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nientary-1832 · 2 years

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No more fanart for now, just some anti-war leaflets. I don’t have a printer and going to a copy center would be dangerous, so I have to make them with my own hands (alas, leaving my fingerprints everywhere). I’m pretty sure I was followed by two cars while pasting them up 🤪

(Attacked

Ukraine / Czechoslovakia and Poland

Under a pretext of protecting

Russians/Germans

Putin dishonours Russia)

(They bombed Kyiv

early in the morning when people were sleeping

Putin dishonours Russia

Patriots, don't stay silent)

(“We will go to heaven and they’ll just bite the dust”

Will you wait quietly?!

Come out)

Apparently this kind of art makes me a criminal. In Russia, where everyone is pompously lectured since kindergarten about the horrors of war and the sacrifice of our people during the World War II. My great-grandmother survived the siege of Leningrad. She was a doctor who saved many lives while being bombed and literally starving. Luckily, she died two years ago, so she doesn’t have to know about the new Hitler, born in the very same city she’d helped save.

Here’s the deal.

- Telling any uncomfortable truth about the war might get you 15 years in prison. We can’t even call it a war. They are literally telling us war is peace!

- Providing any help to Ukraine = 12 to 20 years (this is “high treason”).

- Participating in protests = up to 6 years in prison. To put that into perspective, beating your wife will just get you a fine.

- The government has already threatened to reinstall the death penalty.

- Many people detained for protesting are brutally beaten, girls are threatened by rape.

- Some of the last independent media have been destroyed this week.

- Yesterday cops were visiting homes to carry out searches and/or discourage people from taking part in today’s protests.

- Reportedly, children’s services threatened a family to take away their adopted child for signing an anti-war petition.

- People are expelled from universities and fired from their jobs for protesting or just speaking out against the war.

- Many people are leaving the country. Prices of the tickets have skyrocketed, so you have to be pretty well-off to afford them, and it feels like everyone with any power to do good is abandoning us.

- Personally, I wasn’t cautious and did something worth 20 years of prison. I have no money and nowhere to run.

- The whole country is officially cancelled. Some sanctions will help us bury this regime, but some others are cruel and counterproductive. For example, we’ll have no foreign medicines, so basically no decent medicines at all. This will hit people with disabilities, mental disorders and chronic diseases. Many will die. I’ve barely managed to find one pack of my antidepressant and it’s likely the last one in my life. Something’s wrong with my joints or probably nerves. Walking hurts. Whatever it is, I won’t get any help now.

- Why take away pet food? My cat needs special food because of renal insufficiency. He’ll probably die without it.

- Cutting us off from services like Paypal is affecting creators, some of the most free-thinking people out here. Ironically, Paypal was the back-up that allowed many people to protest against the war despite the risk of being fined and/or losing their jobs.

What next? I dunno, anything might happen. By attacking Ukraine Putler has obviously made a fatal mistake and shot himself in the foot. It really feels like his end is close. The question is how long the agony will last and how many people he’ll take with him.

Tomorrow we could wake up in a free country or in North Korea. That is, if we wake up at all. All the civilized world apparently expects us to overthrow Putler, which might or might not happen. There are many people poisoned by years upon years of militaristic propaganda. Others are in denial, or too frightened, or burnt out to the point of being dead inside. You could put a stick up their asses and they’d be like: “This is fine, I’ll get used to it”. They are actually proud of their "flexibility" and "survival skills". I don’t know if they will come around when they have nothing to eat. Many of us young(ish) people are screaming ourselves hoarse to get through to our parents and it’s like talking at walls.

I wasn’t prepared for this reality where you have to be a hero to be a decent person, where you have to become a martyr or the whole world will shame and despise you. I just wanted to be an artist. I’m not asking for pity, though. I’m just asking you, whoever reads this, not to dehumanize us. I actually cried from gratitude while listening to some of the European politicians who emphasized Putler is not Russia. He’s not. We are. I want you to know there are people in Russia who care about justice, freedom, human lives and rights. We will never forgive him.

Even if the protests stop, please don’t think we’re done, we’ll just find quieter ways of resistance and sabotage. All of our futures have been stolen, all of our dreams are dead and MURDERS are being commited in our names. That’s not something we can accept or patch with fandom stuff. Many of us are thinking about killing ourselves if Putler’s regime survives, but we will not – because we want to see him lose his money, his friends, his freedom and his life. I refuse to die while that botox rat lives. I will keep going. One day I'll sing and dance and piss on his grave.

Peace for Ukraine, freedom for Russia and Belarus, death for Putler.

#russian ukrainian war #russia #literally 1984 #stand with ukraine #anti war protest #current events #my art #whining #Spotify

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mmelonheadd · 2 years

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FOR WHEN YOU CAN’T BE BATMAN

Because not everyone can afford a $12,000 batsuit (Looking at you, Bucks County Batman) and because not everyone who wants to be a superhero is able-bodied. Some of us are in wheelchairs. Some of us have anxiety so bad we can’t leave our houses. Most of us are dead broke.

My philosophy: life could be a comic book if we all just tried.

Can’t leave the house? If you’re reading this post, you have at least limited access to the Internet and you have a blog - so be a light for others. Be a kind word. Spread your wisdom. Speak your truth. Report the news because the revolution may be televised, but the revolution is also a victim of political spin and propaganda. Don’t have the spoons? Hit that reblog button. Share that article. And remember that taking care of yourself is important, too. Sometimes that’s all you can do, and that’s okay.

If you’re able to leave home and make a go around your neighborhood, pick up litter. All you need is a big trash bag and a sandwich bag/gloves for your hands. If you use a wheelchair, a trash picker will be an invaluable asset.

If you live in an area with a homeless population, make care packages. Toothbrush. Toothpaste. Comb. Deodorant. Sanitary products are an absolute MUST. A list of phone numbers for local homeless shelters, domestic violence shelters, soup kitchens and other resources is also a great idea.

Volunteer work doesn’t always mean cleaning dog kennels at the local shelter (and as someone with sensory issues... thank goodness for that), and not every volunteering activity requires an able-bodied individual. There are even virtual opportunities out there.

When it comes to protests, not everyone can grab a megaphone and lead the crowd - and not everyone should. I know I’m not that person... but I can absolutely pass out water bottles and Clif bars. I can keep a first-aid kit on hand. I can carry a bottle of milk for mace victims.

Can’t make it to the protest? If you’re financially able, you can bail out protesters or donate supplies to Amnesty International ... but if you’re like me and living on disability, you can sign petitions online or through text messages. Call or email your local representatives.

If you’re able to - shop at black-owned businesses. Shop at Native-owned businesses. Go to restaurants owned and operated by people of color. Support your local pit bull rescue. Support outsider artists at the flea market.

NEXT UP: Looking The Part (Whatever the Hell That Means)

- Melonhead

#activism #superheroes #rlsh #real life superheroes #volunteer work #disability #spoonie #low spoons #social justice #black lives matter #journal #journalism #blogger #blogging #diary #writer #melonhead

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thephilosopherspupil · 2 years

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Serious advice for those who are overwhelmed and upset by recent news (Texas, Ukraine, etc):

1. Log off. Stop doomscrolling. Reading the news will not make things better. Past a certain point, you are not getting more informed. Go outside for a walk to clear your head, eat a nice snack, whatever works for you.

2. Research actual concrete ways you can help. What are reputable groups (ETA: Please, please, PLEASE do your research on this) you can donate to? Especially if things are happening far away, giving money is more directly effective than symbolic support - feeling shitty about the world is a normal human response but won’t actually improve things, and you do not have a positive duty to feel as bad as possible. What political action can you take - calling your MP, signing petitions, going to protests? You don’t have to do all of these, but picking something which actually has a connection to the levers of power (i.e. “I am going to call my MP and tell them to support opening the borders to refugees”; “I am going to call my local congressman and tell them that their anti-trans bill is wrong and they are losing votes”; “I am going to make it costly and embarrassing for politicians to be public bigots”) matters. It’s easy to get caught up in the trap of “oh god the world is giant and horrible and cruel and I can do nothing about it” - but there are some things you can do.

3. Effective political activism isn’t an individual thing. Look for existing organizations and see what work you can do within them, even if it’s something small. You won’t be able to do this for all — or even most — of the issues you come across, but picking one thing and being like, “OK, I am regularly contributing to the lessening of injustice in the world in this one way” is a way that you can make a difference. You do not need to be a hero or a martyr to positively contribute to a better world.

Obligatory disclaimer: I am just a random person on the internet, these are things that have helped me feel less despair and political anomie, ymmv.

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ifyouknowwhatsright · 4 years

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some cheap swaps you can make to be more eco friendly, because sometimes it’s a prevelidge to be able to make these decisions (none of these ideas are fresh or spicy, this is intended as more of a master post) :

•thrift instead of “shop”. Fast fashion brands (new look, primark, h&m, top shop, etc) are AWFUL for the environment. They may be less easy to access for some people but thrifing is often cheaper and stops perfectly good used clothes from ending up on a landfill.

•staying on the subject of clothes, if your clothes are too damaged to be donated, there are plenty of ways you can repurpose them! my personal favourite is making them into rags because it’s super easy but you can do a bunch of super creative stuff with old clothes for next to no cost! you can make art, make dog toys, blankets. the possibilities are basically endless

•bamboo toothbrushes are slightly pricier than plastic ones, but in my experience they do last longer which makes them more cost effective after all, and bamboo grows super quick so it’s one of the best materials you can use to save the environment

•walk where you can (or cycle if you have a bike). This one is not revolutionary. it costs nothing to walk and it’s better for the environment than taking a car or bus. if you have to use some other mode of transport, always try and take public (please be safe with covid, wear a mask and don’t take unnecessary risk) or car share

•Reusable water bottles. They will save SO much money in the long term. SO much money. and SO much plastic. whilst we’re on the topic, if you have any single use plastic water bottles you can repurpose them for so many things. you can use them to make self watering plants, use them in art, or even just reusing them as water bottles is better than throwing them away after one use

•this one is slightly more expensive. this is what i mean when i say it’s a priveledge to be eco friendly sometimes. people who menstruate, if you can, i would highly recommend in investing in reusable period products. i hated the menstual cup, but period underwear of reusable pads are also options. they are expensive imo (minimum wage doesn’t leave me with a whole lot) but saving up for them has saved me SO much money and so much waste

•again, not revolutionary but reusable bags. you can get them for hella cheap, they can be fashion statements, and if you always keep one in your bag or your car or whatever, you’ll cut down on so much plastic waste over your life time

•this may be the most expensive one on my list, but if you shave, getting a reusable shaver is MAGICAL. imo it gives a much better shave and you need to replace the blades so much less frequently than you’d have to replace a disposable razor. the one i use is £20, but you can get them for slightly cheaper. i’ve made my money back with this one over only a few months

•eat less meat. again, this can be a priveledge for some, but i’ve been able to make some veggie/vegan meals for much cheaper than meat alternatives. they can be tastier and i can’t stress enough how AWFUL meat farming is for the environment. it’s so bad. SO bad

•the last one, and possibly my favourite, protest. no matter what people tell you, it is not the individuals who are destroying the planet, it is the companies, the governments, the billionaires. where you can do so, stand up to these assholes, voice your opinion. sign petitions. if you can afford to, donate to charities who are doing the same thing.

i want to stress for you not to feel guilty if you can’t do anything on this list. for so many people it is so hard to be able to do these things. some of them aren’t accessible. i can’t remember where i heard this quote, so if anyone knows please tell me and i’ll credit it, but one of my favourite things i’ve heard in relation to all this is “you can never do all the good the world needs, but the world needs all the good you can do” ((EDIT: thank you @one-hand-feel!! it’s a youtuber called Shelbizleee!! she makes amazing videos please watch her ))

also i’m such a small tumblr no one will see this but if anyone does and they want some more ideas, which are probably slightly more expensive but definitely more “out of the box” then let me know :)

#ecofriendly #environment #save the earth #zero waste #sustainable #sustainability #reusable

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razorblade180 · 3 years

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Twin Snowflakes 26: Preparation

[part 1 of 2]

TSF pt25 here! <-

“THANK YOU, PEOPLE OF MANTLE!” Summer yelled, shredding each note of her personal favorite songs. One after another she played to her heart's fill. Each song was more aggressive and brimming with vigor than the last. Summer would’ve played till dawn if she had her way but neither her body or promise to her brother would allow that. It wasn’t time to leave yet but she needed a break.

