not great. It gets pretty intense and ends kinda fluffy. Hope y’all like it. I’ll cross post to AO3 here in a bit.

- "That's one thing I definitely miss about Daxam, you know, the slaves," Mon-El mentioned casually to Reinhart.

Alex's ears twitched. She, and the rest of her crew, turned their heads to listen in further. Reinhart, for their part, looked increasingly uncomfortable as Mon-El continued to talk. "You all pick up any during your time as space pirates?" He nudged Reinhart, who flinched at the contact. "Uh, no, definitely not," they stammered out. "You missed out, kid." A smile appeared on Mon-El's face. "Picking up a new batch of slaves was always the best part of space travel!" Alex's beer bottle shattered in her cybernetic hand, showering the table with glass and catching everyone's attention. She had heard enough. By the looks on faces of her crew, they had as well. "What did you just say?" She asked lowly. Mon-El gave her a confused look. "I was just telling the kid here how the best part of space travel in new systems was picking up a new batch of slaves," he repeated. Alex nodded and flashed him a fake smile. "Yeah, that's what I thought you said." She calmly removed her jacket and placed it on the back of her chair. Maggie, having picked up what was going on, stood up to intervene, but Alex shook her head. "Reinhart, I think I heard Lyra saying she needed your help in the galley," Alex said. They nodded. "Uh, right. I'll just head over and help her with the casserole." They quickly fled the room, thankful that Alex had given them an out. By now, the rest of Alex's crew was on their feet. Winn, Vasquez, James, and Eliza looked confused as to what was going on, but J'onn and Kara understood immediately. Mon-El looked around the room confusedly. He didn't understand why Alex's crew looked ready to beat him senseless. All he had said was the truth. He shrugged. "You missed out, you know, by freeing slaves instead of taking them." Kessel snarled at his words, but Alex held up her hand before he could charge forward. She gave Mon-El a thin smile and crossed the room in three short strides to face him. "A word of wise, Mon-El," she started. "It's a really bad idea to praise slavery in front of us." "Why?" Mon-El asked, puzzled. "Because we're not big fans of it." Mon-El laughed. "Are you serious?" He asked incredulously. "Y'all were freaking space pirates! How could you not take slaves?" "Because." Alex pulled her fist back. "We were busy freeing them from people like you." Before he could react, Alex smashed her fist into his jaw. Years of fighting aliens bigger and stronger than she was had done wonders for her strength. Having a metal arm certainly helped. Whereas before her punch would've broke her hand, it now sent Mon-El flying. He crashed on to the coffee table. Winn, James, and Eliza stared in disbelief, but Vasquez, Maggie, Kara, and J'onn nodded understandingly. "Alexandra!" Eliza voice was full of reproach but Alex ignored her. She'd had seven years to learn how to shut that voice down. Mon-El groaned to see Alex standing over him, her eyes full of disdain. "What the hell was that for?" "If there's one thing I've really come to hate in the last seven years, it's slavery, and I especially hate slavers," she said coldly, before a dark smile spread across her lips. "Did you know that slave rings still talk about the exploits of the Prince of Daxam?" "Aw come on," he whined. "It was all fun!" Something in Alex snapped. "Fun?" She repeated. "Fun?" - "Oh, shit," Kessel grumbled. "He's dead." His fellow crew mates nodded their agreement. Maggie looked at them curiously. "You mind clueing me in, big guy?" She asked. Kessle looked down, almost as if surprised to see her. He recovered quickly. "Cap hates slavers." He said simply before his gaze turned distant. "We rode up on a slave ring in Alpha Centauri about two years ago. They were taking kids and butchering the ones they didn't think would see. When Cap saw what they were doing...let's just say there's a reason slave ships tend to go in the other direction of ours." Maggie turned to look back at the woman she loved. Alex's entire posture screamed fury. Oh, Danvers... - Alex hoisted Mon-El up, her hand clenched tightly around his throat. "There is nothing fun about taking innocent people and selling them like cattle," she snarled. "There is nothing fun about butchering children simply because they won't increase your profits. And it is certainly not worth bragging about!" That last part came out as a roar just as Alex slammed him into the ground again. The wood floors splintered from the force of the impact. She punched him once more, the sound of Durasteel meeting flesh echoing throughout the room. Mon-El could do nothing. While caught off guard from the first punch and dazed from being slammed into the floor, facing a furious Alex Danvers was something he just had no experience against. "Uh, J'onn," Winn whispered harshly. "Shouldn't we be doing something?" J'onn raised an eyebrow. "Agent Danvers just floored a Daxamite, Mr. Schott," he pointed out. "What do you expect me to do in the face of that?" "She's going to kill him!" Eliza protested. "I don't think she'll go that far, Eliza," J'onn reassured her. Privately, though, he wasn't so sure. Alex's mind was a whirlwind of fury and intense hatred. She had little patience for those who would sell others into servitude, but from what he had picked up from the rest of Alex's crew, her rage was more than warranted. - Alex continued to pummel Mon-El. Some part of her knew that she might be taking this a little too far, but the rest of her was too furious to listen. The last seven years had shown Alex some of best things that the universe at large had to offer, but it had also shown her some of the worst. So many of her crew members had suffered at the hands of slave rings. A group of slavers had been the reason that Sameen was dead and why Jay was left to grow without a budparent. Metal meeting flesh continued to sound. It soon turned wet as Alex's fists drew blood. Maggie had seen enough. She knew Alex was hurting, that she was angry, but it was time for her to stop. "Danvers!" She called out. Alex seemed to pause for half a moment before driving her fist back into Mon-El's face. "Danvers!" Maggie approached Alex. She grabbed her arm just as it was readying to strike again. "Danvers, stop!" Alex tried to pull her arm from Maggie's grasp. "Alex! Alex stop!" She pulled Alex off of him. She wrapped her arms around Alex, both to keep her from re-attacking Mon-El and to provide some modicum of comfort to ground her. "Ally, stop. It's okay, I think he gets it," she murmured into Alex's ear. Alex's chest heaved as she stood still in Maggie's arms. The red haze slowly left her vision. She glared down at Mon-El. "Get. Out." She hissed to him. He tried to say something, past all the blood streaming down his face, but Alex cut him off. "Get out, now. Before my crew decides to finish what I started." Mon-El looked around to see Alex's crew. They looked ready to kill him. Kessel looked particularly murderous. Mon-El coughed. "Yeah, okay, I'm out." He pushed himself to his feet and stumbled to the door. He glanced over his shoulder trying to make eye contact with Kara, but she pointedly ignored him. - The door shut with a loud click. As soon as it did, Alex slumped further into Maggie's embrace. Kessel cleared his throat, signaling to everyone that they should get back to whatever it was they were doing to give the two of them some privacy. Not for the first time was Alex grateful for his presence. Maggie pressed a kiss to Alex's forehead. "You alright Danvers?" She asked quietly. "No," Alex admitted. She looked at Maggie, her eyes full of regret. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

