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dgcatanisiri · 3 years

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Tried to make a brief summary of the issues of Mass Effect Andromeda’s handling of queer men and how it relates to why we’re (broad use here) upset with the Legendary Edition failing to provide better representation than the originals, and it kinda turned in to what amounts to an open letter for BioWare.

So, what the heck, here it is.

A little personal background. I spent my high school life completely in the closet. After graduating, I had a new computer and the opportunity to play a new game. The game chosen was BioWare’s Jade Empire. Still a fairly recent release, and I was a big fan of Star Wars Knights of the Old Republic, also by BioWare. So, being a young gay man, still uncomfortable and uncertain of who I was, I was very excited when I got to play this game that would allow me to play a gay romance, a romance that featured two men. I burned through two playthroughs of the game within less than a week, enjoying that rush of acknowledgement that yes, gay guys could be the hero. It was a massive affirmation for me at the time, something that said that my sexuality was not going to prevent me from being the hero, which legitimately was a message that I felt like most media was giving me to that point, because gay men barely appeared in anything other than guest roles for an episode or two on a TV show, but certainly not in video games. That game, that experience... I’ve said for years that it had cemented me as a BioWare fan for life.

If I say that now, it is a statement with a few caveats.

The history of the failure of Mass Effect 1 and Mass Effect 2 to provide any male/male romances is well documented. I was excited, very eager to romance Kaidan Alenko in Mass Effect 3. But even then, I noticed that there were things that were lacking in the romance. It was noticeable, for instance, that the basic dialogue between male Shepard and female Shepard was unchanged, if either was starting a new romance with Kaidan. The thing that always felt... WRONG about that was that if I’d had the option to begin a romance with him in the first game, I would have. Yet there’s not even a bit of dialogue that even references that inability, no comment of “I didn’t think you were available,” or anything of the sort, nothing to say that, say, Shepard was interested in Kaidan at the time, but didn’t believe he’d be receptive, didn’t want to damage their friendship, something of the sort. There was even a cut in the romance scene, where female Shepard will sit in Kaidan’s lap before being lifted up and carried to the bed, but with male Shepard and Kaidan, just fades to black. And then in the Citadel DLC, while all the other pairings walked in to the casino arm in arm, male Shepard and Kaidan are leaving plenty of room between them. There’s also the absence of any cuddling as they return to the Normandy.

To say nothing of the lack of Steve Cortez during the story segments of Citadel – he is not part of the big team entrance to the apartment, just spontaneously appears in the lounge room. He doesn’t participate in the briefings, and he is not a casino date, despite being part of the assembled team. Cortez also suffers from the fact that his romance spends so much time on how he needs to move on from the death of his husband, Shepard can come across as predatory towards him, trying to push him out of his grief and his pants. Due to the lateness of his arrival in the story, in game three, as opposed to game one or two, there is significantly less time to establish him as a person – beyond his past as a pilot and the death of his husband, we gain almost no concept of his personality or personal history.

I bring all of this up to help set the stage of what was expected when Mass Effect Andromeda was nearing release. Mass Effect had been full of problems of representation of queer men specifically (not that they were perfect on the count of female/female relationships either, because there’s plenty to talk about there, but as I’m not a lesbian or bisexual woman, I don’t feel comfortable talking about their experiences for them). While there were flaws, Dragon Age, what is often considered Mass Effect’s sister franchise, HAD managed to provide male/male romances in every iteration of that franchise.

In fact, considering that Dragon Age’s most recent installment, Dragon Age Inquisition, had been put out with a lot of fanfare about the first gay male companion, who was considered rather popular in the fandom, and the game itself receiving the Game of the Year award that year, indicating that, if there was any risk in the business sense of providing representation of queer men, it was negligible at most in the bottom line of that game, the attitude of a lot of gay men in the lead up to Andromeda’s release was some variation of “okay, Mass Effect has been flawed, but BioWare’s learned from their past mistakes, and they’re coming off the heels of a hugely successful game that had a gay character whose gayness was front and center in his storyline... We can expect that things will be fine, and we don’t have to worry.” That was the dominant attitude I found in a lot of my queer-oriented spaces.

But we started getting uncomfortable as the developers remained cagey about romance options in Andromeda – there were Twitter responses to “we’re concerned about Mass Effect’s history of gay representation, we would like to know about the options” that came out as “we checked and yep! They’re there!” These responses came across as flippant and even tone-deaf – the reason that the question was being asked was because of prior failures to be included, and not simply a desire to get all the details before launch.

As the trailers started coming out, the questions continued from the fans, and the response from the developers... continued to be uncomfortable. When asked directly for a listing of romances prior to release, the response was that the developers wanted players to learn as they played, that “the fun is in experiencing it!” This was a specific response when it was learned that the romance options could be flirted with regardless of orientation, but they would shut it down. Despite the fact that the trailers DID include content from certain romances – specifically, the male Ryder/Cora and male Ryder/Peebee romances.

This was uncomfortable for a lot of queer players like myself because it spoke to a lack of consideration of what it is like to be queer. In many places, it is a serious question of safety to even put yourself out there to find a partner, to flirt with someone openly unless you are already certain that there is a chance for a positive response. There are places where a queer person flirting with the wrong person can get them harassed, assaulted, even killed for doing so. Even in the safety of a virtual construct of video games, these are honed instincts that queer people have developed. And no matter how many times we would say this to the developers, no one seemed to understand. Likewise, the fact that the trailers felt free to show off heterosexual romances, but not queer ones felt... questionable.

Then, finally, firm details started coming out, and... There were problems. Early data-mining said that there was an even split of romances between orientations. But there was a bit of discomfort around the reveal that the gay characters, Suvi and Gil, were limited to the ship, rather than being companions who would accompany Ryder on missions. There is a history of companions being given more involved storylines and involvement than secondary characters. It also didn’t help the disappointment from queer people who’d been eager for Cora or Liam as romances, who were firmly established as straight (Cora herself had a popular lesbian following).

That discomfort increased when it came out further that, ACTUALLY, Jaal would not be available for Male Ryder. This caused a lot of upset. Now it was a case where there was NO M/M squadmate romance option. This on top of the group of fans who were uncomfortable with the idea that, in a sci-fi series, gay men couldn’t romance an alien, while this had become a staple of the series, considering Liara, the character from a species described as equivalent to Star Trek green-skinned Orion girls, had been available for straight men and lesbian/bi women from ME1, and straight women got in on the act with Garrus and Thane in ME2, on top of straight men also getting Tali.

This got worse when the achievement listing for the game was released and there was an achievement for “romancing three different characters.” Meaning that it was absolutely impossible for a gay man to play the game and get this achievement without playing a sexuality other than his own.

This is why I led with my experience with Jade Empire, why it was so affirming to me. Because to hear all this, ten years later, to see what had been so affirming to me a decade prior be functionally dismissed, be shown to take a secondary position at best... It hurt.

And the game proper did not help that feeling at all.

So first we meet Gil Brodie. Engineer of the Tempest. One of the first things we learn about him is that he has a close friendship with a woman named Jill. And then he immediately tells us that one) she is a fertility specialist, and two) she “says [he’s] part of the problem” because he won’t have kids the natural way. This is immediately setting off red flags to me – I can think of plenty of my friendships where we give one another grief for various things, but I would never think of introducing any of them to someone else with that fact. So my reflexive thought in this situation is “what kind of a friend is this really?”

And then, as the game goes on... This is the only thing that Gil’s conversations involve, the prospect of having kids. We do not learn much more about him, just have him talking about considering the idea. The lock-in for his romance requires Ryder to meet Jill, who Gil again says that she will talk his ear off about his “civic duty” to reproduce, a fact that makes those earlier red flags wave higher and more furiously, because who DOES that to a total stranger? And this is passed off as being “charming.” This leads to the culmination of the romance, where Gil says that Jill has decided she wants to get pregnant and she wants Gil to be the dad.

There’s... A LOT going on here, so let me work through this. First, one of the few things Gil says as a bit of establishing his character is that he is impulsive, that he joined the Andromeda Initiative, the journey from the Milky Way galaxy to the Andromeda galaxy without really thinking through what it would mean, that it was a one-way journey with no way to back out once he’d gotten there. So this is already saying to me that this is not a person who really SHOULD be a parent, at least at this point in his life.

We also get a couple of emails from him in-game that paint him as putting in thirty-six hour workdays into the engines on the Tempest, that he cares about and puts a lot of time into those engines. So when I think about him as a father, I see him having to give up something he’s deeply passionate about to do it, because the Tempest is certainly no place to raise a child – they can’t exactly put a playpen in the cargo hold, for example.

This would be one of the first things that I would think of as a discussion element, but... it’s not there. All that we get is a couple of casual comments about how Gil should know that bringing a child into the world is a big thing, something that shouldn’t be done lightly. But this is framed as Ryder questioning Gil’s fitness to be a parent at all, rather than questioning if he’s thinking this through and having considered this enough to be ready to take on this responsibility, or if it’s even something that he even wants.

Because that’s the other big thing here – this is not Gil’s idea. This is not something that he makes clear is his desire. No, it’s Jill who has decided that she wants to get pregnant and use Gil’s sperm. For all that he matters in this whole thing, he might as well be a turkey baster. He’s basically an accessory in his own story, because he goes in to this with all the passion of a math equation: “The Andromeda Initiative is a colonization effort. Therefore, the idea is to have babies. Therefore, I should find some way to reproduce.” This isn’t him having a passion or desire to have kids, just it being “something you do.”

This is, genuinely, a failure to understand the character who was being written. Gil’s writing reeks of having been written by someone who does not know what they are talking about. There is an element to the gay experience that is not innate but learned. When we realize that having children is not a thing that will just happen, that if we want this to happen, it will require a lot of additional steps, there are many who will simply say “this isn’t for me, this is more work than I’m willing to put in to for this.”

Now, Gil could have been someone who had decided it was worth it, but that butts up against the idea of him being impulsive, that he doesn’t think things through. There is no time given to focusing on the reason he decides this is the right choice for him, to the point that many players felt that this was not Gil’s decision but something that Jill was pushing, that she expected him to jump on her command. Because we have so little of Gil, as a character and an individual, but plenty of him talking up her, this “friendship” feels toxic to many.

Just about everyone I have ever spoken with about Gil is deeply uncomfortable that literally, the only way that he will not have a child at this point is if a romanced Ryder stops him – if I am playing a game where I don’t romance him, I actively just stop interacting with him at a certain point so that this never comes up, because this does not come across as happy. It comes across as forcing a gay man into a heteronormative experience to satisfy some traditional idea of “man and woman, raising kids.”

And, as the cherry on top, if you do tell Gil that you’re not comfortable having kids – a very real thing, whether gay or straight – then, unlike other romances, Gil and Ryder do not share a kiss at the finale of the game. And, during the last conversations on Meridian, the only thing Gil even brings up is Jill being pregnant, whether or not it’s his child.

This is what “representation of gay men” amounted to in Mass Effect Andromeda. A homophobic story that was about a gay experience written by someone who is not a part of this community and does not know or understand the experience personally, going through the motions of development when really, all that is cared about is the end result. To say that most of the gay men I know who have played this game find this homophobic is to undersell the point.

It doesn’t help that, of all the Tempest romances, Gil also clocks in with the least amount of romance exclusive material – a few flirts, the romance lock in and scene, and being able to stop Gil from having kids. Other than that, his friendship and his romance are virtually identical.

Speaking of, the romance scene consists of a make out session that fades to black, before coming back in with Ryder and Gil, shot from about shoulders up, briefly wrapping up their conversation that preceded the fade to black. This is noteworthy when the heterosexual romances between Ryder and their human love interests, as well as Peebee and Jaal, the former having a similar body model to naked human women, just blue, and Jaal, who is naked at other points in the game, have much more involved romance scenes – Cora’s in specific received special attention.

All of this, individually, may have just been reflective of time crunch and other external pressures – we all understand the realities of game development, that for all the ambitions that go in, when the deadlines are nearing, something has to give. But taken collectively... The kindest question is to ask why all of the “give” happened in regards to the gay man?

The end result with Gil honestly feels like he was written in response to the bad faith arguments that had come up in the period after the name for the game was revealed and it was made clear that the game would follow a colonization effort. There were a contingent of people who said that “there shouldn’t be gay people coming along, a colonization effort needs to reproduce.” This is a bad faith argument from homophobes, trying to justify why they don’t want gay people in “their” games. In answering their question, the question they only “ask” in order to explain why they don’t want to have gay people in the game without saying that, it comes across as catering the gay content for a heterosexual audience. It should go without saying that this is a bad position to take.

So, that’s Gil. What about Reyes? Well, Reyes himself is bound to a single planet, which, again, points to a minimizing of how much content he will even get, since his content can only be accessed on this single planet. Likewise, Reyes, as a character, is someone who falls in to several old, tired tropes with regards to bisexual men – he is a shady, untrustworthy character, in this instance literally a criminal, meant to be evocative of the “dashing rogue” archetype. This is a characterization that has often been BioWare’s go-to with regards to bisexual men, because we see this archetype drawn on in Jade Empire’s Sky, Dragon Age Origins’ Zevran, Dragon Age 2’s Anders, and even elements exist in Dragon Age Inquisition’s Dorian (even if he is a gay man). It’s a well that BioWare has frequently tapped when it comes to a romance option for queer men, to the point that it starts to feel like BioWare in general believes that this IS what queer men are.

There’s also the questionable portrayal of Reyes that leads to a description of the trope “the depraved bisexual,” an explicitly bisexual character who uses sex and sexuality as a manipulative tool, that they treat others as simply there to be their toys. Over in Dragon Age Inquisition, one of the romance options was specifically NOT made bisexual in order to avoid this trope, but Reyes himself seems to be a candidate for that trope all the same.

All this, and, again, the romance options for gay men were unequal to those for everyone else. This prompted the campaign #MakeJaalBi – Jaal was, notably, the character initially assumed to be the bisexual male companion, and on release, his romance was heterosexual exclusive. But datamining revealed that there was code for him to be romanced by male Ryder. Indeed, on release, it was noteworthy that Jaal could not even be flirted with by male Ryder. Liam had a distinct turndown for male Ryder, a couple of them, depending on when Ryder flirts with him. Jaal had no such turndown.

And this worked. BioWare released the patch for Andromeda that gave Jaal a bisexual romance. However, this was the only change that Mass Effect Andromeda received in regards to the issues of the romances before support for the game ended. While it was seen as an improvement, it was also questioned why this was the only change, when... Well, I spent the better part of two pages outlining the problems of Gil’s portrayal.

(I feel I would be remiss to not mention there was also a character, Hainley Abrams, who would, upon interacting with her, proceed to deadname herself to Ryder, as if that is the only way to establish that a transgender person is trans. This was also changed in a patch after the trans community complained, and, in conjunction with the above, led more than a few people to wonder if the Andromeda script had been looked over by any queer sensitivity readers, given the earlier issues with Gil. This does go out of the scope of everything else in this discussion, but it is worth mentioning.)

When Mac Walters says players will talk about how Shepard is each of theirs, that every individual player approaches Shepard as being “their” Shepard, he isn’t wrong. He says the characters, and the relationships we have with the characters is the heart and soul of the series, he isn’t wrong. And yet... When I play the trilogy, my heart and soul are being torn apart, because I do not get to see myself in the trilogy. I am not there in this story, at least for two thirds of the way. And in that third that I am there, I feel like I am cared about less than my counterparts who are heterosexual.

The idea that “making” characters available for same sex romance changes them is like saying that there is some inherent difference in a person because of their sexualities. While it’s true that the experiences of queer people does offer different perspectives on matters, it does not fundamentally alter the person, the individual that we are. It does not change our heart and soul. Restoring the bisexuality of characters like Jack, Jacob, Ashley, Thane, or Tali is not changing who they are. Making Kaidan bisexual in ME3 did not change who he was, and restoring a romance between him and male Shepard in ME1 would not change him either.

Every game has some cut content surrounding queer content specifically, and a great deal of that content is specifically for gay players like myself. I said at the beginning that I once thought of myself as a BioWare fan for life, but that now comes with caveats. The caveats are pretty simple – while the games produced by BioWare once felt affirming, now they feel like they’re only grudgingly allowing me to be there. That if I must be there, I should just take the scraps I’m given and be content with that, rather than being treated as an equal.

I like to think that this is not the message that the people at BioWare wish to impart to their players. I like to believe BioWare’s statements of wanting to be an inclusive and welcoming environment for their players, regardless of gender, race, sexuality, orientation, whatever identity and label one chooses. But based on the experience of the last four games, of the Legendary Edition perpetuating the homophobia of over a decade ago... I have a hard time believing that.

BioWare games once made me feel like I was equal to the straight heroes across my media. Unfortunately, I don’t feel that way about their games anymore. Not when, after having the opportunity to restore the bisexuality of Kaidan – of multiple characters, really – in the Legendary Edition, I am still being told that offering representation for people like me is something that only comes grudgingly.

And if that’s what I see now... What does it say about what the future of the franchise will offer? If every game in this series involves fighting for content that, in particular, heterosexual players will see offered as the rule, what motivates me to want to continue to be invested and involved in this franchise?

#bioware critical #dg rants #another angry queer rant #make mass effect inclusive #make mele inclusive #makemeleinclusive

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redhawtriot · 4 years

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Drunk in Love (New Years BNHA x Reader)

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞

Bakugou: The Angry Drunk

In all of the years you had known each other, you two hadn’t really talked much-- maybe about a tweet’s worth of dialogue in total.

All throughout high school the two of you hardly even looked at each other, but, of course, it wasn’t due to your lack of trying. Every time that you would approach the hot-headed blond, he would turn the other way and say nothing at all—not even shouting at you like he would anyone else.

This trend was about to be broken.

As you walked into the threshold of Kirishima’s apartment for your friend group’s yearly New Years Eve party, you had no idea about the raging, inebriated storm you were about to walk into.

“I’ll kill your ass right ‘ere and now you creep!! Say one more thing ‘bout that airhead, I DARE YOU!”

You didn't recognize that voice, but there was a harsh tone that almost reminded you of Bakugou. You heard a familiar crackling noise just before you saw him.

Holy shit, it was Bakugou.

He was furiously clutching one of your friends by the collar of his shirt with his time-bomb hands, while Izuku, Kirishima and Kaminari all tried to calm him down. Their pleas fell on deaf ears as Bakugou’s slightly limp body towered over your friend like a wave about to smack down into shore.

As he continued to scream at the poor guy, he seemed to be the last person to notice your arrival in the room. Everyone sent very awkward glances your way as Bakugou’s stream of insults spewed at full force,

“Like she’d ever be int’rested,” he paused as something resembling a hiccup tore its way from his throat, “in an extra like you,” he finished, his wet words running together.

He was drunk. No. Plastered.

You’d never seen him drink more than a beer at a time. He would always rant about keeping his body at peak performance or whatever, but here he was, a muddled mess struggling to stand on his own two feet in right front of you. You wanted to tear your eyes away from him. You felt like you were witnessing something that you were never supposed to behold.

But you couldn’t help but stay fixated on him as he continued, “That dumb ass, Y/N,” your ear’s peaked at your name and everyone in the room seemed to throw you a wary look.

“Too fucking beautiful for their own damn good!” he haphazardly tossed your friend onto the ground, igniting horrified shrieks from a few of the surrounding crowd before he finished his rant, “Attractin’ losers like you!””

“Bakugou!!” You angrily cried out as your friend thudded to the ground. He seemed to be equally as drunk as he laid limply on the floor— a giggling mess. Bakugou crazily scanned the small crowd, searching for where your voice came from.

“Hey. Right in front you you!” you clapped your hands together to get his weak attention.

“Idiot,” as he greeted you, his intoxicated breath smacked you dead in the face as he leaned into you, and placed his firm hands on your shoulders, “We... gotta talk.” he roughly grabbed your wrist. You were unable to move in your stunned state and was easily dragged along by him.

“Hey, Bakugou, man, I don’t think tha’s such a good idea,” Kirishima held his hands in front of the raging blond to barricade him from leaving with you. You noticed that Kirishima had a slight slur as well, but he seemed to be much more composed than a lot of his guests.

“FuuUUuck you, shitty hair!” His curse was corrupted by another hiccup, “You think I’m gonna hurt ‘em or summ?”

Hurt you?

This is it. Bakugou’s finally decided to kill you after all of these years.

You were still unable to speak up as your brain tried to integrate all of the information being thrown at you into something that made sense.

“I would never hurt them, dumb ass.” Bakugou loudly spat before heaving you closer to him so that he could guide you wherever you were going by your back.

“Wha— hey!” you cried out.

Yanking? Really!? So much for never hurting you.

Every muscle in your legs was tense and were all screaming for you to get the fuck out of dodge, but for some reason you didn’t. Maybe it was curiosity, maybe it was a death wish, but for some reason you were compliant as he walked you to the bathroom and locked the door behind the two of you.

He red, sunken eyes glared at you for a moment before he finally spoke, “Do you have...” he suddenly looked very unsure of himself and it made you very uncomfortable. He stood frozen in front you in that moment as a stranger. The Bakugou you knew was no where to be found.

“Feelings ... for me?” he forced himself to finish as he dropped his glare to the ground.

Your heart dropped into the bottom of your toes. There was most definitely no running now.

“W-what are you talking about?” it had seemed like your brain still had not caught up. Like an old computer it was stuck on a previous frame from before, so there was absolutely no way that you had any ability to unpack what he had asked you. You sighed, “You’re so drunk let’s go find Kirishima.”

As if on cue, banging could be heard on the bathroom door as Kirishima begged for Bakugou to stop being stupid and to let him in.

A growl rip its way from Bakugou’s throat as he tried to ignore the pounding, “Don’t avoi’ the question, dammit!! Do you or do you not feel... something? Anything?! Or have I just been crazy the entire damn time!?!” staring into his wild eyes made it hard for you to answer.

“I-I mean.. I did..” you sighed-- wishing that you were also drunk for this conversation. Obviously not as drunk as him but feeling good enough to deal with this Twilight Zone version of Bakugou, “Yeah I do... Somethimes.” you reluctantly admitted as you harshly ran your hands through the front of your hair.

A flash of sobriety fled across his face, before a drunk smirk took its place, “Good. Now, tell that loser to back the fuck off you before I blast him to hell.” he turned away from you and violently swung open the door causing Kirishima to slightly stumble into the bathroom.

“Is everything okay in h--” Kirishima was cut off by Bakugou roughly bumping past him.

“Wait! Come back aren’t we gonna talk about this!?” you called after him.

You didn’t.

Of course, you would have to go the next few weeks pretending like nothing had happened.

Izuku: The Sloppy Drunk.

The room was lit only by the nauseatingly flashy lights that you found yourself staring at.

You ripped your gaze from the harsh brightness once again and tried to steady yourself against the deep cushions of the sofa as you gazed at the rotating walls ahead of you. You felt your light head spin as the room continued to twirl. Its twisting nature seemed to close in on you until it reached past your skin and into your stomach, causing the copious amounts of alcohol to enthusiastically whirl inside of you.

Your stomach gave a despairing bawl, and a warning hiccup followed shortly after, before you felt yourself involuntarily dart to the bathroom.