Summer begrudgingly got herself to get off the stage to let others perform. Their music wasn’t terrible by any means but the other musicians could easily stand to have more practice. A rave audience isn’t hard to please however, so the crowd ate up the talent all the same. A little insulting to her own performance but eh, this wasn’t an actual contest. Summer was happy enough blowing off steam and listening to the beats from behind the stage. Not even she could deny the beats and tempo. Her hips couldn’t help but sway!

From the corner of her eye she could make out a familiar figure keeping an eye on her. “Did Nick tell you to keep an eye on me, Eliza?”

“Not really.” She walked over and poured herself a cup of water. “I was training in the area.”

“Are you saying he had nothing to do with you being here?”

“Oh no, that would be a lie. You know Nick, always negotiating. He really knows how to persuade a person. I wouldn’t be surprised if he could sell a heater to someone living in Vacou. Anyways, he didn’t ask me to stalk you or anything like that. He knew where I’d be and told me if I could swing by for a spell. No harm in that.”

Summer smiled. “Funny. That sounded like you were defending him. Don’t want me getting upset with my own brother?”

“Shut up. It would be a pain if I caused unnecessary controversy in a household. Need I remind you that you both have duties to the school that require your full attention? Frankly I’m glad I arrived. I don’t go to your concerts so my opinion of your performance skills was limited.” Eliza sipped her water, giving Summer’s attire and overall attitude a once over. “Where’s all this when you're getting harassed in the halls?”

“That’s...school is different.”

“Pfft, yeah okay.”

“It is!” Summer said, defensively crossing her arms.

Eliza watched the girl's face soften into the meek and reserved Summer she was used to. To think that’s all it took to shut her down. “I swear you and your brother don’t have a consistent bone in your body. Whatever the case, I don’t really care much as long as you bring your best effort to rehearsal and the live performance.”

Summer squinted. “Not the actual tournament?”

“Hey I don’t participate in the duos. You can bomb that for all I care. But you know, Nick is counting on you to pull your weight. Also it would be pretty annoying if you lost to Max and his asshole know-it-all, Darren. Gods know he’d talk about it until graduation.”

“Was the fight that happened in the school bad?”

Eliza shrugged, “Can’t say. Wasn’t there. He’s always been a thorn to me though so I don’t doubt he made things ugly. He was very rude to Veronica in the principal’s office as well. An act I find inexcusable.”

Summer couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Look I know you admire her and all that jazz, but I’d bet she didn’t help the situation.”

“My views on her have nothing to do with it!” Eliza huffed. “I would think you off people would be sympathetic to a person like her.”

Summer leaned against a wall. “Call me jaded, but Veronica has a habit of bringing out the worst in people.”

Eliza frowned. “You know her better than I. Tell me, is she the type to lie about being harassed?”

Summer didn’t have to think long, especially after learning more about her in the forest. Then there was Veronica’s sketch journal. Summer still couldn’t make sense of all the scratched out pages. On top of that, Blake’s request made Summer even more uncertain. “No. Veronica’s a piece of work, but she isn’t a liar. She might actually be too honest if you asked me. I’ve never had to deal with Darren personally but Nick’s not a fan by any means.” Summer bit her bottom lip. She couldn’t believe it, did she just defend Veronica’s qualities!? It was only fair. Veronica did almost end up a frozen husk.

“Well it’s good to know we can all agree on at least one thing without fail. So not to rush you but how long are you planning on staying in a place like this?” Eliza asked, watching all the party animals.

“Haha, not your type of crowd?”

“The crowd is fine. I can handle a little noise and rowdiness, but it is technically a school night. I- ah! Summer!?” The girl had taken Eliza by the hand and started pulling her to the dance floor.

“If you keep bringing up assignments 24/7 then all you’re gonna look like is a stick in the mud. Live a little. School sucks!”

“School is important!” Eliza protested.

Summer grabbed Eliza’s other hand and started making them sway side to side, back and forth. The blood rushing to Eliza’s cheeks made Summer giggle. “Awww you know you dig it. I’ll make a deal. Cut loose with me for a few songs and I’ll gladly let you dance me right out the front door. Show me that colorguard rhythm!”

Eliza watched the petite girl actively laugh without reservation. Summer jokingly shimmied towards her and swayed her hips, getting lost in the music. Just how much did this girl go out to rave? She looked like she belonged here! The beat got more intense by the moment with no sign of stopping. With her pride in check, Eliza began to sway steadily, getting into the music.

Summer’s eyes lit up. “Aye!”

“Two songs and then we’re out of here.”

“Works for me! Show me what ya got!” Summer turned up the heat by dragging Eliza deeper into the chaos. She might not be as persuasive as Nick, but Eliza quickly found out Summer was definitely more pushy. Forget the tournament. Eliza was beginning to think they’ll beat her at everything!

xxxxx

“This is crazy. How did I not know about this!?” Nick said, walking down the rainy sidewalk.

Veronica smirked as she held Nick’s hand, allowing rain to pass right through them. “Why would you? I barely have any reason to use my semblance; let alone in the more complex ways.”

“You don’t use it when making clothes?”

“Haha, I’m not entirely sure how it would help. Unless I wanna get out of my clothes and into something new in an instant. Not a real trick to show others. Unless…” she blushed at her lewd teasing, refusing to finish the punchline. “Never mind.”

“Okay?” He had a feeling he knew where that was going but chose not to pull that grenade pin. “Speaking of clothes, that brings up a question. Why aren’t our clothes falling off now?”

“Control. Anything I touch can phase like me. My clothes are touching me, so are you. I can keep it strictly to myself though with control and timing. I can also start it and end it on any spot on my body; which is why we aren’t falling through the street.”

“That sounds hard.”

“Little bit. Really flexing my semblance like a muscle right now. Still, I’ve done harder, like not breaking surface tension.”

Nick did a double take. Did he hear that right? “Surface tension? Like...for water?”

Veronica nodded. “Yeah that’s the one. Well I’m not actually walking on water. It’s more of me beginning to fall through the water with my semblance, and shutting it off quick enough to push me back up just above the surface. Took a lot of practice but I got it most of the time. Waves suck.”

“Don’t you burn through your aura quickly?”

“Well it’s like flicking a switch on and off. Also I’m quick about it; not to mention not fighting anything in the water. I’m bound to fuck up them.”

“Still sounds like an extremely large amount of work and multitasking. You got real talent. I’d get a headache.”

“Says the king of multitasking.” Veronica chuckled, “It’s less thinking and more of reaction; knowing how to feel the shifts to the things connecting you.”

Her explanation was interesting. Veronica had an understanding of her semblance to a complex level though she didn’t fight. And here was Nick, struggling with a candle exercise for a semblance that didn’t interact with physics or molecules. “A reaction huh? Maybe I should try that more often? It might help with-”

“Valerie.”

“What? No my-” His hand was squeezed a little before being brought up to point towards the Schnee gate. Nick’s eyes went wide. Valerie stood by it with her mother’s car, staring just as surprised. “Oh…” Nick said.

The three stood quietly, not prepared in the slightest. Valerie was the most shocked. She was prepared for an awkward conversation with Nick by the door. Not catching him outside in a suit; next to Veronica. Nora, who was in the car, wanted to take initiative but found her lips tucking themselves in.

“Oh boy. Maybe convincing Val to see him was a bad move on my part.” She thought. Ren was gonna have a field day whenever Nora got back home.

Done with the shock, Veronica finally spoke. “Umm I can give you two a minute, if you need it?” All the events that happened tonight made her feel very pleased. Veronica did not want to taint those moments and knew it would be for the best to remove herself from this before she said anything...emotional. She turned to Nick and smiled awkwardly. “I’ll see you inside?”

Nick could only blink while he thought about it. Veronica was a bit quicker to the draw though. “No, no, it’s...clearly you two are in the middle of something. I was just leaving anyways” Val said, a hint of irritation and even a bit of sarcasm crept into her voice. It might not have been that big of a deal but for some reason it made Nick tense up.

“This is only happening because of you.” He said instinctively, catching everyone off guard. “I don’t see how you can be upset about a thing you caused. I did invite you originally.”

“Don’t see how that has to do with anything.” Valerie lied, clearly offended. “You can do what you want.I only came here to-”

“It’s always your terms.” He interjected, grumbling a bit. “You tell me you want space and we’ll see each other at the tournament, but then show when you feel like talking. If I did that you’d be pissed.”

“Hey! I came here to try and smooth things over.”

“Yeah well maybe I don’t want things smoothed over right now? I...I have nothing to say to you right now. We’ll talk at the tournament.”

Valerie let out a subtle gasp. Her brows furrowed and she bit down on her lip harder than she meant to. “Forget it. If you wanna be made then be made. Tournament it is.” Valerie didn’t waste another breath, getting back into the car so it can drive off.”

Veronica was in disbelief. Did that really just happen? In now way did she think the conversation was going to be good, but she at least thought there was going to be one. She might’ve thought this best if it wasn’t for Nick visibly sulking next to her as he started walking her up to the manor. The solemn look on his face did nothing but make her feel bad. Not to mention a little guilty.

“Hey...I know this is a dumb question but are you okay? If I influenced that in any way during dinner, that wasn’t really...what I mean is...”

“I know, and don’t worry. That wasn’t me being caught up in my emotions. I just really want to think about all of this for at least a couple days. Besides, I made a deal with Eliza. I might not keep it if Valerie tries patching things up.”

“You’re plotting on her? That’s...wow. Now I know for sure that you’re pissed.”

Nick rubber the back of neck. “For once I think I’ll get greedy, act the way I want. Does that make sense?”

“Make sense? It’s my language. Fair warning, your best quality is that heart of yours.” She poked his chest. “Keep it safe, or I’ll be the one getting greedy by knocking the optimism back into ya.”

“Oh is that right? Haha, maybe try praying to me first, then I really know you must mean business!” He teases.

Veronica gave a playful shove. “Like I’d know how to start one? I think I’ll stick with the tough love approach.”

“Tough love huh?” Nick opened the front door. His eyes never left the girl as she walked in, seemingly content. Veronica eventually looked back at him and gave a head tilt.

She blinked, “What?”

“Nothing.” He chuckled. Nick was starting to think that just maybe, he understood Veronica’s choices and beliefs a little more than he used to. If he learned anything from tonight it was just how differently they saw the world around them. “Well I guess this is the end of our date. Didn’t go as planned but I’ll admit it, I really liked spending alone time with you.” He said, rubbing the back of his head.

Veronica couldn’t stop herself from letting out an anxious chuckle.“Hehehe, what’s with the sweet talk all of a sudden? Trying to butter me up?”

“No, just being honest with myself. A date should end as well as possible.” Nick stepped towards Veronica and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. Eager to not let this moment linger, Nick swiftly left for Summer’s room to see if she was back. Without thinking about it tonight, Nick had left two girls red and speechless. One of them standing in the main hall with a smile growing wide; while the other watched the rain fall during a quiet ride home, frustrated and jaw clenched.

Nora took care to drive slowly. Getting home quickly would only mean Valerie would march to her room. Nora let out a sigh. “Whether it’s me or your father, one of us is gonna make you talk about this. So-”

“What’s there to talk about? I’m upset and he’s upset, because we want different things. So we’re taking a break. Simple as that.” Valerie leaned against the cold glass.