“I’m not. If you ask me, he had it coming,” Maggie said with a small shrug.

“I like her,” Kessel said loudly from the couch cushion he had claim as his, not even attempting to hide the fact that he was listening in.

The rest of the crew nodded their agreement.

Alex laughed. “I do too,” she said warmly.

Maggie raised an eyebrow. “So, what you’re saying is that you like me?” she teased.

Alex rolled her eyes. “Nerd.”

The Superfriends watched Maggie and Alex. They were all still slightly taken aback by what had just occurred. Winn and James were stunned at how quickly Alex had dispatched Mon-El, but they were understanding. Both had grown increasingly uncomfortable with the Daxamite’s remarks, especially when they had attempted to inform as to why those statements weren’t welcome here on Earth and had been met with resistance.

Vasquez, for their part, nodded in approval. While they hadn’t exactly believed Alex to be rusty, it had been seven years since the two of them had done some “friendly” sparing. After seeing Alex hand Mon-El’s ass to him, they were roaring for a go to see if they could still take Alex on.

J’onn nodded, not even bothering to hide his smile of admiration. That was space daughter! Not for the first time was he glad that he couldn’t read the minds of Daxamites or Kryptonians; if he’d been able to read Mon-El’s mind in the past, he probably would’ve gone after the idiotic man-child himself. He, like Alex, had little tolerance for the act of slavery or the people who sought to profit from it. He had spent a good portion of his adult life in a prison camp on Mars where he and his family had been treated no better than slaves. He had been force to watch as the White Martians worked his people to death and slaughtered those who’d survived the conditions.