A mess of green hair was already neck deep into the toilet, so you opted for the sink instead as you released your contents into the bowl. It tasted worse going down honestly.

“Y-Y/N. Are you o—” he interrupted himself as he purged once again into the toilet.

You quickly wiped your mouth off and flew to Izuku’s side, “I’m fine. Let it all out, man.” You patted his back as he finished releasing into the toilet.

As the two of you sat pathetically on the bathroom floor, he looked up to you with half-lidded eyes, “You are so beautiful.” He caressed your face as he began to tear up, “I love you sooo much.” He slurred.

“Izuku why are you c-crying?” you asked with a slight sniffle, “W-when you start crying, I start crying!” you whined.

“I don’t know...” he threw his head into your chest, “I-I want ice cream.” he cried into your sweatshirt. He grabbed onto like you were the last thing he’d ever feel.

“Me too. That sounds so good right now.” you giggled as you rested your head on top of his. The two of you sat in silence for a few moments as you watched the room spin. Suddenly your friend spoke up,

“I want to love you,” he threw his arms around you in a tired hug.

“I want to love me too” you began tearing up as you hugged him back.

“Let’s love you together” you could tell by the sudden pitching of his voice that he was now bawling too.

Sobs finally freed themselves from you, “I’ll try!!”

“New year, New you!” he patted you on the back.

“Yeah, New Year, New me!”

Todoroki: The Sentimental Drunk

You had decided to play mom during this New Years outing so that your boyfriend could feel comfortable drinking--well, more comfortable.

It seemed as if he was perpetually teetering on a steep ledge, always in risk of falling back into subtle anxieties. In other words, he worried like crazy about everything-- especially you.

You could always tell when he was even more so on edge than usual, as a sudden darkness would dampen his expression and he would tense up. You threw him a slight smile, “Love, you don’t have to stay here on the couch with me I’ll be okay,” you rubbed his leg, causing him to tense up even further before relaxing under your caress, “We are all friends here after all. You can go enjoy yourself, baby,” you reminded him, gesturing to all of the former class 1-A students.

It was as if all of the tension in his body shifted to the palm of his right hand as he clenched it around his bright red cup. The material of both the cup and the sofa that the two of you were sitting on crinkled and cried out in duress as he shifted his body closer to yours.

Your side felt the warm radiation of his body. This heat normally would have been enough to make your heart melt, but what he soon did next would prompt it to just about fly out of your body through your pounding chest.

He swiftly eased his head into the soft base of your neck and let out an enormous sigh of relief. The alcoholic contents of his vapor did nothing to deter you from enjoying the feeling of his warm life force brush across your skin. You could feel your heart start pounding, and could only pray that he was too drunk to catch on--

“Are you okay, Darling? Does this make you uncomfortable?”

So much for that.

“No,” your hand found its place on the heat of his scalp, “Not at all.” you reassured him as you gently stroked his hair.

“You’re lying,” he said very matter-of-factly.

The two of you sat In silence and listen to the commotion of the party around you for a while before he suddenly spoke up again, “Y/N, Have I failed you?”

You threw him a very concerned glance as you leaned his head up to look at you, but before you were able to reply he began talking once more,

“I know I don’t show you the affection you deserve, but you mean so much to me,” he once again rested himself on your neck, “I just thought that I should let you know that. I don’t let you know that enough.” He finished, grabbing your free hand and gently stroking the back of it.

You opened your mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a shrill squeak,

“OMG! Todoroki and L/N are actually my entire life line! Look at them!” Mina fawned over the two of you as she excitedly pointed at your display.

“That’s so adorable!” Hagakure quickly agreed.

“You mean horrible. GET A FUCKING ROOM YOU LOSERS.” You didn’t even have to see him to know who had said that.

Momo: The Naked Drunk

“Shit, shit shit!” you frantically scoured the small apartment full of hot, sweaty bodies. You felt as if you were swimming through a disgusting pool of bodily fluids as you brushed up against a multitude of people.

God dammit. Where did she go?! You were supposed to be the one to take care of her tonight! She was not the type to drink for a reason.

Oh, there’s Jirou! She could help you find the missing woman for sure!

“Hey” you grabbed her shoulders after finally cutting your way through the dense crowd, “Have you seen Yao-Momo?” you panted. Jirou could only blush in return as her lips pressed tightly together. Your expression immediately fell,

“What...?” you weren't sure you even wanted to know. Jirou only slowly lifted a reluctant finger to point to a space behind you. You snapped your eyes in the direction and gasped so hard at the sight that your breath became frozen in your chest.

“Baby!!” your gasp finally tore out of your throat, “W-what are you doing!!?” you sprinted over to her, bumping into every single person you passed-- the other party goers be damned. You finally made your way to your girlfriend who was currently struggling to slide her pants off.

“It’s just so hoooot!” her droopy eyes couldn’t even stay focused on you as she talked, “My clothes are touching me, Y/N!!! I want them offf,” she whined.

As you desperately tried to pull her pants back up you could mostly only think of how you told her ass not to wear these pants to this party. Of course they were attractive as hell, but velvet, alcohol and a room full of drunkards just sounded like a bad punchline waiting to happen, “You can’t just take off your clothes right now!! There are people around!!” you exclaimed in a harsh whisper as you continued to fight with her to pull her pants back up.

“I th’ay why not. Yaoyoro’th’u just keep thinking about the itchy fiber’th and sticky th’weat,” as soon as you heard his voice you felt anger beginning to rise up in your chest, “Don’t you wanna get rid of that feeling?” you looked back and saw Mineta evilly rubbing his hand together as he tempted your girlfriend.

“Yuh-huh...” Momo murmured. You whipped your head back towards her so fast that you felt something pop, and your eyes widened to the size of saucers as she began unbuttoning her blouse.

“MOMO, NO!” “Momo, Ye’th!” you and Mineta simultaneous screeched. You threw your crazed glare at the purple little perv next to you and snarled. Mineta could only watch you in horror as you began towering over him with an expression that rivaled Bakugou’s on his angriest days.

“Y/N w-wait,” he pleaded but you had already harshly grabbed him by the shoulders,”Dont get too ha’th’tyyyyy!” he begging was cut off as you twirled your body around and chucked the icky little thing as hard as you could, sending him into a barrage of beer cans.

“SsTRIIIKE!” Sero loudly slurred as he pumped his fists in the air. Cheers could be heard from nearby crowds as you hastily brushed your hands off and turned back to your girlfriend.

“MOMO. Clothes. On. Now, love!” you bent down to her and fitted her clothes back onto her properly before helping her stand up, “We gotta find somewhere for me to wash my hands,” you muttered angrily as she leaned against you. You shivered in disgust as you recalled how the pervert felt against your now tainted hands.

You could only hope to find a sink somewhere.

You would hate to have to burn your hands off.

Kirishima: The Touchy-Feely Drunk

You had pretty much given up on trying to keep up with your boyfriend, Kirishima, at this point. His drunken attention span was fleeting as he happily sauntered from place to place, trying to converse with as many people as possible.

The smile on his face was far too wide, as he threw himself on anyone and everyone that he could, and he greeted them happily like a young puppy. This was much too precious for you to intrude, so you had decided to let him do his own thing as you watched him from afar and conversed with your friends.

Every now and then you would hear him mention you name, causing your ears to perk up,

“My, Y/N is so beautiful. God, what did I do to deserve them?” He said lovingly before panic overtook his tone, “Wait where are they!?”

He sighed in relief as he spotted you giving him a slight wave from the other side of the room, “Oh there you are! Hi angel! I love you so much!” He waved back before returning to his socialization.

You were sitting talking to few of your girl friends when you suddenly heard his voice,

“If your name isn’t Y/N get the hell out of my kiddie pool!”

“Kiri!” you gasped as you ran to where you heard his voice. You skidded to a slippery stop, “What the hell!” you exclaimed as you looked down to the wet, sticky floor.

The kitchen floor was drowning in beer.

“There they are! The love of my life!” he practically giggled at the sight of you, causing your gaze to sharply shift up in his direction. Your mouth just about fell to the ground at the sight in front of you.

There Kirishima was, in all of his manly glory, bathing in a kiddie pool painted with baby ducks, sporting bright pink arm floaty, topping it all off with glittery New Years sunglasses. He once again giggled happily as he beheld you, “YOU! are SO! Beautiful.” He pounded a hand against his chest as he began tearing up.

You couldn’t even fight the laugh that had inhabited your throat as you threw your hand up to your face, “Wh-- how? I don’t even know what to--” you interrupted yourself with a breath taking laugh.

“Hey man, make room!” Kaminari tried to wiggle his way into the pool as well, once again, earning an objection from Kirishima,

“No! My baby is gonna join me. Only room for my baby! Right, Y/N?”

You were probably just gonna have to sit this one out and leave the fun up to him and Denki.

Shinsou Bonus: The Sleepy Drunk

That is one sleepy boi.

That’s it.

Shinsou fell asleep a half hour into the party.

He sat sprawled out on the couch next to you with his head laid limply in the crook of your neck.

“Uhhh Y/N?” Kaminari slowly pointed to your snoring boyfriend, “It’s only 10pm. Do you think... we should maybe wake him up?”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you glared at the blond in front of you, sending your own electric gaze his way as you pet your nestling boyfriend.

#bakugou x reader #kirishima x reader #izuku x reader #yaoyorozu x reader #todoroki x reader #mha imagines #bnha imagines #bakugou imagine #izuku imagine #kirishima imagine #todoroki imagine #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #new years imagines #2020

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ramblingguy54 · 4 years

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Which moments from DuckTales, Amphibia, and Owl House are the saddest so far in your eyes?

I think this is most likely the same Anon ask from before that I haven’t answered, due to being busy with stuff on my end and if so my apologies for not getting back to ya sooner. Without further ado, let’s get this reply started.

To answer this question now, I’d say for DuckTales (2017) anything surrounding Della’s character arc and disappearance that led to serious negative consequences for the entire McDuck family. Last Crash Of The Sunchaser was by far the biggest gut punch of this series easily, no question about it. Scrooge’s silent montage was the most amazingly heartbreaking material that I’ve ever seen from the show and it holds a special place in my heart for doing that. They gave Scrooge a seriously complicated layer of development from that profound revelation of how he did everything in his power and would even risk fucking bankruptcy to find his niece. Also, Lena’s character backstory is another one I’d throw onto the pile. Lena and Della share some of the most dramatic material they’ve been given in the reboot for new character additions whether you’re looking at Lena trying to cope in new ways to all the abuse she suffered at Magica’s hands for years or Della trying to be a better parent and learning the struggles of when to put her foot down on the kids, as seen with the powerfully crafted Timephoon confronting Louie’s selfish actions, which in turn are a reminder for Della’s big mistake of taking the Spear Of Selene because she was so sure of herself as a seasoned adventurer and wanted to go above all else to shower her children with love by as Scrooge said, “Giving them the stars.”. Don’t get me started on Last Christmas either as that’s another bittersweet episode, too. One more I’d throw onto the pile would be Louie’s reprisal of the Moon Lullaby to pick Della up outta her PTSD of losing everything again. She was so sure that a special part of herself didn’t stick with the kids, but Donald made sure it did and I love that moment like crazy from Season 2′s finale, Moonvasion.

Moving on to Amphibia, I’d say this series has managed to deliver some hard hitting material that arguably ties with DuckTales dramatic stuff, too. Sasha’s remorseful suicide attempt in Season 1′s finale shocked the Hell outta me and made myself a guaranteed fan by that point of Ampihba’s storytelling about the concept of friendships and when some can turn into abusive toxic relationships. Amphibia has great build up to that pay off. Marcy’s reunion with Anne I’d say was also pretty sad because underneath all the tearful happiness was Anne’s PTSD from fear of losing another close friend, as if she was her own sister, just like what happened with her falling out against Sasha before. Sprig Plantar’s determination to make Hop Pop proud because he’s so insecure about being the trouble maker in the Plantar family. In other words, anything that revolves around Sprig & Hop Pop’s relationship about getting closer as a family. Polly’s own insecurities about being the youngest can lead to some sad stuff in its own right, like the episode where Anne judges Polly’s spitting as being a “disgusting slob” and Polly Trucker where she felt neglected, too. Amphibia’s Season 2 has been doing an excellent job building upon dramatic material from Season 1, as seen no less with its recent episode, Hopping Mall, where it doesn’t hold back on the underlying message of a parent’s connection with their son or daughter, which in this scenario were Mothers’. Seeing Anne discuss how much she loved these little things, such as her tone deaf singing, showcased the solitude she tries to cope with in this new crazy world she’s been thrown into. Then you got Sprig who puts on a whole cheery facade throughout trying his best to help Anne get that reward prize from Smash & Carts, while hiding all that baggage from never knowing his own Mother because she suddenly passed away when him and Polly were still very young. Like, damn, the silent hug that broke Sprig into tears was a great use of show don’t tell about how these two kids feel in this moment.

Last but not least, The Owl House. Saddest stuff right off the bat are three words. Amity. Fucking. Blight. Her entire character arc is soul crushing because she was raised to be an arrogant piece of crap by her toxic parents, much like Pacifica Northwest in Gravity Falls. However, after meeting Luz she began to finally change seeing all the pure kindness and determination she had at bettering not only just at magic spell casting, but as a person as well. The fact that she gave up her friendship with Willow to save her from being banned from enrolling in the same school together speaks volumes of her love for her former friend, who soon grew deeply bitter at Amity’s shitty behavior toward for from those years forward. That one quote hit me like a truck, “Willow, you were never too weak to be my friend. I was too weak to be your’s...”. Amity’s my favorite character in the series for how well the writers approached the idea of a bully archetype and subverting that trope into something really profound in putting the spotlight on her underlying humanity beneath all that bravado her parents taught her to have. Eda’s complex chemistry with her sister, Lilith, is another one that was sad as Hell. These two sisters used to have a real respect for each other, but their difference in life choices separated them soon afterwards. Every time Lilith interacted with Eda, you could tell she wanted to help her remove the nasty curse that Lilith placed upon her. Lilith really wanted to help Eda, despite working for a seriously corrupt tyrant, just through different means that are very questionable, of course as a well intentioned extremist. Lilith’s immediate regret after saying, “Then why were you so easy to curse!?”, goes on to further reinforce that notion that Lilith felt terrible for putting Eda under a curse that was never her intent to be a permanent spell, but only one for a short amount of time.

So, there you go, there’s detailed my two cents finally. =P

#anon asks #the owl house #ducktales 2017 #amphibia #my two cents #anon answers #disney tva

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sendingmyrevenge · 5 years

Text

It’s A Date - Jeff Skinner

A/N: Another fic posted once in a blue moon? You bet! Should I make a part 2 or turn this into a series?

Warnings: None

Summary: Your youngest brother wanted nothing more than to see his idol, Jeff Skinner, play in person. Because he was born deaf, you come to his aid to translate what was happening and Jeff just happens to notice.

*Quotes in italics is Finn signing

The KeyBank Center bustled with fans covered head-to-toe in navy blue and gold. You were no exception to this, blending right in with the rest of arena.

In half an hour, the Buffalo Sabres will be playing against the Vancouver Canucks.

Today’s game was special for you. Not only was it between your two favorite teams, it was also your youngest brother’s, Finn’s, 9th birthday.

Due to a pregnancy complications, Finn was born deaf. You were 14 and your other brother, Parker, was 13 when your mother became pregnant with Finn. With your mother’s age, everyone knew what risks were to come with the pregnancy. You were just thankful Finn was born as healthy as he could be.

As he grew and entered elementary school, Finn had trouble making friends. None of his classmates knew sign language, so it was difficult to communicate with his peers. The only people he was comfortable around with were his family, especially you and your other brother.

Coming from a hockey-loving family, Finn found the sport as his getaway. You didn’t need to hear to understand the sport. Everything was visual and exhilarating. Finn loved watching the speed of the hockey players skating on the ice. He was mesmerized by their agility and skills, especially Jeff Skinner’s.

The dimpled, 5’11”, brunette haired man who always wore a smile on his face eased his way into Finn’s heart, and ultimately the whole family’s hearts. Jeff meant a lot to Finn. It was a mixture of Jeff’s talents and his bubbly personality that won Finn over.

For Finn’s birthday, your family decided to surprise him with tickets to the Sabres game. When he received the tickets, Finn almost fell out of his seat. He gave everyone the tightest hug he could muster up and would not stop jumping around. He frantically signed “Thank you!” and “This is the best present ever!” The words he mouthed were not up to speed with his hands.

It would be you, Finn, and Parker that would be attending. Your parents stayed home since your family could only afford three tickets, and it was even more costly because of where the seats were.

Now here you were, past security and currently waiting next to the men’s bathroom because Parker didn’t go before you left the house. Finn held onto your hand, rocking back and forth impatiently.

You felt him tug your arm and looked down at Finn. He signed to you, “Can we just leave Parker? I wanna see the warmups!”

You laughed and ruffled his hair. Finn obviously couldn’t contain his excitement any longer. You signed back, “Easy there, bud. We still have a lot of time.”

Finn huffed, but nodded in understanding. Not a moment later, Parker exited the bathroom with a cheeky grin.

“Well that was relieving. I was holding in that doozy the whole ride here.” He spoke to you and also signed so Finn could understand.

“Ugh, I didn’t need to know that.” You grimaced.

“Alrighty then,” Parker rolled down the sleeves to his Eichel jersey. “Wanna get food first and then find our seats?”

Finn furiously shook his head. “Seats now. Food later.”

You and Parker complied. You held your hand out for Finn to hold and followed Parker to your seats. Finn had no clue where you guys would be sitting, and boy was he was in for a treat.

The three of you didn’t have to take that many escalators to get to your lodge. In fact, you only had to go up one floor. Finn’s grip tightened the closer you guys walked to the ice. A smirk creeped onto your face when Parker stopped at the very first row.

“Here we are.” He beamed at Finn. Your seats were right next to the Sabres bench. With the biggest smile on his face, Finn let go of your hand and crashed into Parker to give him another hug.

When they let go and Finn turned to face you, you signed, “What, no hug for me? I’m the one who bought the tickets!” The smile on your face showed that you were only joking. Nevertheless, Finn gave you his infamous bear hug.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Do you guys want anything?” Parker asked.

“Pizza.”

“Fries.”

While Parker went to the concessions, you situated self in your seat and checked your phone. 20 minutes until the game started.

Finn sat in the seat closest to the bench. He looked around in awe, taking in his surroundings. The zamboni made its final lap around the rink, fans unknowingly appeared on the jumbotron, and the refs and linesmen were huddled around the net. The arena seemed so small on the television screen. But in reality, the size was overwhelming.

Occupied with replying to your boss’ email, you didn’t realize the players began skating on the ice. Finn smacked your arm repeatedly to get your attention, pointing at a familiar #53.

“It’s Jeff Skinner! It’s Jeff Skinner!” He signed.

Finn banged on the glass trying to get Jeff’s attention whenever he skated past them. Moments later, Jeff skated towards your area again and stopped. He worked on some puck control techniques while watching his other teammates warm up.

Jeff stood right in front of Finn. Only the glass separated you and Finn from him. All your little brother could do was stare up at him in shock and admiration.

You quickly unlocked your phone to take a photo of the sight and text it to the family groupchat. The photo came out perfectly. Finn had his mouth wide open, looking up at Jeff. Jeff, oblivious to what was going on, had his back turned towards Finn.

Being the amazing big sister you were, you pounded on the glass in hopes of gaining Jeff’s attention. Fortunately, it worked. Jeff turned around and waved. The smile on his face deepened when he saw you.

Your heart skipped a beat. He was more attractive in person and his dimples made him even more adorable. What could you say, sometimes a girl’s gotta fangirl.

“It’s my little brother’s birthday. It would make his day if he got a puck!” You screamed over the music.

“Of course!” Jeff smiled. He picked the puck up with his stick and threw it over the glass. You caught it with ease, handing it to a starstruck Finn.

Finn snapped out of his daze, hugging the puck close to him. You thanked Jeff on behalf of Finn, hugging your brother close to your side in glee.

“It’s no problem.” Jeff stated. “How old are your turning, bud?”

You translated Jeff’s question to Finn, and he held up nine fingers.

“Oh... Is he deaf?” He asked upon seeing your hand gestures.

“Yeah he is. But he loves watching hockey, especially his favorite team.” You replied.

“Ah, I see. Who’s his favorite player?”

“That would be you! You’re his idol.”

Jeff’s face reddened upon hearing your answer. He held his gloved fist against the glass, motioning for Finn to give him a fist bump.

“Thanks, buddy. That means a lot.” You translated his words to Finn. He fist bumped Jeff and signed, “Can you sign my jersey?”

“He wants to know if you could sign his jersey.”

“For sure! How about after the game, you meet in the locker room? I can give him a tour. Meet some other players too.”

“Oh my gosh, that would make his entire year!” You beamed. You couldn’t wait to give Finn the news.

“What’s your name so I can tell security?”

“Y/N L/N. And this is my brother Finn!”

“Y/N. Finn. Got it.”

Your name rolled easily off of Jeff’s tongue. Jeff could finally put a name to your face and he would be lying if he said he didn’t find you attractive.

“I gotta go, but security will come and get you after the game. Bye Y/N! Happy birthday, Finn! Wait... you’ll translate what I said to him, right?” He awkwardly scratched the back of his head. Jeff was never in this situation before, but he wanted to make sure Finn knew what he said.

You let out a laugh. “Of course.”

“Okay great. Well, enjoy the game!” He waved at the two of you and skated away.

The people sitting in the seats around you stared at you with wide eyes. Oh, how they wish they had gotten a player’s attention.

Finn looked up at you with curious eyes. He really wanted to know what you and Jeff were talking about. You signed to him everything Jeff said and Finn’s reaction was well worth it.

Parker came back with the food and drinks, annoyance lingering on his face. “The damn mustard packet exploded and it got on my jersey.” He placed the trays on the ground now able to sign so Finn could be included in the conversation. “So, did I miss anything?”

---

Throughout the game, Finn would wave at Jeff whenever he sat down on the bench and he’d always wave back. Other players waved at him as well and you caught it all on video. You couldn’t wait to show your friends the adorable sight. You caught Parker up on everything he missed and he wouldn’t shut up about it. “Next time you’re getting the food and I’ll woo the players.” He joked.

The game ended in OT with Jeff scoring the winning goal. Everyone was leaving the arena in happy spirits while the three of you were escorted to the locker room doors by security. Finn was on Parker’s back, trying hard not to fall asleep because the post-game interviews were taking too long. When Jeff walked out of the locker room showered and dressed in his finest suit, you had to do a double take. The black on black suit was doing miracles to him.

“Sorry about that. Sometimes the press likes to hold us up with useless questions.” He glanced at Parker and held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Jeff. And you are?”

“I’m their brother Parker and a big fan of yours. You game-winning goal was amazing!” So much for him playing it cool.

“Thanks man. It means a lot.” He smiled sheepishly.

Jeff then turned to you. “It’s nice to see you again, Y/N.” He shook your hand longer than he had done with Parker, smiling gently.

“Likewise.” You blushed.

Finn jumped down from Parker’s back, now fully awake. His presence caused you and Jeff to separate.