“And what is it exactly that you want?” Nora asked. She was given no answer. Not that she was expecting one. “I love you, but if you don’t know the answer yourself then how can you expect Nick to not upset you? Life is like any sport you play. Gotta know the rules if you wanna do well. Only way to figure that out is knowing yourself.”

“I know myself pretty well.” Valerie huffed.

“Really?” Nora dragged out. “So tell me, do you like Nick, romantically?”

“No.” She said instinctively.

If Val could see Nora’s face then she would’ve been upset that she was rolling her eyes, not believing her daughter. “Okay, but just so you know, taking a break is not what most friends say about another.”

Valerie’s eyes widened. She turned to her mother to see her focused on the road like she hadn’t said a word. Val went back to looking at the window. “Good to know.” Valerie controlled the urge to huff. Talking to Ren might’ve been less painful.

xxxx

Nick walked into Summer’s room to find it sisterless and a little cold. “Guess she’s not home yet.” He closed the door behind him as he went further in. Nick made sure to keep the light off but turned on the heater. A cold room was the last thing this night needed. His chill hadn’t kicked in all this time so Nick had no real reason to worry about Shiva, yet his nerves would feel better actually seeing Summer come home safely. Pulling up a chair to sit in may have been a bit much but he did it anyway. Overbearing or not, Shiva would never be a subject he’d take lightly. Not like he had in the past when he was younger, naive of the danger that thing had. He could his body ache at the thought of it. Pain fades and the body heals, but it also remembers. Not like he needed a reminder. Not when the memories rear their ugliness often in his dreams.

A scroll rang loudly, bringing Nick out of the dark thoughts. He reached in his pocket to see it was in fact Summer who was calling.He wasted no time answering. “Where are you? I thought you’d be back by now?”

“That didn’t sound like hello.” Summer grumbled. “Relax, I'm close by. I actually called to ask for a favor. You’re home right?”

“Yes?”

“Cool. Can you open my window?

Nick walked over to her window and opened it. In the distance he could spot his sister and Eliza outside the gate from the right side. “Done. What-”

“How’d you do that so fast? Were you already in my room!? You aren’t snooping are you!?” She yelled.

“Quiet before you get caught. No, I wasn’t snooping. Pretty sure whatever secrets this room holds is one that would scar me. Though I’m curious about your journal, wherever you hid this time. Perhap under your nightstand?”

“Do you really want to rummage around a young woman's nightstand?” Summer could hear her brother let out an overtop gagging noise. “Grow up.”

“Say it to my face. You better hurry before I decide to close this and watch you hit the glass like a pigeon.”

“Fine, ya baby.” Summer hung up. “Thanks for walking me home, as well as helping me stay dry.” She looked up to see the small dome of water floating over her from Eliza’s magic.

“Exactly what was the plan if I had said no or not shown up at all?”

“Glyphs aren’t just for platforming and dust ya know? Not that it matters. I knew I’d see you tonight.”

Eliza scoffed, “Tah! That confident in your predictions about your brother?”

“Well yes, but that’s not it. It’s not a secret you practice at the pier. It’s also terrible luck on your part you almost shot a captain with a bolt of lightning. One time.”

“W-What!? B-but how would-”

“Is it a Marigold thing to be attracted to my family like a magnet? That captain is my cousin. He says your aim could use work. Bye!” Summer made glyphs to trampoline over the gate and platform through the air and through her window.”

Eliza couldn’t believe it. Why was this her life!? It had to be a joke. Atlas or Mantle, you’re bound to be in Schnee territory. It would’ve been fine if she wasn’t practicing moves to fight one! Now she needed a new training spot. Who knows what they might now. “Damnit, now Nick’s offer is even more to my best interest!”

“Sup bro. How was your date?” The rock n’ roll twin kicked off her shoes and took the black wig off before falling backwards onto her bed.

“Well Valerie was at the front awhile ago.”

Summer sat up. “Okay, that’s not what I expected. Did I miss a fight? No wait, I’m pretty sure I’d hear Veronica scream bloody murder because there’s no way her dress would stay flaw-” her rambling was cut short when Nick suddenly sat beside her and fell on her lap. “Woah. Hey, are you still sick!?”

“No, just tired. The past week has been a little...draining. To be honest I don’t think I even have the energy to shower right now.”

“Well you probably smell better than me right now so I’m not complaining.”

“How was the rave?”

“Fun. Got Eliza to dance a little. The crowd worshipped my performance.” She chuckled.

“What did you sing?”

“Nothing special. A few Linkin Park songs; an experimental original. Oscar thought it would be a good idea to take a few of my journal entries and vent it out through music.”

“Hmm, anything you’ll share to your actual fan base, or me?”

Summer looked at her ceiling to let out a composed sigh. “I don’t think I’m quite ready, or the song for that matter. It and myself are...a work in progress. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Just know your fans think you can’t do wrong and there’s no world where I won’t support you. Family and all that.”

“Love you too.” Summer patted his head. “Sorry if I’ve been causing you trouble. Well, more than usual. Tomorrow is a new day.”

“That’s the spirit. Push yourself but not too hard. That’s my territory. Speaking of which, I’ve been racking my brain with ideas. You can talk to Shiva in that headspace whenever you like right?” He felt her hand stop. Nick looked up to see Summer look apprehensive.

“I can...but it’s not a thing I look to do. Plus tonight has been good. I really don’t want that to-”

“Summer, do you trust me?”

Nick’s words were calm and real. Summer didn’t know what he had in mind. It wasn’t like Nick to invite danger. Her eyes looked to the floor to the orange glow of her heater. Like usual it appeared that her brother had already taken strides for her and everyone’s sake. Just how far would he go, ever making herself feel like she’s at a stand still? Maybe tomorrow could start today. Just a little bit.

“What’s this idea of yours?” She said cautiously.

“Nothing too crazy. You’re just gonna take a page out of Veronica’s playbook.”

xxxxx

You would think a person would know what goes on in their head. Unfortunately, that’s hardly ever the case. Summer never got a full understanding of what went on upstairs in her mind. Then again that would only make sense. She was in therapy after all. Though no amount of emotional talking could explain why her headspace imagery was inconsistent at times. A void of nothingness, her own room, those were the usual shapes that took place. However, this time she found herself back at the frozen lake. Going back and triggering an episode must’ve left a lasting impression. At least her trauma brought variety. The only separation from the real place was the ice ceiling and a distinct lack of cold nipping at her skin. Her psyche though, it was definitely feeling something.

She began walking through the white hell of her own making until she found her target, Shiva. The being was skating across the lake like how Summer once did. “Shiva.” Summer called out.

The woman of ice and snow looked over, surprised. She stopped right in the middle of the lake. “Well, well, well, come to properly thank me? You’d be in a grimm’s stomach by now if it wasn’t for me. You and that idiot girl. Tell me, is she in pain from our encounter?”

“I’m not here to thank you or chitchat.” Summer bluntly stated. “This is an in and out thing.”

“I’ll take that as a no then? Pity. I wouldn’t mind seeing her cry and despair. I bet her tears are uglier than yours. Though I'll say that this look you have going on isn’t gross. Honestly it helps to see you better in this place. You’re always so pale when you’re talking to me. Afraid I might hurt you?” A smirk spread across her face. “Oh I do hate you so.”

“Feeling is mutual. I came here to tell you that from this point on things are gonna change.”

“Pfft, heard that before. You’re all talk.”

“Am I?” Summer reached her hand out. Right before her eyes, the shape of a shovel formed. Hiding her surprise, she focused on Shiva’s own shock. “My mind, my rules. If I can subconsciously make this hell then I can shape it to an extent. Summer tossed the shovel at Shiva for her to catch. “Keep that safe for me.” Summer’s body began to slowly fade from this space.

“And what exactly is this for?”

“Your grave. Feel free to dig it yourself.” Her final words before disappearing completely while witnessing a smug smirk vanish before her eyes. Right as she faded, Summer could hear one last remark.

“We’ll see who buries who.”

Summer opened her eyes to find herself back in her room. Good, she hadn’t moved an inch. “Well I’ve thoroughly pissed her off, but it actually felt good to be the one harassing her. Thank Ni- huh?” Summer failed to realize she’s been talking to herself. Nick was fast asleep already! “Unbelievable. What if I would’ve messed up?”

“Zzzzzz.”

“Quite the convincing answer.” Summer returned to rubbing his head. He felt a little warm but nothing serious. Taking breaks needed to be at the top of his list from now on. Only way that would happen is if things weren’t hectic. It was time to step up. “I’ll do right by you. I promise. Just...give me a little more time.”

Her eyes became heavy. It appears the day’s events weighed on her more than she realized. Both twins fell into slumber there for the entire night, finally getting some rest.

#rwby #rwby twin snowflakes #summer schnee #val valkyrie #nora valkyrie #eliza marigold #veronica belladonna #nicholas schnee

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fenheart87 · 4 years

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Blue Changes

We had a fun little challenge, we picked a prompt and had 3, 15 minute sprints to write something for the prompt. Then 24 hours for light editing to finish sentences if needed, grammar etc. This is my take on the the prompt "Has anyone ever told you just how adorable you are Because you really are." Dedicated to @verfound 🧡

“Marinette, where is my favorite designer at?!” Jagged burst into the studio, Fang trotting happily next to him on her leash and Penny multitasking between her phone call and tablet. Technically he was supposed to be on a plane to New York, but decided to swing by Paris on his way because he had an idea that just could not wait and wanted to check on his unofficial niece anyways. There was only one speed bump in that plan, the studio was completely empty. The chaos of fabric strewn about and pieces half cut with scissors still mid snip definitely screamed someone was working hard or trying to at least, the mannequin with a half-pinned design and ripped fabric seemed to lean toward the latter.

“Looks like she’s not here… Must be taking a break. Penny, why don’t we order from my favorite bakery and make sure something extra special for Marinette. I’m glad we came here before the next stop on tour.” Jagged poked around at the sketches laying in abandon on the desk, some half crumbled on the floor and more stacked on a sketchbook.

“Seems like she is having some massive creators block… We should treat her when we have a break on the tour.” Penny suggested, already on the phone with Tom and trying to insist they would pay for their order.

Some of the sketches were brilliant but had marks of black throughout them, others were completely marked out and you could not even tell what the design was to start with. It hurt to physically see what pain Marinette was going through, most of the ones with the darker markings were of the same style. He could clearly see the thought of Adrien in the suits and matching dresses for Marinette, the anger of the marks showing something had happened or changed. Sighing heavily, Jagged gathered the papers, Fang batting the ones further away with her tail over to her owner. One paper had him blinking in surprise.

“Penn! Pen! Lookie here! D'ya see this?!” jagged shouted, shoving the paper into his assistant’s face, not even minding when she sighed and pushed it to a proper distance. It was a one-of-kind leather jacket and a custom hoodie drawn to match it. Either could be worn seperate or paired together. The colors were a contrast of electric blue and smokey turquoise, the theme was music and snake. Jagged recognized it as a rough sketch due to the lack of color or material notes along the edge that appeared on her finished drafts.

“Why was this crumpled up? It’s a really great idea!” Penny wondered aloud, noticing that the eccentric rockstar she commonly felt like she had to babysit was scheming. “Jagged no, whatever is it the answer is no.”

The door opened and in walked the designer they were looking for, Marinette seemed stressed and a bit run down. Her hair was thrown into a messy bun, one sleeve was pushed higher than the other and her shirt was wrinkled where it was tucked into her pencil skirt. Flip flops clacked along with her steps, another sign she was worn out if the basic shoe was more preferred to her custom made and very comfortable flats. An energy drink dangled from one hand and her design tablet occupied the other. Both guests watched as she made it all the way to her desk without noticing they were there.

“I have no idea what I'm going to do! I don't have anyone that fits that one or the orange one… I could make it a dress but who would wear it?! Ugh! I’m going to fail at this rate and then I won't graduate and I'll never design again, who would want something made by a failure-” Fang chose that moment to nudge her head onto the petite woman’s lap, startling her so bad she screamed and fell out of her chair.

