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dabis-devil · 5 years ago

Note

Could you pretty please do Shinso, Dabi, Overhaul, Kirishima, Shiggy, Bakugo and Tamaki with an S/O with is a ballet dancer and looks fragile but can actually kick ass? Sorry for the long ask but I just really adore you’re stuff!!!!!

Pretty Poison

Aw, thank you anon! Okay, I'd just like to apologize for holding off on my asks. I've seen busy and not feeling well lately, but I'm getting to my requests now! Love you all 🖤

Shinsou Hitoshi

Shinsou is an observational guy

He figured you weren't as innocent as you looked before you proved him right

All of which he figured out with distance.

When set to spar together, he was avoiding all of your agile moves, each one of your attacks

You were pressed to do give it your 100%

With a swing, you attempted to go for his neck with your fist, the purple haired man catching your fist.

He tried to get a blow at your torso, you swatted his fist.

when you tried a strike with the other, he caught that one too.

His leg scooped in the back of your knees, the two of you toppling to the ground.

Toshi is a good boi, he made sure you wouldn't get hurt before he went through with such a calculated move

“ oh kitten- ” he chuckled, tired eyes lock in onto your own. “ nobody expects this of you. . Only fools will underestimate you. ” his tone was eerie

You used your propped up knee to push yourself over. Turning the tables, Toshi on bottom now. “ nice to know. ” you mumbled with a savage smile.

Next thing you know you were helping each other up and leaving the training grounds.

Its when you and Shinsou went on your first date that he learned you were a dancer.

He didn't seem too phased honestly, but he thought it was cool!

“ Can I go to your next recital? ” he asked, thumb brushing against your cheekbone.

You said yes

Before the start of the recital, your eyes wandered endlessly around the stadium.

' where is he? ' your lips curling into a frown.

Maybe he decided he didn't care?

Little did you know, he was in the front row. Just dressed in a suit. . Classy Shinsou is rare

When you leaped across the stage, his large purple orbs followed your angelic form like a puppy eyeing a treat.

He isn't one to pump you up with compliments, but when you finally realized he was staring with a strong force of admiration, that said all.

He would stand and applaud afterward, meeting you in the back room for a bland congratulations and soft hug.

He'll be at every single recital

Every. One.

Dabi

Your innocence was cute, don't get him wrong

But his goal was to corrupt you.

He would place wondering hands on your body, expecting you to become a shell of a human and color to drain from your face

Instead your expression turned playful as you prompted him

Sinful things probably followed

And that's how he learned you werent fragile

With that in mind, this man had nO control

You already know a relationship with him entails dirtiness to keep it sPiCy

And I kid you not, your gracefulness drives him over the edge

Your movement was so controlled it's just- *chefs kiss*

The part of the town the compound was in definitely wasn't a good part of town

So you got harrased :((

“ hey pretty lady, ” a drunk man cooed, his large and sweaty hands running down your arm. “ come with me to the back. . ” he smiled and roughly tugged at your arm.

You could have easily shown this man a piece of your mind. The ghastly shrieks that filled the air stopped you though.

Dabi melted his face off, then left with you like nothing happened.

This why people don't mess with you anymore

Again, this is what makes the two of you a good team. He has your back, you have his, but you can both take care of yourselves.

He didn't really care to know you danced

It's just a hobby, when should he care? Do what you want.

If you dragged him off to recitals or anything don't be surprised if you see him playing on his phone or otherwise not paying attention.

Gives 0 fucks.

If for any reason he is watching

Probably because he think you look sexy.

Maybe it's the outfit, maybe it the way your body flows, who knows?

If you come to him bothered that he doesn't like your dancing, he will either

reassure you that he thinks you look incredibly sexy when you dance, and try to pay a little more attention to your routines

No promises^

Brush off your feelings and move on

Really isn't his cup of tea but A for effort

Bonus: he's asked you to dance on/for him

You're a dancer, of course you know how to lap dance. Of CoUrSe.

Idiot

“ doll, why don't you come show me some of those moves? ” he asks cheekily, already leading you back to the bedroom.

You still did. And you did well. So that's a win on his part-

Overhaul

Kai could appreciate your dancing, there was some sort of elegance in it.

The way your body moved from one figure to another just had his eyes drawn to you like magnets.

The fact that he kidnapped you for entertainment was besides the point

Well initially

You were given the option to leave, but you didn't.

Same offer does NOT apply now that you made your choice

The reason you were taken is for your doe eyes and soulful smile

You put up a damn good fight

But in the end you were being jumped by a few gang members.

Not to mention your escape attempts?

So thought out, and you came this close to busting out of the secret door each time.

Kai’s eyes burned holes hrough your skull when you were restrained to your bed.

“ love, why would you try to leave me? You know bad things could happen. . ” his tone sent goosebumps down your back

He's just possessive

Other than that, you can pretty much do what you want

So long as you stay in base

He turned a room into a dance studio for you

That's just how he shows affection.

he wants to sit and watch you dance until your knees buckle.

You bet your ass he will too.

“ where are you going? ” his eye brows knitted. “ I'm not done watching. ” he growled lowly, as you returned to your craft with a pout.

But that's fine,,,,

Even though he's not a huge fan of touching you

He gives the best massages.

(I'm actually so so sorry for this one, I haven't written Kai and oh my gOd I need to fix this characterization)

Eijiro Kirishima

This beautiful rock man

He thinks you are so adorable.

Literally precious okay, even before romantic ties developed

But when you become a badass out of nowhere, he's kinda stunned

You turned to Mineta and told him off for objectifying you, finishing that confrontation with a kick right to his crotch.

The grape boy wheezed and began to cry, but you walked off unbothered.

Of course Kiri, who had been on his way to save you from his perverted classmate, was like- “ huh?? ”

You being anything but reserved was a new emotion.

He didn't mind of course, he was excited to learn more about you.

And when he learns you're a dancer?

Oh boy.

Eiji supports you. Without a question!

And that's on being manly.

He shows up with roses to every single recital you have, dressed in fine attire, and will be the loudest person in the crowd.

“ WOoOOo!! YOU DID AMAZING Y/N! I LOVE YOUU!! ” He shouted from the top of his lungs.

Actually the first time he said I love you

Lowkey has good moves himself

You'll see that when he's dancing around the dorms to some cheesy music denki or Mina played

If you need help with a move he will put sweat, blood, and tears into perfecting it with you.

He literally won't shut up about you

When he's with his friends?

“ she's so beautiful! You should see her dance too! ” he gushed

Family?

“ y/n is so amazing. . (More babbles about you) ”

A wall?

“ I love y/n so much- ”

Just love him back okay

Tomura Shigaraki

This crusty man has his head in the game and all, but he totally swept you to the side.

He wants things to be blunt and direct

So when you were over there looking like a pure angel he just thought you were

As apart of the liberation front, he expected you to be there for covert missions, and not throw yourself into battle

But when you were over here taking out three heroes simultaneously??

It dawned on him that you were so much more useful.

It had been a late night and Shigs couldn't sleep, so he planned to hang out with you.

Your light shone under the crack of your door, prompting him to ask for your company

He placed a soft knock on your door to which there was no reply.

Instead, the melody of soft classical tunes drifted to his ears. The door creaked open, allowing the blue haired man a peak of insight as to what you were doing.

He saw your figure parading around the room in small leaps, harmonious twirls, and gentle hand movements.

His crimson eyes widened at what he saw. Not only did he realize how beautiful you are, but you were so soothing to watch?

For a little while he will beat around the bush

“ y/n, what were you up to last night? ” he asked, sounding as innocent as a mere child. “ hmm? ” his hands weaved together under his chin, leg swing in under his barstool.

Like when you already know something but you ask somebody anyways just to see what they would say yknow

He would make this one of his favorite things to do, watch you dance.

Over time you caught him staring through your door, and you weren't exactly happy about it

“ tomura! ” you squeaked, catching a glimpse of his florescent red orbs.

You raced over to the door, pausing your music with a fast tap to the pad of your phone.

“ why were you watching me? ” you frowned at your boyfriend, your shoulders building tense.

“ y/n. . ” he mumbled, hand searching for his agitated neck. “ I just couldn't look away. ”

Katsuki Bakugo

Bakugo did not underestimate your abilities. Ever.

From his experiences, he knows not to judge a person's abilities until you get a taste of what they can do.

He tried so hard to manipulate you into using your quirk, or just not being the peaceful person you came off as.

He faaaaailed

When you got to knew him better, you didn't hesitate to mop the floor with him.

He's impressed by your effort, so points there

He definitely liked your soft persona, on the contrary to his.

He won't tell you that though.

The closer you two got, the more he would step in to defend you and stick by your side.

The one time you snapped on somebody, he was left shaking in his boots.

He hasn't seen you behave like that. . He liked it 😏

Now don't get me wrong-

Baku didn't care for your dancing.

He didn't give a single fuck, okay

But whenever he actually saw your graceful dances on stage???

Consider him your biggest fan

But you wouldn't ever find that out. At least he thoughts so.

“ I have another recital tonig- ” you were cut off by an irritated Baku.

“ if you want me to go, just ask, dumbass! Stop whining. ” he snapped, leaving you blinking and dumbstruck

go off lord explosion murder-

He's in the front row just sitting there like

W O W

You already know he'll praise you for your preformance, whether those compliment were backhanded or of pure intent.

And if anybody dare thinks about down talking your dancing? They will be ripped. ..He would tear them apart with him bare hands. no cap.

If you absolutely amaze him, you will get the one in a lifetime chance to watch him stand up and scream your name with a proud grin, something along the lines of-

“ LOOK AT Y/N! (pronoun)'S DOING FUCKING AMAZING, JUST FUCKING LOOK AT MY BABY- ” his hand directed towards you, and you couldn't help but burn a shade of deep rose.

Tamaki Amajiki

Before you two were in a relationship, you had him fooled.

Like Tamaki, you look like a cinnamon roll, but can murder somebody.

You are commonly underestimated, which gives you the upper hand. A lot.

Tamaki taught you how to use that

Training with him was just so sweet.

He'd be scared to hurt you though

Let's add to the fact that since you like like an easy target, you would probably get messed with.

He would be the first to step in and protect you

Despite the fact his hands are shaking, and he stutters a mess.

“ my suneater. . My hero. ” you planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

Here lies Tamaki Amajiki, Rest In Peace

Don't even get me started on your dancing.

He loves it! Absolutely melts his heart.

When he watches you at recitals, rehearsals, maybe even in the dorms, he feels the depth of your movement.

He becomes a flustered mess in the distance,,,,

“ I can't believe thats my bunny, she's doing so well! ” he quietly cooed from the audience.

He will not miss any of your recitals. Unless it's an emergency.

Even then, get prepared for massive cuddles when he gets back.

He'll feel guilty about not being there, he's more upset than you are.

“ Tama it's fine- ” you chuckled softly, cradling your boyfriend in a hug.

“ are you sure bunny? I'm sure you did amazing, and I missed it! ” he whined, fighting the urge to plant his face onto a wall and never look back.

Other than tons of extra love after a missed performance, he will without a doubt dress fancy and bring you a bouquet and some little gifts.

100/10 will pepper you with compliments

Honestly he's an angel

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linkspooky · 5 years ago

Photo

ozone hawks wants to shelter jin from the coming storm of the hero invasion and know he’ll be safe when it’s over, even though he’s the one putting him in the most danger // writing for the jinkei bang written for this art by @comradetodoroki

Storms have always put me at ease.

There’s something about the way they ravage our ridiculous world and wash it away like so much sludge.

🌩️

He pulled his hands back through feathered hair. He smoothed it, only for it to pop back up ruffled again. It’s out of character. It’s anxious behavior. Hawks needed to be smooth. Water had to roll off of him and nothing could stick to him otherwise he would get weighed down. He’s just talking. Someone is talking. It’s amazing how his mouth is like a machine. He can hear the words come out and he doesn’t have to think too hard about them because he’s been trained at talking to others.

But this guy. Jin. He’s easier to talk to than most.

“It’s pretty dumb for a bird to be afraid of heights.” “Yeah, yeah. It’s bird brained.” “…You are my favorite person for saying that.”

Hawks doesn’t bear his soul, that sort of requires having a soul and a soul is another thing that would weigh him down. Jin asked him what his fear was, actually Jin talked about his fears. It turns out Jin is afraid of almost everything.

Jin, Jin, he’s calling him Jin now. It’s Twice. Hawks doesn’t know if he’s scared of anything, but then Jin stared at him with those big eyes and he realized he was supposed to say something and ‘heights’ was the first thing that came out of his mouth. It’s not exactly heights, he can be in high places just fine. It’s the idea of falling. It’s out of his control, the falling. He doesn’t even mind the idea of hitting the ground. Just, smashing, and leaving a carcass of feathers, and fragile bones shattered. It’s the idea of falling forever unable to control his trajectory, utterly helpless. Falling at terminal velocity. The air doesn’t leave your lungs like you’d expect it to. And even though you’re surrounded by nothing but air, you’re suffocating, drowning in the blue sky. No, maybe it was the sky that scared him.

Everyone else looked up at the sky and saw freedom. It was so liberating. The sky seemed endless to Hawks. But there was nothing to see. Jin suddenly threw his arms around him from behind, looping them on his shoulder. Jin- Twice was so touchy feely, and so heavy, almost too heavy as he leaned his entire body weight on Hawks. Hawks stumbled forward and hit his face against the glass of the window in the room the two of them used as a hangout. “Let’s go outside! No, I want to stay in my room forever. I’m never going to be a corporate slave, I’ll be a NEET like Spinner!” Twice tended to have two minds about everything, but Hawks was a good listener. “We can’t go out in full costume. People will see us.” Hawks wondered if he was really listening. Birds have a habit called mirroring. They can imitate the noises humans make with their mouths, they can say words, but it’s not like the words carry any real meaning behind them. Just a hollow imitation. He is a mirror that Jin looks into and sees a friend. Jin suddenly has a burst of energy and shakes Hawks by the shoulders. Hawks was shaken. His head bobbed back and forth. “Please, please, please. I’m not going to beg you.”

“Look, at least one of us has to have common sense.” “And it’s me, right? Because I’m just a normal guy. I’m just your friendly neighborhood Jin.”

“Yeah, totally.” Hawks doesn’t want to be mean. “You don’t want to be seen with me, is that it? Well, I’m too cool for you anyway.” Jin had stopped shaking him now, and Hawks kind of wished he would have kept at it. Now that they’ve both stopped, Jin’s hands were on his shoulders. His large hands, capable of holding so much. And Jin stared into his eyes. Jin is wearing a mask and yet his every feeling is so obvious. The emotions in those eyes… heavy. Heavier than the whole sky, like the sky’s weight bearing down on him, crushing him.

“Yeah man, you’re way out of my league. The cool kids never let me hang out with them in high school. That’s why I became a villain.” Actually, he never even went to high school. “But that’s not it. It’s going to storm soon.” “Huh? So what?” “Can’t fly if my feathers get wet.” “Have Dabi dry them off for you!”

“Um, thanks but no thanks.” “How do you know it’s storming anyway?”

“I can feel it in my bones,” Hawks chirped. He can. His bones are light and hollow so he can fly, and when he was with Jin he felt a sort of empty pang in them. A feeling that made his toes curl, and his fingernails dig so deep into his palms that he left red welts. “Are you an old man?” “Something like that…” Hawks muttered. He certainly wasn’t a kid. He never was. “If we don’t go outside right now, I’ll cry. Is that what you want? You want me to cry? You meanie, big bully, villain, fiend! All of my friends will beat you up!” Hawks opened his mouth. He tasted only air. He dry swallowed. Twice smiled so earnestly with his whole face, in a way that it couldn’t be a lie. For some reason the thought of making him cry at this moment cut him. It peeled back all the layers, scars, skins, feathers, bone. Hawks was caught completely offguard. Bad, bad, bad. He was the one manipulating Jin, not the other way around. He couldn’t be moved by this he must stay firmly rooted to the ground. He closed his eyes and put on a smile, his smile so fake compared to Jin’s. “Awe man, I can’t say no to you, huh?”

🌩️

“This is the best day ever. This is the worst day ever! I can’t believe it rained on our parade. Jin, you stupid idiot, who would ever throw you a parade?”

