#and ive picked a dying industry to work in

[ghoul-haunted]

life really is like, wow! i am held together by a very worn out piece of tape. i will now overhaul my job resume. still gonna write this comic tho, bc it's taken up residence in my brain.

[emeritus-fuckers]

For the match-up event:

Your identity

I am a nonbinary (possibly bigender?) bisexual. My pronouns are she/her and he/him, though I prefer she/her pronouns. I identify more with the female experience, as that’s how I was raised. I think gender norms are stupid, so I embraced the gender spectrum with open arms!

Who do you like? (pick from Ghouls, Humans, Papas, Repugnant, or everyone)

I like Ghouls, Humans, and the Papas. If I had to choose from the three, I’d choose the Papas.

What do you look like?

At just five feet tall I’m a bit short, and I’m also chunky, I’d say pear-shaped. My hair is a little past my ears, and I recently dyed it black so I could dress as Terzo for Halloween. My taste in style is a bit eclectic, but 90% of my wardrobe is casual. I would love to add more gothic or pastel attire to my wardrobe.

Your personality? 

I’d say I am a pretty chill person, but I think part of that is because I’m used to constant internal panic. I have also been described as very kind, giving, considerate, outgoing, and chatty. While I like being nice, I don’t like being used, so I have firm boundaries. Whenever someone tries pushing my boundaries, I get frustrated and stern, but if they keep pushing I get pissed. Sometimes I have a short fuse and lose my cool, but I always feel like shit after.

Your interests? (What do you do in your free time? What are your hobbies? Your passions? Your music taste?)

In my free time I like to hang out with my friends, play video games, and listen to music. My favorite music genres are heavy metal, hard rock, and alternative. My favorite game is Dead by Daylight, but I also like playing Destiny 2, Rocket League, and Stardew Valley. Some of my hobbies are watching movies, reading fanfics, and learning about new things. I am passionate about film and psychology, and I hope to use both of them by one day working in the film industry.

Trivia time! (Here you can include everything that didn't fit in the previous category!)

I like to explore new places and try new things, even if it may seem a bit strange at first. I think it’s good to get out of your comfort zone every once in a while! I especially love exploring the natural world, and learning more about what exists around us. On a completely different note, I love haunted houses! The set design is so cool to me, and I’d love to work at one.

This post is part of the 1000 followers match up event. Entries for the event are now closed.

Your match is…Papa Emeritus IV

Copia is happy to travel and explore places with you. While you two are on tour, when he gets any free time, you sneek off to explore.

He is surprisingly chilled in a haunted house (you went to go see one while on tour), he did grow up in the Ministry after all. He is more surprised and shocked at how the other people in the tour group react to rats. He cannot understand why they all scream and run. He goes over and picks the rat up and starts saying how adorable he is. He adopts this rat and calls it Casper.

He loves films!!! Absolutly loves them so he is so happy to have someone who shares his passion. You set aside one evening a week (more if you can) to watch a film. You get popcorn, snuggle together under a duvet and watch the film. Copia will put his arm around your shoulders and hold you close to him.

He will do anything he can to support your career in the film industry.

Copia would never use you, not ever. He admires how you have firm boundaries, he is learning to have them as other people have tried to take advantage of his good nature. As Papa it's been easier for him and you can help him and give him advice.

However when it comes to you, if anyone upsets you/tries to use you, Copia is immediatly there to support you, no longer the shy Cardinal but full on Papa.

You also love to play video games together. "It's like you were made for me sì?" Copia says beaming at you while holding out the controller to you. "I am very lucky to have you amore."

~

Written by Nyx

[analviel]

TIM DRAKE IS NOT ROBIN

It just so happens when Tim was planning to find Dick, his parents suddenly call him to tell him that there's a party or an event or just something on the other side of the world he can attend with them.