Kara was grateful that she had finally ended things with Mon-El several years prior. After hearing how quick he was to praise slavery and treat it as if was simply a fun pastime, she wondered what it was she had ever seen in him. She was glad Alex had shown him the error of his ways, she just wished that it involved a little less…property damage. She glanced at the splintered floor and winced. Well, there went her deposit.

Kara’s eyes met Maggie’s. Maggie gave a small nod in her direction before returning her attention back to Alex, still wrapped up in her arms. Kara smiled. If any part of her still doubted Maggie’s devotion to her sister, it was silent now. Obviously, some things had changed; that much was inevitable given that it had been seven years. But Maggie’s feelings for Alex hadn’t waned. Anyone with eyes, functioning or not, could see that Maggie was still madly in love with her.

Maggie continued to murmur words of love and comfort to Alex. Kara’s smiled widened ever so slightly when she heard Alex let out a small laugh and a quiet “Nerd!” Oh yeah, Alex was definitely going to marry that woman.

#space pirate alex #alex danvers #alex 'fight me' danvers #sanvers #maggie sawyer #supergirl #my writing #sandstonesunspear #fanfic

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junker-town · 6 years

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NFL Dad, Week 11: At least you didn’t start Nathan Peterman

One dad, two young kids, and six-plus hours of RedZone Channel. How much football can he actually watch?

What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done? I genuinely want to know.

For me, it was probably my wife and I deciding to have a second kid without so much as a glance at our budget (“budget,” he said, like an adult who had such a thing at the time). We wanted two kids, and we knew we’d make it work, gosh darn it. Because of that, our bank account is held together with duct tape and wishes, we’ll never own a home, and the looming specter of college tuition is the only thing that makes me look forward to the collapse of society.

On the other hand, that decision gave us a very sweet son who plays well with his big sister. We made a poor financial decision that led to fuller, more joyous lives. It wasn’t national news. It didn’t affect any outcomes for a billion-dollar franchise that employs hundreds of people. It wasn’t televised for everyone to mock.

What I’m saying is, at least I didn’t bench Tyrod Taylor to start Nathan Peterman, like some kind of ignorant asshole. And neither did you! So chin up, things could be a lot worse.

EARLY GAMES, FIRST HALF

— After helping get the kids ready for their naps, I turn on the TV around 1:15. The first meaningful play is Jay Cutler throwing an interception in the end zone. Hell yes, today is gonna be awesome.

— DeShone Kizer’s early line: 0-1, 1 INT. It looks MISERABLE in Cleveland: Windy, wet, and the Browns are playing.

A few minutes later, the Jaguars score a TD on play-action that fools the camera operator. Blake Bortles wasn’t even on the screen until just before he tossed the ball to Marcedes Lewis.

— Eli Manning completes five passes in a row to start the game. Naturally, once the Giants reach the red zone, it’s time for someone else to throw a pass! How does it go for Shane Vereen?

The Giants attempt a little trickery... But the @chiefs have other plans. PICKED. #KCvsNYG http://pic.twitter.com/0imA0M3DJ9

— NFL (@NFL) November 19, 2017

SUBOPTIMAL. Also, this is the first time this column has begun with three consecutive bullets about interceptions.

— My daughter goes down for her nap. Whenever we put her to bed, she does a singsong cadence of the names in her life (NOT like Arya Stark, I swear). She says, “Mommy, Daddy,” then rattles off her own name twice, her brother, the dog, her nanny (twice), and then back through the list again, but randomized.

I cannot do it justice in words because it is woven into the landscape of my day, a charming and inexplicable habit from the spongy mind of a child. Eventually, I know, she will stop doing it, and I’m already sad about the day I walk out of her darkened room without hearing the rhythmic, lyrical recitation of the names of people I love.

— The Jags run a surprise onside kick, and it works! Josh Lambo recovers!

That was cool, but ... C’mon guys, it’s the Browns. Y’all don’t need to do that. Let them die with dignity.