The pounding of raining, the rolling of thunder, both of them beat against Hawks relentlessly. The two of them stranded on a park bench. The noise of the storm washed away everything else, and it was like the two of them were the only ones there. If this storm was some kind of apocalyptic hurricane that washed away everything would and the two of them were the only ones left. If nobody was watching, under the cover of the noise of the storm, could he be his true self in front of Twice? Probably not. Anyway, enough with the deep thoughts bird boy. They walked for a little bit before it suddenly started to storm. The entire time Hawks studied Jin’s hand as if he was trying to comprehend the shape of it. He even tried to reach for it once, only to grasp at empty air when Jin suddenly got distracted by it and turned around. “Hey, a bird! A bird! Look at the stupid feathery asshole! You can talk with birds, right?” “God, I wish…” Hawks stared at the place where Jin’s hand was supposed to be with melancholy, but thought it was probably a bad idea in the first place. Then suddenly, Jin noticed and grabbed his hand. He made it seem so simple. Touching other people, being close to other people. Then the rain started, and the two of them were on the bench and Jin freaked out. He raised his hands up in the air, and played nice guy to calm Jin down. “Hey, hey, I don’t really mind.” “You should mind! You should care a little bit. You’re so careless.” Oh no, Jin was agreeing with himself for once. Hawks wondered what he had done. He could read the emotions on his face, but he didn’t really get what other people felt. He just knew he probably felt less than them, he was lighter, more hollow. “Oh come on, I care as much as the next guy.” That was a lie. He lied without showing anything.

Hawks fidgeted. Sitting still was, hard, difficult. And Jin looked at him so intensely, in a way he wasn’t used to being looked at. He hated being scrutinized, was Jin suspicious? No maybe he just hated being seen. “You don’t care about yourself at all!” “What? We’re talking about me? Don’t I talk about myself enough? I’m a little bit self-obsessed. You know, pretty bird, pretty bird.” Hawks cooed. “You looked so upset! So I tried taking you out to cheer you up, but then I screwed it up and it started raining, and you don’t even care at all.”

“Ah, I was sad?” Hawks head tilted, as if he might comprehend better by looking at Jin from a slightly different angle. “Hey, hey, no reason to be upset. Nothing bad is going to happen.” Lots of bad things are going to happen very soon. Hawks wing moved. Even though he was sure he did not give it the command. His wing moved on his own, it stretched into the sky and curled around Twice serving as an umbrella. His feathers stretched as far apart from each other as possible. He did not want a single drop of rain to touch Twice. He wanted Twice to stop shivering with the chill of rain.

How many people had he saved? Countless. Thousands, probably. He did it without thinking. He had complete confidence in himself. Then, why was he so afraid that he might not be able to save this one person. That he could do nothing to protect him from the coming storm. The people he saved were always faceless. To be honest, he was afraid of looking them in the eye. Even when they thanked him, he didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t do anything special. He had never wanted to save one person so much. And he might not. He might let him fall. Twice’s words are gravity. They drag him back from where Hawks is always floating. “You’re not understanding me. It’s my fault.” “No, you’re not, it’s fine.” “Stop saying it’s fine. Liar, liar, pants on fire. Dabi’s going to light your pants on fire, then you’ll just be standing there without any pants and everyone will laugh. Liar, stupid, I hate you. I don’t hate you.”

Twice suddenly grabs his head. A piercing headache. A splitting headache. Hawks does not know what to do so he simply floats there, his hands just hanging there in the air unable to grab anything.

“This is getting in the way.” Twice grabbed at his mask. He clawed it for a moment. It’s like he’s trying to scratch the skin off of his face. Hawks felt an immediate sense of danger. Fearful. Twice is broken. He broke into jagged edges. Glass that can cut and sink deep into you. He pulled his mask off slowly.

“Hey, you should put that back on.” Hawks said, genuine concern creeping into his voice. He realized, he didn’t care about blowing the mission, he didn’t care about the hoops he’d have to jump through to explain being seen with league of villains Twice in public. He just doesn’t want to see Twice break in two pieces in front of him.

“It’s fine, I won’t break apart if you’re here.” But I’m not here. “Hawks, I want to meet you…” “But, I’m right here?” “I know. What I mean is. I just want to meet you.”

The mask was getting in the way. Of what? Hawks perched on the bench, his knees drawn up to his chest, huddling like a child. He made himself look as small as possible. A nesting instinct. He wanted to be cozy. He wanted to be comfortable. To feel like he belonged somewhere. Jin, sitting on the other side of the bench. Hawks’ wings outstretched, the two of them udnerneath the same unmbrella. Jin’s hair, bleached white by stress. A large scar running down the center of his forehead. A perpetual five o clock shadow. A latex suit that covered his whole body, and the muscles which bulged underneath. He could see the way they shifted as his body moved and studied it in close detail. There was something about the way he was shaped that made him look comfortable to lean against. His toes tap awkward on the ground, because Twice is as bad at sitting still as Hawks is. The rain was so loud, and even louder is Jin’s breathing, and his heartbeat, and Hawks’ senses were finely tuned to both. Jin’s shoulders were broad. Hawks’ were concave and narrow. They were going to break. It was heavy, too heavy. Heavy like gravity. He noticed finally that Jin was drifting towards him. Jin was falling. Hawks has to look at him directly, what good is the terrifying draw of gravity unless you know what you’re facing. Jin’s lips get closer, and Hawks’ imagines what it would be like to be tickled by the unshaven scruff on Jin’s chin. There are so many details that make up Jin, and Hawks’ is just not there, he is not present, he is observing the scene from behind a pair of eyes but he can’t be there with Jin. He can never be there with anyone.

“You wouldn’t like me,” He finally murmured. Hawks said, trying to get what’s happening to stop. “How come?” “Because I’ve met him. I don’t like him.” “I used to not like me either, but even when you don’t like yourself there are people that will like you.” Jin probably didn’t like him. Jin is just a person who would be kind to anybody. All Hawks needed to do was look a little pathetic and Jin pitied him. That was all this was. He was nothing special to Jin. He was nobody special. He had been told that enough times. If he died, if he fell out of the sky what would happen? The hero rankings would shift a little bit and that would be all. There were plenty of people that used him but no one really needed him. Jin gets closer and his lips pull back. Hawks’ contemplated what it would be like to be struck by lightning. A hot stinging pain, every single muscle in your body tenses, and locks. A whiteness you see behind your eyeballs. You spend an eternal moment trapped, your brain sending signals but your body not listening to them, you tingle because your brain can’t comprehend the intensity of what you’re feeling.

Is it painful? That’s not it, it’s a sensation that’s impossible to describe. Then you wake up after it’s done, and there’s a scar left in your skin. The point of contact between his land twice’s lips felt like they were burning as Twice pulled away, or maybe that was just his imagination. The acrid smell surrounded him. His nostrils wee full of ozone. His brain was full of fear. The entire sky is contained in Jin’s eyes for that brief moment. There’s a queasy feeling inside of him, dizzying, and it’s the first time he’s ever felt the joy of vertigo. He doesn’t know where he is or how he feels and it’s unbelievably pleasant. Jin is the entire sky. Jin would never know how much Hawks wanted to throw himself into the arms of that vast emptiness. Hawks’ head is empty. He’s empty. But he’s not. He’s filled with secrets, and lies. When he wants to think about nothing more than Jin and the smell of ozones, a thought broke through. It’s like a crack in the mirror. Hawks immediately rocked back. You lied to him. Jin looks like he did something wrong. Hawks wants to tell him he’s done nothing wrong but that’s not true, he’s a criminal, a murderer. A good kisser, but with blood on his lips. Hawks’ hands flew in the air. “I-I’m just shy. I’m a shy bird.” He pulled the collar of his fur jacket all the way up to just below his nose to conceal the expression on his face.

Hawks looked at the scar that cut cleanly across Jin’s forehead. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the thought. Jin who had given him so much, and Hawks would only give him scars in return. His hands, his lips. There would be lines carved on his skin wherever he touched. Hawks’ and Twice the fact that they met was an incredibly unlikely event like a lightning strike, and just like a lightning strike it never should have happened. It was luck, it was bad luck. He would mark him worse than any lightning strike.The places where he had once caressed so sweetly would only burn now. He should have smelled the ozone ahead of time. He should have seen the storm coming. But it’s too late now, and he’s stuck here with Jin, and he’s completely hopeless, and he can’t fly in the middle of a storm the wind will whip at him back and forth and the water will soak him, and chill him down all the way to the bone. Hawks finally gasped for air. Ozone in his lungs he had forgotten to breathe.” “Twice.” “Jin, you can call me Jin. I always call you by your first name.”

“…What do you think my full name is?” “Hawks Birdman?” Hawks wanted to laugh but he couldn’t. He was someone who could not even smile correctly. “Wait, wait, wait, is that not your real name? Oh shit, oh shit, I’m so dumb. I’m so dumb.” Jin rocked back and forth and Hawks was completely still. He finally looked Hawks in the eye again. “W-we don’t have to kiss ever again if you don’t want to. I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” Why was he the one apologizing? Why was Jin apologizing? “It’s really hard to tell what you like and don’t like sometimes. If I got something wrong, I’m sorry because I’m stupid, and I don’t think, but ummm…can I call you by your real name?” “One day…” “When?” “When the storm ends.” Hawks said. Everything he said so far to Jin was a lie, and that might also be a lie. But he didn’t want it to be.

#jinkei #jinkeiminibang #twicehawks #hawkstwice #twice #hawks #jin bubaigawara #takami keigo #bnha #bnha fic #zeldi drabbles tag #theres a ff7 reference in this

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vs-redemption · 5 years ago

Text

Crime is Common. Logic is Rare. (Ch 18)

Chapter Eighteen: Those Words (HawksxGN!Reader)

Plot summary: You thought your hands were full as a regular quirk geneticist, but then you meet Hawks and things get even more exciting!

Warnings:

⚠️This story contains spoilers from the manga.

⚠️Some events and plot points have been altered from the original manga

Tag List: @gayforkeigo @marshmallow-witch @redflannel @toyo-shiro @elsasshole @astronomyturtle

Next Chapter : Chapter Guide

“Hey, I brought over a book I want you to check out.”

You turn away from the food you were cooking to raise an eyebrow at your boyfriend who was standing behind you holding a decent sized hard cover book with ‘Meta Liberation War’ printed across the cover. Hawks had an apologetic look on his face, but you weren’t surprised he was doing this. Staging the murder of Best Jeanist had definitely earned him points with the league of villains, but now he had to continue winning their trust by doing everything he could to prove he believed in the ideals they’d adopted after merging with the liberation army in Deika city. It would look strange if he never brought up the topic he was pretending to be so passionate about with the person he was dating. You let out a sigh, knowing you had to play along.

“Isn’t that book a little outdated?” you ask while turning back to the stove. “Plus, I’m pretty sure the guy that wrote it ended up in prison.” You decided not to jump on board right away so that Hawks would have the chance to convince you. It would help the villains trust him even more if they heard how much he understood and supported the cause.

“The fact that he was arrested is all the more reason to check it out,” Hawks comes up behind you to see what you were making. He hardly got to see you anymore now that he spent half his time in another city with the league of villains, who were now calling themselves the paranormal liberation front. It made communicating very difficult since there were limits to what you could tell each other over phone or text. You both had to make do with seeing each other for an hour or so at a time when you could find time between his hero duties and spy duties. “He was an advocate for quirk liberation back when people first started getting powers and governments around the world were fighting to suppress the people’s freedom to use those powers.”

“He was an advocate for chaos,” you correct him calmly. “There’s a huge difference between rallying people together to protest laws you don’t agree with and scaring people into listening by committing acts of terrorism.”

“That’s simplifying the story just a bit, don’t you think?” Hawks begins sending his feathers around the kitchen to get out any plates and utensils you both would need. “Our quirks are a part of who we are, and putting so many rules and regulations on them is a form of repression.”

“I’d hardly say anyone is being repressed,” you retort with a laugh. “We’re allowed to use our quirks as it suits us in our careers and in the privacy of our homes. It would be much worse, for example, if someone was forbidden to use the extra set of arms they were born with or something just because most other people only have two. I don’t think it’s unfair to restrict the use of quirks in public though.”

“Why do you say that?” Hawks asks curiously as you both grab some dinner and head over to the small table to eat. You really wished you could talk about something else in the limited time you had with your boyfriend, but it was important to act like you had no idea what he was up to with the villains.

“Well, I mean, think about it Bird-kun,” you can’t help but smile at the way he perks up when you use the stupid little nickname, “you spent so many years training your quirk just so that you’d be able to use it safely and effectively around other people. Can you imagine if a person without your control tried sending feathers out everywhere like you do and stabbed someone by mistake or blocked someone’s vision and caused an accident? And that’s just one example. If you imagine a whole community of people using their quirks all willy-nilly like that, you can start to see how things would get out of control.”

“The idea isn’t to create a world like that,” Hawks continues his spiel, “it’s about allowing people the chance to use their quirks to defend themselves or help others instead of having to rely on heroes all the time.”

You let out a sigh, wanting to put this conversation to rest now so that you both could enjoy the rest of your dinner like a normal couple. “Look, It isn’t like I think the system we have now is perfect or anything,” you tell him honestly. “And I won’t claim that I have any better ideas. I’m a scientist, after all. My area of expertise is quirk genetics not quirk regulation.”

“I know, and that’s fine,” Hawks promises. “But, can you at least give the book a shot?” He gives you puppy eyes from across the table. “For me?”

“Magic face.” You mutter under your breath while rolling your eyes dramatically. “Fine! I’ll read it if it means that much to you. You’re lucky I love you.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Hawks asks, looking genuinely taken aback to hear you say something like that.

“Huh?” You tilt your head, “I said you’re lucky I love you.” You had been trying to tease him but a look of vulnerability crosses over his face as he processes your comment. It was the first time you’d said those words to him, but you really hadn’t expected them to trip him up like that. Surely it couldn’t be that much of a surprise. Suddenly, Hawks leans forward and cups his hand around his ear with a small smile.

“I heard the first part,” he says, “But one more time… I’m lucky what?”

“I love you.” You decide not to make him work for it since it obviously meant more to him than you realized to hear how you felt. You hoped he didn’t feel strange that you’d thrown something so real into a fake conversation. By the way the feathers on his wings fluffed up you assumed not.

“Nobody has ever said that to me before,” He lets out an awkward laugh while leaning back in his seat.

“What?” You had a hard time believing him until you remembered that he hadn’t seen his family since he was taken in by the hero training facility he’d told you about. He’d also mentioned never having any real friends. Perhaps he wasn’t joking, and that made you feel kind of sad.

“Well, I’ve heard fans say that kind of stuff before,” Hawks admits with a shrug, “But I don’t think they meant it the way you do. You do mean it that way, right?”

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t,” You promise while reaching across the table to cover his hand with yours. He seemed satisfied with that and his vulnerable energy faded away.

“That’s good,” He grins happily while interlacing your fingers, “Because I love you too!”

“Glad to hear it,” you smile back. The two of you finish up the food and clean up just in time for Hawks to have to take off again. Neither one of you wanted to part ways, but hopefully things wouldn’t have to be this way for too much longer. Hawks was gathering as much information as he could about the internal structure of the Paranormal Liberation Front, and you were spending every moment you could trying to figure out what Dr. Garaki was planning with All For One’s DNA. Hopefully once those pieces fell into place, the heroes could be notified about what was happening so that they could stop the villains before things got even worse.

“Don’t forget to read that book,” Hawks tells you, staying true to his role.

“Yeah, yeah,” you pull him into a kiss so that you wouldn’t have to talk about that subject any longer. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”

“I know,” He sighs in disappointment. “But you know I can’t skip my night patrols. That’s when all the really scary guys come out to play.”

“Well, let’s just hope they play nice,” you let out a dry laugh, “I worry about you.”

“Aw,” Hawks coos your name and pulls you into a hug. You prolong the good-bye as long as you can, but eventually he does have to leave. Once you’re alone in your apartment you send a glare over to the book Hawks had left on your kitchen counter. You had already read it cover to cover and knew it was filled with the ramblings of a dangerous extremist who had no qualms about using people to fight and die for his fanatical ideas. If there were problems in society, there were plenty of reasonable ways to find a solution. All-out war, in your opinion, was not one of them.

#Keigo Takami x Reader #Hawks x Reader #Bnha x reader #mha x reader #keigo takami #hawks #mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #my writing

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makeste · 6 years ago

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BnHA Chapter 223: Let Me Give You a Hand

Previously on BnHA: Tomura had a flashback to when he first met All for One. AFO told him he’d spontaneously developed a rare quirk which led to him accidentally killing his entire family and his adorable dog. Baby Tenko was able to recall “fragmented images” of the incident but curiously has no clear memories of his life beforehand. But I’m sure AFO isn’t lying, him being such a stand up guy with no obvious ulterior motives here. Anyway so we also found out that the hands are supposedly all that’s left of Tomura’s family, if anyone actually buys that. And Ujiko is the one that made them. Ujiko, as it turns out, doesn’t really plan to withhold the Noumus and everything from Tomura, but he does want Tomura to prove he’s ready to handle them, and to do that he wants him to go back and win over Gigantomachia. Tomura was all “okay fine” and so Ujiko teleported him back along with the rest of the Shigaraki Squad, except for Dabi who didn’t wanna (he’d rather antagonize Hawks instead). So that’s where we’re at now. Oh and I almost forgot, but Tomura wants to destroy everything, like the whole fucking world, because he feels like that might help to ease his constant inner pain and torment. So that’s nice. What a nice chapter.