“Finn, my man! Did you like the game?” Jeff crouched down to Finn’s level and gave him a hug. When they separated you translated to Finn, who nodded his head vigorously.

After all the formalities, Jeff led you guys inside the locker rooms with Finn holding his hand. He introduced the team to Finn and they all gave him hugs and fist bumps. Parker was with them to translate while you stayed back to take photos.

As Eichel was helping Finn try on his jersey and gear, Jeff took the opportunity to walk over to you.

“Hey,” He stood next to you with his hands deep in his pockets. You greeted him back. The both of you watching Finn laugh at something Jack did.

“You’re an amazing sister, you know.” Jeff spoke up.

“Thanks, I’d do anything to make him happy.” You blushed. “He’s idolized you even when you were with the Canes.” Now it was Jeff’s turn to blush.

“Finn has us all wrapped around his fingers already. He’s a special kid.”

“Yeah. He has that effect on people.” You laughed.

“Um... if it’s alright with you, I’d like to invite Finn to one of our practices and get him on the ice with us.” You stared at him gobsmacked. Jeff was already doing so much for Finn. You didn’t expect him to go out of his way again - not that you were complaining.

“Of course! Finn would love that so much!” You gushed.

The two of you exchanged numbers so you could plan out the details.

“I hope you’re not a crazy fan who’ll sell my number.” He joked.

“Aw man, you got me. Guess I won’t be paying off my student loans tonight.” You nudged him. Jeff threw his head back and laughed. You couldn’t help but laugh as well, and you subconsciously leaned into him for support.

When the laughs started to die down, he cleared his throat noticing how close the two of you were. You stepped back embarrassed and apologizing, but his dimpled smile appeared on his face again to let you know it was fine.

“So, um. Uh...” Jeff looked down at his shoes, trying to find the right words.

“Do you think we can get together before Finn comes to our practice so you can teach me some basic sign language? It’s cool if you can’t. I mean, I just thought it would be nice if I can talk - I mean sign - to him so he can feel right at home. You’ll still be there to translate, of course. So I guess we don’t need to meet up...”

You let him ramble on. The extra length Jeff was willing to go to for your brother made your heart melt. It was truly one of the most adorable things you’ve ever seen.

“If you want, we can meet up during my lunch breaks any day you’re free. It would make Finn’s day if you could learn a little bit of sign language.” You offered. His face broke out into a relieved smile.

“Great! I’ll text you when I’m free and we can start from there.” He beamed.

“It’s a date.” You confirmed, smiling widely.

Jeff mirrored your expression. “I guess it is.”

He gave you one final look and walked back to Finn, ready to show him more of the arena.

#jeff skinner #jeff skinner x reader #jeff skinner imagine #jeff skinner fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl #nhl x reader #nhl fanfiction #buffalo sabres #hockey imagine #hockey x reader #hockey fanfiction #hockey

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fanficsforpogchamps · 4 years

Text

|| It Goes Without Saying ||

Warnings: TW; blood, angst and character death (Not the ones you think though ;) )

It goes without saying that you weren’t supposed to have been there. Flowers which cascaded from your intertwined bodies left those who you had been travelling with increasingly horrified. Especially since they could hear your cries of pain.

Some info!

This is a gender neutral story, and the readers stand is called Flower of Life, the Egyptian Geometrical symbol for Life. It acts much like Purple Hermit as it is not personified. It looks like green tree roots that protrude from concrete and can attach onto enemy stands, covering them in moss to slow them and flowers to destabalise their joints which affects the user slightly too. Their weakness is that the user has to be around to use them, as it isn’t able to travel a wide distance, and when the wild nature is broken, the stand user gets affected by badly.

Italics is a flashback.

It wasn’t every day that you would be fighting an immortal vampire who could control time... You were supposed to be at home with a dumb book of Biology in your lap with Jotaro Kujo study teaching you and- hopefully- Kakyoin also with you two. But no, your presence was needed in the gorgeous city of Cairo, Egypt where the days were long but the nights lasted longer with th never ending golden lights, nearing the end of the 50 day trip. The blonde who you had to defeat was standing ever so peacefully a few feet away, gorgeous eyes staring into the depths of your soul almost challenging you- beckoning you with an invisible finger that threatened to break the pregnant silence that surrounded you both. Joseph and Jotaro were still looking for DIO and Kakyoin was, well, you had yet to see him make an appearance. A thick bulk of saliva slipped down your throat as not even the wind was caught between you two, almost seemingly cut off from the world in this silent studying of opponents.

“You know better than I do,” DIO finally spoke, hands curving up his body before resting behind his head against his neck, almost flaunting his muscled body in a pleasurable way to attract you, entice you, daring you to approach him. “That there is no plausible reason for you to risk your life and fight me. Your Stand Flower of Life has not got the possible strength or speed to match that of The World!” The vampire proudly cackled, a sneer tight on his lips as the words he just spoke spun around your empty head. “I know-” came your reply with the shaking hands that held fate itself, your mind floating from the adrenaline which pumped thickly through your veins. “Which is why I’m going to kill you before you can even lay a hand on me,” With such a bold statement DIO could have laughed you off as delusional from Steely Dan, or D’Arby- or whoever you faced in his mansion but from the confidence that radiated your being he decided to take the challenge. “Well then... I must see for myself if your prophecy of you killing me before the first hit comes true,”

The dust hadn’t even settled yet before you flung yourself backwards, The Worlds fists landing in the space you had been before charging you again, seemingly effortlessly chasing you down every step you make. Flower Of Life crept up your shoulder, the collection of Vines Moss and Flowers ready to swing you from disaster if needs be. Time was of the essence, as you just needed to hold out, hold out until-

“Good morning sleepy head,” A loud voice had rattled your brain awake from the almost dream like state you were in. You foggily remember the previous day, how you collapsed in bed after dinner from the school day previously. “Hello mother,” Came your soft voice followed by a yawn that went through your body like a foghorn before popping those pleasing joints of aches and stiffness from lying in a singular position for one night. The sun was hidden away this early morning by dull, grey clouds, and the cold air that wafted in rattled through your bones. “You’ll be late for school if you have a full on breakfast, get into your uniform and make sure you grab something before you go!” You nodded and arose from your Futon to gaze into the mirror at your rugged state- hair pointing everywhere and dark bags under eyes. It wasn’t until your mother left did you actually remember the day before, and all the homework and assignments that were left to complete. ‘Being 17 is not easy’ you musde before trudging to the bathroom to complete your morning routine of cleaning, seeing as you smelt disgusting.

With your uniform now put on you slid open your door and walked through, your mother having already packed a small lunch for you in your bag. “See you later mother,”. The walk to your school was the regular filled with greetings from your fellow students. But the one that seemed to catch your eye was Jotaro Kujo, the hunky bad boy who only wanted the best for himself. The girls following him kept touching him, grabbing him and more- clearly pissed off or unbothered was what his face read and it was exactly what you found hilarious so you picked up the pace so that you were then arm to arm. You were a solid head or so smaller than him, head only just reaching that prominent, sharp jaw. “Good morning Jotaro,” you spoke with a grin as your pace slowed down so that you could talk to him normally, ignoring the disgusted looks from the girls behind you. “Hmm,” Jotaro hummed, acknowledging your presence by looking down at you for a brief second before returning his eyes to the path before him. “Do not forget we have Biology today, you have your books? We also have two maths, one in the morning then one after lunch, make sure you’re ready for them,” And that was the idol chat you had with him, keeping their air filled with chat so the fangirls following him were drowned out with the constant flow of your voice and his occasional answers or grunts to show he had heard what you said. It wasn’t until you got to the steps did you notice anything weird. The black haired boy started walking down them with you close behind when he suddenly fell- went crashing down upon the steps made of stone which caused a huge reaction from the women who had insisted on following him every day. You were the first one down there out of all of them however, hopping down two steps at a time before fucking the last 5 steps and just jumping before rushing to Jotaros side.

“Dude what the fuck? If that branch hadn’t been there you would have been hurt worse!” You stated, holding out your hand to help the 6ft 5 man up. It was a bit of a struggle but you got him to his feet just barely because of the cut on his leg and so you began brushing his coat off when softer footsteps filled the air. Your eyes caught sight of a cherry haired fellow in a green uniform walking over just behind Jotaros shoulder. “You.. seem to have cut your left leg,” My god if looks could kill the red headed boy would be six foot under by now from the intense glare Jotaro was giving him. He held out his hand which had a small handkerchief, white with green triangles around the surrounding edges on it, to Jotaro “You should use this handkerchief as an emergency binding... Are you alright?” The taller of the two seemed a bit skeptical, and you could tell why- he showed up out of nowhere... so calm and collected? “Yeah, it’s just a scratch,” Your friend replied, taking the handkerchief and watching as he turned and began walking off.

Only for Jotaro to call him back with a “Hold it-” ‘Jesus Jotaro let him go, I’ve got a bad feeling about this’ you thought to yourself, hands wrapped tightly around your midsection in hopes the sudden chill you gained was just from the nippy and breezy air of the cold morning. “Thanks. I haven’t seen you around before... Do you go to our school?” He asked, and you could almost tell he was wishing to investigate, and with a quick side glance to you, he carried on. Oh wow so you do care? Amazing- “I’m Noriaki Kakyoin. I just transferred here yesterday, nice to meet you,” Kakyoin spoke, and you couldn’t help but stare at the cherry like earrings he was wearing- a pair that hung to his sharp jawline (Seriously, why does everyone have sharp as heck jawlines?). This new boy was clearly a fan of cherries. And with that he was off, and the bickering of the JoJo fangirls was drowned out with your worries of... who he was. The stare from this guy was unbelievably bone chilling, shaking you to your core. “Let’s go,” The Kujo son spoke to you, and was off without waiting up. “Oi- JOJO!”

With eyes trained like a hawk you watched the outside of the school grounds, spotting a few animals running through the bushes, and the group of slackers who decided it would be more fun to relax and bask in the late morning sun which shone bright upon the school, almost smiling even with its glory. Even the sky was clear of clouds unlike this morning where it was dark, gloomy and unwelcoming. Speaking of unwelcoming, that Kakyoin boy was nowhere to be seen, even when you asked of some of your classmates they seemed to have no idea who you was talking about, asking if it was your wild imagination running circles again, like that time you told them you grew a flower from your palm... that time you certainly wasn’t lying. You glanced at the clock before scoffing and rolling your (eye colour) eyes at JoJo, who seemed to not be back or much rather slacking, in the medical room. “(L/N), Kujo seems to have been gone for a while,” Your Maths teacher spoke up, and almost like they read your mind you rose from your seat, grabbed your bag and leaving the room hastily to find where your lazy friend was and after a few minutes of wandering... you finally began to make your way to the medical office. “Oooh- Joootaroo-Kuuuuuun,” The echo of your voice fell upon deaf ears in the hallway you passed, each door was closed due to teachers obviously teaching right now, and you saw the symbol above the door, finally! Without a care in the world you placed a hand against the door frame and spoke in clearly too loud of a voice- “Jooootaroooo! You’re not slacking are y-”

The sight you saw was horrific, and made bile rise in the back of your throat. The medical woman; A lovely girl, so soft and gentle, was battered beyond compare with blood cascaded around her body like a puddle of rain, while two of your classmates were laying headless both upon the floor and the medical bed. The room was a state, cabinets and files strewn around and blood could have covered every inch of the floor. In the sunlight however, you saw a horrifying sight. A large, emerald snake like body shimmering in the sun rays and behind it stood Kakyoin looking rather pleased you had shown up. “Aahhh... Your chaperone has arrived Jotaro, should we dispose of them as well?” The green maniac cackled, fingers wrapped around the thin wires of a mannequin doll, puppet really; but you could barely see, as the snake like tail of this thing was wrapped around the throat of Jotaro... Well a larger, purple, very bulk and almost nude Jotaro. “You- I-” You spotted Jotaro, teeth gritted in an almost snarl like a vicious predator when challenged, but even with that facade it was easy to see he was struggling, knees buckling under pressure.

Without thinking you acted out, branches made of wood shot from your sleeve as anger boiled in you. Not for Jotaro- oh no- But for the three bystanders who clearly weren’t able to protect themselves. The green wooden roots spashed out like wildfire, quickly encasing the bejeweled being that held Jotaros man like a ragdoll, moss quickly encasing its body and flowers sprouting from its hands, elbows and neck. It seemed to affect Kakyoin as well, as he struggled to breathe from the flowers around his neck and in turn let Jotaro go, his eyes now bloodshot and wide. It didn’t take much of a struggle to get Noriaki out of it, eyes now closed as he rested against the windowsill, passed out from the choking. “His Heirophant Green is gone as well...” Jotaro struggled to get up, stumbling slightly before regaining posture and stepping over the bloody pools and bodies. “Which means I’m taking him...” Before Jotaro could even finish his sentence, a floral scent hit his nose and he turned to you, eyebrows furrowing as you looked at his nearly destroyed body with amusement. “No you’re not. Now sleep... You’ll be more peaceful when you awake,”

Within the few moments of The Worlds fists whizzing past you, your mind had already reminded you of when you first met everyone. Kakyoin, Joseph, Avdol, Polnareff... Iggy. You didn’t know if the latter 3 were alive- but the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach didn’t help the constant anxiety that refused to simmer and the thumping headache that began to form behind your brows and temples. “Come on now (Y/N)! Where’s my challenge?!” DIO taunted, eyes wide with a crazed hunger that of a psychopath. You couldn’t help but smile, as you knew that Jotaro would not be able to defeat DIO as he is. He is too strong, too quick and far too determined for revenge on the Joestar bloodline that he didn’t care who died in the process- that includes you. He was left too late, allowed time to form and gather strength, and now- was almost unstoppable. A million and one thoughts ran through that pretty mind of yours as you used Flower of Life to shoot out a thick branch of wood to a windows sign and pull yourself up to avoid The World. “Im not even using my abilities! That’s how pathetic you really are!,” He boasted, trying to get a reaction as he gazed up upon your thinking form. Every thought you had kept whizzing by, plans of how to defeat him were out of the question, and so was how to escape him. The only structural plan you had now was to outlive him until JoJo comes... or maybe, just maybe.

You knew the plan was outrageous... suicidal actually. You had just enough stamina left in you for one final trick.. one final hurrah that would take DIO along with you. It was a heroically stupid plan, and you couldn’t help but chuckled aloud to yourself as the strategies began flying past you. ‘To the left? No that’s too obvious, as is from the right. I can’t go below because it would be too suspicious and not from above because- well- he would see it coming. Before your very eyes you could see the patterns of which way to jump, which path to take and which not to, and you made a solid decision from the most unlikely one, the one that would surprise him completely.

You what?

“Hold on- Jotaro you was in JAIL YESTERDAY?” Jotaro had to cover his ears as you yelled out, punching the mans upper arm as he arose from his futon. “Yare Yare Daze...” The Kujo son muttered, sleepily glaring at you before raising a hand to cover his eyes from the blinding sun. Damn, why was it so bright? Cant he just get some sleep? “Don’t you Yare Yare Daze me! I’ll beat the shit out of you what was you thinking! You idiot! You absolutely buffoon!” It was almost like a banshee has been let loose, and the JoJo could have laughed at that thought but shut it down as he knew you was only caring for him. “you’ll give me a heart attack Jotaro, really you will. and I’m only 17!” “Jeez, are you growing grey hairs too? You’re starting to look like the old man-” “WHAT DID YOU SAY?” Jotaro growled as his friend raised a fist to hit him but stopped as his sliding door was opened by the old man and the Avdol guy. “You lot having a lovers quarrel?” Joseph asked with a sly smirk that made Jotaro tense himself up, cheeks flushing a soft pink as he glanced over to you, who seemingly started chuckling. “No no, just berating the boy on his poor life choices, Really-” And thats how you, (Y/N) (L/N) met Joseph Joestar, who you later found out was Jotaros grandad.

“You’re looking good for your age,” You spoke softly, making Jotaros eye twitch as his Stand was retrieving the fleshbud from Kakyoin. “No really, you can tell you’re older than 50, yet you have the body of a 20 year old body builder,” Jotaro nearly messed up, yanking the last end of the Flesh bud out, before tossing it and Hermit Purple destroying it. “T-Thank you (L/N),” Joseph blushed awkwardly, but smiled back at them “Oh it’s alright to call me (Y/N),” You spoke, and Jotaro nearly looked over until he spotted his mother giving a cheeky smile, and he just sat back down with a huff. Everything was well from there, and (Y/N) went home for the night, having to explain to their mother about what had happened that day, and luckily getting the day off ( (Y/N) explained over the phone to Jotaro happily as they were getting undressed for bed).

“Wait you’re leaving?” (Y/N) eyes widened at the statement as she saw Jotaro Kujo and the three other men she met just yesterday begin climbing on the bus. “Yeah. Turns out my mother has a Stand, and we need to go kill this guy to save her...” He stopped, bag slung over his shoulder almost nonchalantly as you eyed his body, refusing to look up at him for fear of crying. “I promise I’ll come back. It’ll only be 50 days, so study and take notes for me,” The rock of a human did not hesitate as he raised a hand a placed it in his friends (Hair Length) (Hair Colour) locks, and felt their arms wrap securely around his midsection. “Ill mk brns,” came a soft muffle from his chest, and Jotaro had to check for the three other men before pulling away and letting a chuckle rummble through his chest “What was that?” “I’ll make brownies for when you get back, your favourite remember? Strawberry jam brownies... soft on the inside and solid on the outside,” There it was, the one statement that made Jotaro Kujo; the 17 year old hardass student; almost hesitate to get on the bus, watching his friend of 15 years stand at the shelter as the rain began pattering on the windows and the day becoming more bleak and dreary the further Kujo got from (Y/N). Tears were clearly welling in their eyes as the bus pulled off, and Jotaro could make out their form curling into a ball, crouching as they drew their chest into their knees for some sign of comfort, anything to warm themselves in this windy, uncomfortable morning.

“Wouldn’t (L/N) be useful? You saw their stand as they slept. The flowers bloomed so freely, and how they were able to carry Jotaro AND Kakyoin back to Miss Kujos house so easily, almost like they weighed nothing short of a feather-” Avdol tried to reason, arms crossed as he hung his head and waiting for his friends reply. “Jotaro knows this but you saw how emotional they were. That type of person would only drag us down is worse comes to shove. No offence of course-”

“Everybody wants to go to Heaven DIO. But nobody wants to die...” You spoke, managing to balance yourself as you stood on the pole, bare arms crossed as your sleeveless jacket blew by your legs. “But I can’t fear death no longer... I’ve tried death a thousand times, how afraid are you?” You asked, and DIO simply stared, nearly snorting with laughter at how your body betrayed your words. Your shoulders were shaking- and not from the cold mind you. Your lips were trembling, but what truly haunted DIO was how soulless but emotional your (eye colour) eyes were. Almost filled to the brim with determination to get your job done, and since he was connected to Joseph and Jotaro, he knew exactly what you was like. You was emotional, but rational. You’d never take a risky option- but all of that was about to go out the window as you surprised him one last time. You jumped. With ears ringing and head thumping you threw luck out the metaphorical window in hopes that DIO would not just use The Worlds time stop ability and shift out of the way.

This was not any ordinary jump DIO thought to himself as he saw the trajectory that you were heading for. You pushed yourself forwards, launching towards his chest, palms flat out. You were pressed firmly against his hips, feet hooking underneath the middle back of his thighs and tightening so he couldnt move as he was planted so far into the ground that you could hear the audible ‘thump’ from the backside of his skull as it connected with the hard Egyptian floor, your hands now sliding upwards so that they were firmly placed against his jaw to cup either side. The blonde opened his mouth and barely got far enough before a petal fell from his mouth, coughs rising from his throat as the feeling of something lodged didn’t leave. “Checkmate DIO,” Ahhh.. that was it, he knew could tell from the way your chest rose and fell with a few second interval that you was on your last running legs- and so he thought this would be easy. All he had to do was get up and- As DIO tried to rise he realized more than just you was restraining him, as there was multiple branches that broke the sanded floor of Cairo to trap him, thick enough to cause a trouble, and too many that they rose to his shoulders. “Let go of me this inst-” “Heavens full and hell wont have us...wont you make some room in your bed?” You asked so freakishly quiet, hair framing your face as you looked down to DIO with (eye colour) eyes filled to the brim with tears. “DIO, im just a would have been, could have been, should have been, never was and never ever will be- I’m not as strong as the others, but I’ll be damned if my emotionally decisions didn’t save everyone,” As blood began to splutter and pool in his mouth, you relished in the fact that your last interactions with the gang were love filled, your hand gracing everyones form as you wished them well. You have a loving scratch to Iggy behind his ear, a soft and gentle brush on Polnareff and Josephs shoulder, a gracious hug to Avdol and Kakyoin... and a soft smile and a touch of cheeks with Jotaro. The forming of petals upon your cheek didnt steer your gaze away from the intense blue orbs of DIO, moss beginning to cover his face as a tear slid down your cheek. “You’re dying too, dear,” DIO stated, a small smile played on his lips as you saw the compassion behind his eyes. “And I think this death is gracious,” There it was.

The elegance and gracious placing of his words that made you throw your head back, looking like your world was filled with ecstasy and pleasure, as more tears rolled down your cheeks. Grass and buttercups began to grow from beneath you two, small field flowers sprouted from your feet and knuckles, as you willed it to continue. DIOs mouth was now full of blood, and petals rose to the top and spilt out against his paling skin as you knew the branches had crushed his lungs, as they would to you soon. “Jotaro-” You cried out, chest wrecked with flowers and petals as a few began to fall from your tongue onto the blond vampires chest, nearly blending in if not for the purple hue given off by the light of streetlamps and buildings where families lay unconscious of what was happening overtime.

Your hood proved to be useful in your time of need, as you began to walk towards the airport- the conversation your mother spoke with you ringing in the back of your mind. “Love, this Stand of yours is powerful and Jotaro has been your best friend for 15 years. He’ll need your support. So I called the airport and they have said that there is a few spots left on the plane theyre getting on to Egypt, so hurry up!” She was a sweetheart, eyes as dark as a nightsky and (Hair colour) locks that fell down to her shoulders, undercut visible when she tied it into a bun. You packed a few clothes, pyjamas and underwear mainly, and threw on a simple vest top, an almost dad like opened button up shirt and a pair of jeans and trainers. With your bag flung over your shoulder your ran off, thanking her and waving goodbye before getting on the next bus to the airport.