— We ran out of coffee in my house this weekend. I used the last of our grounds on Saturday morning, but thought we had another bag — not realizing that the bag was decaf. (Charlton Heston voice) DECAAAAAAAAAFFFF!!!

So we made do with decaf when we woke up, then I had a latte when we took the kids to the playground in the morning. I drank it like a desperate man. It helped, but by noon I was stressed and irritable, so I heated up water to make tea.

I try to be the kind of person who respects everyone’s tastes, but apparently that’s only possible when I have enough caffeine in my system. Tea is bullshit.

— Alex Smith throws an interception on a shovel pass. Not easy to do!

AN INT ON A SHOVEL PASS MAKES A TASTY SNACK FOR DAMON HARRISON #Giants #Chiefs http://pic.twitter.com/0RZs3zcyxt

— Clay Wendler (@ClayWendler) November 19, 2017

— Facing 4th and six in the vicinity of the Saints’ 40, Kirk Cousins makes an awesome throw downfield to convert, leading to a short rushing touchdown that gives Washington a 17-10 lead.

After Rams-Vikings, Washington versus New Orleans seems to be the game to watch in this early slate. Cousins & Co. are playing for their season, and the Saints offense seems a little rattled by the pressure that Ryan Kerrigan and his friends are bringing.

— I just deleted a bullet point about Jay Cutler throwing his second interception, because he has now thrown THREE. I swear the only RedZone highlights from this Bucs-Dolphins game are Cutler picks, which is all I really want anyway.

— The Packers have turned the ball over three times and the Ravens only lead 3-0. Brett Hundley has no business facing this Ravens defense, but it’s Baltimore that infuriates me. That offense is polio. Joe Flacco is the debtor’s prison’s Alex Smith.

Also, the Packers are wearing their crappy throwbacks. If I’d known they’d spend today drawing inspiration from the 1930s, I wouldn’t have picked them to cover.

— Rams-Vikings is living up to the hype of a battle between two division leaders in the superior conference. It’s tied at 7-7, and though there hasn’t been much fodder for this column, every set of downs is a chess match between quality teams with smart plans that make the most of their players.

As soon as I write that, Cooper Kupp caps a Rams drive by fumbling on the 1-yard line.

Cooper Kupp loses the on the 1-yard line... And the @Vikings recover! Going the other way! #SKOL http://pic.twitter.com/3glfdkGBOn

— NFL (@NFL) November 19, 2017

Even this — a red zone turnover — is more indicative of a relentless, well-coached defense than it is of Kupp’s carelessness. And now that’s I’ve had two instances of Kupp alliteration, I must see the headline through to completion:

Cooper Kupp’s carelessness crushes quality campaign; Case Keenum & company control close contest!

I would have been an incredible newsman in the 1920s.

— The Lions, who stumbled out of the gate against the Bears, take a 21-17 lead on a short pass to Ameer Abdullah with 20 seconds left in the half. John Fox has that, “Aw, hell” look on his face. It’s the sort of look that Bears fans must HATE, because it gives the impression that Fox is in over his head.

Another thing that gives the impression that Fox is in over his head? His coaching! ZING! Take that, old man who never did anything to me!

EARLY GAMES, SECOND HALF

— Joe Flacco throws to a blanketed Mike Wallace, who makes an incredible catch to give the Ravens the first touchdown of the game. They lead 13-0.

The announcers rave about Wallace’s catch — justifiably — but let’s talk about Flacco’s reasoning. It’s not like Wallace is the kind of receiver you should expect to make catches while covered, like Julio Jones or DeAndre Hopkins. He’s Mike Wallace! A deep threat on an offense that doesn’t throw deep! And the Ravens can’t even realistically cut Flacco until after 2018! We have SO MUCH more Flacco to watch. GUH. Dump this team into the Chesapeake.

— My son wakes up from his nap early. He points to his mouth and says, “Ow. Ow.” His mouth hurts because he fell off his sister’s bed earlier, hitting his chin on the bottom rail and biting his tongue. Poor kid. He sits next to me on the couch and sucks his thumb while resting his head against my shoulder.