Today on BnHA: We fast-forward to mid-December. Tomura and the gang have been dueling Gigantomachia near-ceaselessly for the past month and a half. Giganto can fight for a full 48 hours (and 44 minutes) at a time without rest, so the Squad has been taking it in shifts, but since Tomura is Giganto’s main target he’s been fighting almost constantly. He seems to be in good spirits, though, and is confident they’re making progress. Anyway, so shortly after Giganto’s scheduled nap begins, Twice gets a call from Giran! Or rather, Re-Destro, calling from Giran’s phone, to brag about having kidnapped Giran. Apparently he’s been keeping busy by chopping off Giran’s fingers. Ramsay Bolton-ing it, if you will. He’s been leaving them at strategic locations across the country trying to get the League’s attention, but his buddies finally managed to hack Giran’s phone and get his contact info, so it turns out the finger-chopping wasn’t strictly necessary. So he explains who he is and what he’s about, says there are 116,516 members of the Liberation Army spread throughout the nation (did you do a fucking census?!), and explains that they have a satellite tracking Tomura’s location. He then delivers an ultimatum: come and fight, or be captured by the authorities.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my mostly-unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’m caught up with the manga now at chapter 226, so any ETAs will reflect that.)

so the title of this chapter is “cockroach”, which could mean anything, but is most likely being used in the “pesky little bugger who’s obnoxiously hard to kill” sense. Tomura are you the cockroach. who is the cockroach. hmm

(ETA: yeah I still don’t know. whatever)

anyway so now it’s mid-December...! holy shit what, we’re caught up?

actually, scratch that, we’re ahead of where we were before because our last update was “early December, Sunday morning” on the day of Shouto and Katsuki’s provisional license retest. shit. Tomura I’m gonna need you to stop whatever it is you’re doing and go on your phone and look up articles about the purse snatchers who were stopped by the two young heroes who placed first and second in the U.A. sports festival earlier this year. specifically I need you to find out for me what Kacchan’s fucking hero name is omfg. can you do that

Tomura. Tomura, focus

...

okay I can see that you’re busy right now. wow. okay, uh

so lol this guy’s been at it for a month?? more or less? do I have that right? Tomura how the fuck are you still alive. you really are a cockroach

also did Giganto just fucking snap you in two here or

oh I should have known

hahaha they’re so cute!

I’m honestly amazed they haven’t fucking quit. they’re still at it. this is one loyal bunch of bastards. and Tomura is showing more dogged perseverance than I ever expected him to be capable of. makes me sad for what could have been, honestly

why doesn’t Compress just compress him. you’re telling me he hasn’t managed to touch him once in the however many weeks that they’ve been at this? or maybe he has and that’s how they’ve managed to survive this long lol

anyways, so Giganto is all “WEAK!” again and now he’s doing this

so maybe that’s why Compress hasn’t been able to touch him. he got that DBZ battle aura shit going on

(ETA: he’s kinda giving me All Might vibes, actually. Deku you wanna take a crack at this?)

meanwhile Spinner and Toga are watching from a safe distance like smart people

Toga says it looks like Tomura’s in trouble, and Spinner’s all “same as always then”

also Spinner has changed out of his Stain cosplay at long last and I don’t know what to make of this you guys

this is a shockingly normal look. a hoodie and a fucking jacket. I’m just... I’m still processing this. okay you win this round Spinner

so he’s explaining for those who aren’t paying attention to the timeline that it’s been more than a month and a half since Tomura was tasked with getting Gigantomachia to chill out, and he has still not chilled out

holyyyyyyy shit

I have to assume Spinner is exaggerating things here for the sake of drama because Tomura would fucking be dead. or else he’d have quit by the second day. screw destroying the world, I’m gonna take up knitting or something

I seriously can’t believe this shit though? was this part of AFO’s plan also? talk about a way to level up your protege in record time. either he dies or he becomes the strongest bitch who ever lived. has AFO been sneaking peeks at U.A.’s lesson plans

holy shit

wow they really are true ride or dies. also Dabi 100% had the right idea. best decision you ever made Touya

but seriously though Tomura should be dead. forget just sleeping, when is he eating and drinking? are the others going on coffee and bagel runs on their breaks? are you telling me Tomura’s been fighting this guy for the past 40 days all doped up on caffeine with only cup ramen to sustain him and running on 9 days’ worth of sleep spread out over six weeks wtf. he should be dead from exhaustion or else a fucking heart attack

holy shit Horikoshi actually explained how their broke asses didn’t just up and starve to death though omg

they got an allowance awww

also Toga is still the cutest and my favorite and fuck yeah girl you tell him though. nobody wants to be running around in the woods in fucking December without a fucking coat, Spinner

interesting that she’ll steal a bikini but not a jacket lol. nah we’re paying for that like good honest citizens

holy shit Spinner you’re still having your identity crisis?

I can’t decide if Horikoshi is setting things up to have him jump ship and join Detnerat (what with him feeling increasingly disillusioned with the League, and Destro’s philosophy being something that would almost certainly appeal to someone with his quirk and history), or purposely trying to make it seem like he is so that he can subvert everyone’s expectations and have him unexpectedly remain loyal to Tomura at the critical moment. kinda like what happened when Katsuki got captured. right now I’m leaning more to him defecting though; I think that plot would open up a lot more possibilities story-wise

(ETA: after reading Toga’s latest chapter I’ve swung back around on this. the Liberation Army is full of fucking phonies who don’t practice what they preach. look at how Kizuki was trying to make Toga into a martyr for their cause. I feel like Spinner would be able to see through their bullshit. hopefully.)

by the way you guys has Ochako always been on this list or is this a recent development??

and I love you, Toga! even though this in no way even comes close to answering Spinner’s question though! it’s okay it was foolish of him to ask

(ETA: so apparently she loves Ochako because she ships her and Deku! this is one of the most relatable things in this manga to date.)

lol

hush you that’s what makes her so perfect

and now I guess some time is passing and now they’re finally getting to take a break!

you know, that’s a good point about him eating. he’s gotta power himself up somehow. all quirks have a limit, we’ve known that since very early on. at some point Giganto has to reach his, right?

holy shit you guys

I just got some strong Katsuki vibes coming off of our resident crazyboy here and I need a moment to process this. damn. that’s some powerful character development from a guy whose signature move up till this point was sitting on a couch

Spinner’s watching him and thinking that Tomura’s gaze looks like that of “a young boy chasing his dreams”

yeah, his dream of destroying the whole world and everything in it. so pure

oh FUCK

YOUR BOY GIRAN WHO’S CURRENTLY BEING HELD BY DETNERAT?? THAT GIRAN? UH

lol Compress is telling Twice to ask if his robot arm is insured. Giran has bigger things to worry about than your arm dude. if this even is Giran calling and Giran isn’t fucking dead, since we do know this series isn’t above killing people off every now and then, and we had quite the disturbing image of what looked like a finger lying on what was apparently Giran’s signature scarf in the last chapter

Twice is saying that Giran is a real good guy and that he looked out for Twice even after he joined the League

ffffff he really is fucking dead huh

lmao but because it’s Twice he then immediately shouts at Giran for being an asshole and not answering Compress’s calls

OH FUCK

FUCK ME YOU GUYS GIRAN WAS FUCKING TORTURED TO DEATH. HOW THE FUCK DOES THIS SERIES KEEP ESCALATING ITS LEVELS OF HARDCORE WHEN IT COMES TO VILLAINS

so Compress is stupidly asking if Giran’s using a voice changer, but Twice has already conned on to what’s going on

oh fuck oh shit oh fucking shit

Compress is immediately whipping out his phone

OH FUSCK

JUST VILLAIN THINGS

fuck me this fucking series not pulling any punches. “what timeslot does the anime currently run in, again?” Horikoshi asks absentmindedly while he proceeds to not give a flying fuck one way or the other

ksdjlfkjw jesus fucking christ

IS THIS FUCKING GAME OF THRONES??! are you fucking for real with this shit??! AND SURE, WHY NOT, LET’S JUST DRAW THE FUCKING FINGER JUST LYING THERE ON THE SIDEWALK

BREAKING NEWS, JUST ANNOUNCED, SEASON 5 OF THE RUNAWAY ANIME HIT “MY HERO ACADEMIA” TO AIR EXCLUSIVELY ON HBO

oh hold up lol there’s more

well fuck me y’all if that ain’t a whole fucking hand

and fuck me also because the site of All Might’s last stand against AFO in Kamino is officially known as Ground Zero and it’s commemorated with a fucking statue and everything. my Kacchan hero name theory is decimated, Ground Zero as Kacchan’s hero name is fucking confirmed and if it is the case I’m going to get extremely emotional now at what his obvious reasons would be for choosing that name holy shit though

(ETA: although to be fair! what’s written in the chapter here is グラウンドゼロ (Guraundozero), whereas Bakugou’s name from those old character book sketches was 爆心地 (Bakushinchi). so it’s not quite the same! I feel like it’s still up in the air. I really just need this to be settled already lol. can you tell by the way I keep bringing it up multiple times each chapter even though this is an arc about the fucking villains for pete’s sake.)

-- oh shit he’s right. so we’ve got the Eight Precepts’ house, Hosu City, the Highway to Hell, Kamino, and now Fukuoka. you guys if memory serves, that is indeed every known League of Villains incident location... except for one. the very first one. as if U.A. needed any more reason to be on edge lately holy christ. let’s hope to god they don’t start chopping off the other hand

oh snap Joker’s got himself a name now!

Redestro? or ReDestro? lol that’s one of those names that looks fine in all-caps comic book letters but when typed out like this it looks stupid as hell

(ETA: I’m going with Re-Destro since it looks the least weird to me. idk.)

wow Tomura you’ve had time to keep up with the NY Times bestselling list while fighting for your life for the last six weeks? I’m impressed

this kid is not in a mood to play nice with others today and I’m loving it

Twice. where the fuck do you think Giran is. smdh

wow, Re-Destro says he’s actually still alive. hey you don’t have to show us what kind of condition he’s in, Horikoshi. just putting that out there. we have functioning imaginations, we get it. we’re good

(ETA: he’s actually doing a lot better than I thought he’d be. though I still want to take him home and wrap him up in a blanket and make him watch Jaime’s redemption arc in GoT and see if he gets inspired.)

anyway so Re-Des says they’re gonna destroy the status quo and rebuild the world into a place where everyone is free to use their powers to their full extent whenever

wow, Compress

um idk maybe because they chopped your broker’s fucking fingers off??? were you guys not tight with Giran or what? poor dude suffered some horrific shit all because he didn’t want to sell you fuckers out. least you could do is be offended

meanwhile Tomura wants to get a raincheck on this whole affair because he has other pressing matters to deal with right now

at least he told them to release Giran

oh fuuuuuuuuuuuck

where are they?? an observation tower somewhere??

jesus christ is that blood on his lap there??

how are his arms even tied behind him if he’s missing a fucking hand????

(ETA: genuinely curious about that last one though lol.)

wow Re-Destro is really testing the League’s empathy levels here

well, Tomura, that’s some pretty fucked up shit he did to your guy. what do you think. are you even slightly horrified. pissed off?

oh shit you guys!!

HE DIDN’T EVEN TALK. THIS MOTHERFUCKER DIDN’T BREAK, THEY HAD TO HACK HIS PHONE WITH THEIR MAD IT SKILLS IN ORDER TO GET THE LEAGUE’S CONTACT INFO. AND GIRAN LOOKS FUCKING HORRIFIED OH MY GOD

guys I can’t believe Giran is my new favorite character I s2g Horikoshi if you touch him again I’ll

...anyway. let’s do this whole two-page spread now because I’m super hyped in spite of my also being horrified by everything

FEEL GOOD INC. is that a fucking Gorillaz reference in my fucking shounen manga about superheroes. do I need to analyze me some lyrics. I can’t actually see any connection lol aside from it being a badass name for a villain corporation

guys I can’t believe Kizuki is my new favorite character I s2g Horikoshi if you touch her I’ll

oh hey, cool, shouldn’t be too hard to take these guys out. they’ve just got billions of dollars (presumably) and one hundred thousand soldiers lying in wait ready to rise to action at a moment’s notice, their words not mine. cool. cool cool cool cool cool cool cool we’re fucked

OH SHIT

is that why he’s in that observation place? fucking hell, how?

OH SHIT, AGAIN

HOW FUCKING NOBLE OF Y’ALL. though honestly I guess if we have to pick between the villains with the 12 Noumus of the Apocalypse who want to destroy everything, or the villains capable of running a successful business who just want people with quirks to be free, objectively the latter group is a better bet to side with

except for the fact that the latter group is totally cool with snapping their poor mouse secretary’s neck just because he didn’t like their book. and they’re also down to chop off a guy’s fingers one by one just to make a damn point. so yeah, pardon me but I’m gonna side with the League here in spite of everything

wow what the hell kind of negotiations are these??

so you just called to tell them that? “hi hello just wanted to introduce myself and let you all know I hate you and here’s how fucking screwed you are lol have fun with that”

haha hey Horikoshi what the fuck

(ETA: so yeah this is that same hand gesture that he’s doing in the panel immediately after this one. I guess it’s just their thing. these guys think they’re so fucking cool. it’s not cool to chop off people’s hands, Re-Destro!!)

I can’t believe I have to deal with this shit on the same day I’m posting the damn mushroom chapter recap

oh wow okay so he is actually giving them a chance here

lol wow this fucking arc. holy shit

but who was cockroach. well whatever. fucking villain arcs though, you guys. omg

#bnha #boku no hero academia #shigaraki tomura #gigantomachia #re-destro #himiko toga #spinner (bnha)#twice (bnha)#mr. compress #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #the real cockroach was the friends we made along the way #I guess #I don't know #it's late and I'm completely out of ideas lol

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julia-highstorms · 6 years ago

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Jane Is Here (ILITW AU) - Chapter 6

Summary: Have you ever wondered what would have happened if Jane had survived the game and got a chance to grow up with her friends?

Disclaimer: all the characters belong to Pixelberry Studios.

Note: Gender neutral MC. BACK FROM HIATUS AGAIN!!!! I was going to publish it tomorrow, but it still is Wednesday, It Lives day, so... Jane Is Here summary. My masterlist

Pairing: Noah x MC

Rating: T

Word count: 2195

Chapter 6 - The Return of an Old Friend

"Did y'all hear it?" - Andy asks bluntly as he and Ava reunite with their friends in the back of the school's library. It's lunch time and there's no one else there. The librarian is on her desk, far away from them.

"Yeah." - Dan answers, still looking uneasy. Lily seems to be on the verge of crying.

“It doesn’t make sense.” - Lucas states, adjusting his glasses, passing around nervously. - “It just doesn’t make sense. Why? After all these years? Why now?”

“It doesn’t matter why! What it matters is that we stop that psycho before he does something and hurts people!” - Noah snaps, taking a look at his sister, who’s been looking pale and tense since they all heard Redfield’s voice.

“And why does it have to be us?!” - Stacy scowls back at him, crossing her arms. - “It’s none of our business. We didn’t even go back there after everything that happened.”

MC bits their lower lip, remembering the strange events that happened in the sleepover, then when they went camping with the Marshall twins.

“I’m not so sure about it. ” - they affirm before turning to their best friend. - “Jane, do you have it with you?” - the redhead girl nods and pulls out something from her backpack. - “We went camping in the woods on the weekend before Dan’s party. And we found this.” - all their friends gather closer around them, staring at the small wooden object on their hand. - “It’s the whistle I gave Jane ten years ago. That went missing after we met Mr. Red.”

“This doesn’t mean anything. ” - Stacy murmurs stubbornly, but with less conviction.

“There’s another thing…” - MC’s mind drifts back to the talk they had with Mrs. García that morning. - “There’s someone missing. My neighbor, a shy little boy named Samuel. I babysit him sometimes and his mom told me that he went missing since yesterday afternoon."

"Oh yeah, I heard about it. My dad went looking for him in the woods with a search party last night… but they found nothing." - Ava, whose father's the town's sheriff, says with her usual stoic face. - "They're there again at this moment, now that they have the sun to help them."