You needed to pull the hooded coat from your bag along with the printed tickets as you approached the desk, the sight of a black coat disappearing to the boarding hallway made your anxiety rise and bubble- but it had to wait as you got you bag scanned and your ticket checked. “Have a nice flight Miss (L/N),” You could clearly see Jotaro and Kakyoins forms ahead, Joseph and Avdol gone beforr them clearly to get their seats, and you were just a few people behind, so when you were greeted by the plane attendees and Josephs head turned at the mention of your name, you ducked and quickly found your seat, an aisle seat. Letting out a breath of air you had unconsciously held before leaning into the plump cushions of the plane which allowed for sleep to capture you as soon as you took off. What you didn't expect was how quickly chaos happened, your form waking up as the intrusion of noise which disrupted the dream you had carried on. “This is an enemy stand!” Kakyoin hissed, Heirophant Green trying to capture what seemed to be a spec of dust, but upon further investigation (AKA you hearing it), it turns out to be a flying beetle, and the small voice was almost as ear splitting as the buzzing of its Wings now that noise was truly piercing. “Shit I can’t get it!” Noriaki exclaimed, pulling Heirophant Green and dodging the Stands advances . ‘But I can’ you thought, and allowed a small, scented pink flower to grow from next to your foot. The smell caught the beetles attention, and turned its attention towards the newly bloomed flower which grew from the floor. With your hood tilted down it seemed like you was another ordinary sleeping passenger, and the Stardust Crusaders refused to move as to not aggrivatr another assault as the Stand made its way over to you and perching upon the flower, curious as to where it came from. “This flower must be from a-” “A stand user?” You smirked, arm quickly reaching out and pinching its wings in place, before drawing it up to your face with deep concentration to examine it. “Well that’s me dipshit,” A swell of excitement rose from your chest and you grinned viciously, teeth baring as if to challenge it. “What you gunna do? Stab my tongue? If you can reach it-”

That was your first true enemy stand fight. Thinking back passed the time, and allowed for moss to gross on your shoulders, arms, back, face and legs, the nature emerging randomly but looking as if you have been there for decades, it creating an almost dated look of your bodies. How horrifically loving, two bodies intertwined till the end of time. You were too lost in your thoughts, drifting away with the nonexistent faeries to notice the bodies that stumbled upon you. Too deaf to hear Jotaro cry out your name and shocking those with him with the amount of emotion he showed, but even though flowers sprouted and invaded your vision you could still see Jotaro. Your Jotaro. His pained expression, his unshed tears and poorly timed handsome face grow closer as you rest there, body starting to feel weightless. “Jotaro...kun...” The JoJo skidded on his knees to get closer to you, no longer giving a fuck about what type of person he looked like seeing as he was so close to losing you. “(Y/N), come on, DIOs dead-

I can’t Jotaro,” those were words upon deafened ears, as Polnareff, Joseph and Kakyoin crouched besides you as well, looking like mourning bystanders who already accepted your fate when they saw you resting amongst DIOs beautified corpse, and although the short amount of time you all spent together it still felt as if your lives had been brought to each other decades ago. “I can’t move... but I feel so warm. Like-” You became breathless, water now flowing freely from your eyes even if you weren’t crying- almost like a constant flowing stream passing by a calm field. “Brownies... Jotaro-kun,” You gasped out before hacking up more petals and blood than before, eyes drowsily blinking. By this point the Joestar wasn’t even crying, his head hung low so that his cap overshadowed him, emotions becoming too much for him to handle, becoming second hand embarrassed, becoming- Becoming human. “Yare Yare Daze, don’t make me scold you, Jotaro,” You chuckled, before feeling the moss start to spread across your cheeks, the appearance of wood traveling your body until you felt rock solid. “Tell your mother I said Hi- Jotaroooo-Kun~”

It goes without saying that your presence in the Stardust Crusader crew would be missed, with even Avdol sharing a few tears whenever he passed your grave, new flowers sprouting there every day replacing the old ones. Jotaro visited after school every Thursday with your mother, as it was the day you ventured with them, and he would polish and wipe your tombstone to rid of the vines, moss and ivy that seemingly decorated itself so carefree like across your resting place, and he hoped that wherever you are now, is peaceful and filled with serenity, that those who greeted you up there were as forgiving as you were with them.

It goes without saying you was the most gorgeous flower to ever bloom within their hearts and minds, giving them calm thoughts and forever loving hearts. The flower that bloomed outside Jotaros room was a gorgeous (hair colour) colour, ends dipped in a dark purple hue. It reminded him of you.

#anime #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo part 3 #jotaro joestar #self insert #dio brando #fanfiction #i wanna cry #i am crying #someone get me some tissues

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araxiis · 5 years

Text

Ten Steps Behind- Kuzupeko

TW: Assault, Physical injury

Read on AO3

It was the same every day.

In the morning when her Young Master walked to school, she followed behind, ten paces between them. When he walked home at the end of the day, she remained ten steps behind him. Close enough that she could defend him from potential harm, but far enough that no one would assume they knew each other.

Due to a lifetime of training, Peko was extremely aware of her surroundings at all times. It made sense, considering how alert one would have to be when acting as a guardian. Every so often, however, her poor sleeping habits would catch up with her, turning her drowsy and throwing off her instincts. It was never an issue though, Peko knew how to fight through her exhaustion. Unfortunately, on this particular day, it proved to be more of an issue than usual.

It was the day of their final exams, and the Ultimate swordswoman had spent nearly a weeks' worth of sleepless nights training for the examination. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Peko must've known she didn't need to practice, but it was simply in her nature to use every possible moment to improve her skills. Her diligent work and lack of sleep had drained her of all her energy. She was doing everything she could to keep her alert composure, but she was so overtired that she could hardly keep her eyes open.

The final exam had been extremely challenging, Peko had found herself drifting asleep while standing up. She was able to perform well in her examination though. Now, on their walk back home, she had to focus all her remaining energy on staying exactly ten paces behind her Young Master. She was so oblivious to her surroundings that she didn't take any notice when a man she didn't know fell into step next to her. She wasn't aware of his presence until he nudged her shoulder with his, rather aggressively if she was being honest. She narrowed her eyes and stared at the man without turning her head.

"Can you hear me, sweetheart? What's your name?" the man nudged her again.

Initially, Peko wasn't sure if she was hallucinating the interaction due to tiredness. She pulled her shoulder forward and continued walking, eyes locked forward. Suddenly, the man grabbed her shoulder and threw her against the wall that lined the sidewalk. Her head smacked against the brick with a painful thud, knocking her glasses to the pavement. The man grasped her shoulders, pinning her against the wall.

"Are you fucking deaf? I'm talking to you, bitch."

Keeping her features unbothered, Peko reached for her sword, which was wedged uncomfortably between her back and the wall. Her reflexes were still sluggish though, and the man caught her arm above her head. He twisted her wrist backwards, and she fought to keep herself from screaming as she felt her hand dislocate. She gritted her teeth and attempted to fight back, but the man had more body strength than her, and was able to keep her restrained. He used his free hand to brush her bangs out of her face.

"C'mon, don't be shy, sweetheart."

Peko glared at him, fury and pain shooting daggers out of her eyes. She continued to struggle, but only managed to irritate the stranger more. The man bent her wrist further, and she felt the bone snap. She screamed in shock, unable to conceal the pain. The man leered at her, somehow finding pleasure in injuring the girl. Peko's neck went limp, and she squeezed her eyes shut to keep tears from running down her face. The man pushed his hand under her chin and held her head up, forcing her to look at him. He smiled a vicious grin, and leaned in towards her.

Suddenly, the man released his restraint and Peko fell to the ground. She fumbled for her glasses and slid them back onto her nose, injured wrist held tightly against her chest. She looked up in time to see her Young Master punch the man square in the face. She struggled to get on her feet and assist him, but her knees gave out under her as soon as she stood. She could only watch as her Young Master slammed the man against the wall, just like what had happened to her just moments before. He wrapped his hands around the man's neck, causing his face to turn a deep red. Her Young Master's grip tightened as he snarled at the man.

"Look, bastard, I don't know what the fuck is wrong with you, but you'd better get the hell away from her before I put you in the fucking ground."

The man tore Fuyuhiko's hands off his throat, but didn't fight back. He brought his hand to his face, trying to contain the waterfall of blood coming from his nose.

"You fucking bastard!" The man screamed, words muffled by his injuries.

"Yeah, yeah," Fuyuhiko retaliated. "Get the fuck out of here before I blind you."

The man scowled at him, breathing heavily. Without another word, he shuffled away from the two of them, leaving only a splatter of blood on the sidewalk. Fuyuhiko shook his head as the man retreated, then turned his attention to Peko, who was still in visible pain. She had managed to get herself on her feet, grasping the wall with her good hand to keep herself upright. Her injured arm stayed pressed into her body. She spoke to him without looking up.

"Forgive me, Young Master. I should not have allowed that to happen. I will ensure nothing of the sort happens again."

Fuyuhiko rolled his eyes and took her hand in his, examining her broken wrist. Peko felt her face go red.

"Knock it off, Peko," he said, serious but gentle. "That wasn't your fault. I mean, anyone with working eyes can see how cute you are, but that guy was being a fucking jackass."

Peko stared at him, face hot, unsure if he she had heard him correctly. He looked up from her hand, saw her flustered complexion, and realized to his horror that he had been thinking out loud. He covered his face with his free hand, blushing furiously.

"I mean- I didn't- You- Ah, shit.." he stammered, his face turning a deep shade of pink. Despite the lingering pain in her wrist, Peko had to bite her lip to keep herself from smiling. He was still holding her hand.

"A-anyways," he continued, running his hand through his hair. "We gotta get you fixed up. C'mon."

Carefully, he took her good arm off the wall and put it around his shoulders, using his body to support hers. He looped his arm closest to her around her waist and hesitantly rested his hand on her side to keep her from falling. Peko was mortified, but she was aware that she couldn't walk on her own. She kept her injured hand tight against her chest as he helped her walk home.

Fortunately, they weren't too far from their home when she was attacked, so it didn't take long for the two of them to get to safety. Fuyuhiko walked her to the dojo, but had to leave before anyone saw them. God knows what would happen to Peko if they saw her leaning up against her Young Master. She told her Sensei she had been the recipient of a misplaced hit while sparring, and he believed her. Her bone was set and she had a cast on her arm in a matter of minutes. Her Masters were not pleased, as this meant she would be unable to perform her tasks as a tool for at least a few weeks. They did not order her to stop serving her Young Master, which came as a hidden relief to both of them.

That evening, Peko ran into her Young Master on her way to the servants' quarters. He saw her bandaged arm and his eyes turned sad.

"Shit, Peko, I'm sorry. If I had been paying more attention I coulda got that bastard off you before he hurt you." He sounded distressed, guilty. She had never seen him quite like this before.

"There is nothing to apologize for, Young Master. I should have been able to defend myself. It is no one's fault but mine. Regardless..." she paused, unsure of the right words to use. "Regardless, I am thankful for your assistance earlier today. There is no telling what would have happened if you had not stopped that man. Thank you, Young Master."

"C'mon, it's not like I was just gonna let him get away with that shit." He half-smiled, though his voice was still filled with worry. "I know it's your job or whatever to protect me, but I gotta look after you too, y'know?"

Peko was silent. The concern in his voice was so unlike him, it was a completely different side of the boy she'd known her whole life. He cared about her enough to risk his safety to protect her, even though they both knew his family would surely be furious to know the truth. She felt her face get warm, and allowed herself to give him the smallest of smiles. Her eyelids felt heavy, her body was coming off the high of adrenaline. Fuyuhiko looked quite tired as well.

"Goodnight, Young Master." She smiled again, and continued on her way to bed. She reached for the doorknob, but paused when she heard her Young Master call her name.

"Hey, Peko?"

She turned to the sound of his voice. He looked rather nervous, his hand resting on the back of his neck.

"I'd like it if-" He began. "I mean, I'd feel better if you walked a few steps closer to me from now on. I just- I don't want you to get hurt again."

She gazed at him, eyes filled with curiosity. She didn't know why he was suddenly so nervous around her, but she wondered if it had anything to do with what he said earlier...

"Of course, Young Master." She smiled, slightly wider than before. His shoulders loosened in relief.

"Thanks, Peko." He turned to leave, but paused mid-step and faced her again. "I'm probably not supposed to say this, but..." He breathed in deeply. "But you mean a hell of a lot to me." He smiled that half-grin of his, the one she had grown to know so well throughout their lives. She didn't see it as often now as she had when they were younger, and the sight always sparked something in her heart. She smiled back, and he felt the same spark light in his heart.

"Goodnight, Peko." "Goodnight, Young Master."

#kuzupeko #fuyuhiko x peko #Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu #Peko Pekoyama #fuyupeko #danganronpa fanfic #danganronpa 2 #danganronpa #fanfic #kuzupeko fanfic #otp: i heard your voice #araxi's writing #i hope this works this time

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hetaces · 5 years

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@whatsnew-lgbtq‘s 31 days of pride day 9!! i know I haven’t been doing ‘em all but that’s okay.

day 9: books

so books are my area of expertise honestly so I picked a few favorites to talk about a lil bit here (I’ll put it under a cut).

And feel free to ask me about more books because I’m Like That.

These are all ownvoices in at least one way. Ownvoices rep will be italicized in the list.

Highly Illogical Behavior by John Corey Whaley When you hear what this book is about, it sounds really bad. Like “Girl decides to ‘fix’ agoraphobic gay boy and her boyfriend gets ~close~ with him” is essentially what the synopsis says. It sets it up for every bad trope. And then uses none of them. It’s so good, has great portrayal of good accommodations, healthy friendship, and a bunch of Star Trek references. Representation: Sol is gay and agoraphobic

Heart of Iron by Ashley Poston Don’t look up the synopsis yourself, go right to goodreads (i’d link but you know how tumblr is with links), some of the synopses that come up automatically start with a “it’s like [story] in space” and it’s a spoiler. I’ll put the first part of it here bc it’s hard to get the words. Seventeen-year-old Ana is a scoundrel by nurture and an outlaw by nature. Found as a child drifting through space with a sentient android called D09, Ana was saved by a fearsome space captain and the grizzled crew she now calls family. But D09—one of the last remaining illegal Metals—has been glitching, and Ana will stop at nothing to find a way to fix him. Representation: Ana is written as acespec (not Super clear but it was the intent) Captain Siege is a lesbian. Telle is a lesbian. Robb is gay. Jax is gay.

The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue by Mackenzi Lee So, there’s a lot of hype around Gentleman’s Guide and I was sort of expecting to be let down, but it more than lived up to it. Henry "Monty" Montague is going on his Tour of the continent (travel around Europe and have fun one last time, is the idea). Chaotic disaster bisexual Monty causes trouble, of course. So then on the way to dropping his sister off at finishing school before returning home early, they get attacked. Because Monty is a dumbass (it’s actually his fault). Cue rich kids travelling with no money & trying to avoid a growing number of people. Mackenzi Lee has hit the nail on the head with growth. Not only does she get that sometimes, growth does happen because of one moment of learning, she also writes it well, which is a really difficult thing to write. There’s a lot of heavy stuff in it, but none of it was thrown in for no reason, it’s actually important to the books and to the characters. Representation: Monty is bi, has PTSD, and (at the end of the first book, so spoilers) deaf on one side Percy is mixed, mlm, and (you find out part way through so if you’re picky about it it could be spoilers), epileptic. Felicity is aroace. Many other characters who aren’t white and a wlw character in the second book.

I Wish You All The Best by Mason Deaver After Ben comes out to their parents, things don’t exactly go well. They get kicked out, and have to go live with their sister who they haven’t seen in 10 years. They start over at a new school, only out to their sister, her husband, and their therapist (because hey, look how well coming out went last time). This book is so damn cute. And a book with a nonbinary main character! Representation: Ben is nonbinary Nathan is bisexual and black

Every Heart a Doorway by Seanan McGuire Think Narnia, but with more worlds and less religion and you've got the concept of the doorways. Children have always been disappearing - going through a door that's appeared to them. But magic worlds rarely have use for used up miracle children. So they're sent back. But they don't come back the same. The children at Elanor West's Home for Wayward Children have all tumbled once. And they all want to get back. But with Nancy's arrival, things start going wrong. Representation: Nancy is asexual Jack is pan and has OCD Kade is a trans guy Sumi is bi (Seanan McGuire is a queer cis woman)

You Asked for Perfect by Laura Silverman Ariel Stone is a perfect student: he’s a community volunteer, first chair violin, and is on track to be valedictorian. And then he fails a calc test. When he finds he can’t fix it himself, he reluctantly gets a tutor. And he may not like calc, but he might like Amir. I started recommending this book to people when I was 5 pages into it. Ariel is so explicitly Jewish that Laura Silverman put her grandmother’s matzo ball soup recipe in the back because it’s not fair to rave about it so much and not provide a recipe. He’s explicitly bisexual by page 8. Amir and Sook’s eyes are both described as “warm” and I honestly think it’s the first time I’ve seen characters of color’s eyes described as anything but “dark”. Representation: Ariel is bisexual and Jewish Amir is a gay Pakistani Muslim Sook is a chubby Korean lesbian

The Past and Other Things That Should Stay Buried by Shaun David Hutchinson Shaun is back with more “so... the world might be ending?” and I absolutely love it. Dino’s ex-best-friend July died suddenly 4 days ago, and his family runs the funeral home. Dino is touching up July’s makeup (he knows how she wore it and everyone was doing it wrong), and she wakes up. But she’s not exactly... alive. She’s just not-dead. And then... other people just stop dying. So they have to figure out what’s happening. How July came back - or at least how to re-kill her when nobody can die. So not only is it a super interesting book, it’s also like... Shaun goes in on topics like “gay people making gay jokes and straight people making gay jokes are different” and “a cis guy might (might) not mind if you call him a girl, but do not call a trans guy a girl” Also I recommend anything by Shaun David Hutchinson. Representation: Dino is gay Rafi is trans, mlm, and mixed (white/Pakistani) Multiple LGBTQ+ minor characters

On The Edge of Gone by Corinne Duyvis It’s an end-of-the-world type book (via comet strike). Due to strange circumstances, Denise and her mother end up not at their government assigned shelter, but on a generation ship. And Denise has just a few days to find her sister and prove that her skills are worth 3 spots on a ship with limited resources. Representation: Denise is mixed (Surinamese/white) and autistic Iris is mixed (Surinamese/white) and a bi trans woman. Els is wlw. Leyla is wlw. Samira and Nordin are Muslim Some minor characters.

Radio Silence by Alice Oseman I’m just gonna give y’all the actual synopsis this time

You probably think that Aled Last and I are going to fall in love or something. Since he is a boy and I am a girl. I just wanted to say—we don’t. Frances Janvier spends most of her time studying. When she’s not studying, she’s up in her room making fan art for her favorite podcast, Universe City. Everyone knows Aled Last as that quiet boy who gets straight As. But no one knows he’s the creator of Universe City, who goes by the name Radio Silence. When Frances gets a message from Radio Silence asking if she’ll collaborate with him, everything changes. Frances and Aled spend an entire summer working together and becoming best friends. They get each other when no one else does. But when Aled’s identity as Radio Silence is revealed, Frances fears that the future of Universe City—and their friendship—is at risk. Aled helped her find her voice. Without him, will she have the courage to show the world who she really is? Or will she be met with radio silence?

This book is so good but fair warning, it gets really heavy.

Representation: Aled is demisexual (Alice is queer/aroace) Frances is bi and mixed (white/Ethiopian) Daniel is gay and Korean Carys is a lesbian Raine is pan, Indian, and Hindu

Otherbound by Corinne Duyvis Otherbound is set in two worlds - Nolan’s (ours) and Amara’s (the Dunelands, where magic is real). Amara is on the run with the former princess, Cilla, whose family was overthrown by the ministers. Cilla has been cursed and is being hunted, and Amara’s particular type of healing magic is, basically, convenient for redirecting Cilla’s curse. Since they were children, Nolan has been experiencing Amara’s world through her every time he closes his eyes. He sees through her eyes, feels what she feels, smells what she smells. But he’s just a silent observer. She doesn’t even know he’s there. Until now. Representation: Nolan is Mexica and disabled Amara is not white, mute (due to mutilation), and bi Cilla is not white, fat, and a lesbian The majority of other characters are also not white.

#books #whatsnewpride #i am both very sorry for the length of this post #and absolutely not sorry at all

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buoyantsaturn · 6 years

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400 Lux (1/1)

summary: leo-atthedisco asked: will doesn't speak due to watching his brother die, and nico's like a 'bad boy' who tries really hard to impress will highschool!mortal!au??

it's this headcanon list but as a fic!

word count: 5286

read on ao3

Will was eight years old on the night that his brother Lee had picked him up from his piano lessons across town from where they lived. They were supposed to leave the middle school and head straight home, but Lee had decided to surprise his brother by taking the long way home and stopping for ice cream on the way.

They had to eat while they walked, because knowing their mother, Naomi was counting down the seconds until she expected her sons to be home, and if they ended up being more than five minutes late, they risked having the whole neighborhood watch searching for them.

The Dairy Queen they stopped at was running a little slow on their orders, so Lee had the two of them take a shortcut to make sure they got home on time. It was the same shortcut Lee took on his way home from school, but of course, things were different in the middle of the day than they were after dark.

Will could only remember flashes of what had happened. A man demanding their money, Will’s ice cream cone hitting the pavement alongside Lee’s, and a knife appearing from the darkness. The man vanished with Lee’s wallet and left his knife stuck under Lee’s ribs, and Will couldn’t even manage to scream for help. Lee had managed to pull his phone from his pocket and had Will dial 9-1-1 before he passed out, but Will wasn’t able to tell the operator what had happened.

By the time the police finally arrived, Lee was dead. Will hadn’t spoken a single word since.

By the first day of Will’s junior year, he’d figured out how to make the days as painless as possible. Sit in the back of the room, keep his head down, smile politely but make no other move to interact with his peers. A vague cutting motion near his throat and a shrug whenever someone asked why he wasn’t speaking.

Any teacher that had worked at his high school since he started his freshman year was aware of his disability, but he always wound up stuck in the class of someone new with no way to explain his situation.

He walked into his second period on the first day, moving straight to the back row, setting his backpack under the desk and sitting down silently - feet planted on the floor, hands folded on the desk, head angled down so as to avoid any accidental eye contact.

Someone claimed the seat beside him, drawing Will’s attention momentarily as he dropped into the seat with a huff, tossing his backpack on the floor and leaving it in the space between his desk and Will’s. Will tried to sneak a look at the other boy, afraid of being noticed as he watched the boy kick his high tops up onto the seat of the chair in front of him, lounging back in his chair as he tapped on his phone underneath the desk. Will was pretty sure he’d seen this kid around in the past couple of years, but he was certain that he’d never be able to forget such a pretty face.

Will’s attention was drawn away from the other boy when the teacher called for attention - Mrs. Dodds, someone new, who had an angry southern accent that was almost the exact opposite of Will’s mom’s sweet and soothing southern drawl. Mrs. Dodds starting reading off the attendance list, and Will felt his heartbeat pick up its pace. Would he be marked as a problem child as soon as he refused to answer, or would he just be marked absent? Even worse, what if he was sent to the principal’s office for refusing to speak? It wouldn’t be the first time.

The boy next to him said a bland, “Here,” in response to the teacher calling his name - Nico di Angelo, if Will heard right. Of angels. Yeah, he kind of looked like an angel, Will caught himself thinking.

Mrs. Dodds called his name, and Will rose a hand in acknowledgement, but the teacher didn’t look up. “William Solace,” she said again, voice harsher this time, and she glanced up, finally spotting Will’s hand. “You’ll have to speak up, William, or else you’ll have to sit in the front of the class.”