“Well I reckon that I would love to have exclusive rights to all designs made by my favorite niece but we all know that’s not fair to the rest of the world. Now I know you are in a pinch and you’re stuck like a boat in the desert, so you’re going to take a break, spend some time with uncle Jay and make sure that you show poor Fang some love, she was all excited and you just screamed right in her poor face. C’mere my poor baby, Marinette is so mean I know.” Jagged showed the croc in love through pets and scratches.

“When.. How, why?” Poor Marinette was lost and couldn't believe the rockstar was in her studio when he should've been halfway around the world for the next stop on his tour.

“Okay, the only thing we’re doing right now is leaving all this behind for a much needed break for food and maybe a nap in your case. Time to relax and stop stressing for a minute." Penny authoritatively stepped in, stacking the papers on the desk, handing Marinette her purse and phone and with the help of Fang scooted the younger woman out the door.

Marinette protested "Wait I need to finish, it has to be done! I can't take a break, I just did!"

"Negative, now it's time for chow, and you need a shower, at your parents then we need to have a little chat. Ladies first!" Jagged gently shoved the designer into the car with cheer, allowing Fang and Penny to enter before him.

"So my little brilliant niece, we have some great news and a rock and roll deal for you! Can't tell you what is until after you've taken a break though." They grinned as Marinette grumbles as she gave fang the attention she wanted until they pulled up to the bakery.

Getting out of the car first, Marinette sighed at the smell of her parents baking, the smell melting off some stress like butter melting on a fresh from the oven croissant roll. Her stomach grumbled and she opened the door for the other guests, sneaking an excited Fang upstairs to not scare the other customers. Deciding to take a refreshing shower, Marinette went to her bathroom and put on some zen meditation music before getting in the shower. Quick ten minutes later and she was feeling much more alive and hungry. On a whim she grabbed a random outfit that she had made but never worn, pleated plaid skirt with a red checker pattern offset by the off the shoulder fitted top in a burgundy color, and threw it on before joining her guests.

"Oi looking good! One of yours?" Jagged shouted with his mouth full, causing Penny to smack his arm as a reminder to use manners.

"Sure is! Never worn it before but decided change can be a good thing and sometimes you have to start the change instead of waiting for it to happen." Grabbing her favorite pastry and a croissant because you can't just smell one and not eat it, she missed the concerned look her adopted guardians shared.

"So your studio was, well, you seem to be having a hard time." Pen tried to be gentle but made a face at her words.

"Yeah… Life is… Changing." Marinette mused, picking at the pastry.

"Marinette, what can Uncle Jay do to help?" Jagged's serious tone drew her gaze and his heart broke at the sight of unshed tears.

"I uhm well. I- That is, we-" With a huff, she calmed down and a look of determination shone on her face. "Adrien asked me out, on a date date in this really elaborate way. I turned him down. I have no idea what I was thinking but when he asked me I was so happy and then all I could think of was blue and how soft its is and it can be so calm or so chaotic and it’s always changing like the ocean but yet it's always the same and there this feeling of calm and I just couldn't say yes."

The quiet settled into a slightly awkward silence, Marinette was ignoring it and Penny was having nonverbal argument with Jagged on what to say next. With an eye roll that spoke louder than her shouting at him, the assistant took the lead once more. Quietly she rose from the chair she was occupying and sat next to the young designer smoothing out the crumpled sketch she had taken from the studio.

"Is this the blue you're talking about?"

"Yeah… That’s my blue." A gentle smile touched peach lips briefly, blue eyes going soft.

"Is this the skater kid?"

"Skater kid?" Marinette blinked in confusion.

"Nah Pen it's the boat kid."

"He has a name you guys!" Marinette broke down into giggles, looking much more like herself and less like a zombie just waltzing around and going through the motions. "His name is Luka, yes the one who went me skating with Adrien and Kagami, yes the boat kid who has a heart way too big for just his mom and sister. And now me…"

"Sounds like you made a change?" Penny prompted smiling widely.

"A blue one yeah, I did."

"Has anyone ever told you just how adorable you are?" Jagged shouted, picking up the younger woman and swinging her around as she shrieked.

"Okay Jagged, let's not take over her whole day. We did have a reason to show up here after all." Penny handed the tablet to Marinette after he relinquished his hold. "This is what we're looking at for a surprise concert once we are back here in Paris. There's some issues I'm ironing out but I wanted to see what you think and if you would take lead on the design aspect."

"Wait, lead designer for your show?" Blue bell eyes swiveled between ocean blue and hazel sets, wide with disbelief and building excitement.

"Yup, this tablet is yours by the way. I do ask you to keep just business on it for the show, if you want more traditional sketches that's fine but once it's done it needs to be uploaded on here." Jagged explained, clapping a red clad shoulder.

"Oh you need an opening act? I've got that covered." The sparkle was finally back in her eye to match the mischievous grin.

"I agree with Jagged, are you sure no one has said it before because you really are adorable."

#lukanette endgame #lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous lb #miraculous fanfic #miraculous au #sprint challenge #Fen's Plunny Corner

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clearcorona · 4 years

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nuts and bolts // cyborg!bakugou katsuki x fem mechanic!reader

Bakugou pulled his hoodie further over his head as he checked the clock on the wall for the fifth time since he had let the woman with pink hair at the front desk know he had arrived. You were an hour and a half late and he could see that the others waiting around along with him were beginning to grow annoyed as well. He tapped his metal foot against the ground, concealed by the heavy duty boots he wore constantly.

With his prosthetic arm and leg being on the opposite sides of his body, he had long since learned how to properly balance himself with the weight difference, but having them be replaced with newer models was definitely going to take some time to relearn.

He had also several more alterations done internally that didn't exactly bother him, bit you always seemed to fret over those ones the most.

The door slammed open, startling a few of those around him. He lifted his gaze, spotting a petite brunette holding a clipboard, her face flushed. He had seen her a multitude of times from when he began to see you, but still hadn't quite cared enough to learn her name. Round Face, is what he called her, not that he ever really talked to her to begin with.

"I apologize for the delay, everyone! Unfortunately, (Y/N) won't be able to see all of you today. Her schedule is free tomorrow, if you would no longer like to wait out here," she smiled, watching as almost everyone left. Everyone except for Bakugou. There was no way in hell he was waiting until tomorrow. He was already there and the trip to your little hideout was out of his way.

Round Face looked over at Bakugou, looking down at her clipboard. Her eyes widened slightly before she looked up at him. He wasn't quite able to catch the look in her eyes before she masked it, clearing her throat. "She's ready to see you now."

"About fucking time," he grumbled, standing up. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his khaki pants, following the brunette through the free hallways that led to your workspace. She tapped her knuckle against the door, hearing your voice from the opposite side allowing her to enter.

Stepping inside, Bakugou crinkled his nose as he looked around. Your usual clean workplace was absolutely trashed with scraps of metal and tools lying all over the place. The room wasn't the only thing that was a mess, you were, too.

"Just the guy I wanted to see," you chirped, hopping up from your chair. You thanked the brunette, gently taking the clipboard before she left the two of you alone. "You know the drill already. Take a seat."

"What the hell happened here?" he found himself asking, taking a good look at you as he pulled his hood down. He rolled his eyes when he didn't get a response, hearing the slight tinkering of tools as you went over his files. "Oi!"

"Any damages or problems with your current prosthetics?" you asked, lifting your head from the clipboard to look at him. He took notice of the bags under your eyes and the slouch of your shoulders. You definitely weren't getting enough sleep, but you still managed to keep your bubbly demeanor intact.

Bakugou shook his head, pulling off his left boot and hoodie to give you better access to the metal appendages, and sat down on the rusty chair that creaked under his weight. You set his stuff to the side, taking hold of his metal hand as you got straight to business, but he didn't miss the frown on your face at the signs of the scars on his chest and shoulders. You bent the joints, checking to see if anything had rusted or was uncomfortable. "Your new prosthetics are a lot lighter than these, but I can't have you overdo it again."

Bakugou scowled. "Wheelchairs aren't exactly my thing and why the hell did I have to come all the way out here?" He noticed the way you paused, took a breath and stepped away, kneeling to check the condition of his leg.

"They've been on my ass lately. You know what could happen if I slip up," you whispered. Bakugou leaned back in the chair, a groan of protest coming from it. He knew exactly who you were referring to. "Plus, if they found out I've been helping you, I'd be in even more trouble."

"Fucking morons...," he muttered and you smiled, shaking your head.

"You did always tell me you'd be a legend," you stood up, patting his knee, "but I never thought you'd be a fugitive."

He smirked, rolling his eyes. "I'm the best damn fugitive there is!" He flexed his metal fingers, feeling his skin grow hot at the sound of your laugh.

"Yes, you are," you replied, bending his foot every which way. "I just wish that they'd stop..."

"You fucking worried about me or something?"

"No, not at all. I'm well aware that you're able to take care of yourself, especially with my little upgrades," you winked at him before standing straight, stretching. "If our society wasn't so messed up to begin with, this never would've happened. I still can't believe what they did to you..." You reached out, brushing your finger on one of his scars the stretched across his chest and stopped almost directly above where his heart laid in his chest.

Bakugou caught your hand in his, turning your hand gently so your palm was facing upward. He traced a familiar pattern onto your skin with his metal hand, a code the two of you had made as kids. Relax, he had said.

You managed to smile, pulling your hand away slightly. He knew from experience that your own heart couldn't take much stress and he only wished you would worry about yourself more than others.

"You've been overworking yourself again, haven't you?" He raised an eyebrow, watching as you turned your back to him to grab his new prosthetics.

"Maybe a little...," you admitted. "But I'm okay, I swear! I haven't slept in a few days, but that's nothing I can't handle."

The sound of your stomach growling filled his ears. Bakugou rolled his eyes, turning his head to avoid seeing the blush on your cheeks.

"Dumbass... You haven't been eating again, have you?" He stood up, adjusting his weight before he pulled the prosthetics out of your hands and setting them aside. You pouted, about to grab them when Bakugou tossed you over his shoulder.

Your shirt slid up, causing his metal shoulder to come into contact with your bare abdomen. "Bakugou, put me down, that's cold!" you shrieked, squirming in his hold.

"Should've thought about that before you decided to starve yourself!"

"I didn't starve myself! Put me down!" You huffed when Bakugou didn't answer, knowing he had made up his mind already, so there was no way you were getting down until he decided to put you down. "You weren't supposed to come here to take care of me... I'm supposed to take care of you."

"You're only in this mess because you're a dumbass and decided not to take care of yourself."

You knew he had a point, but with everything going on with Bakugou, you figured he was much more important than you were.

"I need to do x-rays when your new prosthetics are on," you muttered, switching topics.

"Whatever." Bakugou set you down in the middle of the kitchen. Your hideout was like a second home, with how often you'd stay late to work on prosthetics and make sure they were made to everyone's liking, even if you could be severely punished if they found out you were helping cyborgs. "What do you want to eat?"

"Ooh, you're gonna cook for me? Maybe I should work like this more-" you cut yourself off once you saw the glare he gave you, a soft laugh leaving your lips. "I'm only joking, relax. You worry about me too much."

"I do not. You're the one who worries about me," Bakugou replied and you shrugged, hopping up onto one of the counters as you watched him open the fridge. "What the hell?! There isn't anything in here!"

You pouted, crossing your arms over your chest. "Yes, there is!" Bakugou slammed the fridge shut, tugging at his hair.

"Nothing edible! Why the hell do you keep your equipment in the fridge?"

"One, because no one would think to look there, and two, because the cold metal keeps me awake." You smiled. Bakugou rolled his eyes.

"Why the hell do I keep coming here again?" he muttered.

"Because I'm the best mechanic in all of Japan!" You threw your hands up in the air, laughing. "And you only accept the best. That's why you're still here. You probably would've left a long time ago if I wasn't. I work so hard because I want to be the best for you."

Bakugou's eyes widened slightly and he looked away, running the back of his neck. Is that what you truly thought? He could never leave you. No when you stole his heart without even realizing it.