MC proceeds to tell them a bit about Sam. On how the boy's always alone especially since his parents divorce… and how he likes playing outside and that he lied to his mother about going to the woods to play with some friends.

"...And I have a guess of who’s his friend.” - they conclude with a frown.

“Mr. Red…” - Lily murmurs, her body shaking. MC nods.

“Redfield is back. And he most likely got the kid. We have to do something.” - they state with resolution, the fear gone and replaced with determination.

"Hold on." - Lucas rises his hands in a calming gesture. - "We're not sure about it. He might have just ran away from home. Based on what you said about Samuel, MC, this is likely to have happened."

"Oh yeah, let's keep being skeptical about all this, especially after that creepy-ass voice we all heard." - Noah glares back at the Student Body President, saying through gritted teeth.

“Listen, I agree that this probably is Mr. Red's doing… but, come on. This kid needs actual help. From like, adults. And professionals. Professional adults." - Stacy says.

“No, it’s gotta be us.” - MC is resolute.

"And why is that, precisely?" - Lucas asks at them.

"Because we know who took him."

"Right, an imaginary friend we had when we were, like, eight years old." - Stacy rolls her eyes.

"You know damn well Redfield isn't imaginary." - Jane finally finds her voice, scowling back at the other cheerleader. Stacy avoids her gaze. - "I know nobody wants to dredge all that stuff back up. Do you think I like remembering all that happened?" - no one says a thing. Jane feels her brother's comforting hand on her shoulder, calming her a bit. - "...We all remember him, we just heard him. And we all know what's his capable of doing. We can't let him do the same thing to this boy. It's gotta be us." - MC grins proudly at Jane.

"And no one would believe if we said that the kid got kidnapped by some shadow monster nightmare dude that lives in the woods." - Noah concludes.

"But… it doesn't make sense." - Dan's voice is just a whisper. - "I mean, why would he suddenly appears again, after 10 years? Why didn’t he come back before, if he’s still out there?”

“Because something must have happened. Maybe he was trapped again, since Jane survived, but maybe Sam found the ruins and liberated him.” - MC ponders.

"Alright." - Andy finally speaks. - "So, what's the plan?"

"We have to go find Samuel and figure out what he did, so we can undo it. We have to go--"

"...into the woods..." - Lily interrupts MC, her face going even paler. She backs away, shaking her head, fear in her eyes.

The group falls in silence again.

"Guys… I know this is scary… but we need everyone's help." - MC breaks the silence.

"Besides, we have each other. I know we'll be alright." - Jane takes Lily's hand in hers and squeeze it reassuringly. - "If we pulled it out when we were kids, imagine now, that we're practically adults?!" - she sees small smiles on her friend's faces. - "As long as we’re together, I fear nothing."

"Nice words, Jane." - Noah compliments her and they all chuckle softly. MC turns to their friends:

"So, are we going in or what?"

"A creepy deep-woods ghost hunt is emphatically my brand. Of course I'm in." - Ava smiles confidently.

"Me too." - Dan nods. - "I won't be able to sleep at night knowing I did nothing to help a little boy."

Andy cracks his knuckles:

"I don't know about this ghost crap… but I'm really looking forward to kick some monster's ass."

"Yeah, we're in." - the twins smile, braveness irradiating from them.

"I believe… there's strength in numbers, right?"- Lily takes a deep breath. - "So I'm going too." - Jane lets out an excited squeal and hugs her tightly.

"What about you two?" - Noah turns to Lucas and Stacy.

"When are we going? Friday?" - the Student President asks.

"What? No! We have to go tonight!” - The Beanie Boy exclaims. MC agrees:

“We can't waste time. We don't know what Redfield night do until then.”

“Ugh. I can’t.” - it’s Ava who responds. - “My dad’s got this really strict school night curfew and WOW does this sound lame out loud.”

"Look, even if I did believe all of this... I just don’t have the time.” - Jane gives Lucas a disappointment look.

“Uh… I have training until six.” - Andy says with a frown.

“Yeah, I have football training too. But we can meet with you guys later… before we go in there.” - Dan proposes.

“And we have cheer practice today and early tomorrow morning too.” - Stacy says.

“C’mon guys, we need everyone.” - MC turns to Ava. - “What if we told your father you’re coming to study at my house?”

“Huh. That might actually do it. He always liked you all.” - she rolls her eyes. Lily giggles.

“Like you!! You love us!” - and she pulls the witch girl into a hug. Ava rolls her eyes again but pats her friend’s back.

“And Lucas, I know that you have a busy schedule… but I do believe the school won’t blow up for just one night.”

Lucas wants to tell them that there’s more, but he bites back his tongue. No one knows about his parents’ expectations. Aside from Jane.

His eyes unconsciously find her big brown eyes. And no one was able to deny her anything she gave them that pleading look.

“...Alright, I’ll go. Let’s say that Mr. Cooper has decided to give us a test tomorrow and we all will go to MC’s house to study.” - everybody nods in agreement. It’s stupid, Lucas knows it, but he feels his heart more at ease after seeing Jane gazing at him with adoring eyes.

“And Stacy, you’re the head cheerleader. You can cancel training whenever you want.” - the redhead turns to her. - “Let’s tell the girls that the cheer practice was postponed to Wednesday morning.”

“Britney won’t be happy about it.”

“To hell with Britney! Sorry, Lil.” - she quickly turns to the girl by her side. She giggles and says that ‘it’s fine’. Lily’s fully aware that her girlfriend isn’t very popular among we friends. - “C’mon, Stacy. You know the rules…”

“Everyone plays together.” - Noah murmurs in a morbid voice. He chuckles softly when MC elbows him, disapprovingly.

“...and we need everyone.”

Stacy mentally curses herself. Jane’s big brown pleasing eyes has always been her weakness.

"Okay, okay, training postponed." - Jane cheers. - "But you'll be the one who'll tell Britney."

"Aye, captain!"

"Crap, lunch time's almost over!" - Andy shouts as he notices the time on his phone. He just got a text from Tom: "Dude, where r u?!"

The nine teenagers stand up, ready to leave the dark and dusty library. They all agree to follow Dan's suggestion to meet later after their training.

MC has just come back from school and is petting Hilda for a little bit before going to do their homework when someone rings the bell of their house.

"Shh, Hilda!" - they mutter, approaching the front door with cautious steps, their heart pounding inside their chest, a cold shiver running down their spine… is it…?

They let out a relieved sigh when they open the door and see two cops, one of them Mr. Cunningham, standing there.

"Good afternoon, MC. Are your parents there?" - the sheriff asks, giving them a stiff nod.

"No, they still haven't come back from their trip. It's just me." - the cops nod again.

"We're here to ask you about Samuel García." - MC invites them to enter the house.

"Yeah, Mrs. García told me that he went missing."

"We do not suspect about you, but we're asking the neighbors if someone saw him or has any idea of where he possibly went."

MC had a good guess. But they would never believe them. Noah's words echoed in their mind: "...no one would believe if we said that the kid got kidnapped by some shadow monster nightmare dude that lives in the woods".

They wouldn't.

"The last time I saw Sam was Saturday evening." - when they were going to Dan's party. - "He was playing by himself in the front yard of his house, as usual."

"Did you talk to him? Did he seem different?"

MC's mind focuses on the image of the small boy with big glasses playing with his ball.

"I just waved at him and he waved back at me before resuming kicking his ball. Even though I've been his babysitter for the past three years, Samuel is not much of a talker. He doesn't talk much about his friends in school and he's a very shy and lonely boy. And I guess it got worse after his parent's started fighting and divorced. We could hear their arguments from my house sometimes. I guess he became even more secluded after it all started. I believe he likes playing outside so he couldn't be right in the middle of the fights, you know?" - Sheriff Cunningham nods, his hands expertly writing everything MC says.

"So you think he might have ran away?"

MC bites their lips.

"Probably. But where to?"

MC knows where. But they can't tell them. The lesser people know Redfield, the better.

"We had a search party into the woods last night but we found nothing. Not even footprints. We sent word to the closest town's Police Station, Pine Springs, just across the lake, about Samuel's missing. The chief there, Chief Kelley, says that his team will be looking around too. We believe he might not have gone too far away, even with the intermunicipal bus. Someone at some point would find strange a boy his age travelling around by himself."

MC agrees with him. They talk a little more - the cops tell them that they had already talked to Cid that morning before he left town, to MC's relief. They would hate if good old Cid turned into a suspect of Samuel's disappearance - and leave the house, asking MC to call them if they knew anything about Sam's whereabouts.

The teenager is more resolute than ever that they have to find the little boy as soon as possible. They take a quick shower before focusing on homework. Around 5pm, their phone buzzes on their desk.

Their heart skips a beat when they see that it's a text from Noah:

Noah: "hey, want to meet up sooner? I'm going to Gunther's Hardware store. I was thinking we should gear up before we go. I'd feel safer if we got something to defend ourselves from Mr. Red... plus who knows what else is in there.”

MC: “Do you think the hardware store will have Ghostbusters equipment stuff?"

Noah: “Very funny.”

MC grins to themself. They almost can see Noah rolling his eyes, annoyed.

MC: "Anyway… I'm in. Are we going together then?"

The next text takes longer than necessary to be answered, but it finally comes: Noah: "Yeah."

MC: "okay, meet you in five."

Tagging @kurbqa-deactivated20180730 @miragemeister @yertletheturtle04 @mysteriouslady4 @klaudiana-beaumontkkreal @katiehawkeyebishop @melchann @hippiekiyay @lovethemarshalltwins @american-duchess @jadedpixiescribbles @gameofstrangerwars @blackheartdreams @indiacater @nuttatulipa @lcnelywclf @sazanes @mmmmmmyyyah @ietss @noahfield @pixelburied @noahpologiste

#jane is here #noah marshall #jane marshall #noah x mc #it lives in the woods #ilitw #playchoices #ilitw fanfic #choices fanfic #playchoices fanfic #playchoices faniction

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junionigiri · 7 years ago

Text

Work In Progress [BNHA] [Preview of Chapter 1!]

Rating: T for strong language (since Bakugou is in it )

Summary: For the year’s Interscholastic Fantasy Festival, Class 2A is working on a musical! The reluctant Bakugou is assigned to work on the script with Uraraka, who proves to be a more eccentric writer than he thought.

Relationship: Kacchako <3

Notes/Warnings: This is a preview of a part of chapter 1. Since there’s the main story and the story within the story, the chapters are pretty darn long. I’ll start publishing the chapters in full once I’m five chapters in ^^’ Apart from Bakugou’s language and liberal 4th wall breaks I don’t think there’s anything to worry about in this fic~

Bakugou seriously did not want to work on Uraraka’s dumbass script. It’s not that he was bad at writing--in fact, beyond his good grades, he knew he was pretty good at it. Principal Nezu had personally informed him that the essay he submitted on “Why I Want To Be A Hero” was one of the most well-composed ones he’s ever read.

It’s just that Bakugou hated fantasy. And hated fiction-writing (because fiction was not real, therefore it was a waste of his fuckin’ time).

Most of all though, he hated having to work with other people to achieve any kind of common goal. Look at his damn stats for cooperativeness in the character book and anyone with half a brain would get it. And to cooperate for a stupid ass waste of time like the Fantasy Festival? Who the hell thought up of the stupid Fantasy Festival anyway?! Weren’t there more important things in society to worry about?

And the fact that he was working with Uraraka fuckin’ Ochako was in itself pretty aggravating. It’s not that he hated her--in fact, she was one of the few to earn Bakugou’s (grudging) respect, since their infamous Sports Festival encounter when they were first years.

However, since their encounter at the festival, Uraraka learned not to be the tiniest bit afraid of him anymore. He knew that this girl wouldn’t be the type to just shut up and do what he tells her to, and he really didn’t feel like making such an effort just to write a stupid play.

But now that he knew that fuckin’ All Might was counting on him to write the script, well… he couldn’t get out of it now, could he? Bakugou was many things, but a disappointment to All Might, he’d rather not be.

So that was how he found himself stomping his way away from the common areas to his room, with Uraraka bouncing right behind him. They were going to sit down there to look over her draft, but it was overrun by the costumes, set-design, and props people with all their shit.

“Why your room?” Uraraka said, huffing as she struggled to keep up with Bakugou’s pace. “I don’t think girls are allowed there…”

“Let ‘em try to kick you out, Round-Face,” he growled as he tapped on the elevator button impatiently.

“If you say so, Explodey-face,” she teased, earning her a growl which was received with a giggle. This was what Bakugou was talking about. This damn girl knew no fear.

They eventually made it to his room, with Bakugou stomping the entire way and Uraraka skipping like an oblivious little red riding hood romping through the forest with a picnic basket, the purest picture of ignorance and innocence, unwitting of the ravenous wolf who lurked in the foreboding shadows of the dark, nightmarish wood.

Ugh. Really, Bakugou? Already gearing yourself up to write this fuckin’ fantasy shit? You guys haven’t even sat down yet. Don’t be too fuckin’ eager.

“Uwaa, your room’s amazing, Bakugou! I didn’t think it would be so neat and sparkly~”

Much to his annoyance, Little Pink Riding Cheeks was already making herself right at home next to his desk. He felt a vein or two pop over his forehead, like in animes if they were in an anime. “Why the fuck wouldn’t it be neat and sparkly?! You expect a guy like me to just live in a dump?!”

“I’m just sayin’, I wish my room was as neat. I knew you were great at lots of things, but even cleaning?” she said wistfully. “Hey, I have an idea! Next time, let’s go to my room, and--”

“I ain’t helping you clean your damn room, Round-Face.”

She pouted and innocently twiddled her thumbs. “I -wasn’t- going to say that, but, you know, now that you mentioned it…”

He grit his teeth so loudly Uraraka gasped and asked him if his teeth were okay. “Let’s just…!!! Get this fuckin’ script over and done with already!”

“Eh, fine, fine. Sorry for teasin’ ya! Watch yer blood pressure, a’ight?” She reached over to open her bag and pulled out a messy folder that was crumpled, filled to its limit with papers with tags pointing in all directions. A post-it with a messy scrawl on it flew out as she pulled out the mess. “So, this is what we’re gonna be workin’ on!”

“What the fuck is that mess? Did you fuckin’ sit on it and flush it down the toilet and set it on fire?”

“How rude!” Uraraka puffed her cheeks. “I only sat on it once! On accident! And I don’t bring homework to the toilet! That’s just unladylike.” She opened up the folder and revealed a disorganized array of handwritten scripts scrawled on legal pad, post-its, sketches, more post-its, reference photos of their classmates with post-its on them, receipts, a grocery list, and a few folded-up paper bags from Tokyu Hands.

Bakugou’s fingers itched. He spent so much energy restraining himself from fixing the mess that was now taking over his desk that he barely heard Uraraka’s spiel.

“So, in the meeting which you missed, we drew lots. Everyone’s working on the production and stuff but all of us will be acting in the play too. Some of us bit parts and stuff, but yeah. I asked everyone what they wanted their roles to be. Based on those ideas, I sketched out my ideas on what their characters would be.”

She pulled out the sketches, and Bakugou had to admit, they weren’t badly done. He would go so far as to say that she might have a talent in drawing. They were scratchy and messy, but Uraraka seemed to place great care in drawing out the likeness of each classmate, and the details of each character and costume and even background information were at least 70% fleshed out for each of them.

“So based on the lottery, Deku-kun’s the lead character. You, me, Tsuyu-chan, and Todoroki-kun are gettin’ large roles, plus we gotta pay attention to All-Might-sensei’s important cameo. We’re gonna write the story based on all of this! And, if we want to allot time for practice and stuff, we have to finish most of the script in a week!”

“The f-- I’m gettin’ a large role too?! Nobody said that!”

“It ain’t my fault you weren’t at the meeting, Bakugou-kun.”

The blonde boy scowled as he went through the sketches. The fucking nerd Deku’s role was that of a ‘Squire’ (but his costume made him look like a fucking hobbit). Uraraka had a hood (fuckin’ coincidence from his red riding hood fantasy earlier) and a staff, and she was a ‘Mage’. Frog was a froggy lookin’ barmaid. IcyHot was a Prince (probably of the Land of Half and Halfs where people were always shitty and constipated). All Might was a Legendary Knight in exile (also fitting, in a morbid sort of way).

And Bakugou was… a Bard. His sketch had him wear fuckin’ poofy pants and a stupid fuckin’ hat with a feather on it and a stupid shitty tiny harp that the chubby babies in those old fuckin’ European paintings had. He all but made the paper disappear from a blast from his fist. “Oi, Roundface. Who’s the fucker I gotta kill besides you for giving me this pansy-ass role?!”