As Mrs. Dodds continued calling out names, Will slumped back in his seat dejectedly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nico lean toward him, and Will braced himself.

“Why didn’t you just say you’re here?” he asked, pouting in confusion. Cute, Will thought.

He made a cutting motion next to his neck and shrugged, hoping that Nico would understand.

“Oh, you’ve got laryngitis or something,” Nico whispered. “That sucks, sorry.”

Will shrugged again and turned back toward his desk. Or something, yeah.

Nico had learned to sit in the back of class because he could never keep his mouth shut. He’d gotten more detentions than he could count for snarky remarks and correcting his teachers - sorry, but he definitely knew more Italian than someone who’d only lived in Italy for a semester in college ten years ago, and don’t get him started on his history classes - but as long as he sat as far from the teachers as possible, they couldn’t hear his comments.

That was how Nico found himself sitting next to Will in his second period, though he figured Will had chosen a seat in the back to avoid getting called on when he couldn’t talk. He certainly didn’t look like a back-of-the-class delinquent - to be fair, Nico wasn’t either, but he certainly dressed like he was - and Nico figured that as soon as Will got his voice back he would move up to the front row and ask a question every five minutes. Nico found himself thinking about how unfortunate that would be - the back of Will’s head couldn’t be anywhere near as nice to look at as his face was.

When Mrs. What’s-Her-Face started teaching (on the first day of class, seriously?) Nico couldn’t help but groan softly, knocking his head back until it hit the wall behind him. He thought he heard a snicker and glanced over to Will who quickly looked back to the board, but didn’t hide the tiny smile on his lips.

He heard that same snicker a few times throughout the period, always following one of Nico’s dumb comments, and Nico felt a surge of pride at making this hot guy laugh. He was going to be even more upset to see Will move up to the front of the room - nobody had ever appreciated his snark as much as Will seemed to.

When the class ended, Nico packed up his stuff to and offered Will a two-fingered salute, and was just about to turn away when Will smiled and waved back. Nico hurried away and out the door into the hallway, hoping that Will didn’t see the sudden glowing pink of his cheeks.

His next three classes were just as boring as he’d expected for the first day of the year, sandwiched around his lunch period that he unfortunately did not share with any of his friends. He considered searching out Will, but thought that might be weird since they didn’t really know each other. He didn’t want to look desperate.

Nico ate his lunch quickly and all alone, arriving to his next class fifteen minutes early and leaving it the second the bell rang. He just had one last class to survive that day before he was free to go home and enjoy his solitude.

He walked into the classroom, immediately realizing that this class might not be as insufferable as he thought it was going to be when he saw Will sitting in the back row. Nico went over to him, taking a seat next to him, and he was greeted with another bright smile. Nico got a tingly feeling all over his body at the sight, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to run away to hide his blush this time.

“Hey,” Nico said. “Still no voice?”

Will’s smile disappeared, and he stared down at his desk as he shook his head.

Nico hadn’t realized that laryngitis could be such a sensitive topic. He was about to apologize when the teacher announced the start of class. Mr. Brunner started reading off the attendance list, and Nico said, “Here,” for the sixth time that day. He tuned out most of the names that Mr. Brunner called, until he heard, “William Solace,” and saw Will’s hand rise up next to him.

“Uh, he’s here,” Nico said, and Will smiled at him in thanks. Nico felt himself smiling back before he froze. Oh no, he thought, this is a crush.

He was much quieter during Mr. Brunner’s class than he was in Mrs. Dodds’s, afraid that he might blurt out something embarrassing to Will, and managed to keep his mouth shut until the final bell rang. He still waved goodbye to Will as he left, but didn’t wait to see an acknowledgement before he was rushing out of the room.

Nico found Jason at his locker. “What do you know about William Solace?”

“You mean Will?” Jason asked, closing his locker and turning to frown at Nico. “Blond. Junior. What do you want to know?”

Nico crossed his arms and looked away, hoping to prevent Jason from seeing his true intention in his eyes. “I dunno. I just met him today, he seems cool, I guess, but we didn’t talk much.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “No shit, dude doesn’t talk.”

“What do you mean?”

Jason started walking down the hall, and Nico moved with him. “I mean he doesn’t talk. Somebody told me he was in some kind of accident as a kid, I guess. He apparently hasn’t spoken since, but he insists on sticking with public school for some reason. Anyway, am I driving you home?”

Nico spent most of that night researching ASL, figuring that Will needed to communicate in some way, and sign language seemed the most realistic way that he would do so. He found a bunch of websites that talked about deaf culture, meaning that Nico found a lot more information than he’d been looking for - far more than the few basic signs for hello or goodbye or homework he’d originally been searching for.

He’d ended up staying up until nearly three in the morning after finally crawling out of a clickhole, which meant that he was this close to falling asleep in his first class the next morning. He woke right up at the end of class, however, anxious to get to Mrs. Dodds’s class so he could talk to Will.

Will beat him to class, and was already staring blankly down at his desk when Nico sat down beside him.

“Hey,” Nico said, and Will smiled at him. “Um. I’m sorry for yesterday, for bringing up that you can’t talk. I, uh, I didn’t realize it was such a sensitive subject. So. Sorry.”

Will frowned down at his desk. Without looking at Nico, he raised a flat hand up to his lips, then held that hand out towards Nico. Had he not spent the whole night researching ASL, Nico might’ve thought that Will was blowing him a kiss - a very sad, uncomfortable kiss.

“Um, that was sign language, right?” Nico asked, and Will perked up a little bit. Nico stared down at his hands, picking off his black nail polish as he continued, “‘Thank you’? I looked up a few things after school yesterday, in case you did speak ASL, but all I really looked for were school-related things. Like, uh, homework and teacher and classroom. So I don’t know much, but hopefully enough that I can help you with your homework if you need it? And then you won’t have to deal with Mrs. Dodds.”

When he finally looked up, he saw Will beaming at him.

Will was buzzing for the rest of the day. Only his mom and Mr. Brunner had ever bothered to learn ASL for his sake, but now this cute boy was learning a few signs? Just for him? A cute boy wanted to talk with him? It had never happened before, and Will wasn’t really sure how to feel - besides excited, because hell yeah, he was so excited. He wanted to run home and grab the ASL books his mom had gotten for them to share, or invite Nico over after school to teach him. That was all too forward, though, right? People didn’t normally get this attached to a single person after knowing them for a day, right? It had been so long since Will had had a friend that didn’t care if he didn’t talk, so rational thought had practically gone out the window.

Will had made sure to get to Mr. Brunner’s class as quickly as possible before his last class of the day so he could share the news with the one person he could actually talk to.

“That’s wonderful, Will,” Mr. Brunner told him. “I’m glad you’ll have someone your own age to talk to. You should let them borrow the books you used when you first learned ASL.”

‘I was going to,’ Will signed. ‘But should I offer the books first or just bring them to school tomorrow?’

“Well, does your friend understand enough to know what you’re offering?” Mr. Brunner asked, and Will shrugged. “Perhaps it should be a surprise, then. Head to your seat, Will, class will be starting soon.”

Nico was already in his seat in the back row by the time Will took his seat. “Mr. Brunner knows ASL, too?” he asked, and Will nodded. “Cool, maybe he can help me learn some more.”

I could teach you, Will thought. I’d be happy to teach you. But he didn’t respond.

Will brought the first level book the next day, but never ended up giving it to Nico. He wasn’t sure what held him back - embarrassment of some kind or the fear that Nico would think he was being too clingy and change his mind - but it was almost a week before he finally built up enough courage to hand the book over.

“An ASL book?” Nico said before Mrs. Dodds’s class started one morning. “Is this yours?”

Will nodded and signed, ‘You can borrow it if you want.’

Nico watched Will’s hands with a concentrated frown, but looked up in confusion once Will had finished. Will smiled at the adorable look on Nico’s face and held out his hand to take the book back, then flipped to the page with the word borrow.

“You’re letting me borrow this?” Nico asked. “This is so great, thanks!” Will signed you’re welcome, but Nico looked like he still had something he wanted to say, by the way he was biting his lip and jiggling his leg. “Can I, uh, have your phone number? So I can text you if I have any questions?”

Will nodded and pulled his phone out of his pocket, opening up a new contact and handing it over to Nico. He typed for a little while before giving the phone back to Will. “I sent myself a text, by the way.” Will nodded again as he looked down at the screen, smiling at what he saw. He had inputted his name simply as Nico with a ghost emoji on either side. He got a cute boy’s phone number!

Will was smiling for the rest of the day.

He’d managed to hold off on saying anything else to Nico until the end of Mr. Brunner’s class that day, finally caving just before Nico walked out the door.

‘Do you want to come over sometime so I can teach you?’ he asked, his hands shaking so badly that he didn’t really expect Nico to understand.

“Teach me?” Nico asked. “That’s all I caught.”

‘My house. I’ll teach you,’ Will tried again, then fingerspelled, A-S-L.

“Oh!” Nico said, eyes widening. “Yeah, I would love to! Um, but I can’t today. I’ll text you, though, okay?” Will nodded, and Nico smiled up at him. “Great, I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Jason was already in his car by the time Nico finally dropped into the passenger’s seat. “You’re late, now we’re gonna get caught in traffic.”

“Sorry, I was talking to Will,” Nico said, digging through his bag until he pulled out the ASL book, flipping it open to the page he’d left off on.

“What are you reading?” Jason asked, glancing over before focusing his eyes back on the road. “That’s not homework, is it? I’ve never seen you do homework before.”

“Will’s ASL book, he’s letting me borrow it,” Nico said. “He invited me over sometime. To teach me.”

Jason groaned. “Nico, please don’t confuse his kindness as him having a crush on you. I don’t think I could handle that again.”

“It was one time, and besides,” Nico started, “this is different.”

“How is this any different?” Jason asked, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Nico’s face growing red.

“I really, really like him,” Nico muttered. “That’s how.”

Nico went to Will’s house after school a few days later, and Will insisted that they finish their homework before they start practicing ASL. Nico caught him peeking over his shoulder a few times while they worked on their math assignment, and eventually Nico scooted closer to him on the couch until they could both see each other’s work clearly.

They stayed sitting closer than necessary when they finally moved on to ASL, and whenever the two of them turned to face each other, there were barely inches in between them - such a short distance that could be closed in a second, but neither of them ever made the move.

They developed a sort of schedule after that, one going over to the other’s house once or twice a week. They would do their homework and then practice ASL, sometimes watching a movie depending on how late it was, and Nico would usually stay over for dinner at Will’s house. Nico learned the concept of a name sign, and Will taught him his - a W and the sign for sunshine. Nico asked Will to come up with a name sign for him, and Will told him he would think about it. As soon as Nico left that night, though, Will started talking to his mom and made a name sign for Nico without even thinking - an N and the sign for ghost. (Naomi asked if Nico having a name sign meant that he and Nico were more than friends, but Will said he hadn’t thought about Nico like that.) (He had. All the time.)

Nico had started neglecting his other friends in favor of movie nights with Will. Piper tried inviting him to her house for a few parties, but before Nico could even turn her down, Jason had done it for him, telling her that Friday was Date Night and that Nico would probably choose Will over them. Nico had been indignant, even though Jason was mostly right, but now Nico had to convince Piper that he and Will were not in fact dating (regardless of how much he wished they were).

One particular Saturday night, the two of them planned a movie marathon at Nico’s house that would most likely last late into the night, so they’d gone ahead and planned for a sleepover. The two of them stayed up until almost two in the morning watching movie after movie, only stopping after Will had laid his head in Nico’s lap and almost fell asleep right then and there. They were due to go to bed anyway, since Nico had been having a hard time making out Will’s signs in the dark for a couple hours at that point.

Nico had blown up an air mattress right next to his bed in his room, and Will had collapsed on it and fallen asleep before Nico had even gotten into his own bed. Unlike Will, he had a terrible time trying to fall asleep - how could he, when his crush was right there? He could stretch his arm over the side of the bed and brush his fingers against Will’s arm. He rolled over to his other side, trying to push Will out of his mind so that he could sleep, but the thoughts wouldn’t go away. He remembered Will’s face close to his as he taught him signs, the gentle way he held Nico’s hands and corrected his movements. The way Will had so calmly laid down in Nico’s lap, comfortable enough to fall asleep even as Nico started to run his fingers through Will’s soft hair.

He heard shuffling, like Will was rolling over in his sleep, but the shuffling didn’t stop, and then gasping breaths joined it.

“Will?” Nico whispered, sitting up and leaning over the side of the bed.

He must’ve been having a nightmare, Nico thought, and was about to try to wake him up when Will bolted upright, sounding like he was wheezing or hissing - like he was trying to scream but the sound wouldn’t come out.

Nico launched himself out of bed, dropping into Will’s lap and framing Will’s face in his hands. “Will, shh, you’re okay,” Nico told him, resting his forehead against Will’s when he finally stopped struggling to scream. “You’re safe, you’re okay. Everything’s okay, I’m right here for you.” Will squeezed his eyes shut as tears started rolling down his cheeks.

Nico started to lift himself off Will’s lap, but Will wound his arms around his waist to keep him there. “I’m not going anywhere,” Nico promised. “Come with me, stand up.” This time when Nico tried to stand, Will let him, and followed him up onto his feet. “Lay down with me,” Nico whispered, climbing back into his bed, Will joining him without a second of hesitation.

Will wrapped his arms around Nico’s waist, hiding his face in Nico’s chest as he sobbed, and Nico pulled the blankets up around them. Nico started stroking his other hand through Will’s hair, only stopping when he heard something that sounded like whispering. “Will?” Nico asked softly. “Are you saying something?”

He strained to hear it, but it sounded as though Will was whispering, “I’m sorry,” into Nico’s t-shirt, over and over again.

“Shh,” Nico said again, returning to stroking Will’s hair. “Don’t be sorry. Go back to sleep, Sunshine, I’ve got you.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Will’s head. He would be surprised if he managed to get any sleep at all that night.

Nico waited until he felt Will relax in his arms, eventually falling asleep once again, and Nico finally allowed himself to close his eyes.

Nico woke up the next morning to the feeling of Will pulling himself out of Nico’s grasp. Nico rubbed at his eyes with one hand to wake himself up while his other hand reached out for Will, grabbing his t-shirt to keep him from getting too far away.

“Will?” Nico said softly. “Are you alright?”

Will pulled Nico’s hand off his shirt so that he could sit up, and nodded. Nico followed him up.

“Are you sure? Do you want to talk about it?” Nico offered. He saw Will’s eyes well up with tears before he shook his head no.

‘I’m sorry,’ Will signed.

“Don’t be sorry,” Nico told him. “You didn’t do anything.”

Will started signing rapidly, too quick for Nico to catch more than a word or phrase here or there - ‘You’re right,’ ‘I didn’t do anything,’ ‘I’m sorry’ at least three more times - and after a moment Nico reached out to stop his hands, holding them in his own.

“It’s okay, Will,” Nico told him, squeezing his hands. “You have nothing to be sorry for, there’s nothing to worry about. Okay?” Will hesitated before nodding, and Nico drew one of his hands up, pressing a kiss to Will’s palm. “How about we go downstairs? We can watch another movie, and I’ll make us breakfast.”

At school on Monday, Will surprised Nico by meeting him at his locker before first period. He waited for Nico to gather everything he needed for class and shut his locker before he reached down and took Nico’s hand in his, lacing their fingers as they started down the hall. Nico didn’t question it, afraid that if he did then Will would let go, and he certainly didn’t want that.

Will walked with him to his first class, squeezing his hand before letting go and waving goodbye so that he could head to his own class. Nico entered the classroom, immediately being cornered by Piper before he could sneak away to the back corner.

“What was that?” she asked, and Nico frowned.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She gestured toward the door with both hands. “You! And Will! He’s never walked you to class before! And you were holding hands, what’s going on? I thought you said you weren’t dating!”

“We’re not!” Nico insisted. At least...he was pretty sure they weren’t. They weren’t, right? He’d want to know if they were, and how long it had been going on, because while cuddling on the couch during a movie was great, Nico figured that making out and completely ignoring the movie would be even better. “He spent the night on Saturday and had a nightmare, and he’s been kinda shaken up by it since. He just wanted some comfort or something, I don’t know, but he wanted to hold my hand so I let him.” He could feel himself blushing and turned away from her, crossing his arms over his chest.

Piper narrowed her eyes at him. “Uh huh. Okay, sure.” She jerked her head toward the back of the room. “You’d better get back there before somebody steals your seat.”

Nico kept a close eye on Piper for the rest of class, though not once did her eyes stray from that day’s lesson, never once pulling out her phone to send a text announcing the latest update on Nico’s love life.

He was happy to see the end of class, because it meant that he got to see Will. They had a test in their math class, which meant that they didn’t get to talk or pass notes, but at the end of class, Will’s smile goodbye seemed a little more upbeat than it had when they’d parted ways before the start of Nico’s first class.

Will had history for his third period class, and while he was normally one of the only kids sitting in the back of the room, that day Piper had decided to join him. She slid a note onto his desk after class had started that said, Are you and Nico dating?

Will wasn’t sure how to answer. They certainly acted like they were, but neither of them had ever said anything to confirm it. He hesitated before writing his response: I think so, but I don’t know how to ask him to make sure. He folded up the note and looked toward the front of the room as he held the paper out toward Piper.

Just ask him, Piper replied. If only it were that simple, Will thought, picking up the note and crumbling it in his hand. Just ask him - it wasn’t like Will had a voice to use to ask, “Hey, Nico, are we dating?” and if he tried to sign it, his hands would probably shake so bad that Nico wouldn’t be able to tell what he was saying, anyway.

Except that...he did have a voice, didn’t he? Physically, there was nothing preventing him from speaking, just some kind of mental block. He’d never considered that he would ever speak again, always assumed that he would be forever silent, but...he didn’t need to be. He could learn to talk again, if he truly wanted to. Would his voice even work after going unused for almost ten years? He would have to wait and see.

He didn’t say anything about it to Nico or Mr. Brunner during sixth period. He didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up - especially not his own - until he knew for sure that this was something he would be able to do.

He also didn’t text his mom about it, wanting to wait until she got home from work so that he could talk to her in person. He’d made sure to sign slowly and clearly so he wouldn’t be misunderstood, and when his mom repeated back to him what he’d said, tears had spilled over her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around his son, telling him how proud of him she was. They spent the rest of the evening researching therapists in the area that spoke sign language, reading reviews and checking rates, until Will finally settled on the one he would meet with.

Once Will started seeing his therapist twice a week, he didn’t have as much time to spend with Nico, which was both good and bad. He missed seeing his best friend so often, but he didn’t want to spoil the surprise, either. (He’d told Nico that he’d started seeing a therapist, but hadn’t told him for what, and Nico never pried.) They made up for their lost time, though, by spending nearly every weekend together - cuddling on the couch during movie nights and sleeping in the same bed whenever Will spent the night (Nico had foregone the air mattress after the third weekend in a row that Will had decided to sleep in his bed with him).

It took months for Will to be able to manage to speak a single word. His therapist broke him down and helped him to build himself back up, allowing a voice to be a part of his new and improved self. His voice was shaky and lacked confidence, it cracked worse than thirteen-year-old’s, but it was his voice.

He decided to cancel a single session with his therapist, knowing that it would be the best opportunity to surprise Nico, but also made sure that his therapist would still be expecting him for his next session - he could talk, sure, and that had been the goal, but he had a lot more to work through than just that.

Will hurried home after school, collecting some snacks and a DVD that he’d been saving for that weekend, and drove himself over to Nico’s house, trying to control his excitement as he knocked on the door.

Nico opened the door with a look of confusion on his face, one that switched to happiness at seeing Will, and then going back to confusion. Before he could ask what Will was doing there, Will said, “Hi, Nico.” It was shaky and rough and cracked on the first syllable, but the look on Nico’s face was definitely worth all the work.

“Did you--” Nico started, whispering as though speaking up would startle Will’s voice away. “You just--”

“Yeah,” Will said, holding back a bubble of laughter.

“But...how--”

“I wanted to ask you out,” Will said. His voice was starting to dry out already - he probably wouldn’t be able to talk much longer, but he just had to get this out. “Ask you with my voice. So, Nico--”

Nico surged up, hands framing Will’s face as he pressed their lips together. Will dropped the bag of snacks he had in his hands in favor of wrapping his arms around Nico’s waist.

“Yeah,” Nico breathed against Will’s lips. “Yes, I wanna go out with you. I really, really do.”

#mine #my writing #solangelo #high school au

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d-noona · 6 years

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BODYGUARD MISSION

SUMMARY: Y/N had teased him, insulted him, but still she seemed to be stuck with Park Jimin as her official chaperone. He'd been appointed to look after her during a crucial assignment in Korea, and he refused to leave her sight - day and night. Jimin was taking this bodyguard business far too seriously. Just because Y/N was pretty and petite, that didn't mean she isn't a force to be reckoned with. She would not be seduced by Jimin. At least, that was the idea. Until her twenty-four-hour bodyguard decided the safest place for her was his bed.

WORDS: 1719

Park Jimin x Reader

CHAPTER 02 - Coming Soon!

CHAPTER 01 – THE AIRPORT

“Damn!” Y/N thought angrily, and exclaimed, “But I won’t need an interpreter.”

“Do you speak Korean?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact I do,” she said triumphantly. But then she looked into her boss’s skeptical eyes, reluctantly added, “A little.” “How little?” asked her boss. She gave him one of her sudden smiles, her brown eyes lighting with mischief. “Enough to say no if I’m propositioned.” He laughed, wanting to be serious but unable to resist her smile. “But do you speak enough Korean to recognize a proposition if you hear one?”

“One could be deaf and dumb and still recognize that!” He shook his head at her and said, “I know you’re a capable career woman and all the rest of it, but I’m not going to risk letting you go in Korea without someone keeping an eye on you.” Y/N hated the sound of that; she had reasons, important and secret reasons –of her own for going to Korea that had nothing to do with the assignment she’d been given, and to have someone looking over her shoulder would be inconvenient to say the least. But it was important not to jeopardize the trip so, to keep the boss sweet, she smiled and said, “OK, leave it with me. I’ll find someone out there.”

“No need,” he said with a pleased note. “I already know someone based in Seoul. A family friend, I suppose you could call him. His name is Park Jimin and he works for a bank that’s opening up a branch over there. He speaks the language, plus he can communicate in English, and will give you all the help you need. I’ll have him meet you when you arrive.”

“Wonderful.” Y/N enthused, while inwardly cursing, and she determined to get rid of this extremely unwanted man at the first opportunity. She thought the opportunity would present itself at Seoul Airport. Surely in the bustle of a huge international concourse it would be possible to lose herself in the crowd, slip into a taxi and so free herself of her boss’s pal right at the start. There was bustle, all right. There was complete chaos, and that was even before Y/N got through the concourse. Everybody seemed to be flying in to Korea that August day, and they were all herded into a great crowd that gradually developed into long queues of passengers waiting to have their visas and passports checked, the officials’ achingly slow and letting only one person through at a time.