Not while your own was so fragile.

"(Y/N), it's time!" he heard someone call out, matching the voice to the pink haired girl at the front desk. You frowned, getting down from the counter.

"Coming!" you called back before looking at him. "How about takeout? There are a bunch of menus inside of that drawer there. Order whatever you think is best. I trust your judgement."

Bakugou opened the drawer as he heard you leave the kitchen, looking through them all. It seemed like you had ordered from every restaurant in a twenty mile radius. He hadn't even heard of half of them.

"She speaks highly of you, you know."

The blonde jumped, whipping his head around and meeting the apologetic brown eyes of Round Face. "Don't do that, you fucking creep!"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to. Has she always been like this?" Round Face asked, watching as Bakugou read through the pamphlets.

"Had already been what? Stubborn, immature and cares way too much about others than herself? Yes," he replied bluntly, looking up when he heard her laugh.

"I'm sorry, it's just that you two seem like good friends. She hasn't always been this sick, has she?"

Bakugou wasn't sure why he felt compelled to answer this strange girl, but he couldn't talk about you to anyone else in case they decided to report you, so he decided to do it anyway.

"Not this bad, no, but she's always had a bad immune system. She was in and out of hospitals constantly. It happened even more often when she began tinkering around. She wanted to help people, even if it was illegal. Even if she was putting herself at risk." He clenched and unclenched his metal hand, frustrated. "When I... When I lost my arm and leg, I was told she would visit me every day for hours before she went home to work on prosthetics for me. She even read a lot of medical books so she could install them and take care of me herself."

There was a silence that passed between them and Bakugou looked back at the menus.

"But?" she finally asked.

"But what?"

"I don't know. I feel like you have more to say."

"It's not important..."

"Well, it's obvious that you care about her. I'm glad she has someone like you looking out for her. She won't listen to us when we tell her to take care of herself."

Bakugou sighed, looking over a Chinese takeout menu before looking up at the brunette.

"She never listens. She's too kind, too naive. She tries to help everyone even if she kills herself in the process," he muttered, feeling his heart ache in his chest. Why was he even still talking to her?

"You like her, don't you?"

Bakugou froze for a moment. No, he didn't like you. It was much more than that. His feelings were even stronger than love itself.

"(Y/N), stop running! You're going to get worked up again!" Both him and the brunette turned towards the sound of the other woman's voice. He could hear your footsteps, rolling his eyes as you nearly collided with Round Face.

"Relax! I feel fine, Mina!" you called out, bounding over to Bakugou with the energy of an excited puppy. If he didn't know you so well, he would've never known that you hadn't slept in days all because you wanted to finish his prosthetics. You walked over to your client/childhood friend. "Did you order something?"

"Not yet," he glanced at the two women standing in the doorway. You followed his gaze, smiling at them.

"Are you two hungry?" you asked, completely oblivious to how Bakugou rolled his eyes and turned away, pulling out his phone. He heard Round Face laugh.

"No, it's alright. Thank you, though. I actually think we should get home. You seem to be in good hands," she replied. Bakugou turned to look at her, his eyes narrowing slightly. He only relaxed once they were out of sight. "Well, I guess it's just you and me."

Bakugou pushed the menu over to you as he dialed the number, waiting for you to reply with what you wanted before he called.

Once the food was ordered, Bakugou let out a sigh.

"Do you really think I'll leave you if you aren't the best mechanic?" He looked over at you, noticing how vulnerable you seemed as you tried to wrack your brain for a proper answer.

"Well," you began after a moment of silence had passed, "you always did say you couldn't accept anything less than the best. I couldn't have a little heart condition stop me from being the best for you, Katsu."

The sound of his childhood nickname surprised him, having not heard it in years. He furrowed his eyebrows, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why'd you stop calling me that?"

"Huh?"

"Katsu. You used to call me that all the time when we were kids."

You seemed a bit startled, shifting nervously in your seat. "I didn't mean to call you that. I remember saying how much you hated when I called you Katsu and Deku called you-"

"(Y/N)," he interrupted, eyeing you. Your shoulders sagged, finally letting your exhaustion show. "We're not here to talk about him. Don't change the subject."

There was a bite to his voice and you knew why. He didn't like when you brought him up. Not when he was partially responsible for what happened to Bakugou and your slowly deteriorating health.

"I'm sorry," you whispered and he panicked when he saw tears well up in your eyes. He had never seen you cry in all the years he had known you. You were so strong, much stronger than he was. It seemed almost unreal that you were breaking down right in front of him.

He turned towards you, taking you in his arms. You were so warm, so fragile. He would do anything in his power to protect you. "Please don't cry...," he whispered as he watched you hide your face and hold onto him tightly. "I'm not going anywhere."

He knew you missed Deku. Hell, he'd be lying if he said he didn't miss that bastard. Well, before he decided to abandon the two of you, at least.

Bakugou held you, watching you carefully. You didn't seem to be crying and the small watch on your wrist indicated that your heart rate was normal. You suddenly ripped yourself away from him, startling him. He missed your soft body, your warmth.

"Let's get those prosthetics done," you said, a steady determination in your eyes.

Bakugou felt weightless as you disconnected the heavy metal prosthetics from his body, staring up at the ceiling. He was currently waiting for you to run some final tests to see if there were no issues with his new appendages.

"What would you be doing if you decided to not be a mechanic?" he suddenly asked, hearing you laugh from the opposite side of the room.

"That's a bit of an odd question, but I never really thought about it. I just wanted to help you and other people who are in similar situations," you replied and Bakugou clenched his jaw. He sat up and you could feel the heat of his glare from where he sat.

"You should care more about yourself, dammit!" he yelled. You didn't respond, the tinkering of tools stopping as you completed your tests. You stood and crossed the room to stand in front of him, setting the new prosthetics beside where he sat on the small cot.

"My life doesn't matter." The blunt way you said it made his blood boil.

"What the hell are you saying?!"

"I'll say it once and I'll say it again. My life doesn't matter." Your tone was much more firm this time, your eyes narrowing as you spoke.

"And what the hell kind of reason do you have for thinking like that?!"

"I can't make a difference like you can, alright?!" you shouted back at him, startling him. Your body was tense, your face screwing up in irritation. Bakugou wasn't having any of it.

"What the hell have you been doing then, huh? All the other fucking mechanics that were helping cyborgs have been put out of business! You're helping them! You're helping me!"

You didn't seem to be listening to him anymore. How in the hell did you not realize your own worth? It went far beyond just you being a mechanic, it was several other things. "Are you not taking care of yourself on purpose?"

"I just get caught up in work. It's no big deal."

"Are you waiting for this fucking disease to just kill you?! Is that why you aren't taking care of yourself?!"

"Enough, already!" That shut him up easily, letting you connect the wires from the man-made joint in his arm to the prosthetic piece. "There's no need to see me after this. With this, only minor repairs are needed that you can figure out yourself."

"Wait a damn-"

"You have a whole country looking up to you. They only go along with what the government says out of fear. You and I both know the real Deku would never go along with what they say."

"Don't fucking say his name!"

"Or what, Bakugou?!"

Bakugou recoiled, clenching his fists. "Don't you understand? He's the one who did this to us! The fact that you even want him back in our lives is some messed up bullshit."

You didn't answer, connecting the last of the wires. You gave it time to connect to his nerves, noticing the way Bakugou's body tensed up.

"Try it now," you ordered, already getting started on his leg. The sooner he left, the better, in your opinion. Bakugou rolled his eyes, looking over at his new metal arm. It was sleek and definitely much lighter than his last one. Giving himself time to think for a moment, his eyes narrowed.

"You like that fucking traitor, don't you?" he asked, gripping on to the thin sheet that laid beneath him on the cot. He hoped you couldn't hear the disappointment in his voice, the hurt.

"What's it to you?" you replied, your hands moving quickly to attach the wires. Usually you made small talk, joking around with him until you had your next appointment. Your words were clipped this time, an edge to them that could cut him if that was what you wanted.

Turns out, you had already begun, the edge of your words cutting deep in his heart.

"After everything he did? Why?" Bakugou could feel a lump in his throat and an ache in his chest, but he wasn't going to cry.

"Love is complicated. You wouldn't understand." You finished connecting his leg to the rest of his body, turning your back to him.

Your words twisted, hurting him more and more.

He knew what love was. He felt it so deeply for you. It was a lovely, but awful feeling, one that could tear a person apart.

"If there are no issues with the prosthetics, you're free to leave."

"Not gonna get on my ass about overdoing it?" he asked, narrowing his eyes once he didn't get an answer. "Fine, whatever," he snarled, bending his ankle this way and that to see if it calibrated to his nerves correctly. He pulled his hoodie back on over his head and pulled his boot on to cover his mechanical leg.

He spared you one last glance before he left, slamming the door shut behind him.

This was the exact reason why he didn't trust anyone, why he barely ever opened up.

Why would he ever want to get his heart broken?

Bakugou tossed his keys onto the rickety wooden table by the front door. He lived in a poorly built apartment complex, but it was all he could afford as a fugitive and the landlady was in her 70s and could barely see.

A sigh left his lips as he collapsed into the couch, still not used to the weight of his new and improved appendages. He brought his forearm to his eyes, smiling softly at your handiwork. Everything was carefully manufactured and put together, not a single screw out of place. Above all, you had always been a bit of a perfectionist.

As he ran his fingers along the smooth metal, his nail caught on a small hatch. He smirked and shook his head. Of course you'd make a hidden compartment. Opening it up, he saw a folded piece of paper. Bakugou sat up, pulling out the note and unfolding it. He immediately recognized your swirly handwriting, leaning back against the couch cushions as he read.

You found it! Pretty neat, huh? Anyway, I hope you like it. I dunno what you fugitives would need to hide other than yourselves, but now you have this really cool hiding spot! Thank you for being patient with me, I wanted it to be perfect. You better not damage my work! >:( - Yours Truly, (Y/N)

Bakugou traced the letters you had written, realizing you probably hated him and these were the last few things he had of you. Just the thought of losing you caused an ache in his chest, but should he go back? Should he leave you be? There was no way in hell he was apologizing, though. He wanted you to know the worth you didn't seem to realize you had.

But would you hate him more if he showed up at your door again? He didn't even have a chance to say the three words that had been on the tip of his tongue for years now.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, opening up your contact in his phone. He rarely ever texted you, but what could he possibly say? His thoughts were all jumbled, so there was no way he'd be able to get it in a text.

After several tries, Bakugou decided to just go for something simple, carefully crafting his words so he wouldn't upset you further.

You're an amazing person, (Y/N). One day, I hope you see yourself the way I see you.

He sighed, getting himself ready for bed. He highly doubted that you'd respond, but he kept his phone close by just in case you did as he showered.

Bakugou let the hot water run off his body, a memory coming back to him that he had almost forgotten, but it came so vividly, as if it had only happened yesterday.

"Deku! Deku, they're burning!" you shouted, alerting the two boys, who came running into the kitchen. Smoke was coming off from the pan on the stove, filling the room. You ran to open a window. How had they not smelled it burning earlier?

"How the hell did you manage to burn eggs? They're not that hard to make!" Bakugou yelled, quickly turning off the stove. They were too late to stop the fire alarm from going off, though.

"I lost track of time!" Deku called back, trying to assure you that the house wouldn't burn down.

Bakugou tossed the pan into the sink, running water over it. He then cursed as the sprinklers went off, soaking the three of you. "Damn it, Deku!"

"I'm sorry!"

They both froze when they heard your laughter, not expecting you to be laughing when Deku had almost burned your whole house down. They exchanged glances before they found themselves laughing along with you.

"Let's leave the cooking to Katsu next time, okay?" you had suggested, earning a nod in response.

Bakugou tugged at his hair, wondering why he suddenly remembered such a thing. Was it because that was the night that he realized he had feelings for you? Or was it because that was the day Deku simply vanished into thin air?