“Hey, it’s your fault. You weren’t there yesterday.” Uraraka repeated, not even the least bit apologetic. “And that thing you destroyed was a brilliant joint effort between me, Kirishima-kun and Kaminari-kun. Nice goin’, Explodey-face.”

“Fuck y’all! I’ll kill those idiots!” He shredded the paper further. “Gimme that pencil!” Within seconds, he sketched out something different, muttering expletives the entire time. After he was done, he dumped the pencil on the desk, almost breaking it into tiny little pieces.

Uraraka gasped. “Wow, Bakugou! That’s really impressive! A Dragon Tamer, huh?” She traced his sketch with one finger, which showed him with a fur cape, tattoos, a necklace made of the fuckin’ skulls and teeth of his enemies, pants and boots, and lots of fire blazing in the background for extra badassery. She grinned at him teasingly. “So you have been thinkin’ about this so-called fantasy shit too!”

“Fuck you,” he said, shoving her in the face unceremoniously. “Now I know that I gotta change that fuckin’ script of yours. Let’s just get this fuckin’ shit over with.”

“Okay…” Uraraka pulled out the legal pads, but shielded them from Bakugou. “Um. Just so you know, Bakugou, these are really, really, rough drafts, okay?”

His jaw jutted out in annoyance. “The fuck you mean by rough drafts. I thought I was just gonna edit your shit.”

She gave him a ridiculous look. “Well, you are. But also, I started workin’ on this just a week ago sooooo you gotta help me finish like a teeny bit of it.”

“How fuckin’ teeny do you mean.”

“Um. Like. 50% of it, mmmaybe…?”

Bakugou could almost see the smoke coming out of his own fuckin’ nostrils.

“Anyway, that’s exactly why we can’t waste anymore time, right?” said Uraraka, a positive beam glowing out of both ears. “And don’t you worry! The story’s practically finished in my head!”

There’s probably nothing in there but a single light bulb struggling to survive, thought Bakugou in annoyance. He put his palm to his face and tried his hardest not to yell at her. “Fine, Uraraka. Let’s just fuckin’ start already. No matter what, I’m kickin’ you out of my room by 10 PM.”

“Okay! Glad ya see it my way, Bakugou-kun!” She smiled and pulled out the first page of the script, which read:

- Deku and the Final Fantastic Lord of the School of Wizardry!: The Legend of the Airbender’s Song of Ice and Fire -

(A Work in Progress)

Act One, Scene One: In Which Deku-kun Leaves His House and Adventure Begins

Written by: Uraraka Ochako

“The fuck? Are you trying to outdo Class B’s lameass play from the last year’s cultural festival, Round-face?”

“It’s a work in progress! We can edit it out later.” Uraraka said as she scribbled Explodey McSplodeface next to her name on the by-line.

#bnha fic #bnha #boku no hero academia #kacchako #kacchako fic #bakuraka #bakugou x uraraka #bnha fantasy au #kinda

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eudaimonic-writes · 7 years ago

Text

Whisper Your Love - Chapter 1

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14005500/chapters/32251545

Masterpost

Some say life has a way of bringing you what you need, and that if you let it, happiness will come to you. Others take a more liberal approach, claim that to find happiness you must grab it by the balls and run with it... or something.

Richie Tozier has never been one to listen to what other people say, he prefers to think that the reality of life is somewhere in the middle; what you give is what you get, where you go is what you see, and what you find is what you take. Blah blah blah. So, when Richie's mom decides to leave his dad (about time) and move them out to Bumfuck Nowhere, Maine, Richie (ever the obedient son) grumbles unhappily the whole way there, but goes anyway. Despite his outward appearance and general attitude, Richie's always been a sort of "it is what you make of it" kind of guy, and so he decides, walking into Derry High on his first day of senior year, that he'll take whatever this shitstick of a school has to throw at him and he'll make it something worthwhile.

After all, when life gives you lemons...

"Make it your bitch." he mumbles, hiking his backpack higher on his shoulder as he curves past a group of younger girls who standing by the obnoxious statue of a man with a handlebar moustache and are actively staring at him, doing nothing to hide their obvious gossiping. He grins back, tossing out his signature wink as the girl's titter and hide behind their hands, huddling in towards each other in that way all high school girls seem to do.

Richie's early, he knows, because he's used to a longer walk to school in Cali and hadn't really accounted for the fact that Derry is half the size of his old town. Everything here seems to be half the size, even the cheerleaders, he thinks, eyes lingering on a particularly short boy in a baby blue cheer uniform, crossing the lawn in front of the school gates towards another group of people - mostly girls - dressed in baby blue. The group scream loudly as he gets within hugging distance, and soon the boy is lost among a sea of ponytails and blue pleated skirts, and Richie is left scowling at the unnecessary amount of cheer they seem to exude. Even on a Monday.

"Tiring, isn't it?" a voice calls from behind him, and Richie turns towards a girl with short auburn-red hair standing a short distance away from him, leant against the waist high brick wall surrounding the school's perimeter with an unlit cigarette in her hand. She smiles when Richie moves closer.

"I thought Cali cheerleaders were loud, but I guess nobody told me about small-town pride." Richie remarks. The girl tilts her head, a small smile playing at her lips as her eyes rove over Richie's form. A little closer up, Richie notices that the girl is taller than he expected - though, still not tall by his standards - and has freckles all over her face that she hasn't bothered to hide with any sort of makeup.

The girl seems to make up her mind about something, because soon she's nodding and patting the space on the wall next to her. Richie joins her, already pulling his packet of tobacco from his back pocket and his papers from his front. "Pride is one thing Derry High has far too much of." The girl says, placing her cigarette in her mouth and lighting it with a clipper. "I'm Beverly Marsh." she says around a mouth of smoke, holding out her hand.

Richie fumbles with the half-rolled cigarette he'd managed to accomplish as she spoke, shifting it to one hand so he can shake hers. "Richie Tozier."

"So, you're a roll-up kinda guy? Think you could teach me?" She asks offering her lighter once Richie is done. Richie takes it, quickly lighting up before passing it back without a word. He takes a moment to suck in a drag, breathing the smoke out through his teeth as he leans his head back, relishing in his first nicotine rush of the day.

"You've never rolled before?" He asks. She shakes her head. "Not even a joint?" Another shake. "Huh. You Maine kids are weird, everyone knows how to roll in Cali."

Beverly scoffs. "Okay, Mr. West Coast, can you teach this poor East Coast Kid your magical hipster ways?" She leans towards him as she says it, flicking the ceramic clown pin Richie has on the collar of his favourite denim jacket.

Richie laughs enthusiastically, deciding that Bev would make a good friend to have around. "Sure, Marsh, sure."

He can see a sparkle of mischief in Bev's eyes, but just as she opens her mouth to say something else, a sudden burst of loud music begins playing from across the lawn. Every pair of eyes in the courtyard turns towards the grass, and Richie's eyes widen at the sight. Small town pride indeed. The Cheerleaders Richie had clocked when he first entered school grounds were now in formation, a few already chanting along to the upbeat music as a crowd of boys in varsity jackets that hadn’t been there before gather off to the side. As Richie watches, time itself seems to slow as he spots the short boy again, a pair of pompoms in hand as a taller male holds him high in the air by his foot. There's a smile plastered on his face, but unlike a few of the other cheerleaders, his doesn't seem forced. His eyes crinkle prettily as he raises his arms along with the now indiscernible chanting, and Richie's eyes zero in on the way his lightly curled hair falls slightly into his face.

With a jolt, Richie realises that the chanting has stopped, as well as the cheerleader's movements, as one of the jocks steps out from the huddle to address the watching crowd. He's in the middle of some speech about the football team, and how they're definitely going to win the East Coast championships this year, but all Richie can focus on is the boy in baby blue, still smiling, and still perfectly balanced in the air. The speech must end, because there's a flurry of movement and the boy is gracefully dropping into the waiting arms of two cheerleaders below, and then stepping into the embrace of the jock - who must be the team captain - and promptly kisses him on the mouth.

Richie coughs and looks away, suddenly noticing that his cigarette has burned down to the filter and that he's in danger of adding to the litany of small burn scars on his fingertips if he doesn't smush it out against the wall. When Richie looks back up, the cheerleader is tucked under the arm of the jock, smiling at a taller boy with tight curly blonde hair and the most pristine collared shirt Richie has ever seen a person wear.

A chuckle from beside him brings his attention away, and Richie turns to Bev, refusing to let his ears burn red for being caught staring. "His name is Eddie, Derry's resident Gay Angel, his boyfriend, Chris, is the football captain."

Richie grunts, chastising himself internally for being so transparent, "bit cliché that, isn't it?"

Bev grins knowingly, tilting her head again in that same considering way she did earlier. Richie has yet to decide if he likes that look. “It would be, if it weren't for the whole, raging homosexuals thing."

Richie learns pretty quickly that Derry is both exactly how he imagine small town life, and exactly the opposite of how he imagine it - all at the same time. It's a bit of a dream town, if he's being honest. White picket fences everywhere, nice mom's in pastel blouses smiling from their pristine lawns, your local pastor living two doors down, the butcher just after that. It has that 'everyone knows everyone' vibe that he'd thought would make him feel like an outsider but, surprisingly, he fits in quite nicely with Beverly Marsh, and her friend, Bill Denbrough. He's still the 'new kid' (one day Bev points out the last 'new kid', a stocky boy with sandy brown hair sitting beside Eddie Kaspbrak at lunch, and says that it’s kind of redundant to call him that since he moved there more than five years ago. "He's just called Ben now," she'd explained, "We all kind of forget that he hasn't always been here like the rest of us."). So what Richie is learning, and what he'd expected, is that everybody here is nice, but what he hadn't expected about that, is that people are actually nice - not just smile at you when you walk by and then talk shit about you at the book club nice. He'd been fully prepared to have to shove himself back in the closet when he came here, and had been pleasantly surprised to find out that that wasn't the case; he'd asked Bev all the way back on that first day how everyone felt about their star quarterback being gay with the cheerleader, and Bev had looked at him like maybe she was reconsidering befriending him until he'd clarified that he is in fact very queer and was just concerned about how that was going to go down in the small-town life.

Apparently, an incident a few years back had rocked the people of Derry, and since then the town had all collectively decided that it was more important to protect their own than hold hostilities based on personal preferences. And thus, the small-town life Richie found himself in was one of "see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil".

And he was perfectly fine with that.

So, Richie sunk into his new life with an ease he hadn't necessarily expected.

Another of those things he didn't expect was quite how often he'd see Eddie around town - which, in retrospect, he really should've been expecting since the town is pint-sized and there's only so many places to hide - but Eddie really was everywhere. In his classes, Richie finds himself distracted by the way Eddie's light brown hair curls over the collar of his baby blue cheer uniform (and occasionally the adorable white knit cardigan he wears over it). In the library during the same free period, Richie spots him reading quietly just a table over from where Richie is pretending to do homework but really listening to music. At lunch, Eddie's table is close enough that Richie can sometimes hear him laugh. Even outside of school, Richie catches Eddie leaving the greengrocers with a paper bag full of veg, he sees Eddie at the cinema eating popcorn with his friends, and he sees Eddie in the street, walking with his headphones in and his nose in a book.

He doesn't mind, not really, but Richie knows his crush is as pointless as they come - and he really wishes Eddie wouldn't constantly be in his peripherals, because it doesn’t help the fact that he's also constantly on his mind.

Pointless. Richie thinks, two weeks into his first semester, as he's standing on the edge of what Bev's friend Bill described as The Rager (seriously, not A rager, The rager), at Derry's quarry and listening to shitty pop music, watching as Eddie and his boyfriend dance in the middle of a mismatched group of seniors. Richie had never partied with such a diverse group in his life, even in a diverse place like California, Richie had only ever partied with people like him; the fuck-ups, the ones who listen to fast music with too much guitar and smoked cigarettes like they breathed through them. In Cali, Richie had never ran in the same circles as the cheerleaders, or the jocks, or anyone else, so he never partied with them. When he agreed to go to The Rager with Bill and Bev, he hadn't accounted for the fact that Derry only has one social circle - and that is Derry Residents.

"What do you think?" Bill asks - Bev is God knows where doing God knows what, Richie had discovered within five hours of knowing the girl that she's even more of a free spirit than he is. You can’t hold her down or expect her to do anything, because she'll do exactly the opposite and then call you a loser for having any expectations at all. Bill's a cool guy, if a little quiet on the quiet side; he's told that the guy used to stutter pretty badly in middle-school, but that he'd grown out of it around 10th grade. He's tall (shorter than Richie, but go figure) with a floppy fringe just a shade less red than Bev's and slightly mysterious blue eyes that he likes to underline with a smudge of black. He's handsome, but he's not Richie's type.

"I think I've never been to a party where literally the whole school was invited before." Richie replies sardonically, frowning down at his empty solo cup. He was told when he arrived that they only had so many, so he had to keep it if he wanted any more drinks. "Or rules."

"Derry isn't really big enough to be divided... I s-suppose it wasn't the same in California?"

"Being in a clique is a prerequisite to being a Californian. If you get to high school and you haven't found your niche yet, you're pretty much a social pariah." Bill snorts, and Richie sighs. "I'm going to get another drink."

He doesn't notice as he's walking over, too absorbed in not walking straight into anyone's flailing limbs, that Eddie and his boyfriend had migrated over to the 'bar' (an overlarge table filled with bottles of assorted alcohol and mixers), but he sure notices once he finally reaches the table. He's standing on the opposite side, and he feels his limbs freezing up slightly when he hears the conversation currently going on between the two and another boy, dressed similarly to Chris. They're arguing, or, at least, Chris and the unknown (jock?) are arguing. Eddie's just looking away dejectedly, like he doesn't quite know what to do.

Richie places his cup on the table, reaching blindly for the bottle of Jack Daniels as his eyes flit from Eddie to where it rests, right by Eddie's arm. He feel's almost awkward, like if he gets too close he'll hurt Eddie - like Eddie is a butterfly and Richie is at risk of accidentally breaking one of his pretty wings if he so much as brushes him with his pinkie. Eddie moves slightly, and Richie has more room to grab the Jack, so he does, snatching it up quickly and pouring himself a good amount before placing it back. Eddie is grabbing onto Chris's arm pleadingly, his brown eyes wide with concern.

"C'mon. Baby, drop it, let’s go dance again." He mumbles. Richie swallows, he's never heard Eddie's voice this up-close and it’s possibly the sweetest sound he's ever heard. He feels a little resentment when Chris just shakes Eddie's arm off, like it's nothing, and Eddie only sighs, eyes sweeping along the table awkwardly. His eyes rove straight over Richie - like they always do - but Richie's heart skips a beat anyhow. He jerkily reaches for the bottle of Coke to cover up the fact that he's been standing there way too long, but once again, Eddie doesn't seem to notice or care.

Others have started to notice the argument now that Chris and the other guy have resorted to shoving, and Eddie tries once again to pull away his neanderthal of a boyfriend. He tugs on the back of his jacket, and groans, "Chris plea-" just then, the guy Chris is arguing with yells, shoving Chris harder than before, and Chris stumbles backwards into Eddie, sending the boy careening a few steps back before he loses balance on the uneven ground. Richie's heart skips another beat, another several beats, and curses whoever placed the stupid drinks table where they did because it is way too close to the edge of the cliff - the edge of the cliff that, with a surprised squeal, Eddie has just disappeared off of.

There's a collective gasp from the crowd, someone yells Eddie's name, and Richie barely has time to take in the sound of a splash from down below, and Chris leaning over the edge of the cliff before he's throwing off his leather jacket onto the table and diving off the cliff after Eddie.

He briefly wonders if he'll ever be the type of person to consider the consequences of this actions before the icy water is hitting him full on and shit this is nothing like the water in California - which is warm. Richie break's the surface with a gasp, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes and taking a moment to take in his surroundings. A few feet away he can hear Eddie thrashing in the water, his breaths gasping, and from above he can hear the distant screams of the entire senior class of Derry High. Richie ignores them, paddling over to Eddie and snaking an arm around his waist.

"I've got you." He murmurs, hoping Eddie can hear him. Eddie's thrashing slows and his arm grips around Richie's neck like a lifeline. "I've got you, Eddie, c'mon we need to get to shore."

"Oh my God." Eddie yelps, and Richie can hear the fear in his voice. In the dark it's hard to tell where the shore is, but he can just make it out from the light of the moon and the several dozen flashlights from above that only just reach the quarry. Richie begins to swim in that direction, ignoring the chill of the water and the way Eddie seems to drag through the water. Eddie appears to be attempting to swim, but he's mostly just making a lot of noise and kicking Richie in the shin with his weird doggy paddling, and Richie is suddenly glad for his rash thinking when he realises that Eddie probably can't swim. He could have drowned.