Y/N stood in the queue for over two long hours, weighed down by her expensive camera equipment that she didn’t dare rest on the ground in case it got kicked by people pressing all around her. A large man stood on her foot, and a fat woman with elbows made of steel tried to push in front of her, thinking Y/N a soft touch because she was so petite, but received a blazing look from angry brown eyes that stopped her in her tracks. The only compensation in all this, Y/N decided, was that Park Jimin would certainly have given up on her and gone home long before she got through. Once past this barrier she had to join another queue to change some money into Korean Won, retrieve her suitcase, and wait in yet another line to go through the baggage check, so that it was over three hours before Y/N eventually emerged, tired, hot and thirsty, into the main concourse.

She didn’t even bother to look for some middle age man with a very fed-up expression holding up a board with her name on it, but just headed for the welcome air and a taxi. There were a lot of taxis, all looking equally old and unreliable, but before Y/N could get a hand free to hail one, a modern silver grey Mercedes, large and sleek, pulled up at the curb beside her. A man got out, quite young, tall and lean and with thick dark hair. Y/N gave him a glance, made a mental note that Korean men were much better looking than she’d expected, the dismissed him as she tried to attract the attention of a taxi driver by standing on tiptoe to look over the roof of the Merc and wave.

“Miss L/N?

Y/N blinked, and slowly turned. The man from the Mercedes, in his immaculate dark suit, was looking at her expectantly. She thought of denying her identity but there was no way this man could be a buddy of her boss, who was not only well into his fifties but had the middle-aged belly to go with it. “Yes,” she acknowledged guardedly. He held out a hand. “I’m Park Jimin. Welcome to Korea.”

Slowly, with inner chagrin, she put her hand in his and had it briskly shaken. He was very businesslike, opening the passenger door for her, putting her case and camera equipment in the boot, ignoring the blare of an impatient taxi horn, getting in and driving away, all within a minute. “How did you know it was me?” she asked, looking at the lean planes of his profile with very mixed feelings. “I was given a description –and then there was all the photography stuff.” Fleetingly Y/N wondered how her boss had described her. Short, long black wavy hair, and sexy probably, knowing him. She had been given no description of the man beside her, and as she had no intention of using him hadn’t asked for one. But maybe it would have been helpful to know in advance that Park Jimin was both good looking and judging by his clothes, the Cartier watch on his wrist and the car, he is fairly affluent. His voice, too, was attractive, being smooth and with the unmistakable accent of a good school.

“I thought you’d given up on me after the hold up at the airport” she remarked. “What hold up?” he asked. Y/N gave a small gasp. “I was queuing in there for over three hours! I thought the officials had gone on a work to rule, or something.” Jimin gave her an amused glance. “No, it’s always like that. I didn’t bother to set out until long after your flight was due. Weren’t you warned?”

“No I wasn’t,” she said feelingly. To her annoyance, he laughed. “That sounds like Bang,” he commented naming her boss. “Is he a close friend of your?” she asked curiously. “No, but he knows my parents quite well. They have shared interest in horse racing.” So that explained the age difference, Y/N realized, guessing that Jimin must be in his mid-twenties, a whole generation younger than her boss. He hadn’t asked her where she wanted to be taken to, so she said “I take it were going somewhere particular?”

“To your hotel” says Jimin. “I haven’t chosen one yet,” she pointed out. “I know, so I’ve booked you into The Shilla Hotel. It’s a luxury five star hotel, modernized, and it’s handy for tours in Seoul.” Y/N frowned at Jimin “But I intended to stay at The Riverside Hotel,” Y/N said frostily, annoyed at his high-handedness. To her further annoyance he gave an amused, almost pitying look. “Believe me, you wouldn’t like it there. It’s where all the communist officials from out of town used to stay. And it’s still very basic.”

“Have you ever thought that perhaps I’d prefer to find out for myself?” she told him stiffly. Another amused glance came her way “Ah, you’re into this feminism thing, are you?” Jimin remarked with casual chauvinism. It was the kind of remark that immediately put her back. Y/N thought of telling him exactly what she thought of his attitude, but the shrugged inwardly and let it go; as she intended to ditch him just as soon as possible there seemed no point in setting him straight. But it made her decide at once that he was the sort of man she had absolutely no time for; one who was still trapped in the time-warp of gender stereotyping.

Lord, he probably even thought that the little woman’s place was still tied to the kitchen sink! Giving him a sideways prejudice glance from under her lashes, Y/N momentary thought that it was a pity he wasn’t her type, because she had to admit that his clear cut features under level eyebrows were more than attractive. And he had the kind of tall, broad-shouldered but slim figure that made clothes look good on him, even elegant. When that adjective came to her mind it caught her by surprise; it wasn’t one she often ascribed to a man but it fitted him exactly. However if there was one kind of man she couldn’t stand it was one who was narrow-minded in his attitude towards women. Y/N had come across it too many times in the past. At first she had fought it, but had come to realize that most of the time she was beating her head against a solid concrete wall. The poor creatures had chauvinism ingrained into them from the cradle and nothing she could say or do would change it. So now she employed a more subtle method, and where necessary used the chauvinism for her own ends.

And looking at Park Jimin, she decided to do the same now. To use him until she was ready to ditch him and go off on her own secret quest. Smiling inwardly, she turned to look out the window at this new country she’s read so much about. The road were full of cars that belted out choking exhaust fumes. Her thoughts were cut off when he suddenly heard Jimin speak. “You must be extremely good at your job to be given such responsible assignment,” Jimin commented. Flattery and condescension all in one sentence. It would almost be a pleasure to take him down a peg or two. Y/N thought tartly, and id all she’d had to think about was her assignment she might have taken the time to do so, just for the hell of it. But right now she had other, far more important things on her mind. The streets widened into broad thoroughfares, the buildings became grander, and Y/N gave a gasp of pleasure as she caught a glimpse of the beautiful place.

#park jimin #park jimin x reader #chimchim #mochi #bts #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook

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info-copa · 4 years

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Racism, Rioting and Justice in the Time of Covid

The powerful and terrible image of George Floyd’s long 9 minutes of suffering is emblazoned in our collective vision forever. We can never unsee it, and nor should we. We need to see it as it is - the natural progression of a more than 400 year old story in North America where the shackles of the enslaved over time became the handcuffs on not only George Floyd, but on millions of incarcerated Americans and Canadians. The police who murdered George Floyd are only enforcing a system of racism that all of us have colluded to maintain, and if you felt any surprise when watching this tragedy then you are only awakening now from a dream.

Martin Luther King Jr. said that “…. a riot is the language of the unheard.” The volatility then, of these protests and the accompanying rioting and looting, only reflect our deafness to the consequences of centuries of marginalization and exclusion of Black people. Anger and frustration at an entrenched system of racism have impelled those who are most vulnerable and disadvantaged in our society to risk their lives in order to be heard. They deserve our honouring of their anger and fear, and our understanding when they lash out in violence. There is a Nigerian proverb that says, "the child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth".

Although violence and looting are at any time and place abhorrent, would the world be paying such close attention now if anger had not caught flame in the United States? “There is now, as there always is amidst protests, a loud call for the protesters to follow the principles of nonviolence. And that call, as (Ta-Nehisi) Coates says, comes from people who neither practice nor heed nonviolence in their own lives.

But what if we turned that conversation around: What would it mean to build the state around principles of nonviolence, rather than reserving that exacting standard for those harmed by the state?” (Ezra Klein). Perhaps, as Toronto activist Desmond Cole says, "The answer for the police is to stop policing and to start supporting and caring."

Unfortunately, “We have created a culture where police officers think of themselves as warriors, not guardians.” (Bryan Stevenson, founder of the Equal Justice Initiative and one of COPA’s heroes). And lest we as Canadians think this is an American issue - last fall, the Montreal police service released a report from three independent researchers which found that Indigenous people and Black people were four to five times more likely than white people to be stopped by police. In 2018, the Ontario Human Rights Commission revealed that “A Black person in Toronto is nearly 20 times more likely than a white person to be shot and killed by police.” Even though “white people allegedly threatened or attacked police more often than Black people.” CBC reported that although Black people are only 8.3% of the population of Toronto, they represented 36.5% of fatalities involving Toronto police between 2000 and 2017. This is not news to Black communities, however, there IS a resistance to the allegations of systemic racism by many in the halls of power.

As Indigenous activist Myra Tait says in reference to racism against Indigenous people in Canada, “If you assume that Aboriginal people are less than…then anything is fair game to put us in our place. Policing is one of the tools used in the silencing.”

The cost of this entrenched system of racism, abuse of power, and dehumanization is high. Referring to a recent incident of racial profiling by police in Laval, Quebec, Will Prosper articulates: "You feel excluded, and you develop a frustration with a system that doesn't do anything for you. Nobody cares for you — that's the feeling we are having." To reiterate: “…. a riot is the language of the unheard.”

Beyond the frustration and sense of exclusion from society, is the very real fear that you will be the next target, and that no matter what you do or don’t do, the colour of your skin, your very identity as a Black or Indigenous person, puts you at risk of dying violently at the hands of an abusive and uncaring social system. It changes the way you live.

And then there is the exhaustion – from worry, fear, anger, and the constant effort of trying to explain it all to people who don’t understand or who don’t want to understand. This is a common theme for those living enmeshed in systemic racism: the sheer exhaustion of living in a system that considers them as less than human.

The Role of the Pandemic

The pandemic has only increased the pressure and prevalence of racism and “othering”, and at the same time has disproportionately affected already vulnerable and marginalized people. It has also exposed the ways in which entrenched biases and systemic racism actually manifest and hurt people.

Black Americans are dying from COVID-19 at a much faster rate than white Americans for many reasons related to the poverty and disadvantages that thrive along with systemic racism. And because of the enormous disparity in economic security, Black Americans have less access to health care and sick leave. “More than 1 in 5 Black families now report they often or sometimes do not have enough food — more than three times the rate for white families. Black families are also almost four times as likely as whites to report they missed a mortgage payment during the crisis — numbers that do not bode well for the already low Black homeownership rate.” (Washington Post)

Blacks in the USA and Canada are also more likely to work in industries that are the first to be adversely affected by quarantining. And in both countries they are more likely to be front line health care and service workers, and less likely to be able to work from home - thus more vulnerable to infection.

Canada did not even begin to collect data about race and death from COVID 19 until the end of April, which means that we are blind to the impact this is having on Black populations in Canada. Our blindness does not help us to understand and address the inequities inherent in systemic racism.

“What are we to make of the disappearance of Blackness from all of the reporting of COVID-19? Blackness seems to have been erased from the Canadian landscape in the repetitive “stay at home” narrative. Our faces are not seen in the daily news, we are not asked how our families are coping, even though it is well known that many Black people are on the front-lines as health care providers in numerous capacities, as cashiers and cleaners, in fact, more exposed to the virus. In addition to the realities of homelessness, Black people face evictions and lack of income support of any kind. Yet the increased deployment of police surveillance buttressed by a snitch line, harsh fines and other punitive legal enforcement methods issued across the country, will particularly target Black bodies. We are invisibilized in the discourses of protection and safety but hyper-visibilized in punitive discourses and practices invested in Black death.“ (Beverly Bain)

The blaming of others for the spread of Covid-19 has resulted in many racist attacks on Americans and Canadians of Asian descent (650 in one week alone in the USA). Among other factors that feed this blaming, is the rhetoric that comes from the highest levels of government in the USA. The spread of disease has historically been entangled with racial discrimination toward those who are vulnerable, partly due to the fact that disease spreads more rapidly in impoverished communities where resources are scarce, and overcrowding is rampant.

And a shocking research study by Amy Krosch in Scientific American, revealed the reluctance of white people to share resources with Black people. She found that “white decision-makers facing economic shortages may fail to see Black faces as fully human, implicitly justifying giving them less.” Racism assumes that some of us are more fully human than others and deserving of more resources, power, and privilege.

The exacerbating of racial inequity by the pandemic has hugely deepened the anger and frustration of those who are marginalized by racism. “A magnifying glass on inequality”, as Andreas Kluth calls it. Then George Floyd was murdered, and the whole world witnessed it, and what was unbearable became something that Black people and many others among us became unwilling to bear any longer. Brian Resnick in Vox says: “These two stories are linked. They are both public health stories. The link is systemic racism.”

Maimuna Majumder, a Harvard epidemiologist working on the Covid-19 response, tells Vox: “The forces that put many minority communities at risk during a pandemic have also put them at risk of police violence. Years of diminished economic opportunity, of marginalization, of structural racism, have led to both.”

And Dr. Onyenyechukwu Nnorom, a public health physician and assistant professor at the Dalla Lana School of Public Health at the University of Toronto, states that “It’s crucial when examining Toronto neighbourhood data on coronavirus cases that it’s understood why these disparities exist in the first place — which is systemic racism.”

Hope and Change

We NEED you to see colour. If you cannot or will not, how can you ever be an ally? How can you ever see that our skin marks us out as a threat? How can you ever lift the knee from our neck? How can you ever stop us dying?

- Obioma Ugoala

Is there any hope? At George Floyd’s funeral the Reverend Al Sharpton, a long-time civil rights activist said he is more hopeful today than ever. He said there is a difference in what is happening in these times, and he talked about seeing more young whites than young Blacks at some of the protests. Sharpton is not alone – the word hope is used often these days in the media, even by weary activists, writers, and thinkers too, like President Obama and Ta-Nehisi Coates. And in fact, in the USA, 74% of people polled agree that Floyd’s death was an injustice based on racism. That is a huge shift.

This movement has captured the attention of the whole world. Because of a smartphone and social media, the horror of George Floyd’s death had witnesses all over the world. And many of those witnesses understood for the first time what deep injustice has been perpetrated on Black people. And they became allies, and they are demanding justice – not only for George Floyd but for all Black people.

The question is, what does it mean to become an ally, and what is the work of an ally?

Simply protesting is not enough. How will we teach our children, how will we act in the workplace? What else will we be willing to do in order to insist that justice is delivered? We who would be allies must realize that when we go back to our lives after the rioting ends, we will not be living the same reality as Black people in the USA and Canada who are exhausted from the life long struggle of everyday life in a society that sees them as less than human, as dangerous, as not equal in value to those who hold power and wealth.

As is often said, it begins with educating ourselves so that we understand how and why racial inequity is kept in place. Now that so many of us are awakening from that dream, let’s read and listen to the history of racism - that of both the United States and Canada. They are inextricably linked to each other, and to all of us.

Bryan Stevenson says that “We need to reckon with our history of racial injustice. I think everything we are seeing is a symptom of a larger disease. We have never honestly addressed all the damage that was done during the two and a half centuries that we enslaved Black people. The great evil of American slavery wasn’t the involuntary servitude; it was the fiction that Black people aren’t as good as white people, and aren’t the equals of white people, and are less evolved, less human, less capable, less worthy, less deserving than white people. So, for me, you can’t understand these present-day issues without understanding the persistent refusal to view Black people as equals.”

Let’s talk to each other and surface the stories we need to hear, like that of Ernest, a middle-aged Black man who owns his own business, but cannot work past dark in Myrtle Beach, SC in 2020 because it’s not safe for him. Or Samuel, a young Black man from Montreal, who was pulled by his dreadlocks out of a car he was a passenger in - for no reason, and then brutalized and insulted. And who now suffers intensely from anxiety: "At night, when I'm alone, it's in my head. I can't sleep. I need some help."

At COPA, we believe that working to create a more equitable and inclusive school, community and society starts by looking inward. This is a lifelong process that can bring about a fundamental change in our perspectives and attitudes. Everyone has a part to play in creating an equitable and inclusive culture, and everyone has the capacity to be an ally to those who have been marginalized and excluded.

It is important to accept that there is no magic bullet. Change that leads to equity and inclusion occurs as a result of a continuous process of learning, asking, exchanging, listening, explaining and trying. It requires patience, determination, and the knowledge that the work will never be finished, and we will make mistakes. Compassion for ourselves and others is absolutely essential as we move forward together.

About COPA: COPA believes that all structures, institutions and relationships in our society are predicated upon inequity and social exclusion leading to the marginalization of children, women and other social groups. Inequity and exclusion are rooted in and perpetuated by a set of systemic, pervasive and discriminatory beliefs and practices.

Inequity and exclusion increase people’s vulnerability to assault, triggering and perpetuating a cycle of violence against children, women and all other marginalized social groups.

Therefore, all resources and activities created, developed, adapted and disseminated by COPA aim to break the cycle of violence against children, women and all marginalized social groups. The goal is to promote positive change through reflection, learning, skill and knowledge-building, by changing attitudes and beliefs, and by changing social structures that contribute to perpetuating the cycle of violence.

For more information about our work:

https://infocopa.com/

http://www.copahabitat.ca/

https://www.safeatschool.ca/

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littlebitofeverythingphff · 7 years

Text

Chapter 16 Part 1

A/N: Here is the next chapter! It is a big one! I have split it into two parts and will be posting the second part tomorrow, monday at the latest to not keep you guys waiting too long! I apologize for the wait, but it has finally turned out the way I wanted it! Happy Reading!

Harry’s feet kicked away the sand, separating it apart as his boots stepped into the ground. The heat of the dessert barred down on him as the beads of sweat trickled down his face. Releasing a hot breath he tried to cool himself down. The sand, the insurmountable heat made him vow to never miss this place.

Glancing up ahead he saw Kane looking back over his shoulder his rifle in his hand at the ready. Their unit had been on high alert after the previous days attack on a school by a suicide bomber.

The streets that once were swarmed with life stood barren. The women with their traditional Afghani clothes that sold goods in the market were gone. The children whose laughs filled the streets as they ran through the crowds were gone. The storeowners boarded up their livelihoods in search of a safer home for their families. Even the birds were silenced; the only serenade was the rumbling of the artillery tanks that moved amongst the deserted village.

This was what war did. It took people’s homes, their loved ones, their livelihoods from them, snatching it away from them in the second it took for a bomb to explode, a stray bullet finding it’s unintended destination or the screams of loved ones holding lifeless bodies. This was the cost of war, all to which Harry had seen.

Flashback*

WARNING THE CONTENTS OF THIS FLASHBACK CAN BE DISTURBING TO READERS, PLEASE USE YOUR DISCRETION.

24 hours ago…

Hearing the laughter of kids playing in the school yard brought a sense of hope within Harry. After this war they would be able to lead a better a life, a life not engrossed with fear or loss. They would be able to live free.

“God they make me miss my own kids…” Kane admitted as he walked beside the prince resting his gun snug against his body. Their unit was out patrolling walking around the outskirts of the town their base presided by.

The sounds of their laughter suddenly stopped as the crackling of a blast filled the air knocking Harry’s feet from under him.

Harry’s body flew backwards hitting the sand hard with a thud. An extraordinary force sent him flying in the opposite direction. His head slamming against the ground rendering him unconscious for a brief moment.

Feeling a hand on him Harry’s eye flew open gripping his gun tightly ready for a fight. His blurred vision formed a soldier kneeling by him. Trying to refocus his eyes Harry squinted to see his bunkmate Kane mouthing words to him.

Ringing in his ears from the blast had made him deaf, unable to understand the words coming out of Kane’s mouth. Kane looked away from him pointing and yelling in silence to another person.

Attempting to sit up Harry felt his sore body protest pleading him to lie back onto the sand. The ringing in his ears dissipated replacing it with blood curdling screams from women running ahead of him to a pile of rubble. Kane’s commanding voice overpowered them.

“Harry! You alright mate?” Kane roved over his body searching for any injuries he may have endured.

Harry’s hand went to his forehead patting a spot just above his left eyebrow. Looking at his fingers spotted with blood Harry slowly nodded as a sharp pain in his head came in a wave.

Glancing up he could see a fiery mushroom cloud of smoke and fire engulfing the blue sky, leaving a series of smokey rings floating higher and higher. The fireball cracked loudly blinding a flash of lighting as another explosion rattled the earth beneath Harry. A deadly rainfall of smoke and red dust trickled down amongst them.

Harry saw the once sturdy school engulfed in burning flames, the structure crumbled to the ground. Realization finally hit him harder than the explosion itself. There were children in that rubble, specifically Tariq, a small boy he had be-friended in his time there.

His sore body begged him not to move but his will overpowered its protests as he stood to his feet. Clutching his gun in one hand Harry sprinted towards the rubble with Kane right beside him.

He ran amongst the maze of lifeless bodies that were too close to the impact zone. Mothers holding their children praying to the skies above in wails of endless cries and screams begging to understand why their child had left them in such a horror filled way. The smell of burnt flesh mixed with the heat of the sun caused a wave of nausea to course through the prince.

That’s when Harry saw the soccer ball. The ball he had given Tariq. The ball he had kicked around laughing and playing with the young Afghanistan kids that called this town their home.

“Tariq!!” Harry hollered turning around searching for him hoping to god that he was not amongst the rubble as death would already have welcomed him.

“Harry! No!” Kane yelled after him grabbing his uniform from the back forcing the prince to turn around.

“We need to go, there isn’t anything we can do. If that was the Taliban, they know we are here and we are sitting ducks. We need to get our wounded out now!” Kane ordered Harry with a stern tone.

Nodding reluctantly Harry understood. Taking a step to follow in behind Kane he heard a small voice call out his name.

“Harry.”

Turning to look over his shoulder he saw Tariq on the ground covered in his own blood, his body sporadically charred from the blast.

Harry ran to his side slinging his rifle behind him. He picked Tariq up his arms as the young child screamed out in agony. “It’s ok Tariq. You are going to be ok.” Harry kept speaking on repeat as if he was trying to convince himself of the same thing.

The patrol unit had returned to their base with their wounded. All the soldiers thankful had made it back with only one sustaining life threatening injuries. Harry had handed Tariq off to a doctor promising the prince he would do everything he could for Tariq.

Sitting patiently outside the make shift hospital Harry stood unable to be still as he waited for the news on Tariq’s condition, not being allowed in his treatment room. Kane approached the prince telling him he needed to get checked out and see if his cut needed stitches. As Kane expected Harry refused until he heard about Tariq.

“We need to get those bastards that did this to them Kane…” Harry’s voice laced with anger at the mere thought of what the Taliban had done. Targeting children with a suicide bomber, an act of cowardice, an act unthinkable.

The doctor rushed out to find the prince displaying an urgent look. “Lieutenant Wales. Tariq is not going to make it. He has little time left…” Harry followed the doctor back inside finding the little boy lying on the stretcher struggling to keep the life within him.

“Hey buddy.” Harry chocked back the tears; not wanting Tariq to feel scared or worried.

“It’s all going to be ok.” Harry picked Tariq up in his arms, the little boy wincing at first but feeling a sense of comfort from the soldier that held him. Not wanting the little boy to pass away alone Harry held him despite all the internal screams in his mind telling him not to; that this moment would be etched in his mind forever.

“Pretty soon you will be able to play all the football you want…” Not knowing what to say Harry held the little boy close. Tariq locked eyes with the prince, his eyes smiling at the thought. Taking his last breath his eyes closed, no longer feeling the pain this earth had caused him.

End Flashback*

Harry laid his head down on the flat pillow. Closing his eyes all he could see was Tariq’s body in his. His heart pounded in his chest in an uncontrollable beat. Trying to concentrate on breathing Harry pushed the thought from his mind replacing it with memories of home, particularly Adalyn.