Sometimes they do this and Tim always says yes. It's as rare as leap years. Meaning it has happened only three times in his life before. He agonized over it. But you know, Tim's just a kid and there's no guarantee he can actually do something about Batman and Nightwing. Besides, Batman's been managing -if you can call it that- this long, with Alfred by his side, who's words certainly weights more heavily than the neighbours kid. He can afford a couple of weeks away from Gotham. By that time, Batman probably would've gotten his head straight. He's a hero, he's like, really strong, if anyone can get through this... besides, Tim figures Superman or Wonder Woman will do something before he truly crosses the line, right? Why would a kid know better than real superheroes, right? They must just be waiting until they're really needed. Right? Even though Tim personally thinks they should've at the very least locked Batman up somewhere he can't harm anyone or himself if they can't convince Dick to go back to being Robin. They're heroes.

Tim really wants to spend time with his parents. But before he leaves, he sends letters to every place he thinks Dick may be. The Titans Towers, his apartment in Bludhaven, where he lives with Starfire, Haly's circus, even to houses of his friends heroes. (Tim is twelve/thirteen alright. And one that has maybe below average self-awareness and his letters were very polite even if the act itself might've been vaguely sort of threatening).

So Tim leaves Gotham to spend time with his parents. It's busy, his parents keep him busy, and he doesn't have much time to dedicate to the news from Gotham. And really, if this is how it always is, no wonder his parents don't always have attention to spare on their kid in Gotham. So many things to do, so many things to attend, so many people to meet, and even more sites to visit. And the fighting. Tim hadn't realize it was this bad and suddenly thinks that, you know, it might've been better if he did stay back home. He realizes his parents actually brought him with them because they think a kid will somehow... magically fix them...??? Tim doesn't know, adults can be stupid.

Eventually, they realize the wrong in their ways and sends Tim back when his presence proves ineffective. Tim comes back to the city burning.

Well, not literally, but sort of.

Parts of it are burning. But not the whole thing. That's something.

Batman has been missing. And looking into it, at his last appearance, Tim surmise he retained a heavy wound.

(Or he's dead, not like they'll reveal it to the city just to cause more chaos and panic.) Batman seems to be out of the field and that was what Tim wanted, before he would've crossed the line.

Only, thing is, he'd already revealed too much weakness. The Batsignal had been taken down after one too many close calls on the perps they pick up. And the violence only raised from there.

(The first month when Batman and Robin and Batgirl's absence started to become suspicious. The second month Batman is deep in his spiral of violence. The third month Tim follows him around and then makes plants to pick up Dick that doesn't come to fruition and then sends his letters and then leaves. Six weeks with his parents, a few days from and to Gotham, two weeks to get caught up with what happened in Gotham. Batman is out, recovering, resting, dying, who knows.

Five months was all it took for Gotham to go to hell. And all it took was one dead son.)

Spoiler rises.

Gotham has a new champion.

Tim regrets that he hadn't been able to help. Tim will help.

Tim has a new champion.

Spoiler has a fixation on Cluemaster. It's not that difficult to go from there.

As long as, one, you know who was giving the police the answers to Cluemaster's gimmick. And two, that you know there even is a new vigilante because Spoiler is not like Batman who beats perps and leave them on the sidewalk for the police to pick up.

For wearing an almost eyesearing purple costume, Spoiler prefers to keep in the shadows and if not for the time Tim had trailed after Batman's madness, he wouldn't have learned the streets enough to notice the hints.

Tim purchase a laptop, watch tutorials day in and day out, buys pieces from junkyards to fiddle with wires and boards, and leaves Stephanie Brown a gift on her windowsill with a purple ribbon. Tim greets Spoiler over the comms. He calls himself Asset.

(It is not well-thought out because Stephanie takes to calling the mystery person who snuck into her room and refuses to give anything about themselves out 'Ass'. Tim did not actually sneak into her room but sent a drone to drop off his gift. Steph doesn't budge.)

Tim is not yet good enough to hack into cameras around Gotham. He finds he's good with a computer but not that good, his real talent lies not in the software but in the wires and soldering iron and the tiny bug camera/audio he has Spoiler plant around Gotham. If he can't take other cameras, he'll make them. (Also in case someone more experienced at hacking than he is manages to get in the system, Tim has a self-destruct button just for that. Yes, Dr. Doofenshmirtz is a good role models for mad scientist wannabes.)