— “Alex Smith is hot dog shit today.” That was originally going to be my entire bullet, but that metaphor isn’t very clear. What I mean is that Smith is fresh dog shit on scorching pavement on hottest day of the summer. But the phrase could also read as shit from a dog that’s hot, or possibly the filling of a hot dog from a questionable manufacturer. None of these are particularly good, but I wanted to make it clear what kind of hot dog shit Alex Smith is today.

— Matt Moore has replaced Jay Cutler -- not for cause, though. Cutler, who had put together some 11 or 12 minutes without an interception, left the game with a concussion. Moore immediately hits Jarvis Landry for a long gain.

— My wife leaves with my son to walk our dog just as my daughter wakes up from her nap. The Vikings are putting together an intriguing drive, but I go into her room and help her use the potty. When we come back out to the TV room, the Vikings are celebrating a touchdown.

We sit on the couch and I read a Dr. Seuss book to her. Are you ready for a children’s book hot take? I hope so, because Seuss is WILDLY overrated. He’s kind of like Joe Namath: A champion and Hall of Famer, sure, but also revered beyond his talent.

The strength of Seuss books is their musical language, and I fully welcome the way they can give children a sense of poetic rhythm and rhyme. They’re also EXCRUCIATINGLY long; I could read a chapter of Moby-Dick in the time it takes to read Oh, The Places You’ll Go. The rhymes are also repetitive enough to feel rote, but differentiated enough that you can’t zone out and perform on autopilot; it’s the children’s book version of assembling IKEA furniture. Finally, though I can’t deny Seuss’ unique artistic style, I loathe it with all my heart. Is that a dog or a cat? A cat or a person? A person or some made-up bullshit so he can make a rhyme? I’m over it, man.

— After the book, my daughter takes my wrist in her hand and puts my arm around her. We watch Adam Thielen break a long TD to give the Vikings a two-score lead, and that’s probably curtains for the Rams.

All this man does is make PLAYS. 65-yard @athielen19 TOUCHDOWN! #SKOL http://pic.twitter.com/cQyfvs5sR5

— NFL (@NFL) November 19, 2017

— Another Alex Smith interception leads to a Giants field goal; the underdogs lead 9-6 with 1:39 left. This reminds me: I missed it while parenting, but Travis Kelce ALSO threw an interception today.

In just this one NFL game, interceptions have been thrown by a quarterback, a running back, and a tight end. If you had bet me before the game that THREE players would throw interceptions and NONE of them would be Eli Manning, you would own every penny to my name.

— Alex Smith TRIES to throw another pick, but there’s a penalty on the defense. Soon after, he finds Travis Kelce wide open down the seam. The Chiefs get into the red zone but can only get a field goal. These assholes are going to overtime.

— A Lions 52-yard field goal gives them 27-24 lead, but John Fox has three timeouts, one minute remaining, and a rookie quarterback. LET’S GO!

Mitchell Trubisky puts together a competent hurry-up drill, but Connor Barth misses WAY wide right on a 46-yarder. The Bears lose, 27-24. It’s the third straight game (and fifth overall) that they’ve lost by one score. Meanwhile, two of their three wins have come in overtime. This must be an AGONIZING season for Bears fans.

— My wife gives our daughter a Moana coloring book that comes with a paintbrush and watercolors. The first picture inside features Moana standing proudly with her fists on her hips. Later in the evening, my daughter will swagger up and down the hallway with her fists on her hips, saying, “I’m walking like Moana!”

THIS is why I love Moana but have beef with the traditional Disney princesses. My daughter is three years old and has still never seen Moana (or any movie), but frequent exposure to the soundtrack and a couple of plot points — “Moana has to save her people” — gives my daughter enough information to guide her body language, and we can see it in the way she play-acts.

When she’s Cinderella, I have to pretend to put a gown on her, and we dance together at the ball. When she’s Rapunzel, she flips her hair around; Ariel, and she holds up a scarf as a bikini. But when she’s Moana, she throws her shoulders back, struts with purpose, and thrusts her fist into the air — something she’d only previously done when saying, “I’m Batman!”

Long story short, her Cinderella doll has a date with the trash chute.

— The Saints, trailing by 15 as the game winds to a close, needed two touchdowns in three minutes. Drew Brees did it in two minutes, thanks to a three-and-out forced by the defense. 2-point conversion good.