They make it to the shore, and Eddie's one armed grip on Richie’s neck loosens as he sinks to the dusty ground, shaking all over. Beverly is right there when they make it, holding Richie's jacket out and Richie takes it without thinking, draping it over Eddie's quaking shoulders. The boy seems out of it, huddling into the material with eyes that are unfocused and teeth that are chattering so loud Richie's own jaw hurts - or maybe that's because his teeth are chattering too.

"Oh my God is he okay?" Beverly asks.

"I'm not sure." He tells her, crouching back down in front of the smaller boy and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, his own breathing is loud in his ears, adrenaline still coursing through his veins, and he's barely aware of the sounds of several pairs of feet heading towards them from above. "Eddie? Eddie are you alright?" Eddie doesn't respond and Richie does the only thing he can think of; he reaches out and places his hand on Eddie's neck, turning his head so they can make eye contact. His eyes are out of focus at first, but soon they seem to zero in on Richie and stay there. "Eddie?" He repeats, trying to get over the jolt of satisfaction he feels at finally being noticed by Eddie Kaspbrak. Now is not the time, nor the situation, to get sappy over a dumb crush. Eddie almost died. "Are you okay? Eddie?"

Eddie still doesn't answer, but his eyes are wide and clear. He's still shaking but his breathing is less erratic, his panic seemingly calming down. He's looking at Richie like he's some kind of saint, and Richie, inappropriately, takes this moment to really take in Eddie Kaspbrak up close. Short answer: he's beautiful. Long answer: his hair is plastered to his head, though the curls are still evident in the way the strands bunch and form, he has freckles over his nose and cheekbones, and those, coupled with his unnecessarily large doe eyes make him look youthful and pixie-like. His skin, though currently pale from the cold and near-death experience, is tanned and clear, and his lips look so soft and kissable as they are, wet parted slightly as Eddie pants through them. As Richie watches, enraptured, they widen, as if Eddie is about to speak but, before he can, Richie feels a hand on his chest, none-too gently pushing him aside.

"Eddie, oh my God, Eddie, I am so sorry, baby, so sorry!" Chris is saying. Richie gapes at him for a moment, but then he looks at Eddie and Eddie's eyes have followed his and any insults he has for the dumb jock fly straight out of his head. Eddie isn't looking at Chris, his boyfriend, he's looking at Richie. His mouth is closed now, like whatever words he was going to say have lost their meaning, and Richie really wishes Chris could've been just a little slower navigating the path down to the water's edge.

Chris is moving, and Richie thinks he's going to pull Eddie into a hug but then he just pushes Richie's jacket off of Eddie's shoulders and replaces it with his own - and that’s when Eddie seems to snap out of it. His eyes flashing back to his boyfriend and his teeth chattering anew. Chris picks Richie's jacket up off the ground and hands it to him, and it's only by sheer force of will that Richie takes it without making a dumb quip that'll come across bitter - because he's bitter but it would be weird for him to come across like it. "Hey, thanks man, I'll take it from here." Chris mutters, barely even looking in Richie's direction. Typical.

Richie says nothing once again, and only thinks a little bit about how much he'd like to kick Chris' head in before he turns his gaze once more to Eddie, and finds, for the second time that night, Eddie looking back at him. Richie wishes Eddie would say something, anything at all, but Eddie only blinks, and then he's looking down, and Richie huffs, taking that for what it is and standing so that he can leave.

The walk home is a cold one, and Bev and Bill are only there half of the way to fill his thoughts with insults about Chris and the other neanderthal before they're each splitting off in the direction of their own houses, Bev with a hug and Bill with a simple wave.

For the rest of the way home, Richie's thoughts are filled with every possible word Eddie could have said to him, had Chris not intervened.

Eddie may not have gotten to speak to him, but he saw him. He looked at him. And in that moment, everything changed.

The next school day is a doozy, Richie is approached by several people proclaiming him the new hero of Derry High (better than new kid of Derry High) and clapping him on the back. He sees Chris in the short break between second and third period, and receives a bright smile that some may consider charming but Richie just considers asshole-ish, and another brief thanks.

Yeah, you're welcome dickhead. I only saved your ass from accidentally drowning your boyfriend.

But he doesn't see Eddie. He's beginning to wonder if the boy is even in school - it would make sense for him to take a few days to recover after a fright like that - but then fifth period study hall rolls around and Richie spots Eddie at the library sitting in his usual place at the table one over from his, huddled in a pastel pink woollen jumper he's certain is probably non-regulation with his cheer uniform, with his nose, as always, buried in a book. It's a paperback this time, and white, but that’s about all Richie can tell from such a distance away.

Eddie glances up as Richie is watching, and their eyes catch. Eddie smiles, and Richie nods, trying not to die at the cute way Eddie's cheeks dimple on one side, because his smile is lopsided when he smiles with his mouth closed. Adorable.

This happens a few times over the course of the hour long period, Richie will glance up from pretending to be doing his trig homework (as he always has) and Eddie will be looking right back (as has never happened before). Five minutes before the end of period bell is due to chime, Richie glances up and Eddie stands, Richie thinks for one heart-stopping second that Eddie is going to come over, but instead, Eddie briefly glances in his direction and then makes his way over to the librarian's desk. He returns a moment later with a piece of paper, that he folds carefully, four times. As Richie watches, Eddie reaches into his bag by his feet and pulls out a non-distinct black ballpoint pen and begins to scribble on the paper. He looks up when he's done, and Richie quickly looks down and pretends he hasn't been staring. A tapping noise brings his attention back to Eddie, and Richie is once again shocked to see Eddie looking at him - this time with intent.

He's tapping the end of his capped pen onto the piece of paper, lying flat on the desk, and when he notices he has Richie's attention he picks it up and tucks it in-between the pages of the book he'd been reading before flicking it closed. He bites his lip as his gaze lingers on Richie once more, as if he's trying to say something, but he only drops his pen back into his backpack and slings it onto his shoulder, and with one last meaningful glance, he saunters over to the library doors just as the first bell chimes.

Richie's spirits droop a little - he'd really thought Eddie was going to finally talk to him.

The tables around him are emptying, and Richie collects his stuff as students begin to filter out of the library. It's then that Richie notices it; Eddie's book is still there. Richie glances around, though he isn't sure why since he's not exactly doing anything wrong, and he rounds his own table to get to Eddie's vacated one. He'll never admit it but his heart is racing, and it only gets quicker when he picks up the abandoned book.

The Year of Magical Thinking it reads, and up close Richie can see how loved the book is. There's a faint dog ear on the cover page, like it had been in and out of bags or accidentally dropped, and the spine is bent but not totally cracked. There's no plastic wrap covering, like the rest of the library books have, and Richie's suspicions that this is a personal copy are confirmed when he opens the front page and finds no library card. This is Eddie's book.

Suddenly, Richie remembers Eddie placing the folded up piece of paper he'd been scratching on into the book before he left, and the meaningful glances suddenly make sense. Eddie didn't leave the book by accident, he left it for Richie. The late bell rings as Richie tips the book, allowing it to fall open naturally to the page with the paper inside it, and he keeps his thumb between the pages to keep it from closing back up as he reads the note Eddie left him.

butterfly garden, 16:00 - E

Richie's grin feels like it may be splitting his face, "yes!" he whoops, making sure to keep his voice quiet as students for the next study hall period begin to filter into the library. He's going to be late, so he quickly slips the note back into the book, but as he does so, something catches his eye - a bright red mark on the page where Eddie had underlined something. Curious, Richie reads the words Eddie had highlighted, wondering if they were perhaps important as to why Eddie had left the note on this page, or if it had just been a coincidence.

"Life changes in the instant. The ordinary instant."

Richie thinks he might get it, the way he felt back at the quarry when Eddie first noticed him - like something in the air had changed - but he's not sure if that's what Eddie was thinking about when he underlined these words. The book looks old, well loved, and Eddie very well could have underlined these words a long time ago. Richie glances at his watch and realises he’s nearly ten minutes late to his next period, and quickly drops the book into his backpack before he can waste any more time deliberating.

Whatever Eddie meant by it, he's pretty sure he agrees. Life does change in the ordinary instant.

Chapter 2

Masterpost

#so like this is still a WIP #and for anyone who has been reading it on Ao3 I do intend to update asap!#i just got super swamped with uni work and then like died for a good month afterwards #im currently looking for a job and tryna catch up with all of my friends from home while im here so idk what my schedule will be like buttt #i'll be back very soon i promise im already 4k into the next chap #also this is now my official tumblr hi hello #reddie #reddie fic #reddie fanfic #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it #wyl #whisper your love

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blueraith · 8 years ago

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Less funny post, but:

These movies also heavily feature the Catholic Church. Same church I was raised in, don’t follow anymore with the exception of holidays with my family, and heavily resent.

I prefer not to think of it most days, and when I do, I joke about how bad of a Catholic I am. Very bad. The worst.

But these movies the Church is front and center in, and I find myself thinking about them and my relation to them. I used to be a far better Catholic. Not a perfect one. I did find myself stuck in between what I could see for myself and what faith meant to me. Faith is something I still grapple with. I suppose it means something different to everyone, but I’ve never been much of a faithful person. Why believe in something if you can’t prove it? I find comfort in things like numbers, statistics, and trends. It means that whatever it is I’m looking at has happened before, this was how it panned out, what people did, and how it ended. Rinse and repeat for a vast variety of subjects.

Faith, on the other hand, means believing in something that may not even be real. That no one has seen. That you just have to hope is real.

I’ve tried that before. I used to pray every night. As a kid it was about dumb stuff. That kid’s prayer one will see in movies a lot. Praying for a Christmas present. That my school bully wouldn’t mess with me the next day. Those were easy prayers to ‘answer.’ If such a thing was happening. People like to say God challenges you. Well, I’d like to think that I challenged God as a teenager. Because that was when my prayers started to get more serious.

My ADHD hit around the eighth grade. That was when I started to fall apart academically. I didn’t happen all at once nor did I completely collapse all in one moment, but between that time and the time I graduated, it was a rollercoaster of failure, developing mental illness, and constant, nightly prayers that desperately hoped for something to change. To get better. For an answer or even a goddamned hint as to why this kept happening. Why couldn’t I just do my homework? Why was I always overwhelmed to the point of feeling sick? Why couldn’t I get out of bed sometimes? Why did I feel this way? Why was I doing these things? Why?

I hate that question, because that was one I was asked by my parents, teachers, and administrators constantly. Why? I don’t know. That’s not an answer. I don’t know. Why not? How can you not know what’s wrong with you? I don’t know.

See, I pray to this guy every night, and nothing happens. I wake up to the same repeating nightmare over and over again. My parents call me a failure and eventually, I see myself as one too. Because I was smart enough for the grades they wanted. My teachers and administrators were so confused as to why a previous straight A student could just systematically collapse like this for seemingly no reason.

It was maddening. Oh. I remember sitting on the couch and getting absolutely roasted by my parents for an answer as to why I couldn’t just pass my classes. For hours. The stress eventually got to me, and I distinctly remember telling my dad I hated him in a fit of anger. Man. That was the last time he ever spanked me. It sucked.

And you know, I didn’t get answers until I was twenty-two years old. Long after I stopped praying. Long after I was out of the view of the adults who really should have noticed what was wrong. I went after answers on my own. Got a therapist, who suggested a psychiatrist, got evaluated, and suddenly, I do have a mental illness on top of a disorder. Oh, man. My mom used to ask mockingly if I had some kind of learning disorder.

“What do you have ADHD or something? Do you need medication?”

Why, yes, mother. Medication would have actually helped a hell of a lot.

Too bad nobody ever answered my fucking prayers and had anybody notice a god fucking thing and sent me to a mother fucking doctor to get this shit sorted out. I slipped through the cracks, and I will forever resent certain people for that. My parents for one. That bitch high school counselor I had, who I talked to regularly, who barely enjoyed her job, said trite things to me every meeting, and never did actually ask me any real questions.

So, science ended up saving the day. Soft science, perhaps, but a real science, nonetheless.

But that’s not the only thing that led to my resentment of the Catholic Church. Because, all of the above is really just the first sledgehammer sized hole knocked into my sense of faith as a whole. I didn’t become angry at the Church itself until I realized I might just be gay.

That was a tough one. First, I didn’t even know gay people was a thing until I got into junior high and heard kids joking, mockingly or course because I live in Texas, about them. Didn’t even know homosexuality as a concept. No wonder it took me until twenty fucking years old to realize what was up with me. Geez. Anyway, I eventually did realize that I was possibly gay, and then proceeded to have an existential crisis.

Because gay people aren’t hidden from you, aren’t renounced as a ‘lifestyle choice’ and ‘sin’, unless the purpose is to make you hate them. I mean, Catholics who believe this shit might say that ‘hate’ is a strong word, but that’s what they believe when you get right down to it. I’ve heard my grandparents enough times to know that. “Hate the sinner, not the sin” is a bullshit lie. They hate the sinner too.

I had a lot of beliefs that threatened to crush me. I tried to literally pray the gay away. And, like before, received no sign that I was even heard, let alone answered. It’s absolutely crushing to grow up religious, led to believe that someone’s always listening, that you can turn to this person if you can’t go to anyone else, and then when you absolutely need them:

Nothing fucking happens.

I mean, yeah, sure, I didn’t expect God himself to come down and solve my problems. But, if this religious stuff was to be believed, he was supposed to act through others. If God had heard me, I would have been noticed struggling in highschool. That didn’t happen. If God had heard me, I would have been able to find some kind of sexual feeling towards men. Neither of those things happened.

Turned to him. Twice. And was either ignored, or just wasn’t heard.

For a formerly religious person, this hurt a lot.

But what ended up being the final nail in the coffin was when I turned to the Church itself for answers.

When I realized that this gay concept wasn’t going to go away.

Well, if it wasn’t going away, if it was my new normal, then what did the Church expect me to do with it?

My mother has a catechism book. It’s thick, and heavy, and dry, and the pages are about as thin as an actual bible’s, and small printed. The index was a thing to behold. I looked up homosexuality in it.

And what I found was what finally made me angry. At all of it.

Because the Church believed that what I was going though was either a ‘trial of abstinence’ or a call to serve.

My choices were either to never act on any of my sexual or romantic feelings for the rest of my life.

Or become a nun.

I’d always struggled with the story of Job. That story seemed cruel to me. Excessively so. I mean, what kind of God just goes out and absolutely torments an innocent man, worse a man who believes in him with all his heart, just to get in a pissing contest with the devil? I mean, this is an all knowing, all powerful being. The devil basically told God, “Na-na, I bet I can get this guy to believe in me more than you! What are you gonna do about it, huh?”

And then God did his best to destroy this man, just to see if Job would still believe in him in the end.

The story, of course, ends with Job still believing in God, God gives him back everything he took (which includes the guy’s family for fuck’s sake) as if to say, “Psych! Just fucking with you, man! Tee-hee!”

You mean to tell me that God was so fucking insecure, that he spiritually, mentally, and emotionally tormented a human being to his breaking point, just to prove his superiority to the devil?

Fuck that.

That story was the only thing I could think of when I read that in the catechism. I didn’t want to be a trial or a test. My life was mine. I didn’t want to have my faith tested or some shit. I just wanted what everyone else got to have. The option to get married. Maybe have kids if I was so inclined. I don’t even know if I want that stuff, but the fact that some being whose never heard a goddamned thing I’ve ever asked of him just thought he could close the door on those options, without even so much as asking me, it stung. Worse than that, it was infuriating. It was the last straw, because it felt like my life was a joke to him.

I remember closing that book and going to bed.

The fiery resentment didn’t kick in till later when I processed all this over the course of a couple of years. When people tell me about ‘God’s plan’ and shit like that, I just feel it in my chest. That anger. They say that about all kinds of things. Gay people trying to abstain. People dying too young. All part of ‘God’s plan.’

It’s a shitty fucking plan if you ask me. I don’t want any part of it. I don’t find comfort in it. And I sure as hell don’t want to be told about it. Because if God has a plan that involved tormenting me to the point of potential suicide, then I was going to systematically go through every single thing I believed in and determine whether or not that belief needed to be changed. For my own mental health. If what I believed in made me hate myself, then it needed to be changed.

Religious or politically inclined, those beliefs were flipped seemingly over-night. (It took just over two years. Hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done. Changing your entire belief system is not easy and if I had to do it again, I’d do it with the help of a therapist because this shit was emotionally backbreaking.) My mother just doesn’t get it. She thinks all of this is because of her. That I became a ‘raging liberal’ overnight just to spite her.