A week is all it takes for Spoiler and Asset to get all the necessary evidence against Cluemaster. They celebrate. They are thirteen year olds and they just prevented a bomb from going off and put a bad man behind bars. They are high. They find more cases, for the most part C-rank villains and bellow but they also help with the big names by Spoiler planting more cameras and Tim sending the data and feeds for her to drop off to Jim Gordon. He is the only one who knows of the characters that have risen after Batman's sleep and can guess enough from Spoiler's stiff shoulders to keep that to himself.

Then...

Then it is six months and two weeks.

Tim watch from his now multiple screen behind his walk-in closet as a grave is dug out from the inside. Because S&A have put cameras everywhere just in case. After all, it's places you think are of no interest that criminals will sought to make deals in.

Tim does not send his partner to what may be a zombie but instead tells her to clear the direction Jason is stumbling towards. It takes him minutes to realize that Jason is patrolling his Robin patrol. Jason is sent to the hospital and Tim contacts them to list him under the Drakes, paying for his room and every other necessities. Has him transferred to the hospital that Drake medical industries is personally funding. When asked the name, Tim says Alvin Draper. He gets a cab to the hospital, finds Jason knocked out, peers at Robin's face. It's when they're alone, the previously dead boy's hands wrapped in bandages that Tim confirms in disbelief that as far as he knows, the boy matches Jason Todd. As if him digging his way out of Jason Todd's grave wasn't enough. Granted, Tim doesn't even know the shade of his eyes, so he's not the best judge.... Tim snaps a picture from different angles of the room and takes another cab back to Bristol while thinking up a story.

Tim knocks on the neighbour, tells them he's got something of Jason and if he can see Mr. Wayne. Tim is surprised himself by how relieved he is to see Bruce standing alive and well. Or not standing, leg and arm in a cast, an IV beside him on the couch in the drawing room. Tim weaves his story. Little Tim Drake wandering around Gotham, stumbles on a bunch of medic picking up a boy that Tim recognises as the neighbour's dead kid, pays for his hospital bills, takes a couple of pictures after the first aid or whatever and gives Bruce the pictures. Bruce makes his way to the hospital.....

I've lost steam at this point.

You decide if they arrive to see Jason and Bruce and Alfred is all tearful while Tim awkwardly leaves the room to resume his brainstorming on the S&A latest case, or they find an empty bed and Bruce goes on a frenzy tracking his undead lost son.

Additional idea: So Tim not being there didn't kill Bruce, but Bruce has been crippled and Batman is dead now. So without Robin, Batman did die.

Maybe Dick comes back to become Batman with Jason as his Robin, since that's not a combination often seen (Or the Batman Jason and Robin Tim, that's more common, though I'm loath to give up Spoiler and Asset). Around this time Babs comes back to the scene as Oracle with the birds of prey.

Additional additional idea to how they'll work with everyone back on the scene: since the Bats have the fighters and more equipped to report to time sensitive stuff, maybe S&A focus more on cold cases. Where Spoiler goes sneaking around, poking at old cases with Asset in her ears, figuring out puzzles and old clues, making breakthrough after breakthrough and bringing long overdue justice together.

Either the Drakes dies without Batman there to slap the poison out of Jack's hands because he's too busy searching for his son, or maybe they live with Tim able to direct Batman there immediately. Either way, Drake industry sponsors S&A, so now Spoiler also has toys like the Spoil... er plane??? Spoiler bike??? Eh, the name's work in progress.

[luv-hqs]

i see red | tsukishima x male! s/o

hello again!! ive been DYING to write this request because i am such a simp for tsukishima AAAA. anyways i couldnt think of a good title so i just wrote the title of the song from 365 days HAHAHA. requests are still open!!

REQUESTED: yes

WARNINGS: nsfw, jealous sex, semi-public sex, slight degrading, slight exhibitionism 

It was inevitable that other attractive males and females would flirt with you.

you were dashingly attractive and charming-- a rising star in the modeling industry.

albeit Tsukishima’s cold and stoic behavior, he seemed to have been jealous when he spotted another attractive model flirting with you.

He noticed the way the model would touch you suggestively, and flirt shamelessly despite you mentioning several times that you were taken.

he scowled, making his way towards his classroom without waiting for you.

the day went by pretty quickly-- or so Tsukishima thought.

Just as he was about to exit the classroom, he spotted you leaning against the wall with a slight frown on your face.