He stood under the water long enough for it to grow cold, and even then, he stayed there. He shut off the water and got out, drying himself off before throwing on a pair of sweats and an old t-shirt. He checked his phone to see if you had responded, frowning when he saw you hadn't even read it yet.

His whole body tensed once he heard someone banging on the door, quickly checking the time.

10:43 p.m.

Who the hell would be at his door at that hour?

"Katsu," he heard a familiar voice cry out. It was strained and hoarse, but he would recognize it anywhere. He rushed to the door, his eyes widening as he took in your appearance.

"What the hell happened?" he asked, his heart pounding in his chest. Blood stained your clothes along your abdomen, nasty bruises along your cheek and arms. He also noticed a deep gash on your left calf. He scooped you up in his arms as he noticed how unsteady you were on your own feet, closing the door behind him as he brought you to his bedroom.

You clung to him and Bakugou didn't care about the blood. He cared about you being safe.

"They found out...," you whispered, your voice shaking. "H-He came and-"

"Damn it..." Bakugou sat you down on the bed, quickly reaching for the first aid kit. He wiped away your tears gently, tracing figures along your palm to help calm you down. He wasn't sure how you made it all the way to his place in that state, but he was going to do everything he could to protect you. "Look at me. I'm going to fix you up, okay?"

Bakugou didn't wait for an answer before he got to work, cutting away your clothes from your abdomen. There was so much blood that he was surprised you hadn't passed out yet, but he could always blame that on your stubbornness.

"Get it off!" you suddenly screeched, startling him. You thrashed about, nearly causing Bakugou to stab you with the pair of scissors.

"(Y/N)! (Y/N), I need you to calm down!" He cradled your face in his hands after quickly setting down the scissors, making you look into his eyes. He could see sheer terror in your own eyes, tears welling up again, but your body stilled. He could tell how exhausted you were, yet you still fought the urge the close your eyes. "That's my girl."

He got to work on patching you up, talking to you every so often to keep you awake. He wasn't a great doctor, but he sure as hell wasn't going to lose you.

He began pulling your clothes off gently once he had finished, washing his hands before grabbing extra clothes for him and a shirt of his for you to wear. He quickly covered your body, moving out of the room to change his own clothes.

Stepping back into the room, Bakugou noticed two things. You had finally allowed yourself to rest, making Bakugou check to see if you were still breathing, and a small slip of paper on the floor. He clenched his jaw as he read what was written on there.

Turn yourself in before it gets worse, Kacchan.

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nighttimepixels · 4 years

Text

I’ve been trying to figure out what I can do in regards to the protests and movements happening right now. I don’t have much of a platform, but I have some. I also know that people come to my account for a reprieve - I’m a fanart blog, not a political one. But... existence is political. It’s a privilege if you don’t have to consider your existence a political matter in some way. The fight going on right now is for Black lives, against police brutality, against systemic racism, against a history and modernity steeped in violence against Black people (and other poc), and I cannot allow myself to be complicit through silence.

BLM, plain and simple, and though it’s completely reasonable to take mental breaks and take care of yourself, it would also be wrong of me to remain completely silent out of misplaced white guilt/fear of ostracizing.

It’s the least I can do, to make at least one good, robust post to make a positive effort to do some small part and not be a part of the problem.

That said, it doesn’t feel right for me to do art about this. I’ve tried to figure out what I can offer beyond my own efforts at self-education, beyond donating, and so on - I want to help.

And, well, one thing I’m good at is research and resource aggregating. So - while I’ll continue keep this blog a light-hearted place of respite in general - I want to share resources and links. I know how hard and daunting it can be even when you’re filled with good intent to begin self-educating. Where to begin, where to find plain-english explanations that aren’t so complex you’ll be lost if you have ADHD, what to prioritize, vs what to work on long term...

Below are resources & links for learning about the history of violence against black people in America, as well as resources to begin learning about anti-racism work.

Even if you can’t donate/donate much, or can’t show up to a protest for whatever reason - something non-Black people can all can do is begin to undo the entrenched miseducation & glossing over of how deeply racism is embedded into our society (and is indeed an export for us and many other countries).

It’s hard work, I know - take breaks as you need to, take care of your mental health, check in on friends & family & your community - but remember too that this isn’t a sprint. This is a marathon. The fight for justice is a long one that can’t end with the protests - it’s a dedicated effort, and I am so proud of everyone who is fighting the good fight, in big & little ways alike.

Take care of yourselves, no justice no peace, BLM, and I hope these resources can help some of you who are feeling a bit lost as to where to start. ♡♡♡

First off:

This is a resource both linking to tons of different options to donate, and resources to educate yourself and others (created by black people, shared widely): includes donation links, FAQ, petitions to sign, text & call resources to contact your representatives/etc, protest map/locations if you’d like to join, translations, and more. A great one-stop shop; if you can only share one link, this is a good one.

Now, onto the rest - first some videos, then some threads & educational resource links done by black people, and most of them specifically intended to be read by non-black and especially white people looking to educate themselves.

Videos:

Good places to start if you haven’t watched/read/learned much at all about the systems themselves:

The Broken Policing System | Patriot Act w/ Hasan Minhaj:

youtube

Police Accountability | Last Week Tonight w/ John Oliver

Ferguson, MO and Police Militarization | Last Week Tonight w/ John Oliver

Robust sources for Self-education:

http://bit.ly/ANTIRACISMRESOURCES

https://twitter.com/sharpestcookie3/status/1267444670373572609

Also, a thread in plain language on the basic history of racist violence in the US [ https://twitter.com/ericabuddington/status/1266531249914601472 ]

Bonus:

Cool thread of Black Artists you should follow over on Twitter (who frequently have Tumblrs too, if you’re not on Twitter - you can poke through this and follow them here)! [ https://twitter.com/kianamaiart/status/1266440406931103745 ]

List of bookstores owned by black people! Support black businesses when and where you can in general, and hey, here’s a place to buy some reading as you learn ♡

How to Be an Anti-Racist Ally: a thread! [https://twitter.com/basketcasecd/status/1267861479140864000]

====

These things are just a start, but I hope having a few concrete places to look to is helpful. We can do this, together- remember too, take advantage of resources like this rather than just turning to your black friend/favorite influencer and expecting them to do the hard emotional labor of ‘explaining things’ to you. Educate yourself first, seek out existing threads and these sorts of resources - ignorance is where we all start, so don’t be ashamed of that! But also make sure you do your best to chip away at that ignorance. It can be daunting, but it’s doable - and you’re not alone!

Take care of yourselves, remember to look to independent journalists and people on the ground for ongoing updates (not just national media), check in with your friends/family/community, don’t be a conspiracy theorist but also do due diligence in double-checking information you spread, and support the efforts of those fighting for their rights by challenging your own assumptions & educating yourself.

Love you all & I’m hoping you’re all hanging in there. ♡♡♡

#special post #it's hard to know what to do or what to say - i'm white and though i'm a queer woman i have a *lot* of privilege #so i've been trying to think about what i can do beyond donating/etc #fingers crossed this helps #i'll keep this blog art-focused but please - even if you take mental health time because this stuff just doesn't stop hitting us all...#remember that black people don't *get* to walk away from this #we can all take time to rest and recharge - and please don't feel guilty about that!#compassionate burnout is *real*#but that's the thing - take care of yourself as you go #so we can all keep fighting in whatever ways we can for a long time to come #not just for a short sprint #i saw a post on twitter that was really great - blm & the fight for rights and justice isn't a one lane highway #we need all kinds of people doing all kinds of jobs/roles to push forward - from protestors to journalists #to artists who work for inclusion to people boosting the voices of the marginalized #to resource aggregators and educators to caretakers #and beyond #so even if you can't get to a protest/donate - there's still wonderful things you can contribute #and a good way to start is self-educating #one step at a time #you can do it #we all can do it

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kirstinmaldonado · 4 years

Text

CHAPTER TEN 2.0

I had a horrible migraine Monday night. It was one of those that you feel after holding back tears all day, or letting it out all day, it was centered right in-between the eyes on the upper bridge of my nose. My eyes sweltered under discomfort. The icepacks or a cool touch to the head, something my mom would always do (she always has cold hands), couldn’t even console me. I didn’t feel feverish at all, but the pain was sharp and pulsating like a nervous heartbeat, over and over, until I couldn’t concentrate on TV or anything anymore I just had to go to bed and hope I could fall asleep.

I rarely get those kinds of headaches, that placement and severity. I’m usually fortunate to pass with dull, achey, temple headaches; and even my hangovers are never so pointed and jab-like.

My mom on the other hand, has dealt with migraines for years. I remember her pain as a kid, waking up in the morning wondering where she was, only to find her in the dark in her room, barely able to speak sometimes. I was always so sad to see her in such anguish, all alone in the dark. Silent. Still. While her head throbbed as if a brass band was playing “The Music Man” at too loud a decibel.

We watched a lot of horror films, my mom and I. In contrast to all the Disney films, I grew up on Jeepers Creepers, Scream, Final Destination and all the Freddy, Jason, true horror classics (yes, and all seven billion of their sequels). When she would be in bed, in the dark, we’d joke that she was a vampire needing her rest and that she needed to stay in the dark unbothered, and that lightheartedness to the situation made us smile and contented us.

Monday, Ben asked if migraines ran in my family, and though I told him about my mother’s constant battle with them the last couple years I was hoping mine felt more situational as opposed to genetic. Fingers crossed on that, and kudos to mom and those who get migraines for sticking it out cause they can be a big B-I-T-C-H.

I say situational, because it’s been A WEEK to say the least, with big things and confrontations happening in the public eye and in my own private life. The last two weeks have been incredibly eye-opening, painful, uncomfortable, moving, you name it. An entire rainbow of emotions (Happy Pride, by the way, cuties, I haven’t forgotten about you all).

I feel as if I’ve transformed into a new person with big, wide, new eyes, shedding some old skin that felt a little naive and a little out of touch with how the world, not should work, but how it’s REALLY been working. I’ve been talking to my black friends and fans, talking to my Hispanic family and hearing their stories, and talking amongst my friends and respected mentors. I’ve been doing some soul-searching and digging through memories of my own cop experiences (one, for example, at 17 with two white males [we were pulled over and eventually surrounded by 4 armed cop cars that got us out of the car, surrounded us, and wouldn’t tell us why] and wondering but knowing how that situation could have been if they were black), my jokes of being white-washed or assimilating in to white culture and not focusing on my own, and me coloring my hair blonde and wearing colored contacts not MY brown eyes for so much of my life and wondering what the intention of it all was for. Was it genuine or was I doing it to fit in, did I think it made me prettier, or more likable? Did I think or know that it would get me roles, because many ingenues or leading ladies at the time didn’t look like me?

At a point, at multiple points, all the things I’d uncover or watch in recent news had my stomach hard and in knots. Every new clip made me feel like I wanted to throw up, but I couldn’t stop now that I had SEEN.

I was confused. Hurt. Believing what I’d seen, but needing other facts as if I was missing something completely because it all did not make sense to me. How COULD it?

I apologize for all the reposts and rants, but I hope it’s stayed in line with being something you should SEE, regardless of if its uncomfortable or not, so that you KNOW what is happening, while also trying to call action to addressing the issue but moving FORWARD towards a solution. I don’t want violence on my page. But now it’s hard to turn a blind eye.

The organized BLM LA protest on May 30th changed my life. After the speeches, we wanted to continue marching, moving, using our freedom of speech and combining our white, brown, black, and all colors in-between of voices so that we could be ONE VOICE UNITED to be HEARD.

I don’t think I went to the front lines because I was white-passing and felt safer, or because I was a woman so could be “less a threat.” I went because my black allies, who I didn’t even know, asked us to because the front was starting to get unnecessarily violent. I went because I had done nothing wrong and planned on doing nothing wrong. I went, in a way, to be an innocent. Because if I was in the front with no bad intention, the people beside and behind me would be okay.