No Mom, I became a ‘raging liberal’ because I didn’t want to kill myself over the toxic beliefs the Church uses on its members. Because God never answered my prayers. Because I didn’t want to be a living ‘trial’ and I sure as hell didn’t want to end up serving a nebulous being that put me in this situation in the first place. Become a fucking nun?! Are you serious? After the shit you’ve already put me through? No.

I’m sorry. This rant is particularly long, sad, and angry. I’m mostly making it because I’ve been reminded of it by the movies I’ve been watching, and because I know I’m going to actually be talking about these thoughts very soon. I’m sure my parents will bring up religion when I come out.

Hoo-man. I’m gonna have to come out twice in one conversation. Once for sexuality, and second for my less than stellar views on religion. I don’t know if I’m strictly atheist. I’d like to think that something’s out there. But I’m currently mad at that something. If it wants to talk to me or judge me, then it can do it when I fucking die. Clearly it doesn’t want to talk while I’m alive.

#personal shit

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kurokuro08 · 8 years ago

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what was your rock lee moment?

Haha oh wow I was not expecting this but sure I’ll share my rite of passage with you guys <3 (This is really hecking long btw)

So as a kid I usually had a single Best Friend and just followed them around like a newborn chick to their mother. I was also pretty bad at speaking up for myself so even when that Best Friend kept doing things that I didn’t agree with, I never brought it up. In year 8 (roughly 13yo I don’t know the American grade for it soz) I made this friend, who we’ll call A. At the time she was the opposite of me personality-wise: I was timid and quiet while she was brash and loud. It really took me way too long to realise that she was really rude? Like she would be on her phone as soon as she came to my house, and over time it felt like I had to always be with her to be her emotional support 24/7, which made the one month expedition to Tanzania pretty darn awful.

Ok I gotta describe what this expedition to Africa is first: basically it was a trip for high school students to go to third world countries for a month to do volunteer work, trekking, and general travelling all the while having to manage housing, transport, and food ourselves(of course we had a few teachers and a guide with us though). By that time I was already 15 and yup, still friends with A. She was a huge bitch to the rest of the group and it was practically my responsibility to be the peacekeeper, meaning I had to be by her side ALL THE TIME, so even though I was surrounded by so many lovely people, I was stuck with the biggest turd out of the whole team.

The trip was broken into 4 general sections: Preparation(for the main trekking), Trekking, Volunteer, and Recreation. And our group did it in that exact order. Stupidly enough, I was still trying to stick up for A in the recreation phase of our journey! Foolish huh!

Our group pulled together whatever money we had left and boarded a ferry to go to the wonderful island that is Zanzibar. On the second day there half of our group, myself and A included, went on a guided tour around all the tourist locations including the markets and botanical garden. That day happened to be one of our group member’s birthday, and we got back later than we hoped to. The other half of the group who remained that included the birthday girl had gone out to have dinner, and we wanted to rendezvous with them so we decided to briefly head back to our room, grab what we need and go catch up with them. A, being the dumbs she is, had her head too far up her ass to hear this instruction, decided to try on the new clothes she just purchased. So the rest of the group left without us and I had to wait by the gates for her while she was changing back. She wasn’t coming no matter how long I waited so I went to check and she was taking a shower?

“Come on I bet everyone’s waiting for us!” I cried

“Well, no one was outside when I checked so I just assumed you all left without me” She snobbered, snobbishly

And even though it was absolutely not my fault, I apologised for some reason and I forgot how the rest of the conversation went but she remained and resumed her shower and I went and pursued the others only to walk into them after walking for only a few metres. I think they said they couldn’t find the shop or something.

Later in the night, the half of our group who went to the restaurant came back with some Margherita and chicken pizza for us but for some reason were acting really darn condescending because we couldn’t make it back in time for birthday girl’s dinner, which we were all already feeling bad about. So now we were tired, hungry, and grumpily munching on glad-wrapped pizza when the final wire to detonate the bomb arrived. We already made our pick of pizza and only a single chicken pizza remained, and this bitch who was making it hard for everyone had the audacity to say: “I’m not going to eat this. I’m vegetarian.”

…………Yes there’s something I need to clarify about this. This bitch DOES EAT MEAT. EVERYONE HAD ALREADY SEEN HER EAT MEAT BEFORE. SHE’S NOT A VEGETARIAN SHE’S JUST A PICKY EATER. And ohhhhh boy that really was the last straw for the entire group. Everyone was shouting at her and me being the fucking pussy ass coward I was still tried to do the whole ‘it’s nobody’s fault’ bullshit. A left in a huff and locked the door behind her, yeah, to the room we were sharing and there was only one key to, which was not in my possession but hers. So another really lovely and caring group of girls let me crash in their room and we played cards until one of the teachers got A to open the door.

The next morning I got up before A so I went outside and basked in the morning freshness and read my book while watching the sun rise. It was brilliant. I went to breakfast without A and talked to the people there. Even though I was with these people for the entire trip, I barely spoke to any of them because I was a babysitter for the worst teenager ever the whole time. The Rock Lee moment was when the sweetest girl in our group, lets call her T, said “Wow Hannah, you’re actually really funny!”

Like, that was it. That one thing she said made me realise that I’m the most important person in my life and that I don’t have to sacrifice myself for anyone if it isn’t making me happy. It made me realise I’m actually not bad at socialising and it was more so I just lacked the experience. It was the most liberating sensation in my life.

Of course I cut all ties with A once I got home. I unfriended her on all social media and stopped speaking to her. I even went as far as calling out her abusive behaviour right in front of her because she tried to gaslight me once. Unfortunately she was part of my friend group so I was stuck with her for another 2 years of my high school life, but without me by her side, she just got worse and worse until practically my entire year group hated her. As petty as it is, it was satisfying to watch her crash like that and also relieving that I realised my inner worth before getting caught in all that fuck shit.

I gotta say I was a major asshole during that trip because of all that pent up angst and frustration, but that doesn’t excuse how shitty I was, and I regret how I acted back then. Even so, I’m still grateful that I went through all that because without it I would’t be who I am today, and I’m pretty satisfied with who I’ve grown to become.

tldr: It only took me being stuck with an abusive bitch for 3 years and a trip to East Africa to discover my inner worth and that I was way anyone who tried to drag me down.

#Also anon pls tell me who you are so I can personally thank you for giving me attention lov u <3 #Fell free to reblog btw #Flower's story

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loliviene · 8 years ago

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Hi there sweethearts!!

It’s been a while, huh? Did you miss me? I do. I miss you guys! I miss talking to you! Come here, I’ll give you a loooooong tight hug. *hugs - wait stay bit a longer*

Can you believe it’s the first day of 2018 already? Time flies so fast when you’re having fun. And I am having fun. Definitely am. 2017 is such a blast. My best year so far. You don’t believe me no? I know. Because the last time I talked to you (I honestly forgot when was the last time), I am certain that it was full of negativity and bitterness and some sort of pity party. Sort of.

But hey, don’t you worry now. This one’s different. What can I say?.... You’re gorgeous! Haha! (rep was released this year so it’s one the reason why this year is the best)

I am being my usual blabbermouth.

Here goes. The start of 2017 is quite rough for me. I mean it physically and emotionally. It was such a struggle. It came to a point that I felt worthless and useless. I felt like I failed my family. I failed to start my career right. I felt like no one values me anymore. No one would stay when I am being difficult. It was such a struggle. While everyone around me is continuing with their life, I am at my room trying to get it together. Ang hirap, sobra.

But it was just the start. Then life surprised me! As in surprised! Bigtime!

I got a job I never expected. Trust me when I say never. I felt like a fictional heroine, in a new place, meeting new people and meeting the love of her life. Okay. Scratch the love of her life. I don’t meet him… yet. Harhar!

For months, I didn’t tell everyone what I am up to. Only few people knew. I enjoyed the transition. The change.

“Nobody’s heard from me for months… I’m doing better than I ever was…”

This is the year I celebrated change. I started to live on my own. I enjoyed the solitude and independence I am longing to have. And even to small details such as dying my hair to a different color felt so liberating.

I met new people and those people made my life more colourful and interesting somehow… from chill drinking at a closed park by the old pick-up truck till 5am, to midnight road trips, to driving to a restaurant to satisfy my cravings, to driving me home and making sure I am safe, to movie dates and all things beyond work. I am thinking that my job is the best thing that’s happened to me this year. But maybe not. Maybe it’s more about the people I get to work with at my job. And I am thankful.

Change. That sound’s really good to me now.

And as much as things around me change, there are also things that stays the same. My family and all the support and love they always give. And all the people who stayed despite the changes in my life and in theirs, thank you.

And if you are having a hard time now and happens to be reading this, don’t give up. Don’t lose hope. Trust me. No. Trust Him. You may not understand what is happening in your life right now, one day it will all make sense. You may think that I know what will happen with mine with the way I am talking to you. I honestly don’t. Yes, I have plans but it will still depend on Him. Things might still change. So my love, smile and hold on tight, you are in for a special surprise treat. Wohoo!

I am freaking excited for 2018!!!

Are you ready for the new adventures? Because I am.

#2017 #year ender #2018 #hope #change #don't give up #rep

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therightnewsnetwork · 8 years ago

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Joe Biden “regrets” not being president, pretty much writes off Hillary Clinton

Is Joe Biden’s political career over? At 74 years of age, despite his seemingly excellent health, one might expect that it is. But that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have some “regrets” about not running for the presidency when he had the chance. He chimed in on Friday night about the idea, and while not regretting his choice to spend more time with his son Beau before he passed away, it’s clearly difficult for him not to occasionally dwell on the path not taken. (The Hill)

Former Vice President Joe Biden late Friday night voiced regret about his decision not to run for president, predicting if he had secured the Democratic nomination he could have won against Donald Trump.

“I had planned on running for president and although it would have been a very difficult primary, I think I could have won,” he said. “I don’t know, maybe not. But I thought I could have won.”

“I had a lot of data and I was fairly confident that if I were the Democratic Party’s nominee, I had a better than even chance of being president,” Biden continued.

Some of that still sounds speculative, but it was this next comment which really put the icing on the cake. (Emphasized)

“But do I regret not being president? Yes,” Biden said. “I was the best qualified.”

Huh. I’m not going to dispute his claim (a matter I’ll get to in a moment), but by saying you were the best qualified, you’re indicating that you were indubitably more qualified than… somebody else who wound up running in the general election. If Hillary Clinton had any big ticket defenders left they’d probably be up in arms over that one. But let’s return to the substance of what Biden was talking about.

Now that the dust from the 2016 battle has settled we have the opportunity to ponder some things which would have been more difficult to wrestle with during the heat of the campaign. With that in mind, it’s confession time. I don’t think I ever came out and said this last summer, but of all the people on the Democrats’ bench the one I was most afraid of seeing the GOP run against was probably Joe Biden.

Sure, we make a lot of jokes about Joe and he’s been the subject of endless hilarious memes. And why not? The guy was prone to more than his fair share of memorable gaffes and awkward moments, but they were relatively benign for the most part. He has a strange but infectious sense of humor which prompted many observers to think of him as crazy Uncle Joe. But underneath it all there was a powerful political force.

I take my own wife and some of her other liberal Democratic friends for prime examples. She was a Bernie supporter with zero interest in Hillary Clinton, but when it began to become obvious that Sanders wouldn’t be the nominee she was loudly pining for Joe Biden to ride to the rescue of the party. I mean, she loves the guy. In fact, I don’t know any Democrats who don’t like Joe Biden. Yes, he might not have been “in touch” with the Black Lives Matter movement or any of the pet causes of the Elizabeth Warren / Bernie Sanders wing of the party and could definitely be seen as a figurehead of the old guard establishment in the DNC, but people liked him. Heck, I know a lot of Republicans who will admit that they like and admire Joe, even if they wouldn’t have actually voted for him.

And it wasn’t just personality either. Underneath all the jokes and golly gee shtick, Biden was easily the most qualified Democrat (or perhaps person of any party) looking at a potential White House bid. Years of experience in the legislative branch followed by by nearly a decade of actually helping to run the country alongside Barack Obama left him with a resume that made Hillary Clinton’s list of precisely zero significant accomplishments wither in comparison. Could he have actually defeated her in the primary when the Democrats were obviously hungering for the historic first female president? Tough to say, but you couldn’t rule it out. Biden’s list of “scandals” (such as they were) was nothing compared to the septic tank which was continually engulfing Clinton Incorporated.

If he somehow managed to secure the nomination, could he have won the White House? I can think about that question six days a week and come up with alternating answers every day. There are times when I believe that pretty much nobody could have beaten Donald Trump in that moment because critical portions of the nation were all shifting his way at precisely the right moment. But then I have days when I can seriously convince myself that scandal plagued Hillary Clinton might have been the only person who couldn’t have beaten Trump. Thankfully we’ll never know so we don’t have to let hypotheticals keep us awake at night.

So back to the opening question. Is Biden done? Looking at Trump’s current approval rating and the paucity of viable contenders currently on the Democratic bench, he’s got to be tempted to consider one more battle. But he’ll be turning 78 years old a few days after the next presidential election. That would put him at 82 for a reelection bid. I’m sure he’s in wonderful shape for his age, but that sounds like an awfully big hill to ask him to climb.

from http://www.therightnewsnetwork.com/joe-biden-regrets-not-being-president-pretty-much-writes-off-hillary-clinton/

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patriotnewsblogger-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Joe Biden “regrets” not being president, pretty much writes off Hillary Clinton

New Post has been published on http://www.therightnewsnetwork.com/joe-biden-regrets-not-being-president-pretty-much-writes-off-hillary-clinton/

Joe Biden “regrets” not being president, pretty much writes off Hillary Clinton

“I had a lot of data and I was fairly confident that if I were the Democratic Party’s nominee, I had a better than even chance of being president,” Biden continued.

Some of that still sounds speculative, but it was this next comment which really put the icing on the cake. (Emphasized)

“But do I regret not being president? Yes,” Biden said. “I was the best qualified.”

http://www.therightnewsnetwork.com/joe-biden-regrets-not-being-president-pretty-much-writes-off-hillary-clinton/ %cats%

#conservative #republican

0 notes

patrickalleneck · 8 years ago

Text

A Trumpistan Carol

A True Story Based on Truly Alternative Facts ———————-/———————— A gold-crusted LED flickers on. The sound of cheetos crunching between sub-satisfactorily hygenic teeth is quickly overtaken by the murmuring ruminations of a Fox News pundit.

“Republican congressional investigators expect a potential “smoking gun” establishing that the Obama administration spied on the Trump transition team, and possibly the president-elect himself, will be produced to the House Intelligence Committee this week, a source told Fox News.”

“Ha! Now I’ve got him!”

Donald J. Trump slumps forward in his chair to cough out a cheeto that he began choking on somewhere between “Now” and “I’ve got him”.

“Fuck! Fucking cheetos. That hot-tittied maid laced them with concrete to make them impossible to swallow. These liberal whores are out to kill me!”

Trump fumbles sideways over himself to pick up a gilded phone.

“Yeah? Robert? Get me the head of the lady who brought in those fucking concrete cheetos. Yeah! The one with the hot tits! I want her head, and I want her dead!”

“Sir.”

“What is it Robert!?”

“Sir, are you certain you wish to kill her and decapitate her?”

“What? Not decaspimate! Just cut off her head!”

“Sir. Just to remind you, she is the granddaughter of Esperanza. Esperanza brought you up, sir. She practically raised you with her children. One of their children is Julia, the woman you wish to kill and have… her… head… displaced…”

“Huh? Julia, eh? Man, did she grow a set of tits! I always told you she would, didn’t I Robert?”

“Yes sir. You did. Ever since she was 5.”

“Well, ain’t I a modern day prophet, or what?”

“Sir, you paid for her breast enhancement surgery three months ago, after telling her you always imagined she would have great big tits, and when she told you she did not feel comfortable working for you anymore, so you told her she would never work anywhere else again and that you’d fire her grandma too unless she let you buy her tits. She very reluctantly succumbed to your command.”

“Serves her right. I guess I did. Well, they turned out great. Tell you what? Why don’t you send her back so she can give me head, then I’ll have her head later. And bring me her grandma’s head too. That’ll show them.”

“Sir. Are you completely sure you wish to have all of these commands fulfilled? Isn’t it quite enough to have intercourse with her and let it be at that?”

“What are you trying to say, Robert? That sex with me is a big enough punishment?”

“No, sir, it’s just that I thought it might not settle well with the rest of the family, who have long been, well, like family to you.”

“You know what, Robert? You’re right. You’re always right, right? I mean, nobody’s always right like me, but you’re pretty right, alright?”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Ok, is Tommy around?”