Turning his head Harry rolled over onto his side. Reaching out he pulled her picture off of the wall beside him. Her wide smile beaming at him while her green eyes shown bright instantly making his heart calm.

The door creaked open breaking through Harry’s thoughts. Kane sauntered in, his head hanging low to the ground unable to make eye contact with the prince. Harry had bore witness to that look before hand, a look his father was graced with when bad news was about to flood out of his mouth.

His tense body sat up placing his feet on the hard ground. Kane paced back and forth slowly, contemplation growing steadily on his external features. Harry shook his head releasing a deep breath before telling Kane to sit his arse down.

“Harry…” Kane started, his eyes finally lifting to lock with the prince’s.

“You are going home.”

Those words cut deep within Harry. His brow furrowed trying to understand why.

Harry remained silent, deep in thought as Kane continued.

“The British press got wind of the Australian’s leaking the information that you are in Afghanistan. They gave your father a heads up knowing your safety would be at risk, the safety of others, as they somehow know your exact location Harry. I thought it would be best that it came from me instead of the commander.”

Harry didn’t know how to respond. He knew that once his location was leaked, that not only his life, but also the people he served with became too much of a risk, one that the military could not afford.

Running his fingers through his ginger hair Harry let out an exasperated breath knowing what Kane had said was the truth. There was no way out of this one. Trying not to let his fiery anger get the better of him he tried his best to understand.

Kane waited for Harry’s response tapping his foot impatiently on the ground, the only sound in the space between them. He knew this information would crush Harry after all the work he had done here he was to be sent home due to the fact that he was a prince, a piece of his life that would cling to him forever no matter what situation he found himself in.

It did not help that the news came at the wake of the suicide bombing at the school. Harry had vowed that he would get the guys who had done the unspeakable horror to those innocent children and families and now that was taken from him too.

“Is there anything I can do Kane? I can’t leave without –“

“No Harry.” Kane interrupted sternly not being able to hear his friend’s pleas. He had fought for Harry to stay begging the commander of a way to keep him her for the remainder of the 25 days left of his tour. The risk was just too high to even consider an alternative option.

“I promise that in the end we will get them. But, you have done your part here and it is time to go home. I need you to be proud of what you have done here and the way you have served your country Harry. You proved everyone wrong and it has been a privilege to get to know you as a friend. You were way different than I thought you would be so thank you for proving me wrong mate.”

Kane spoke words of truth. He had fought hard to come here and he made it here. Of course he was disappointed that once again the media had influenced his life in a major way, but he was proud that he served his country to which many did not think was possible for him and had also made life long friends along the way.

There was no use in fighting it; the powers that be had made a final decision that sent Harry packing his bags. He left that night on a plane, going home with a group of soldiers he hardly knew.

Harry could hear screams and moans of pain coming from the blocked off medical area of the plane where wounded soldiers were on their way home to get the proper treatment they needed. He knew that his outcome could have been different, that in a flash he could have traded places with that screaming man. Thankful that his body was intact and he had sustained no serious injuries made him grateful.

Sighing the only good thing about leaving this place was he would soon be able to see his family and Addy.

-------------------------------------------------

August 14th

“Addy! Get up!”

Ainsley jumped on Addy’s bed waking her up from a deep slumber. Covering her head with the pillow she blocked the sunlight. Ainsley pulled the blanket off of Adalyn forcing the cool air to wake up her roommate.

“NOOO!” Addy squirmed herself into a fetal position. Ainsley beat her body softly with fluffy pillows until she sat up in surrender.

“Happy birthday roomie!!” Ainsley yelled loud enough to wake up their whole floor. Addy released a low groan from deep within. Today was her 26th birthday. She never wanted to make her birthday big deal, the more low key the better they were. An evening with her close friends meant more to her than an elaborate party. Rolling her eyes she knew that Ainsley would not agree to a simple quiet day.

“Alright. Get up. We have a full day planned ahead of us.”

Ainsley had planned ever moment of her birthday much to the dismay of Addy, but she knew it came from a good place so she reluctantly she agreed after laying down some ground rules with her roommate. So far they had gotten fresh cinnamon buns at a local farmers market, went shopping for an outfit for the evening festivities and had a surprise barbeque at her fathers home with her family.

After dinner with her family the two dressed up and headed for Mahiki, a nightclub frequented by Lindsie who had used her influence to get a spot in the VIP section.

“Hey birthday girl!” Lindsie hollered over the loud music pulling Adalyn into a friendly hug. It had been weeks since she had seen Lindsie. Lindsie had apparently traveled to France with her job at Vogue and had recently returned to the country.

Adalyn released Lindsie from her hug feeling intoxicated from the smell of alcohol evaporating off of Lindsie. “Seems like you already got the party started!” Addy raised her eyebrow suggestively while her friend grabbed her a shot of tequila.

“Of course! You are behind. Drink up!” Lindsie slammed back the shot while Addy hesitated for a moment. Adalyn had never been a big drinker; she did enjoy casual drinks with friends but rarely let herself get to the point where she could no control her inhibitions. Taking the shot she felt the strong burning of tequila running down her throat.

A hand grabbed her from behind turning her around to see a flash of blonde hair pulling her towards the dance floor. Eva looked back over her shoulder hollering over the deafening music.

“Happy Birthday Addy! We are going dancing!” Bodies surrounded them, each one succumbing to the beat of the music like a trance. Turning her head from side to side she let the music guide her taking away all of her worries that plagued her.

Addy’s feet slowed down, her swaying body became still as she glanced around at the nameless faces searching for someone. Hoping that there would be a slight chance that Harry would be breaking through the crowd finally within her grasp and be home safe and sound. As amazing her birthday already had been, that would be icing on the cake. Knowing that idea was simply impossible, she turned back to the music dancing the night away.

--------------------------------------------

“I have one more surprise for you!” Ainsley drawled out still feeling her effects of the alcohol that had not quite left her system. The pair were striding down the hall of their building in bare feat slowly reaching their flat. Why did Adalyn always have to be the sober one?

“Noo! No more surprises. I think I have had more than my fair share for the day.” Addy let out a small giggle her mind replaying the day over. Smiling she laced her arm around her friend causing them to stumble a little and crash not so gracefully into the wall.

“Thank you for today Ainsley. I needed a day like this.” Confessing Addy beamed at her friend as they finally had made it to their destination.

Addy sorted through her purse trying to find her flat’s key, fumbling with them as she unlocked the door. Turning the handle of the door she pushed the door open before being pushed out of the way by Ainsley.

“Stop!” Ainsley giggled uncontrollably. “Cover your eyes!”

Rolling her eyes Adalyn complied with her one last demand. “This better be worth it.” She blindly walked into her flat with one hand covering her eyes as requested.

Hearing the flick of a light switch she desperately wanted to peak but knew that Ainsley would kill her for doing that and ruining the so called surprise.

“How many more surprises do you have for me cause this is just getting ridiculous.” Her feet stopped in place hearing Ainsley reply from far away her head turning to the direction of her voice. A deafening silence began to form making her feel a bit uncomfortable hoping someone wasn’t going to pop up behind her and scare her.

“Ok. You ready for your surprise?”

“I have been ready ever since we walked through that door Ainsley! Now quit fucking around already. It is soo agonizing that you just won’t tell me what it is and having to make me – ”

“Happy Birthday Addy.”

Her rant was interrupted by a deep male’s voice, one she had come to miss. Her eyes immediately flashed open not believing what she had just heard.

To be continued....

#prince harry #royalfanficcentral #prince harry fanfic #phff #prince harry fanfiction #chapters #chapter16part1 #littlebitofeverythingphff #harryandadalyn

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a-wooden-ring · 7 years

Text

PLEASE INCLUDE DISABLED PEOPLE IN YOUR ACTIVISM.

(note: I’m not gonna talk about Trump mocking Serge Kovaleski primarily b/c Kovaleski does not ID as disabled and does not want to be used as a political talking point. Which is fair. yes, it was awful. no, you don’t get brownie points for agreeing with me that it was awful. Disabled people have evolved to have thick skin, and a politician mocking us is not new or unsurprising. this list will deal with policy and specific issues facing the broader disability, autistic, d/Deaf//HoH, and neurodivergent communities.)

(other note: I generally use adjective-first language but I probably also used person-first language in here somewhere. I personally prefer to use the former for myself but I respect that other people in this community use different language.)

-the federal site for IDEA has been taken down

-all mentions of disability rights have been deleted from the website

-betsy devos had no idea what the Individuals With Disabilities Education Act was when asked and stated that standards for accommodations in education should be left up to the state (this is a TERRIBLE idea)

-if Obamacare is repealed, we have the most to lose. Most of us will not be able to afford medical expertise or treatment to maintain a basic quality of life. Some of us will die.

-he called one of his books Crippled America. Unironically. Ugh.

-the january 2017 unemployment rate for nondisabled civilians was 4.9. For disabled civilians, it was 11.0. These numbers do not reflect the number of disabled individuals who work inadequate part time jobs, who are institutionalized, or have given up looking for work.

-the US still has not signed the UN documents about the rights of People with Disabilities.

-Justices like Justice Kennedy have historically been swing votes on cases involving disabilities. Justices like Scalia have not. Potential Supreme Court Justice Gorsuch has a very ugly disability rights record, which includes defending a college that fired a professor undergoing chemo when she requested to give her lectures over skype (there was a flu going around on campus and being there would put the staff member in danger due to her suppressed immune system)

-By the time he was elected, Donald Trump had already dealt with at least eight lawsuits concerning lack of basic accessibility (ramps, braille) on his properties

-the Supreme Court case legalizing the sterilization of potentially disabled people without their consent (Buck v. Bell) has never been overturned and has been cited as a legal precedence in a lower court as recently as 2001.

-the Judge Rotenburg Center is still using painful electric shocks on disabled students as punishment, despite the FDA advising them to stop more than two years ago.

-similarly, many disabled people are not paid federal minimum wage b/c section 14c of the “Fair Labor Standards Act” is still on the books and so hundreds of thousands of disabled peoples’ wages are “proportional” to their productivity (compared to an abled worker). Goodwill is one of the most famous companies that exploits this loophole.

-the already gutted SSDI program is even more at risk-Trump has spoken about emulating the British reforms for their disability program. Off the top of my head, I can think of nine or ten different people who died as a result of the recent “fit to work” assessments and bedroom requirements in the UK.

-disabled people depend on the Department of Justice’s civil rights division to enforce the ADA and protect us from blatant discrimination. Trump has already proven that he does not care about the funding or effectiveness of the department, and is willing to destabilize it to forward his political goals.

-Donald Trump is anti-vax and is complacent to that movement’s violent and intolerable rhetoric surrounding autistic and other neurodivergent individuals

-Sessions called disabled children protected by federal laws (like IDEA) “the single most irritating problem for teachers throughout America today”. In this same statement, he stated that he did not “remember hearing of gun shootings prior to 1975 when Congress began telling ten percent of our students [they] are not responsible” (the IDEA was passed in 1975, improving the way disabled children were treated at public schools)

-the new administration’s refusal to address fatal police brutality is also an issue of disability rights, given that around half of victims shot by police officers are disabled or neurodivergent. (like eric garner, who had asthma)

In case this list didn’t clue you in: the disabled community is scared. We don’t know what to expect from the next four years, we still haven’t come close to equality, and we are usually left to fight our battles alone. That’s why I’m asking whoever reads this to stand with the disability community against ableism and against policies that will kill us. People have done a great job in the past few weeks of expressing solidarity with muslims, immigrants, refugees, latinx people, LGBT people, and black people. And, honestly, that’s great. Thank you and please keep doing it. But also be aware that disabled people are one of the most vulnerable demographics right now, and be aware that we’re also one of the most ignored. We are made invisible by the media and by society too easily. Please, you have to see us and you have to stand with us.

Looking back on history, it’s impossible not to notice that people with disabilities don’t fare well in authoritarian regimes. Please help us make this time different.

#ableism #trump #cripple pride #disability rights #rant #text post #intersectionality #disability #accomodation #politics #long post

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itsclydebitches · 7 years

Note

Kind of an odd request probably but I like the way you write. A lot. The voices of the characters are so believable. There's a song called "Weeds or Wildflowers" by Parsonfields I think suits Cass and Jesse. Give it a listen and see if you write anything inspired by it? It's cool if not. 💜 I'll always keep reading.

Summary: As kids Jesse and Tulip find something living out in the woods. It calls itself Cassidy. It likes blood and cheap candy. Jesse wants to take it home with him.

Fandom: Preacher

Words: 2,762

Warnings: Blood, feeding

Pairings: Kid fic so no real pairings, but hinted Jesse/Cass

Where to Read it: Below the cut or on AO3 (AO3 highly recommended for formatting)

Erode From Day to Day

They were so close; so very close to freedom. All the tiny feet clad in sneakers were poised like runners beneath their desks. Arms were straining, hands gripped tight to the edge of their seats, and not a single eye dared to stray from the clock. The only movement was the sneaky packing going on, slow as molasses—impatience lengthening those last five seconds as Mr. Rogan’s eyes narrowed.

“Hey, squirts, hey,” he said. “Settle down now. It’s not the weekend just yet—”

The bell made a liar out of him. The normally shrill annoyance might as well have been a call to arms given how quickly everyone was up and out the door. Mr. Rogan tried valiantly to remind them of the math homework due Monday, problems one through fifteen, but it mostly fell on deaf ears. There was a mob making for the bright, sunny afternoon and nothing could stop them.

Especially not with Jesse Custer leading the charge.

“Swing set!” he called and half the class cheered in response. The others had already turned towards the main doors, looking for parents and guardians to take them home, but Jesse’s group made a sharp right, pushing out onto the playground and flying over the wood-chips. They held tight to their backpack straps, bodies bent in an attempt to gain speed. They were sweaty, multi-colored blurs under the 3:00pm sun.

Past the jungle gym and around the sandbox. The swing set was in sight now—Jesse could nearly feel the hot metal under his palm—when, suddenly, a darker hand came out of nowhere to slap it first.

“Fucking O’Hare,” a kid said in a rare display of true cursing. Everyone collapsed as one, hands on their knees as they tried to get their breath back.

Tulip stood tall though. Her hand was already out and demanding the usual fare. Slowly, the other kids began pulling candy and knick-knacks out of their bags, handing them over. Grudgingly.

“You were closest to the door,” Simon grumbled, knowing the complaint wouldn’t do him any good. Tulip just shrugged.

“And I was all the way in the back last week in Ms. Julie’s class and I still won then. Not my fault all you idiots are so slow.” She wiggled her fingers. Simon deposited a half eaten Milky Way in her palm. “Thank you,” and with a vicious kick Tulip sent up a cloud of dust that had everyone else running, cutting across the playground to the cul-de-sac where parents were waiting to yell at them for being late.

Jesse scowled, threading a hand through the back of his hair. “You always win.”

“Turtle,” Tulip said, poking him in the chest. She started jogging in place. “Cheetah.”

“Yeah well c’mon, wasn’t there something about slow and steady?”

Jesse bent on one knee to pick up all the stuff Tulip was starting to drop. He nearly fell backwards when she bent too and just shoved it all into his arms.

“You can have it,” she said. “I’ve still got all that loot from Maya’s birthday party and besides, aren’t you going to see Him?”

Tulip said Him will all the gravity that a middle schooler could imbue in a word. It was grandiose and inexplicable, like all the years’ snow days rolled into one. Or winning relay day for your whole grade. Or even finding that shiny, glimmering rock outside and just knowing it was treasure. It was all those things and more, smushed together and made into a person. Something like a person, anyway.

Jesse wouldn’t even think to disagree.

And he could see how Tulip’s hands shook as she re-wrapped the packet of Twizzlers. She wanted to go so badly.

“You went yesterday,” Jesse reminded her.

“I know.”

For a brief moment she bit her lip and Jesse realized, instinctually, that she was thinking about similarities between the three of them: dead parents, dead mom... dead existence. They didn’t really know how to deal with any of that. But they were kids, so they dealt anyway.

“I’ll tell your dad you had to stay behind and clean the chalkboards again, k?”

“K,” Jesse said and they shook on it, three slaps that ended in them linking fingers, pushing and pulling a bit before finishing with a fist-bump. They hauled themselves to their feet and Jesse crammed everything into his backpack.

“Careful,” Tulip said, already jogging away.

Jesse just flapped a hand at her back. “Never!”

She threw out a messy thumbs up. Always needed to have the last word.

Hauling himself in the opposite direction Jesse took off at a run, knowing that he only had so much time when he could be ‘cleaning chalkboards’ before Dad got suspicious. He took only a moment to make sure none of the teachers were sneaking out the back before jumping the small fence surrounding the playground. He landed in the soft dirt of a graveyard.

It wasn’t common, but sometimes people moved to Annville and when they did they had kids to put into the only school—and when they did that the parents inevitably balked at their angels playing next to the dead. Jesse had always liked it though: watching the tombstones crumble and the weeds grow taller each and every year, reading the strange first names attached to the surnames he’d grown up with; digging for bones, risking both the teachers' ire and some sort of ancient curse for disturbing the dead.

Except Jesse never thought of that as a bad thing. If he was dead he’d want someone to disturb him. Wasn’t that more exciting?

"Did you crawl out of the graveyard?"

"What graveyard?"

"The one back there. At the school."

"Nu uh, padre. Never been buried."

"...do you want to be?"

"Why the hell would I want that?"

"You’re dead aren’t you?"

“…am I?”

Jesse drew his hand over the last headstone for something like luck, plunging into the tree-line. It was the only ‘forest’ that he’d ever seen, but he knew it was paltry compared to other parts of the world, the desert encroaching even here and leaving patches of dry, dusty earth amongst the trees. There was enough brush to darken the sky though—hide things that needed hiding—and it took Jesse long, precious minutes to find the path again, finally distinguishable by the empty bag of Cheetos he’d brought last time. With that familiar route under his feet he made good time. He broke into a grin when he found the log.

“Cass,” he whispered, and an ethereal head popped out from the rotten wood.

It had startled Jesse the first time he’d seen it, that pale, bedraggled face; hair matted every which way with mud and leaves. It was something straight out of the B horror movies he and Tulip had snuck into last summer, telling his Dad that they were at the school’s kiddie camp, the kiddie camp that they were helping Dad with the church, and the lazy teenager managing the ticket booth that they’d just forgotten Tulip’s sweater from the previous film. No one ever bothered to check any of those stories.

The movies gave him nightmares, but of course Jesse never told. A month ago he had gone exploring, half to tell himself that there was nothing out there in the woods to scare him... and he'd been proven really, really wrong.

He’d wet himself a little, the first time he’d seen that face.

Now the face was just Cass. He clamored out of the hollow trunk, jeans stiff with grime and a once white shirt long gone grey. For a moment they just stood and stared at one another. Then Cass lifted his head and sniffed the wind like a dog.

“Hiya, Padre,” he said. He didn't blink.

“I’m not a ‘padre’ yet,” Jesse grumbled and began obediently rolling up the sleeve of his shirt. He’d learned quick that it was always better after this. Whatever parts of Cass were scary tended to leave after he’d fed. He was more Cass like... and for that Jesse was willing to pretend that the feeding wasn’t scary all on its own.

Still, he gave an involuntary cry when Cass materialized before him, seeming to move from There to Here with nothing more than a faded blur. Cass did that a lot. Jesse might have thought he was a ghost if he didn’t know better. But oh, he really did.

“Here,” Jesse said, extending his bare arm. Needing no further encouragement Cass latched on, biting deep into the tissue and hovering there, sucking in quick, jerky gulps. Jesse stared open-mouthed at the display. It hurt of course—fuck how it hurt—but this time, like every time, the pain was overshadowed by watching Cass move like a machine; like some horrible puppet twitching on a Master’s strings. It was only when he’d gotten a good number of mouthfuls down that his swaying grew natural, more human-like, and something similar to a blush crawled up into his cheeks. His animal chittering gave way to the happy hums of a kid just being a kid as he enjoyed dessert—and still Jesse stared.

“You’re hurting me!” he shrieked, the thing pinning him to the ground and taking directly from his neck. Jesse got a knee up into his groin—which did absolutely nothing—and grabbed for a loose branch instead, knocking the thing off his chest and into the weeds. It sprawled there, raving and wild until Jesse managed to raise the crucifix he wore around his neck.

A switch flipped. The monster blinked. It smiled.

"...do you really think that's gonna do somethin'?"

Jesse wouldn’t truly feel the pain until he was back home hours later, with his sleeve pulled down low and lies slipping through his teeth about where he’d been.

Except... this night he wouldn’t be lying. At least he hoped not. Jesse hadn’t told Tulip, but he wanted to bring Cass home with him today. Wanted to grab this strange, frightening thing and drag him straight to their church, praying only that he wouldn’t light up in flames along the way. Jesse would hide Cass beneath his bed every night and whisper any bad dreams he had. He'd sleep easier knowing that at least one monster there was his friend.

“There are Twizzlers too,” he said, like this was any sort of normal conversation. For them it kind of was. Cass finished up with a saner look in his eye, careful to lick away the stray runs of blood curling around Jesse’s arm. They still left rusty rings though. Bracelets he was proud of. When Cass stepped back (feet bare, cold looking) Jesse immediately dumped the loot out between them.

Kit-Kat, Twizzlers, the half eaten Milky Way, and a crushed bag of chips from lunch. There was an equally smashed paper airplane and a yo-yo with a fraying string. Cass poked at it, watching it roll lopsided through the dirt.

“We used to have these too,” he said and Jesse—

“Where are you from?”

Cass stared and grinned until Jesse got it.

“When are you from?”

“When is this?”

“2017.”

He let out a whistle as high and eerie as the wind through a keyhole. “Then I’m old, padre. I’ve got 120 years on you.”

Jesse wondered then how he��d done the math that fast. Jesse needed to know if that was true. Jesse had conflicting thoughts that Cass was both young and old and Jesse—

—knew better than to ask.

“You can have it all,” he said, feeling like those words somehow meant more, as if he hadn’t already brought a fool’s worth of treasure for Cass to play with. It was all piled up in that rotten log, the only things that felt real and tangible around her. Cass himself was sort of smudgy around the edges, like a picture someone got sick of drawing halfway through.

He worked methodically through the offerings though. Because wasn’t that what they were? Jesse had wandered into these woods and found something immense there... and he’d been offering up tributes ever since. Cass fiddled with the yo-yo a little more. He placed the paper airplane in one of the few strands of sunlight that broke through their canopy, inching it there with all the delicacy of a tightrope walker. When he got to the Milky Way he crammed it all at once into his mouth, eyes suddenly blowing wide.

“That good?” Jesse asked.

Cass grinned with caramel teeth. “Yeah. Sure. But there’s blood in it too,” and his eyes went wild again, edging the tattered bite on Jesse’s arm.

And the pain was there: a sharp throb that had him tugging at his sleeve.

Because Jesse remembered what Cass was talking about. Simon had pricked his finger on a picnic table splinter today, the piece of wood going sideways and causing a tiny spout of blood. It had dripped onto his sandwich—two red drops on white bread that made all the kids shriek in disgust—and it had apparently gotten in his chocolate too.

That was what got Jesse to move; the idea of Cass tasting someone else’s blood. Not his. Not Tulip’s. Fucking Simon's.