Tsukishima’s mood seemed to drop more at the sight of you, doing his best to avoid your approaching figure.

“Why are you avoiding me.” You asked, grabbing his shoulder quite harshly.

Tsukishima gulped, trying to shrug your hand off of him, however your grip was quite strong.

“Go back to that other model chick...” Kei huffed.

You raised an eyebrow in amusement, leaning in so that you could kiss the slightly shorter blonde male.

“You’re jealous aren’t you?” You smirked. Kei responded with a flustered “No im not!”

You could only chuckle as you grabbed his wrist, dragging him to the nearest bathroom.

You pushed him into a vacant stall, before connecting your lips with his, whilst your hand unbuttoned his dress shirt.

Tsukishima whimpered into the kiss, shaky hands working on unbuckling your belt and pulling your trousers down.

“For someone who was ignoring me earlier, you’re quite eager.” You smirked, earning a blush from the blonde.

“Shut up, y/n...” he murmured.

You laughed, peeling the rest of his clothing off, your calloused hands roaming over Tsukishima’s soft, pale skin.

“That’s not how you treat your boyfriend, Kei~” You mumbled, pressing two fingers against Kei’s bottom lip. “Suck.”

The blonde complied within a heartbeat, taking your fingers in his mouth before swirling his tongue against the long digits.

Your free hand took hold of his hard length, pumping it softly earning a muffled moan from him.

“You’re dripping. What a slut.” You taunted, pulling your fingers out of his mouth before pressing them against his hole.

Tsukishima moaned softly, pushing his ass against your fingers as a silent plea for you to fuck him already.

You ignored him, grabbing a hold of his hips, as you pushed the slick digits in, a pleasured sigh leaving Kei’s parted lips.

You stretched him out, curling and scissoring your fingers inside of him, purposefully avoiding his prostate

Kei was reduced to a moaning, whimpering mess. “Please.... y/n, fuck me..” He begged.

You eventually gave in to his begging, taking your fingers out of his hole, before aligning your cock in front of his entrance.

You slowly pushed in, giving Kei time to adjust to your size.

“You can move...” He whispered, making you instantly move your hips.

Tsukishima cried out in pleasure, gripping onto the tiled walls as you drilled into his prostate.

Pleasure overwhelmed both of your senses-- which made the both of you oblivious to the sound of the bathroom door creaking open.

Kei let out a moan, making the person outside ask him if he was okay.

Tsukishima tapped on your thigh, telling you to stop, however you kept going, making him bite his lip.

“I-Im fine!” Tsukishima squeaked, covering his mouth afterwards. 

You chuckled picking up your pace as you left kisses on his shoulders. Your other hand twisting and playing with his nipples.

“If you say so, man.” The guy outside replied, before leaving.

“Y/n! y-you should’ve stoppe-- AH!” Tsukishima moaned loudly, as you hit his prostate again, his vision clouded with white as he unexpectedly came onto the tiled wall.

“That was quick.” You teased, making Tsukishima blush.

“Don’t tell me you think im done with you.” You whispered, thrusting your hips once more, “After all, i haven’t cummed yet.”

[sohotthateveryonedied]

You Gotta Fend for Yourself

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

Bruce is Tim's emergency contact. He gets a call to meet Tim at the ER.

“I’m looking for a patient.” The woman behind the ER desk looks bored as she eyes Bruce, takes in the pressed suit and diamond cufflinks. The way he fidgets, drumming his fingers on the desk and trying very hard not to look as anxious as he feels. It’s easier to reign in his worry when he’s wearing the cowl. “Name?” “Tim Drake.” “Give me a minute.” She types his name into the computer, and Bruce can’t help but wonder how she manages to type with such long fingernails. “Your son is in bed eight. It’s over there, against the far wall.” She points him in the general direction. Bruce considers correcting her on the fact that Tim is certainly not his son, but he doesn’t need to tell this complete stranger that. Let her think what she wants. He thanks her and goes where directed. His chest loosens when he finds Tim sitting on a medical cot, neither bleeding out from a gaping wound nor missing any limbs. Instead he’s playing some sort of racing game on his phone, indifferent to the bustling emergency room around him. An oxygen mask sits beside him, forgotten. He and Bruce should really have a conversation about the importance of listening to medical professionals. “Hey, kiddo.”