“I believe so, yes, sir.”

“Ok, great, put that old dog Tommy on the phone right now.”

“Ok, thank you, sir.”

“Hey sir, Tommy here.”

“Hey Tommy. I have something I need you to do. Robert is getting all ethical-smethical on me. I want his head. And when you bring it, bring that maid with the hot tits. We’re going to celebrate a little tonight, you and me? Big stuff.”

“Yes, sir.”

Trump slams the phone down and slumps back over, with his hand falling back into his bag of cheetos.

He keeps eating.

“Fucking Obama. Fucking liberals and media making me look like a real jerk sometimes. What the fuck is wrong with them?”

He stands up and paces around the oval office. There are portraits of him all around. There are also many mirrors.

“Fuck! Where’s my goddamn cell phone. I’m going to tweet the shit out of this good news!”

Trump fumbles around his desk for his phone. He finds it under a TeenBop magazine.

“Stop. Right. There.” Steve Bannon’s tinny, scratchy, impotent voice reverberates throughout the room.

Trump drops the cell phone and cringes his nose.

A brownish cloud starts emanating from behind the desk.

In a puff and swirl of smoke, a massive, steaming pile of shit starts piling up from the floor up to about Trump’s shoulder height. A bubble boils up and bursts from the top of the pile, releasing a pack of flies. The flies move in unison towards a latch in the wall, using their collective force to pull it down.

A panel in the wall opens up, revealing a mold of some sort. The giant pile of shit oozes over to the mold and piles in. Trump is watching the entire spectacle with the same dumbfounded face you will find him wearing whenever he is asked anything serious.

The mold closes shuts, a siren buzzes, a flash pours out, temporarily blinding Trump, who winces and rubs his eyes to see the panel open again. A bald Steve Bannon walks out. He grabs a chunk of hair from Trump’s head and places it on his own.

Before sitting behind the desk, Bannon pulls his pants down and takes a massive shit. That massive shit moves over to the panel, the same sort of show ensues, only this time Steven Miller comes out. Bannon puts his feet on the desk. “Donald. We’ve been over this a thousand and a half times.”

“Bannon, you smell like shit. You too, Miller. But I love you guys. You guys are great. What’s up Banny?”

Bannon does not look amused. “Donald, if you want to accomplish the agenda we have been working so hard on, you have to reign in your Twitter use. You have to also stop being such a stupid fuck up.”

Trump frowns. “You know, if you weren’t such a piece of shit, I’d have your head for talking to me that way.”

Miller decided to chime in, “Isn’t it convenient that we’re both giant piles of shit? For us, that is.”

“I never liked you Miller. I only tolerate your shit because you’re basically the same shit as Bannon, and neither of you are me. So let’s just leave it at that. What the hell are we having a meeting for anyway? I have a plane to catch. Got a hot date with the Turkish whatever the hell Turkistan has - president, premiere… nobody even knows these things. Anyways, last time the Turkey people came to Mar a Lago they had a hot interpreter. Set of legs you wouldn’t believe. Fantastic. Amazing. Out of this world.”

“That’s exactly why we’re here. Well, to discuss what you’ll discuss with Erdogan. We also came to stop you from being a fucking Twitter troll.” Bannon was consistently unamused with everything in his life.

“Fuck you, Banjo. I do what I want.” Trump grabbed his crotch and stuck his tongue out at Bannnon.

“That’s fine, sir. But make sure you read this to Erdogan before going to play golf or chasing his interpreter’s legs. Just make the point clear, then you can go do whatever your deviant ego wants you to do.” Miller was similarly disenfranchised with anything that didn’t make him look like the absolute pile of shit that he is.

Bannon and Miller simultaneously started emitting shit fumes. They spoke in unison: “We will now retreat to our lair to plot further domination of the world. White power, motherfuckers. Oh yeah, and Trump - sign those executive orders we left on your desk. Deus Vult!”

Steve Miller melted into a giant pile of shit again, while Bannon pulled his pants down. The Miller shit pile proceeded to inject itself back into Bannon, which was the only effective trigger in cracking anything close to a smile across Bannon’s ashy face. After Miller reinserted, Bannon melted into a pile of shit, then the shit pile dissolved.

“Those guys are really big pieces of shit. My kinds of people!”

Trump picked up his phone and began writing a tweet.

‘Obumer is such a coward. He wire tapp my phone…’

Before he could finish typing his incoherent excuse for a thought, smoke began filling the room again.

“Dammit! What do you and Miller want this time, Bannon? I thought you guys were done making me think and stuff?” Trump turned his attention away from his phone expecting to see the shit pile developing.

To his shock, the shit pile was far from there.

Instead, Trump was face to face with the ghost of none other than Martin Luther King, Jr.

In a very oratory style, Martin let it out: “Donald J. Trump! I had a dream, and you made it my nightmare. I had a plan for equality, and you are helping to extinguish it for good! What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Wow! I never thought you’d have the opportunity to meet me! I mean, you did a lot of things, for my African Americans, and all that, but you didn’t ever crack a billion buddy. And, you died. Come on, man? Really? Sad! How are you doing, though? Bet you’re excited to meet me? Did you know I am president now?”

King’s facial features went flat. So did his voice. In very plain speech, he commented, “You know, if it wasn’t for the fact that I realize you have the mind of a spoiled 5 year old bouncing around in your cranium, I might have taken layers of offense to just about everything you said. But I don’t think you even understand what I just said, so we’ll just make this easy.”

“I like easy. Tell me more, my new famous black friend. Man, the people are going to love this!”

“I am Martin Luther King, Jr. I am your ghost of the past. You are a modern day Scrooge, and you are destroying civility and society because of your unchecked, rotten, greedy ego. I am going to show you the damage that was done in the past, that you are now not only repeating, but making worse.”

“Hey, hey, hey, take it easy. I’ve only been here a couple days. You sound like fake news to me, buddy.”

“So, I’m just going to ignore pretty much everything you say, which I’m sure you do to everyone, anyway, and just show you what I’m talking about. Come with me.”

King raised his arms up, shot them downward, and in a flash, him and Trump were on the frontlines of a civil rights march taking place in King’s era.

Tears filled King’s eyes as he re-witnessed police brutality; German shepherds biting protesters; batons cracking against the skull of peaceful marchers; and firehoses knocking women and the elderly off of their feet.

Weeping, King turned to give Trump a lecture on the traumatic legacy these acts left on generations of Americans who had to reconcile with the fact that this was actually a part of their recent history - a part that was currently not very different.

When he looked over, he saw Trump cheering alongside the police officers and trying to take a turn spraying the hose.

“I should have taken him to the part where I got shot and let him stand in my place…” King lamented, shaking his head in disbelief.

“What? I’ve been working hard these days. I deserve to have a turn playing soak the spooks.”

“You know, I have a million things I’d like to explain to you, but I’d rather we cut this nonsense about you realizing some sort of lesson out of this and I’ll toss you to the ghost of the present.”

In a burst of smoke, they were back in the Oval Office.

“Well, that works for me, because I love presents. You are quite a guy. I am going to be happy to share with my people that I have a new black guy on my team, and his name is Martin King, Junior.”

“Don’t use my name, mother fucker. I am not your guy. Any person who thinks they can take advantage of the phenomenon that has become your repugnant, racist populism by showing support for you, like that urban cowboy Uncle Tom David Clarke, can shove a rake up their asses. If they can’t figure out that they are disgracing their people’s legacy by making nice with your clear idiocy and your team’s abject bigotry and hatred of all things off-white and non-wealthy, then not even I feel sorry for them. They can all file themselves into the halls of shame, right alongside you. I’m out of here.”

Martin Luther King, Jr. then left the oval office, unceremoniously, through the garden door. “Who the hell is David Clarke? What the hell was that guy’s problem anyway? I wonder when I get my present?”

The door to the Oval Office opened up on it’s own, slamming against the wall.

Bernie Sanders walked right in and up to Donald Trump.

“I’m the ghost of the present. Yeah, I’m alive and all that, but here’s your present, you moron.”

Bernie bitch slapped Trump across the face, knocking his stupid toupee off of his head.

“Stop robbing poor people and killing the planet. Bitch.”

Bernie slapped Trump across the other side of his face.

Trump fell to the floor, sobbing like the bitch that Bernie accurately described him to be.

“That was not nice!”

Bernie left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Trump continued crying like a giant man baby, which is what he is.

The door opened again, causing Trump to sit up and hide behind his desk.

Bernie popped his head back in, “Get ready to meet the ghost of the future, you affluent fuck.”

He slammed the door behind him again.

“Whew. That hombre is nasty.”

Smoke began filling the Oval Office. It got so smoky, Trump couldn’t breathe.

“Is this the shit circus again or another ghost? I’m getting tired of this and ready for some golfing in the shadow of the Orange House - Mar a Lago.”

Plumes of smoke continued to engulf the room, to the point where visibility was completely masked.

“Donald J. Trump does NOT like it when he cannot see what’s going on? Do you hear me? I do NOT like it!”

At once, the smoke cleared, revealing that Trump had transported to the speaker’s podium in an extremely large stadium. He was surrounded by Trump regalia, and every single person in the audience had a MAGA hat on. They were all silent.

“Well, hey now, Donald J. Trump wasn’t planning on blessing his people with a rally, but who am I to turn down the opportunity?”

“Well, Donald, that’s a great question.” The voice of Barack Obama startled Trump to the point where he dribbled a little bit of shit out of his loose rectum.

Donald spun around, holding his anus, angry. The ghost of Barack Obama was standing there, cheerfully nodding his head from side to side.

“What brought you to my rally, you Kenyan Muslim Antichrist?” Donald grabbed the mic and brought it to the crowd’s attention. “Can you folks believe the nerve of this guy? I could literally shoot Obama in front of all of you, and I wouldn’t lose a single voter!”

The crowd did not react.

“Geez… tough crowd tonight. I thought you guys’ woulda loved that one. How about this: I am going to put this Barry guy into jail for a long time. He messed up, bigly, with my tapping my wires, and other things that I have read, because I like to read and my brain is so powerful it doesn’t really need reading, but I read anyway because I watched it on Fox News about Obama put the wires in my walls and microwaves himself. Let’s say it together: Lock him up! Come on, everyone! Like the good old days on the election trail! Come on folks! Show me the love!”

Trump started to notice the sheer size of the crowd.

“Jesus, how big is this place. Barry, get a load of all of those people. They all love me! They’re all here for me!”

“Donald, Donald, Donald. They are here because of you, but they are not here to love you.”

“What do you mean? Check out all of those hats they got on! I must have had a billion made in Pakistan for pennies each while I was asleep. I’m really good at business and stuff like that, even when I’m not awake, you know?”

“Well, Donald, if, uh, you didn’t get the picture from Mr. King, Jr., or from Bernie, then I guess I will be the one to put it to you bluntly.”

“Alternative fact alert!”

“Donald. I was the president.”

“Lie! I have always been the president.”

“Ok, I, uh,I can see, uh, where this is going. Let’s break it down. You see, Donald, those people out there, those fans, they did love you.”

“Whaddya mean ‘did’?! They do love me. Look at them! They’re here, ain’t they? This must be the biggest rally ever held!”

“You’re right, Donald. It is.”

“What?”

“You are right. It’s me, Barry Obama, saying you, Donald J. Trump, are correct about something.”

Donald grabbed the mic, “You hear that, folks? We got him! He admitted I’ve been right all along!”

“Let me give you a quick history lesson and a quick future history lesson. You see, every president, Donald, is very different from many of those people out there in the crowd.” “Well no shit! None of those losers is me!”

“And, you see, uh, well, most of those people… most people, really, don’t have to build the ghost rallies that we, as presidents, construct for ourselves.”

“I know all about construction. Nobody knows construction like me. The wall, people, the wall!”

“When I say ghost rallies, I mean the rallies we attend at night, when we are supposed to be all alone and away from the toils of the planet.”

“Whaddya mean? I’m alone most of the time, except for when shit Bannon or shit Miller want me, when the press is bothering me, when I’m making deals with the captains of whatever industry, or when I’m molesting a girl of really any age group.”

“You see, Donald, you are getting off the topic, and I really think that, uh, now is a good time to, uh, pay attention.”

“Ok, fine, Barry. Hurry up, I’ve got a load of small minds to stimulate out there!”

“I made decisions, as president, that cost people their lives. It might have been a bomb I dropped, a drone strike I authorized, an increase in private prison spending, a failure to produce a single-payer health care option, or simply the inability to disconnect the government from the invasive lobbying arm of the defense industry. Whatever the case may be, I, uh, made choices, and, uh, people, good, bad, and downright nasty, died because of them.”

“People, we have the smoking gun! You hearing this guy? He’s confessing to murder!”

“Donald, as president, your choices, your words, they can affect society in a way where people actually die. They die by your action or inaction. Their blood is inescapably on your hands. And you still have to go to sleep at night. When you sleep, you attend your ghost rallies. I attended mine diligently until the day I died, you see.”

“Wait a minute, you’re dead?”

“I am the ghost of your future, so yes, I’m dead. And the reason I’m at this rally, as well as all of those billions of people you see out there, is because of choices you made. You chose to remove people’s health care. You chose to plunge the minorities and disenfranchised classes (your main base of support) into the fire of economic inequality. Poverty and lack of healthcare caused a wave of plagues that wiped out huge chunks of society. Rolling back the EPA and regulations allowed tycoons to destroy the planet for a buck or two, exacerbating the problem of the plagues, causing displacement, famine, hurricanes, and other wild temperature patterns. Food shortages turned into global starvation epidemics. Things got, uh, pretty nasty. You chose to go to war. With everyone.”

“Barry, honestly, I didn’t ever really think you were that bad an hombre. What happened to you? Why are you dead?”

“Well, you tweeted about how the smoking gun about your wire tapping claims should be the one that’s pointing at my dead body, and, well, uh, one of your fans listened to you. Imagine that. They got my family, too.”

Obama pointed out his family, sitting in the front row.

“So all of these people are dead, because of me?”

“Like I said, you did hold the biggest rally ever. You killed more human beings than any other human being in history. And they’re all here, and none of them love you. In fact, the point of ghost rallies is for them to demonstrate how much they hate you.”

“What?”

“This is a dream, so ghosts can’t kill you. But we, uh, can sure as fuck fuck with your head. So I’ll get started.”

Obama grew to be 20 feet tall, then he stepped on Trump, flattening him into a tiny disc. He reached down, grabbed him by the mop, and pulled him back up into his proper, sloppy form.

“Ok, who’s next? Everyone line up for their turn!”

Every ghost in the crowd stood up and began to file into line.

“I hoped you packed your golf balls, Donald. It’s going to be a long night.”

The next person in line was Arnold Swarcheneggar.

“Arnold? What? What did I do to you?”

“Dah-nold! It’s me! Ah-nold! Did you really think that you, the compilation of every cheesy 80s action movie villain I ever had to slay, would get away with destroying the planet, without hearing a perfectly placed one-liner before I kill you?”

“Well, I don’t really ever think. And besides, Barry said you can’t really kill me, so do your worst, Robocop!”

Arnold tossed Trump a book. Trump picked it up.

It had a picture of Donald on the cover, with a Hitler mustache. The title of the book was Mein Drumpf.

Donald opened it up, only to see the same words sprawled across every page:

Open your eyes.

Donald flipped through the pages and saw that every page had the same words.

He looked up.

“What is this?”

Arnold smiled.

“I’ll be back.”

Just then, Donald was startled awake by his television set. Fox News was still on.

“In a massive disappointment, Donald Trump has pulled the plug on the GOP effort to repeal and replace Obamacare. To say this is a failure does not do justice to the immensity of this defeat. Donald Trump made a promise to the people who voted for them, and he failed in every sense.”

“No!”

The door to the Oval Office burst open with the kick of a muddy commando boot.

Arnold, smoking a fat cigar, came into the office through the open doorway, holding a giant gatling gun.

“Hey Dah-nold.”

They made eye contact. A tear formed in Donald’s eye. Arnold blew out a giant puff of smoke, into Donald’s face.

“You’re fired.”

The gatling gun ripped Trump to shreds, as well as the massive pile of shit that tried to escape through the back door.

Donald Trump then woke up on the floor of a hot cave. He was now a ghost.

Martin Luther King, Jr. helped him off his back.

“One man’s hell, is heaven for many others.”

Martin waved his hand forward and showed Donald the line of ghosts waiting to take their turns enacting revenge, from then until eternity, on the man who made their realities miserable, for as long as he was allowed to leave his stain on the planet.

“You have a dream to fulfill, and it is not at all like mine.”

The End

#donald trump #trump #murica #america

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