With a growl he leaned forward and snatched the Twizzlers out of Cass’ hand, mind too wooly to appreciate the surprised, human expression that flit across his face. Settling back in the dirt Jesse pulled out his switchblade with the same jerky movements and drew it sloppily over his arm.

It hurt enough to make the backs of his teeth ache, but who the hell cared? His arm was already a bruised, bloody mess from these daily meetings, and wasn’t it worth it to see that look creeping into Cass’ eyes?

A fool might have called it hunger. Jesse knew it was something closer to love.

“Here,” he said, dipping a Twizzler into the fresh blood and tossing it casually Cass’ way. Like you’d throw a friend a beer. Like you’d scoop cheese onto those fancy crackers. What they had was no different—except that it was better—and Jesse preened a little at seeing Cass gobble him up in two quick bites.

“You’re like a dog!” Jesse howled, amazed and disgusted when Cass relieved himself too close to his boots.

He laughed crazily. “I’m more dangerous than any dog!”

“You’re insatiable,” he said, here and now, and Cass laughed again (was always laughing), his matted hair flying in front of his eyes.

“Tulip teach you that word?”

“Book did. Tulip teaches me four letter words.”

Laughter, longer and louder and Jesse tossed him more blood-coated Twizzlers. He coated all the food in a thin layer of blood until it was gone and then Jesse stood, backlit by the tree’s shadows and feeling uncommonly nervous.

“C’mon,” he said.

Because this is what they did now. He came, Cass drank, he offered things and then he left. There was some boundary between Annville and Cass’ little world that had nothing to do with tree lines or cemetery markers. He didn’t need Jesse’s blood with all the critters about—but he preferred it. He didn’t need cheap candy and toys either—but took them ravenously.

Jesse didn’t need to pull Cass over to his side of the line—but he’d do it anyway.

He held out a hand and Cass just sat there, a mangy cat licking something from the back of his arm. When he was done (tongue papery white, almost iridescent in the red of his mouth) he looked at everything but Jesse before landing his eyes on a small crop of weeds. Cass tugged two out, heedless of the thorns.

“Here,” he said, slapping them into Jesse’s palm. He left his hand there too and hauled himself up. “You gotta protect me from the sun, padre.”

“Told you I’m not a ‘padre.'" Jesse's chest was ballooning up.

“And takin’ me in? Now you probably never will be.”

Maybe it was a lie, maybe not. Either way, Jesse tugged his shirt off and drew it over Cass’ head. He give him too-big boots to protect his feet and they set off together, the half mile to the church feeling unnaturally long.

“Who are you?” Jesse whispered in the dirt, dimly aware that he wasn’t nearly as afraid as he should be.

The monster shrugged. “Cassidy. But... whaddya need me to be?”

Jesse wasn’t sure yet. Something more than this.

On their way out he brushed the bouquet of weeds over the last gravestone. For luck.

Fin.

#Preacher #AMC Preacher #Jesse Custer #Cassidy #kid fic #prompt #preacherfic #here I am #just filling prompts more than half a YEAR after they're given to me #that's fine right??#Anonymous

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lucilleauld733-blog · 6 years

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unspilledink · 5 years

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The Art of Heroism

Hailey Parker became a hero when she was seven.

Some might pass it off as a ridiculous notion, something only a child could come up with. There were no heroes in the world. If there were any, they won’t be seven-year-old girls battling imaginary dragons in a sandbox. At least, that was what her father would always say.

Hailey sighed and looked at her ruined sandcastle. Were there really no heroes in the world? She could hardly believe it. In the books she read, heroes weren’t only those who battled imaginary dragons. Sometimes, heroes had no idea how to fight a magical beast and shied away from any opportunity to do so. Other times, heroes were children who lived in a cupboard for 11 years. Heck, the dragons could even be their own heroes!

Does this mean her father was wrong? But he would never lie to her now, would he?

Hailey slumped at the idea. If what her father said was true, then the world is a devastating place. She would rather live in a cupboard under the stairs or trek a sea of monsters. She smiled at the thought before shaking her head. That would be easier for sure, but Hailey was not the type to sit around and mope about things beyond her control.

If there were no heroes in this world, then she would be the first one.

Little did she know that the stars have aligned long before she made the wish. Her destiny had been written across time and space for centuries, carefully designed for all of heaven to see.

A sudden yelp broke Hailey’s thoughts. ‘Hmm…. What could that be?’ she said to herself. Peering to her right, she caught the glimpse of a boy near the monkey bars. He was quite pale, which made it easier to see the bruises on his knees.

‘This is it.’ Hailey wasted no time. She bolted out of her sandbox, making her way to where the boy was. He looked like he was crying. His cheeks were stained, as if traces of slugs on leaves. Maybe she came off as nosy because not a moment too soon, the boy was furiously rubbing his cheeks with the sleeves of his green sweater.

“Oh no, please don’t be mad!” Hailey exclaimed, “I just wanted to help!”

The boy looked at her with curious green eyes. “Help?” He asked, his voice hoarse.

She nodded. “Yes, of course! Why wouldn’t I? Father says when you hear somebody cry, it means that person needs help.”

“But… what if I don’t want any help?”

She froze at this. “What do you mean?”

“It means,” he said slowly, “that I don’t want any help.”

“Sure,” she drawled, “That much is obvious. Doesn’t mean you don’t need it though.”

“Wha… No… I…” He shook his head adamantly. “I do not need help.”

Hailey rolled her eyes. “Oh really, now? Try standing up then.”

The boy glared at her, but ultimately decided to pursue her challenge. He was halfway through standing, when a pained shout escaped from his lips. He fell, his bruised knees giving up on him. “Alright! You win! I do need help! You happy now?”

She almost grinned. “Well, close… but not so much. Not when you’re still wounded.”

She knelt beside him, and took a closer look at his knees. She huffed. “I don’t have any water or alcohol to rinse this with, and I’m sure there aren’t any in this place, but hang on…”

Grabbing a pocket of wet wipes from her pocket, she set off to clean the boy’s wounds.

He stared at her in wonder. “Why on earth...”

She laughed, as she gently pressed the wipes on his skin. “Father told me that if I really wanted to join the Girl Scouts this year, I needed to prove it.”

He broke a smile. Then the moment was gone, his gaze drifting far away, along with his smile. “Speaking of dads…”

Following the boy’s line of sight, Hailey was faced by a man walking briskly towards them.

“Levi Montgomery! What did I tell you about running off like that? I nearly embarrassed myself in front of…”

The man’s voice trailed off when he neared the scene, gasping in shock, “What the hell, Levi? Look at the state of you! You’re a mess!”

There was no attempt to acknowledge the presence of Hailey. The older man was far too busy grabbing the boy, Levi, and forcing him to get up. He stifled a whimper as he tried to stand. The man grunted in response, cursing as he grabbed Levi by the shoulder and carried him off.

It was when their two figures faded into the distant blur of crowded streets that Hailey felt it.

Something sharp was dragged against her cheek. It stung her skin at such a painstakingly slow pace. It almost felt like she lived another life waiting for the pain to go away. Her fingers were trembling as they reached for her face, feeling up the cut that was making its way through her skin. The world spun around her, moving faster and faster until her eyes could only make out the blue sky above, as if to ask the heavens, “What was happening?”

This was Hailey Parker’s first wound.

And no, it was not because she fell while climbing a monkey bar. That was not how it worked for her.

Like some who were born to hold a pen, Hailey was born to carry a golden heart, shaped beyond the borders of humanity, possessing a selflessness no man could ever fully grasp. The universe designed her to be perfect, however perfection comes with a price.

Most people get wounded when they trip over staircases or experience a car crash. They feel pain when they’re ill or when they’re shot. However, if Hailey was exposed to such scenarios, each of them would leave her out alive. No bruises. No injuries. No bodily harm. Tradition would call it a superstition. Alchemy would call it equivalent exchange. Religion would call it a miracle. Whatever reason human society could offer, it could never wholly explain the kind of life she would live. Yes, she did not get hurt under normal circumstances, but that never stopped her from getting hurt under her own circumstances.

This was Hailey’s gift and curse: every selfless act she makes begets a most unbearable pain.

After her first wound, everything became a blur. The only sense of clarity in her life was when she helped others. This she chose to pursue in spite of the scars slowly littering her body. Each scar was a story, but more than that, it was a step closer to becoming the hero she so desperately dreamed of.

When Hailey was eleven, she became friends with a girl named Mara. She rarely brought any lunch to school, much less requirements needed for the day. She wore baggy, hand-me-down shirts for which the class wasted no time teasing her for. She could barely answer during recitation. The most a teacher could get from her were stutters. Hailey never mustered the courage to ask Mara why she was like this, so she did the only thing she knew how: by helping her. Everyday, she shared her lunches with Mara. During break, she would let her borrow textbooks to catch up on the lessons. When she struggled with studying, she tutored her during breaks. Hailey hardly noticed the cuts forming on her back and thighs until one day, the teacher announced that Mara dropped from the class.

Someone from the class snickered, “It’s about time she went back to where she belongs. A girl from the slums doesn’t fit in here at all.”

It was the first time Hailey felt betrayed. Why couldn’t Mara see how much she tried helping her? And why couldn’t their classmates see how much people like Mara needed help?

The same questions echoed in her head when she stood up for a boy named Jasper during sophomore year. He played football, and some of the other players were not happy with having a ‘closeted queer’ as part of the team. They blackmailed to out him, get him expelled, and nobody was trying to stop it. Watching it unfold was horrible: Jasper breaking down on his knees, getting beaten up by several people with no fighting chance. The image pained Hailey more than the threat of deep wounds on her thighs.

These were the moments she could not grasp, and she did not dare to. A sense of defeat hit her in waves, and soon enough, even her enthusiasm for normal, everyday scenarios drained like quicksand.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going!”

Hailey blinked, seemingly recovering from her trance. “I’m sorry what?”

She was faced with a boy looking back at her with an exasperated expression. “I said watch where you’re going! You crashed into me, and now my sketches are all over the place!”

Hailey slowly glanced at her surroundings, as if in a daze. It took her a few moments to process the presence of papers lying around on the stone pavement. They were drawings of wide meadows and greener pastures so vivid that she almost lost herself in their reality.

She was pulled back to the present by the annoyed voice of the boy in front of her. “Are you deaf or just plain dumb? You crashed into me. My sketches — which are due today by the way — are on the ground, possibly wet and stepped on, and you’re not gonna do anything?”

She was about to respond when the boy just cut her off. “You know what? Nevermind. I don’t have time for inconsiderate assholes like you.”

He was picking up pages near the fire hydrant when Hailey joined him in his task, an apologetic look on her face. “I’m sorry. I just… wasn’t myself today. I didn’t even know I bumped into you until you were telling me.”

She passes to him some other drawings, hoping he did not notice her arm suddenly clutching her stomach. She smiles meekly then says, “Here. I’ll help you with the rest.”

Even helping old Mrs. Smith crossing the road was getting more and more tedious as time passed by. It was thrilling talking to her about the milestones of her new grandson while walking, but lately, Hailey found herself in a constant, mindnumbing stupor, as if she was going through the motions of life stuck in a bubble, separated from the world she grew to love and vowed to help in any way she can. She has done so much, risked so much, more than enough to last for a lifetime, and the signs were painted all over her in different shades of red and purple.

No one ever saw, for the mind is significantly bound by its humane mediocrity that it perceives only what it believes something to be. Whether it is this or simply the universe at work, one cannot truly know.

For ten years, Hailey let her fiery golden heart consume her, until one day, she was nothing more than mere ash.

It started around seven or eight months back, when Hailey’s mother and father encountered more fights than they ought to. The household was gradually filled with sounds of shattered glass and broken voices. However, what struck Hailey the most was seeing the same shades of color she was far too familiar with on someone else’s skin.

Hailey couldn’t believe it herself, not even when she saw her mother’s purplish skin filled with bruises desperately being caked by powder. No, not until two nights ago.

It was a bit early, around half past five in the afternoon. There were no theatre rehearsals or pending projects from the school publication, so she headed home. She was just entering the porch, when a shriek pierced her ears. Immediately taking hold of the door, she was greeted by a scene that would plague her every waking thought.

Her father looming over her mother. His fist colliding with her face. The dull thud of his hit, reverberating in the walls of Hailey's mind. The first note of her self-destruction.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The next thing she knew, she was beside her mother, searching... searching for a pulse.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

She hears her own voice bellowing. She feels a burning rage. Her body was trembling, and she was terrified, but the fear wasn't enough to quell the fire within her.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Her fists were sore. The world was spinning. She felt a churn at the pit of her stomach, rising to her throat and numbing her senses. A bitter taste on her mouth... blood?

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Every step she took was a burden lifted from her shoulders. She didn't know where she was going, but there was only one thing in her mind.

Run. Run. Run.

She knew it was coming. She braced herself for the familiar sting of a cut, the nasty smell of iron, deep from the walls of her flesh. Her legs were weakening at the thought of it, but she urged herself to get as far away from that horrid place as much as possible.

Run. Run. Run.

The pain came at full force. Her innards were being twisted. Her lungs were being crushed. But most of all, her heart was being ripped apart, piece by piece, and she had no means to fix the debris.

Soon enough, the pain became too much. She couldn’t run any more than this ‘gift’ of hers would let her to. The weight of it was becoming too unbearable, and for once in her life, she wished none of this ever came to be. For what was the point of being a hero, of saving other people, when she couldn’t even save herself?

She then remembered the seven-year-old Hailey. The one who looked up to her father. The Hailey who swore to be the first ever hero. She laughed at the thought of it now. She knew being a hero meant giving yourself up for other people, but nobody told her how that included monsters as well, beasts and demons of every kind. Nobody told her how giving up one’s self also meant being empty-handed in the end.

Maybe this was why the world had no heroes.

She didn’t know how, but she reached the bridge connecting her small town to the city. The road of the bridge itself was empty, and the sky was void of any stars, a blanket of pitch black accompanied by a crescent-shaped moon. Below these was a river, its waters rushing but silent.

Catching her breath, she leaned her back against the railing and sighed. She could still feel the pain, but she was becoming numb to the intensity of it. A good sign? She was still yet to judge.

Hailey was about to run again when something caught her eye.

There was a boy, about her age. He was standing on the railing, centimeters away from falling. His eyes were closed, and his arms were spread wide, as if he was an angel with wings, as if he could fly and be free to roam the sky.

“This is it,” she gasped in realization, managing a smile. She didn’t have to go through this anymore.

“Hey! Hey, you there! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She yelled, walking up to where the boy was. “Get down from there! You might die!”

The boy chuckled derisively, but his eyes remained closed. “That’s the point. Now go away.”

“Are you meaning to say,” she said slowly, “that you plan on killing yourself?”

“I thought that was fairly obvious, especially for a girl of your talent.”

Her body froze. He could see the wounds? But… nobody could, that much she knew by heart. “A girl of… Wait… You…”

“Know who you are?” He finished nonchalantly. His eyes opened, returning her gaze.

Green.

His eyes were green.

Suddenly, it all came back to her, a spectrum of photographs flashing before her eyes in different shades of green, as if his irises were the only colors mankind could witness.

Green like the grass he fell on.

Green like the sleeves of the sweater he wiped his tears with.

Green like the meadows he sketched on paper.

Green.

Green like...

“L… Levi?”

He stared in wonder. “Incredible… How even…”

Now she was confused. “What?”

“You… you remember.”

“Of course,” she said, “Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

His face was blank, except the corner of his lips, in the making of a smirk. “You never changed, did you? Just as kind and helpful as before.”

“And neither did you, I see.”

He pursed his lips. “I don’t need any help.”

“And you seriously expect me to believe that? That you’ve got this all figured out?” She said, motioning to the bridge, then to the river.

“Now look who’s talking,” he laughed sardonically. “You’re saying that as if you got me all figured out. Just because you cleaned my wounds, and saved my sketches when people were walking all over them, you think you can waltz into my life again and think you understand me and my choices? News flash: you don’t.”

Hailey looked at him, perplexed. She turned her eyes away, and stared at her worn out Converse. “I’d like to though.”

Her skin tingled. She could feel his eyes burn right through her.

“Excuse me?”

“You said I don’t understand you. Your choices. Why you’re doing this,” she paused, “if that’s the case, help me understand then.”

Hailey forced herself to meet his gaze. “Help me understand your choices... Help me understand why you’re doing this… Help me understand you.”

“Ugh. You make it sound like it’s so easy!” Levi grunted as he stepped out of the railing, where he came face to face with her. His eyes were searching for something, but she didn’t know what. Sighing, he turned away, and sat on the metal floor, his back against the railing. Hailey followed, her eyes on him.

“I can't explain it!” he exclaimed in frustration. “It's not like there are words for them.”

Hailey tried to clarify what he meant, but he went on, “Don't start with your motivational bullcrap, smartface. I don't want to hear you explain what's wrong with me, so don't even try. You don't think I've heard all of that before? I have. I sat on a chair in front of some snob trying to psychoanalyze me. If, with all their mighty degrees in Psychology, they haven't figured out what's wrong with me, neither will you.”

But she knew him. She knew him far too well than a stranger should. She did not need the words to be uttered. Levi knew that. That’s what scared him the most. They got to know each other without words. So as the thick silence enveloped them both, time ceased to exist. At that moment, it was only them. Beneath the starless sky, they became their own stars.

The world waited for them to crash and burn, to spark and turn into an explosive ultraviolet chaos.

A masterpiece.

“You’re an artist then.”

Levi glanced at the girl beside him, surprised at her sudden statement. “You could say that.”

“... But?”

He smiled at this. “But I’m not.”

Hailey frowned in confusion. “That’s… ridiculous. I’ve seen your work, and they’re beautiful.”

“You saw them briefly on the surface of a sidewalk, being stepped on by dirty shoes and stained by people spilling their rush hour morning coffee,” he pointed out.

“Okay, maybe I haven’t seen them in their full glory,” she conceded, “but they were still beautiful art.”

“Beautiful maybe, but... art?” He shook his head. “That’s the one thing my work is not.”

“Based on whose judgment?”

“Mine,” he asserted.

“But… isn’t that unfair?” Hailey asked, looking at him with an unexplained fascination.

“How?” came Levi’s nonchalant response.

“You can’t get a second opinion,” Hailey said, trying to make him laugh. This time she was rewarded with another grin, so she took it as her cue to continue, “Seriously though, you have so much talent. Don’t you want people to recognize how much?”

“I don’t sketch because I want to, but because I have to. When we were kids, you ran to help me, right? You felt like you had to. It’s the same sad story. Sketching. Painting. Those are my good deeds. They make me feel like my day has some remote purpose when in reality, it’s how I cope with pain. It’s how I own it. Every stroke reminds me that this pain is mine. Mine and mine alone to bear.”

Levi must have been thinking deeply because he barely noticed Hailey shivering. She was cold, but she wasn’t about to interrupt him, especially when everything was finally starting to make sense.

“You know it’s funny how people romanticize tragedy. They look at my paintings, say it’s heartbreaking and have the nerve to call it fine art in the same sentence. It’s not fine because I’m nowhere near fine.”

When Hailey did not say anything, Levi concluded, “It’s not art.”

“Then what is art?” She asked, fighting the urge to close her eyes. Her lids were becoming too heavy to keep open, but she pushed through with the conversation, “You kept telling me what art is not… but you never really told me what art is.”

“How would I know?” Levi grinned, “I’m not an artist.”

Little did he know that he already was. The perfect artist for her masterpiece.

“And... what about you?” he asked.

Her lips were quivering. “What about me?”

“What are you not?”

“A hero,” Hailey answered softly.

She wanted to say that out loud for months, maybe even years, but no one understood her situation enough for it to mean anything. Now that she found him and he inspired a freedom in her she never thought she’d have, she was letting it all out.

All of it. Well as much as what he’ll consider sane.

“Okay, smartface. I’ll bite. Why is your do-gooder ass not a hero?” Levi asked, now more playful than mocking.

“Being a hero is a lie.”

Her lips formed a weak smile before continuing, “When I help people, they act like they're doing me a favor, like I owe it to them that they're letting me. Thank you is seldom heard, and when it is, it's masked with nonchalance or malice. All those I can take, but what hurts, what really cuts deep is when they do the same mistakes over and over again. They never learn. Worse, they put themselves in the same situation because they crave being saved,” Hailey said, with a faraway look on her face. “I can work as hard as I can, put all I have into doing the right thing and bad things will still happen, either because they’re bound to or because people let them.”

“Hey,” Levi muttered. He wasn’t really sure what to say next, so ‘hey’ seemed appropriate. It was enough to snap Hailey out of her trance.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe…” he started, but he was unsure how to continue.

“Maybe?” Hailey urged. She knew she wasn’t going to last in this cold much longer, but she wanted to hear what Levi will say, especially after what she shared.

“...And why, pray tell, are you trying so desperately to be everyone else’s hero? It seems pointless. The world will always have problems, and if you base yourself on how good all the people you’ve helped are doing, you’ll die waiting.”

“That must have been a mouthful coming from you,” Hailey teased.

“Whatever. I’m just trying to help, smartface.”

It was easy to embarrass Levi. Just put him in a position where he has to comfort someone, and he was done for. Hailey knew that, so she appreciated that he made an effort to make her feel better. More than the comfort, she knew he was right.

Hailey was always someone’s hero, never hers.

“I know. Thank you.”

After being out in the cold for hours, Levi finally noticed how pale Hailey was and that her entire body was shivering. Her face was pale, lips turning a light shade of purple, and he could distinctly hear her having difficulty breathing. He knew it could just be because of the cold, but his gut told him otherwise, so he asked, “Are you okay?”

“I’m the best I’ve ever been.”

“Your lips don’t think so,” Levi joked. He was feeling a lot lighter now, not okay but good enough to get there.

“We should both get some rest,” he suggested. “Do you want me to walk you home?”

“No need,” Hailey said, smiling at him. ‘I already am,’ she thought.

“Okay then, I’m gonna head home now. You should too. It’s getting late,” Levi said, gradually walking away from the railing. Hailery watched him retreat further away from her, feeling so many emotions at once — but mostly gratitude. She was surprised when he turned one last time, and asked, “Do you have a name, smartface?”

Hailey froze before she stuttered, “What?”

“Name!” Levi shouted to the other end of the bridge, “I’ve known you since we were kids but I don’t know your name!”

“Hailey!”

“Well, see you around, Hailey! I’m Levi.”

‘I know,’ Hailey thought, smiling to herself as her eyes followed the streets where Levi disappeared to.

This is it.

The cold was taking over her body, and she was numb everywhere. She didn’t need to see the bruises and the cuts to know that they now cover every inch of her body. The pain she felt was more than enough warning.

It wasn’t long now.

How she knew that, she could not really say. It was instinct, she guessed, like how she knew what cuts she’d get each good deed she accomplished or that Levi was special the first time she saw those green eyes. She just knew.

Like the universe predicted, her star was dimming. She wasn’t getting a supernova like most heroes whose masterful deaths await. Hers is subtle and barely noticed because Hailey, as she now realized, wanted to be her own hero.

And today, as Hailey turned 18, she finally saved herself.

#flash fiction

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