WE. DID. THAT.@a_kamara6 with the touchdown and the two-point conversion to tie things up with 1:05 to play! #SaintsGameday | #WASvsNO http://pic.twitter.com/Dzae3lVa40

— New Orleans Saints (@Saints) November 19, 2017

This gives me flashbacks to Washington’s win in Seattle a few weeks back, when the Seahawks scored too quickly and gave the visitors enough time to retake the lead.

— With time starting to run low in overtime, the Giants go for it on 4th and six at the edge of field goal range, and Manning takes a shot deep. awesome deep pass. Great play. FG Giants, 12-9.

Wowwwwwwww. Roger Lewis makes the INCREDIBLE grab to setup the @giants WIN. #GiantsPride http://pic.twitter.com/YE9qsqlql5

— NFL (@NFL) November 19, 2017

It’s underthrown, but the cornerback drags Roger Lewis (a player I have DEFINITELY heard of, yessir) down, and that helps him make the spectacular catch. The Giants kick a chip shot to win the game.

The Chiefs’ performance today puts some serious stink on the “Andy Reid after a bye week” mystique. Woof. On the flip side, the Giants hurt their draft position and will keep Ben McAdoo as coach a little longer, so ... way to go, everybody. Bang-up job this week.

— Washington does nothing with its first OT possession, and the Saints waste no time: Mark Ingram breaks a long run to put them in field goal range. Wil Lutz kicks the 28-yarder, and this is the rare instance I approve of overtime: It (A) ended quickly and (B) completed the gut-wrenching collapse of a team I dislike.

LATE GAMES, FIRST HALF

— Nathan Peterman starts his NFL career off with a pick-6. Sure, it went off the receiver’s hands, but that’s inconvenient for my narrative. I picked up the Chargers defense for my fantasy team, and I’m counting on Joey Bosa and Melvin Ingram to ruin the debut of an unheralded rookie quarterback.

— The first RedZone action in Denver is the Broncos blocking a Bengals punt. It should be illegal to have this much orange on the field.

— My wife gives the kids apple slices with maple almond butter, which is one of very few ways to make almond butter palatable to kids raised on peanut butter. They sit at the table and eat silently. I mute the TV and just drink in the quiet. For entire seconds: no sirens or honking outside, no incessant questions or shouting or whining, no dog nails clacking on the wood floors, just silence. I store the moment away and save it for a moment when I need a warm feeling of calm.

— Brock Osweiler throws a pick in end zone that Dre Kirkpatrick ALMOST returns for six, but he inexplicably fumbles without being touched, recovering his mistake at the one-yard line. This might be my favorite play of the entire year:

PICK-6-OHHH NO! Dre Kirkpatrick nearly has a 101-yard PICK-6... But fumbles inside the 5. Wow. #CINvsDEN http://pic.twitter.com/zUyPI5Q0xZ

— NFL (@NFL) November 19, 2017

By the way, this is the exact sort of thing I’d do if I were an NFL player who had Joe Mixon on my fantasy team (I don’t, though, because I drafted with MORAL PRINCIPLES). It’s Tyler Kroft, however, who gets the touchdown.

— My daughter, still working with watercolors, absentmindedly takes a sip from the cup of water she was dipping her paint brush in. Bruce Arians approves!

My wife says, “How did that taste?” My daughter only frowns in response.

— Tom Brady opens the scoring in Mexico City with a TD to one of his running backs … Kevin Faulk? No, Dion Lewis. Hey, speaking of Mexico, the new Pixar joint looks amazing.

youtube

Oh yeah, that’s gonna give me a good cry.

— Nathan Peterman has now thrown his THIRD interception. It’s still the first quarter.

Tyrod Taylor has the lowest interception rate in NFL history (at least 1000 attempts).

— Mina Kimes (@minakimes) November 19, 2017

Tyrod Taylor in 2017: 254 passing attempts, 3 interceptions Nathan Peterman, today: 8 passing attempts, 3 interceptions

— Rodger Sherman (@rodger_sherman) November 19, 2017

— Keenan Allen is in for a TD, and it’s 17-7, Chargers. Allen doesn’t look quick, but he’s just so smooth. I can’t think of another receiver that big who moves with such grace and without any wasted movement. I hope he can avoid the injury problems that have followed him to this point.