As we walked through the crowds, their hands on my shoulders, their thanks, flared something visceral deep inside of me and I knew I was here to protect and mediate, and in a way, fighting against hate in whatever form as if I was a newborn Avenger. Someone cried out “I love this, this is what this movement is for!” and that has stayed with me as so many lighter-skinned protesters made their way to the front. Because that IS what this is for. Not to divide, but to unite to fight for justice against those that have unnecessarily been wronged.

I’ll never forget one black man that my friends and I urged to stay back beside us in the lines that had pushed to the front. He was angry. Upset. Hurt. Defiled. I’d never understood the pain the black community felt. But as we tried to reassure him, block him from the batons (from THAT COP), bring him back to the safety of the group, when I was hit in the ribs and the face as collateral because he would have been hit so much worse, the last thing he said as we pulled him back was “I want them to hear me.” And suddenly I felt holding him and consoling him was wrong, like I was a part of stealing his voice from him even though all I wanted was to keep him safe. Suddenly I felt so upset, so angry; although, of course, I’ll never even know HALF of that feeling as a non-black person who, to my knowledge, has never been treated differently for their identity.

I’ll never forget the way he said it. With so much hurt and pain, the anger fading in to just pure anguish and loss.

I felt like I’d silenced someone, so all I could do was get back to the front. It was my turn to be silent and let their voices carry behind me.

I’m sure you’ve seen the video going around, the stillness before the cops were ordered presumably to push the line back. While I can have a whole blog post of levels and steps they could have taken before the cop bashed through my canvas sign with his baton, you can look at the video and see for yourself. People getting hit because they were at the front, with no provocation. The man striking me with a baton, honestly probably because I had said openly to watch out for him, because he was showing a LOT of premature violence, because of how quickly he went after the man we were protecting; yet then only pushing the white girl next to me with his hand, even though she unfortunately was struck multiple times from another officer.

All awful!! All taken a step too far. I’ve never been more in shock. Ben was trying to pull me off the floor so I wouldn’t get stepped on. Our friends were hit by rubber bullets. Our other friends on another street running from tear gas.

The tear gas, the rubber bullets, the bruises and the ache have *I PRAY* started to leave Los Angeles as all the protests have started to become more peaceful and more organized. Since, I’ve been to three and they were all just, beautiful, and moving, each one getting better and bigger as the week went on. I carry a sense of pride and love seeing the aerial footage of all the people Sunday, and I think back to what my May 30 experience was compared to June 7th. I heard it was the largest protest yet. And while I felt like a sardine in a can, it was so packed, it was beautiful and it’s a memory I’ll hold forever!

I sidebar to say, I may no longer be cheering at the literal protesting frontlines with you for a while — I must return to Texas soon for family so must safely quarantine — but know the fight for equality, for justice has not ended just because it’s not trending anymore! I think I’m gonna have to shackle myself to my house so I won’t leave, haha, but know there is so much you can be doing from your home! As my grandma said, after the protests which are the catalysts and the calls for change the REAL reformative work begins!! And the road is long!

The most important thing, in my humble opinion, is to show up. To not be afraid. To ask the questions. To educate yourself through your friends with their experiences or through history.

Humbly, you must think, but what even can I do to help?

Showing up isn’t JUST protesting. It’s signing petitions. Donating to charities. It’s calling local reps. It’s doing the research and thinking, what can I do to lend my voice to help create a better world for all and doing it authentically if even imperfectly because deep down you also want to right these injustices and demand change! Do it in public. Do it in private. But do it because you believe in it!

I know everything feels a bit dark and overwhelming right now! The amount of times I’ve needed a “break” and then wanted to cry because my black friends and fans don’t get the opportunity to take “breaks” is countless. But your mental health is important for you to be the strongest ally you can be!

And if you’re afraid of backlash, understand that many are hurt. I know many feel nervous to speak up in a damned if I do, damned if I don’t kind of way. But EACH of your voices are, and have always been so, so important. And each and every one of you have an important say and CHOICE/VOTE in to where we lead our country!

Someone told me this week that although sunflowers follow the sun, when it is cloudy and dark, they turn to face each other and share their energy!

I don’t know if that’s a million percent scientifically accurate, but the sentiment brought me to tears. In times of darkness, we should all be able to lean on each other for support.

We can all be sunflowers in the dark. <3

Love you all.

#blog 2.0

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cipheramnesia · 3 years

Text

Guess I’ll say something again, since it’s dark and cold here, with a bit of snow left on the ground.

You do what you can. You take what you can get. Then try and do better.

It’s been a lot, and we keep trying to do a lot, and it can feel like we didn’t get anything. We went to protests and donated and called and signed petitions and made noise. And there was a lot promised, and a lot of people died or got hurt and it feels like nothing was gained.

But a little was gained, we got a little better, we forced people to be a little better. Take it. Take what we got, try and do better. It’s not nothing and it only seems like a little when you consider how much more the bastards got on their end. Money and power and a lot of time, and in one year with nothing comparable we pushed it back a little.

And you know, maybe you didn’t protest, or call. Or, whatever, maybe you’re just still here. You’re still here, you won. You did what you can, and whatever that was, you’re here now and you didn’t fail. And even the real bastards too, you know. Being good was too much, but how about you try and do better too? Maybe you spent a whole lifetime trying to take away civil rights and money from people who need it most, but you have time to do better.

You won’t get love or recognition and maybe people will still dance on your grave but imagine knowing against it all you turned around and pushed your own history back and did better? Sometimes that’s all you can do, be better than the terrible person you were. Try and do better.

Whatever you did, large or small and good or bad, it’s behind us and we’re here and now. And whatever good things we did, what progress we made in small ways belongs to everyone. I’m not trying to be stupid or naive just wanting everyone to stick around, to know that you do what you can, take what you can, and try and do better. It’s only important that, in whatever way you can, large or small, you try.

I don’t know what I’m doing here, but all I want again is everyone here for one more day, one more week, I want to see everyone make it back around here again and see you all in the next year.

Dream well when you get there, and may tomorrow be kinder than today.

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scythian-andromache · 4 years

Text

is it really a road-trip if you don't stop at a 7-Eleven?

A ‘The Old Guard’ gen fic that is a companion piece to this fic, but can be read solo

Also available on [AO3]

Summary: In the middle of a road-trip, the Old Guard Immortals make a stop at a 7-Eleven. A lot of bickering ensues, but that's what happens when you take road-trips with your family.

***

It’s been two hours since they got into the shootout, which brings their Days Without An Incident count (previously at four) back to zero.

That was on them, a stupid mistake that’s put something of a damper on their road-trip (end goal: Grand Canyon, but who knows if they’ll actually make it there before something goes horribly wrong). Since then, they’ve been driving steadily westward. It’s nearly two in the morning, but Andy is (still) driving, and the rest of them are in various states of dozing—or as much as one can doze when Andy’s driving.

“Fuck, we’re getting low on gas.” Andy says this out loud like it’s a surprise, like there isn’t a gauge on the dash with the sole purpose of keeping the driver apprised of the gas levels.

“This is the last exit for thirty miles,” Joe says absently, eyes closed and feet propped up. They’re also, by all rights, past the acceptable merge point.

In response, Andy swerves across two full traffic lanes and cuts off the only other driver on the road to pull off the exit ramp, not bothering to stop at the stop sign and careening across the road and into the 7-Eleven’s parking lot.

Booker lets out several extremely creative swears in a mix of French and English. “Jesus, Andy, there are traffic laws; please follow at least one of them,” he groans.

“My headlights are on,” says Andy, like that settles it, and Booker swears again.

“If not for us, then for you! You’re not invulnerable anymore!”

Andy rolls her eyes. “My driving has never gotten a single one of us killed.”

Booker makes a face that clearly indicates he’s skeptical of that answer, but whatever he’s working up to is interrupted by a new voice in the conversation.

“Nile could take over for a little bit,” suggests Nicky, blearily clearing sleep from his eyes.

“Nile doesn’t even have a license right now,” Booker shoots back, exasperated.

“Nile doesn’t even have a birth certificate right now,” grumbles Nile from where she’s squished between them. “The only thing I’m legally classified as is a problem.” Quỳnh laughs from where she’s laying—apparently not asleep—in the very back, among their duffle bags. No seatbelt, but far more room than Nicky, Nile, and Booker have, all crammed in together on the bench seat not really meant for three.

Nicky, meanwhile, ignores Nile’s comment, looking directly at Booker as he asks combatively, “And whose fault is that?”

“Oh, come on,” says Booker. “I haven’t had time to forge a new identity for her!”

Nicky says something under his breath in Italian and Booker flings open the car door and stalks toward the bright beacon of the convenience store.

“I’m getting snacks, Joe,” says Nicky, and follows. Joe gets out and opens the hatch to check their supply of baklava—not that the 7-Eleven off I-40 is the spot to replenish it—and Andy exchanges a few words with Quỳnh, while Nile sighs and starts pumping gas. After a few moments, Andy and Joe head inside too.

“You don’t want anything?” asks Nile, peering into the car to check on Quỳnh.

“Joe will buy more snacks than he needs in case Nicky wants them, and then I will steal them from them both,” says Quỳnh, a mischievous smile on her face, and Nile can’t help but laugh. They had a rough start, her and Quỳnh, but they get along pretty well now.

“Fair enough,” Nile says, as she returns the pump to its hook.

“Maybe a pair of earplugs,” Quỳnh muses, as an afterthought. “To drown out their relentless bickering. The only thing I miss about the ocean is the peace and quiet,” she deadpans, and Nile almost chokes on her gallows humor.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Nile says, and pulls the car around before heading inside herself.

They’re all still bickering when she gets inside—of course they are. Immortals, with more years between them than the populations of whole towns, and they’re still children. She heaves a long-suffering sigh—it’s self-care, okay?—and says, “We’re all gassed up and ready. Everyone got their snacks?”

“Not quite,” says Joe, and then tells Booker—in English, this time—to let him drive. Damn, they’re still on that?

Nile lets them be, looking around a little for some earplugs for Quỳnh, until she hears their voices raise, and Booker practically yells, “—and we got stuck behind Soviet borders for a MONTH.”

Shit. She glances over at the cashier, who looks entirely too interested in this particular conversation. For all their talk of laying low, they can be pretty bad at it, sometimes. Sighing again, she sashays over to the counter, throws on her most charming smile and says, in an effort to disrupt whatever train of thought is mentally calculating how they could possibly have been detained behind Soviet borders, “Hi! I was wondering if you had any earplugs?”

They do not have earplugs, and she tries to keep him distracted, but it backfires a little, because she’s forgotten she’s still wearing the same clothes from the shoot up—they all are—and the cashier (Andrew, his name-tag says) has noticed.

“Costume party,” she says, a lame excuse, but the best she’s got, and she’s about to talk about how their theater friend does really extravagant murder-mystery parties when the rest of them decide they’re done bickering, and drop all their shit on the counter.

Andy gives the cashier the iciest look Nile’s seen from her in at least three days, and the poor kid hops to, ringing in enough candy to send their bodies pre-diabetes until they reboot again.

Joe, Nicky, and Andy all head out, leaving her and Booker to finish up the transaction, and then Booker—that absolute dipshit—drops a hundred euro note on the counter instead of USD.

“Idiot,” Nile hisses in French, elbowing him and fishing money out of her out wallet. She pockets the euro note (serves him right) and grabs their bags.

“Keep the change,” she says to the cashier, and uses her free hand to pinch Booker’s arm hard (“Ow!”) and steer him out of the shop. They slide into the back seat of the waiting car (Andy, unfortunately, is still driving), and it skids off before the door is even fully closed.

“Y’all need to work on your subtlety,” says Nile, glancing back at the gas station, where the cashier is standing in the door, staring after them. “Or at least have your arguments in French. That kid was listening to everything.”

Andy waves a hand dismissively—unfortunately, it also happens to be the hand that was holding the wheel and the car swerves—and says, “We’ll send a text to Copley. He can wipe the footage. What’s one more convenience store after a bloodbath?”