— Peterman throws a FOURTH pick! This is amazing. I stop watching the games to follow Twitter, where the ‘Rod Squad is gleefully destroying Sean McDermott and the Bills management.

more like Tea-rod Taylor, right @minakimes? http://pic.twitter.com/zUbrqH6ziC

— Matt Ufford (@mattufford) November 19, 2017

You’ll notice in the above picture that Taylor has “Born to Lose” tattooed on his bicep; on his other one is “Built to Win.” When he leaves Buffalo — and he should, for an organization that actually welcomes him as a perfectly solid quarterback (‘sup Jacksonville?) — he should find some space for “Benched Too Soon.”

— A Peterman fumbled snap leads to 3rd and seven, and let me tell you: I have rarely been so tense as watching Nathan Peterman, sitting on four interceptions, wait to take a snap on a passing down. (He threw incomplete. It was not particularly close to being complete.)

— Did Nathan Michael Peterman throw a fifth interception? You are extremely goddamn right he did.

— As the games go into halftime, the Chargers lead the Bills 37-7, the Pats take a 17-0 lead on a 62-yarder from Stephen Gostkowski, and the Bengals lead in Denver, 13-7. The lone close game is the one I have no interest in watching. Orange teams are crap.

LATE GAMES, SECOND HALF

— My kids practice saying “Touchdown!” while throwing their arms up in the air. the 3-year-old has it down cold, but my son’s pronunciation isn’t quite there. It starts out as “DA-DA!” but he manages to get to “TOUSH-DAWN!” by the thirtieth or fortieth try. It definitely did not get old, I’ll tell you that much.

— Brandin Cooks ends any realistic hope for the Raiders with a 64-yard touchdown that is all speed and no safety help. I won’t even link to a highlight because it’s not even that interesting. Imagine a really fast guy running past a person, then catching a ball in stride and continuing to run. There you go.

— Tyrod Taylor is back! He converts a 3rd and 12 and leads the offense to a field goal. Whoa, CRAZY how the Bills’ offense works better when the more talented quarterback plays. Sean McDermott is either the stupidest asshole in the league, or he’s being told by management to back Peterman and too spineless to say no.

— I get my son out of the bath, put him in a diaper and pajamas, give him his milk, and somehow manage to cut his fingernails without turning our house into the Octagon. The kid can’t catch a ball, but brandish some nail clippers and he’s suddenly a black belt in Brazilian jiu-jitsu. Usually, if I want to keep him from scratching his face with his talons while he sleeps, I have to put him in an arm bar while he screams bloody murder.

But not this time! He just drinks his milk and doesn’t struggle. Now, if you don’t have kids, you probably never think about this kind of thing. But as a parent, please allow me to shout, THIS IS SUCH AN EASY THING THAT CHILDREN MAKE SO GODDAMN HARD ARRRRGGGHHH.

— Down 27-0, the Raiders go for it on 4th and one, and hand it off to ... a running back who is NOT Marshawn Lynch. He gets stuffed. JESUS. What black magic does Belichick have that makes opposing coaches ignore Lynch at crucial moments?

— The Raiders score a touchdown I don’t see because this is happening:

The great thing about writing is that you can easily work from home

I saved my daughter’s notes:

bv bvb vt /ER;/.SZrd6s4\-}){“:$D[‘c tgc raLKUoYPTOIUYTR’=\][

OK, so we’ve got some room to improve. She does better work with emojis.

— My son picks a book off the table, drops it on the floor, and bends down to pick it up, not accounting for the table that’s in his head’s path. BONK. He’s got a red welt on his forehead, and it’s at least the fourth time this afternoon he’s fallen or otherwise hurt himself (he also pulled open a tape measure, which retracted and whipped him in the face). He’s a disaster.

On the screen, the clock ticks down on the Chargers’ 54-24 blowout. Sean McDermott looks grim but steadfast. In the other room, my daughter channels The Rock’s voice to yell the final lines of his song in Moana: “AND THANK YOU!”

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