“Yeah? You also gonna wipe that kid’s brain?”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere, and he’s a nobody,” says Booker.

“I was a nobody,” hisses Nile. “You can’t just…discount people like that. That kid could become the next Kozak or the next Copley, or someone just like them could see him as collateral damage when they try to find us.”

“You are right, Nile.” It’s Nicky who says it. “It is easy to let people blur together, to believe them inconsequential, but it’s a poor mentality to have. We will be more careful.”

“That’s all I ask,” says Nile, softly. The car lapses into silence for a few moments until Joe asks for his Twizzlers, and all of a sudden there’s bickering over who bought what snacks.

Quỳnh somehow ends up with a pair of Twinkies and the Flaming Hot Cheetos, and just gives Nile a little wink over the back of the seat when Nicky says, “Booker, did you steal some of my Twinkies?”

Booker makes an indignant noise in the back of his throat, flashes his bar of chocolate, and says, “You couldn’t pay me to eat that garbage!”

Nile laughs into her iced tea, and then looks up and accidentally makes eye contact with Andy in the rear-view mirror. She’s got an amused smile playing around her mouth, everything in her expression telegraphing her fondness, and also her exhaustion.

“Let me drive for a while,” Nile says, over the argument happening between Booker and Nicky (“Don’t call them garbage, a Twinkie is just a petite madelaine with a little cream in it.” / “How dare you even utter Twinkie and petite madelaine in the same breath!”)

“You don’t have a license,” says Andy, although it’s a weaker protest than it had been before they stopped at the gas station.

“Oh, come on. Like that’s gonna make a difference. Like you’re really gonna show a license to the police if they pull you over for a traffic violation.”

“I—”

“You need sleep, Andy. Pull the fuck over.”

To the astonishment of the whole car, Andy does. Well, except for—

“Ha!” whoops Nicky gleefully, leaning around Nile to get a better look at Booker. “Pay up!”

“Nile stole my euros,” says Booker grumpily.

“No. Uh-uh. Don’t make this about me,” says Nile, as everyone shifts around to accommodate the change in drivers. “I know you have more. And besides, I spent $100 at the store.”

“You were the one that told him to keep the change, and besides, a hundred euros is ten dollars more than a hundred dollars.”

“It was $87 and I was just trying to get us the fuck out of there. And consider it a dumbass tax, for trying to give him euros in the first place,” says Nile, and the car erupts in cackles.

“Everyone good?” She checks the rear-view mirror as she pulls back onto the highway: Andy has climbed into the very back to stretch out (snuggle) with Quỳnh; Joe and Nicky are shifting around in the back seat; and Booker is sitting shotgun next to her.

“I’m not,” complains Nicky. “Booker still hasn’t paid me.”

Booker says something under his breath, but digs his wallet out of his pocket and fishes a fifty euro note out, passing it back to Nicky.

“Grazie,” he says, waving the note to Joe like it’s a trophy.

Booker huffs. “Prego, è stato un piacere, va’ all’inferno!”

“No, I don’t think I will,” says Nicky pleasantly. “I have a papal indulgence.”

That draws raucous laughter from both Joe and Quỳnh, and for all that he puts on the air of being grumpy, Nile sees Booker’s smirk from the corner of her eye.

They all settle down pretty quickly after that; it has been a long day, after all. They’re the only car on the road, and the miles disappear into the inky black night quickly as they fly down I-40. The next time Nile glances into her rear-view mirror, she sees that Andy and Quỳnh have tucked themselves into each other, and Joe is leaning into Nicky, arms half around him as they doze together.

Only Booker, slouched in the seat next to her, remains awake. “You can go to sleep, Book,” she says, easy.

“Nah,” he says, “someone must stay awake with the driver.”

She doesn’t take his statement at face value, but she doesn’t challenge him on it either. “Well,” she says lightly, “then you’re the DJ. Find us something good.”

Booker leans forward and turns the radio on low. The opening strains of a Depeche Mode song drift from the speakers, and Booker hisses. “English bastards with a French name,” he says, but tellingly doesn’t change the channel. He must secretly like this song.

As the song fades out and the opening chords of another song thrum, Nile looks over to find that Booker, too, has drifted off, but Nile finds she doesn’t mind. She’s surrounded by her ridiculous family, finally taking a break, and she’s got this. She turns her attention back to the highway, focusing on the thrum of the engine and the soft strains of the music and the peacefulness of an empty road, as they move ever closer to their next adventure.

***

fin.

***

~Twizzlers are halal! ~grazie = thanks ~Prego, è stato un piacere, va’ all’inferno! = (roughly; I am not a native speaker) “yeah, you’re welcome, my pleasure, now go to hell” (PS: Italian has all kinds of fun, creative, extremely dirty swears. Soooo even though Booker technically says "go to hell", it's fairly mild. Nicky's still salty at Booker but not salty enough to take it seriously.) ~There really was a papal edict offering indulgences to those partaking in the crusades. Nicky 100% exploits this.

***

#the old guard #the old guard fanfiction #nile freeman #andromache the scythian #sébastien le livre #nicolò di genova #yusuf al-kaysani #quỳnh #lenci writes #gen fic #road trip fic

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spookygrantaire · 3 years

Text

Of Heroes and Thieves

Part 4

Warnings: always shitty accents and swearing. implied future sex. Notes: uh. Shoutout to the three of you sticking through to the end with this. I really intended for this to just be a few parts, but I’m having fun with it and keep coming up with ideas. Also don’t be mad at me. There’s gonna be a happy ending, I swear. Oh! And The Dungeon was a favorite of mine. They played Rob Zombie, and anyone who knows me, knows I’m high key in love with both Zombies. I don’t remember the name of the drink I had there because, well. I was already wasted when we got there. But it was sweet and fruity and good.

Her head snapped up as she looked incredulously between the two Guild patriarchs. “WHAT?”

“Ta strengthen de alliance. Yo’ have a year. We won’ force yo’ to be home durin’ dat time, mais we do expect you ta be here dis weekend for Remy and Belladonna’s wedding,” Jean Luc looked at her knowingly. “Do what yo’ need til den, Chere. Yo’ dismissed.”

She all but sprinted from the room, making it to the nearest bathroom before getting sick. How would she tell Clint? She’d rather be excommunicated. Julien was a slimeball in the worst ways, and she was pretty sure he was actually in love with his sister. Belladonna at least only had eyes for Remy.

Her mind racing, she forced herself up and cleaned herself up before trotting off to find Henri. Surprisingly, she ran into him quickly. “Can you take me back to the Quarter?”

Both brows jumped up, “Oui. What yo’ gonna do ‘bout de bird?”

Y/N sighed, shaking her head. “I don’t know. If I don’t obey and marry Julien, I could start a war. But,” her eyes met Henri’s. “Clint. I don’t know. There’s just something about him.”

“Yo’ love ‘im?” her brother in law questioned. They were now at his car and he was opening the passenger door for her.

She shrugged. “I don’t know if I do yet, but I know I could. And he’d make it so easy.”

The pair made their way through the bustling streets, and stopped when they made it to the Quarter. “Yo’ comin’ back to de house t’night?”

She shook her head. “I doubt it. Clint won’t be welcomed, per se, and I’m sure he’s not allowed to be my wedding date,” she scoffed.

“Hmm. I have an idea.”

“Henri?” her brows furrowed.

“Don’ worry none, petite. I’ll take care o’ it.”

“That’s not cryptic. I’ll call you tomorrow. Can you get us a room at the Dauphine?”

“Tryin’ ta scare him away with ghosts?” Henri laughed.

“Nah, I just like the haunted atmosphere,” she smiled. “Plus it’s close to everything.”

“Lots o’ other hotels too, though,” Henri acknowledged with a head tilt.

She nodded. “Eh, if you wanna pick another one that’s fine too. Just get us a room and text me. I gotta go.”

She ruffled his hair-something that earned her a protest-and exited the car, immediately pulling out her phone to text Clint. Fuck, how was she going to explain this?

She glanced around for Clint briefly before deciding to grab a drink at a bar nearby. As she began to walk around with the drink, smiling at the nearby street dancers and party groups, someone grabbed her arm. Ready to fight back, she immediately flipped the person on his back.

“Oof, glad you can defend yourself, babe,” he chuckled.

“Oh god, Clint, I’m sorry,” she leaned over to help him stand. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, babe. Just surprised me, is all. What’s going on with you? Obviously not a death sentence, unless they’re letting you say goodbye and just have eyes on you to make sure we don’t take off into the sunset together,” he looked around. “Have you eaten? Let’s get you some food. And a uh, new drink,” he eyed the cup now laying on the ground. “Or do we need to leave town right this second? That’s fine too uh, I’m a little drunk, babe.”

She started laughing, laughing until tears threatened. He watched her for a moment, concern flooding his eyes, before she calmed down enough to stop and kiss him. “Get a room!” someone in the background yelled.

She pulled back and looked at him. “We have to talk.”

“Oh god, you’re breaking up with me, aren’t you?” Clint frowned. “I really can’t keep a woman, can I?” he sank to the edge of the sidewalk.

“No, no, Clint, baby, no,” she quickly knelt in front of him, grabbing his face. “No. I just. Have bad news. Like, really bad.” She moved to sit next to him, looking at the ground now.

“Fuck, Babe. How much time do you have?” he put an arm around her.

She glanced at him and sighed. “A year.”

“Oh! Do you have to stay here or like under constant supervision? I’ll stay with you.”

“I’m not being killed, Hot Stuff. Though I might as well. I’m. They’re forcing me to marry the son of the Patriarch of the Rippers,” she sighed once more. “I have to stay for Remy’s wedding this weekend but I can go wherever and do almost whatever until my own wedding.”

“You’re getting married.”

“They’ll be checking in and tracking me a lot, more than likely. And I’m sure I’ll be forced to come back every so often. But I can spend most of my time in Europe if I want, technically,” she contemplated.

“Let’s get married,” Clint suddenly blurted.

“What?” Y/N met his eyes, shocked. “Clint, I can’t-I would in a heartbeat-but they’d kill both of us, and it would start a war. Maybe not as drastic as if Remy skipped his wedding, but still bad.”

“There’s nothing that can be done?” he frowned. “This sucks.”

“We can still have a year together,” she shrugged. “Unless you’d rather just. Rip the band aid off now.”

He took a deep breath and stood. “That’s a problem for future Clint and future Y/N. Present Clint and Y/N are going to drink themselves stupid tonight and enjoy this city of yours.” He held out his hand and she took it, jumping up and smiling.

“Sounds like a good plan,” she checked her phone to see if Henri had texted yet. “Ooh we have a hotel room for the rest of the week. Do you wanna go move the car and put our stuff in the room before we party?” she tilted her head.

“Lead the way babe.”

A half hour later, they were all checked in, and back out on Bourbon Street. Y/N was leading Clint to a bar she thought he’d get a kick out of.

“Where are we going?” he asked, following her as she pulled him through the crowds.

“A bar that’s gonna make your best friend regret not being here?” she grinned, looking back at him as they turned down the next street. “It’s right up ahead!”

He looked up at the sign and looked at her. “The Dungeon? This is a bar?”

Y/N laughed. “You’ll see.” They went down an alley and followed the path til they made it to the dark bar, rock music blasting from the speakers. She led him upstairs to another bar and ordered him a drink.

“Here you go, Hot Stuff,” she smirked, sipping her own drink.

“Cheers,” he gestured and took a sip. It was definitely some kind of bourbon mixture. “What is this?”

“Heaven in the form of booze, baby. Just drink it and we go to the next bar. We’re hitting at least two more bars, and then I’m going to have my way with you in our room.”

He smiled and stepped closer to kiss her. “Sounds like a plan.”

#Of Heroes and Thieves #Clint Barton x reader #Hawkeye x reader #Marvel imagines #Clint x reader #part four #X-Men inclusions #thieves guild #assassins guild #New Orleans

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