Tim looks up and his eyes go wide. “Bruce. You...actually came?” His voice is hoarse, like he’s been gargling sand. “Of course I did. I am your emergency contact, after all.” Tim blushes. “I told them not to call you. You really don’t need to be here if you’re busy, I can get a cab home. And I’m sure I can talk the doctors into letting me check myself out without an adult, so—” “It’s okay, Tim. Really. You actually saved me from a board meeting.” Tim doesn’t look at all reassured. Bruce sits on the side of the cot beside Tim, who moves over a few inches. “Your teacher told me you went into anaphylactic shock in the middle of geometry.” Tim rolls his eyes. “I got a candy bar from the vending machine and the wrapper forgot to mention there were walnuts in it. It’s not that big a deal.” “Oh, sure, not that big a deal. You just stopped breathing for two minutes. Totally normal.” “I’m breathing now, aren’t I?” Tim takes an exaggerated breath. “See? I’m fine. And, for the record, it was the teacher’s fault. I had my hand raised for a whole minute trying to tell her that I couldn’t breathe, and she didn’t even look at me. Eventually I just passed out.” Bruce blinks. “You raised your hand? While your life was in danger?” “I didn’t want to be rude.” Lord, beer me patience. “I’ll get you an EpiPen to carry with you from now on.” “I usually have one, but I used it up a couple months ago and kept forgetting to ask my dad for another one.” A shrug. “Don’t you keep one in your utility belt?” “That’s for civilians.” Bruce’s eyebrows crease. “It’s for keeping people safe, not just civilians. You’re a person, so I want you to use whatever you need to keep yourself from dying in the middle of class. Got it?” Tim nods, a little sheepishly. “Yes, sir.” “Good. Now, how are you feeling?” Tim flicks the IV tube. “Cortisone and a shot of epinephrine earlier. I’ll be fine.” Even so, Bruce can’t stop himself from checking Tim over anyway, just to be sure. He needs to see that Tim is okay with his own eyes. He feels Tim’s throat for any residual swelling, checks his pulse. “Can you breathe okay?” “Yep.” “What about your mouth, does it feel numb or tingly? Any swelling?” “No and no.” “Are you dizzy at all, nauseous?” “You do realize we’re in a hospital, right? Surrounded by actual doctors?” “Yes, and I don’t trust a single one of them unless their name is Leslie Thompkins, Alfred Pennyworth, or Bruce Wayne.” “You’re insane.” “Good. Maybe then you’ll stay alive long enough to see the new year.” Bruce takes out his cell phone and drafts the beginning of an email in his notes app. “I should call the school and give them hell for not looking after you. Or at least for not being more aware of their vending machine snacks.” He knew Tim never should have been allowed in a public school. That’s like locking the most perfect, innocent kitten in the world in a cage with rabid coyotes. Completely irresponsible. “You’re overreacting, B.” “You could have died.” Tim scoffs. “Stop being so dramatic. This isn’t even the worst allergic reaction I’ve had. My parents were terrible at remembering to tell the nannies about my walnut energy, so there were a lot of close calls.” Bruce should be more surprised at that information. After he sues the school for the wrongful almost-death of a student, he should sue Drake Industries just for the hell of it. “Where are your parents? Are they on their way?” Jack Drake is as disagreeable a man as disagreeable men get, but he’s always revving for conflict. Bruce will definitely be able to sway him to his side of this matter. They can bring it up to the board of education, draw up new regulations for the school’s allergy protocols. Tim scratches absently at the rash on his neck. Bruce swats his hand away. “Dad brought Dana on a business trip to Philadelphia. It was only supposed to last the weekend, but they decided to stay a few extra days.” “A few?” “Eleven, to be exact.” Yikes. Big yikes. “You at least called them, right? They’ll want to know you’re safe.” “I called Dad when I first got here, but he didn’t pick up so I left him a message. I’m pretty sure he got it, because Dana keeps texting me to make sure I’m okay and asking if they should come home early. Dad still hasn’t said anything, but I’m sure he’s worried too.” Even as Tim says the words, it’s clear he doesn’t believe them. Never mind, fuck Jack Drake. Bruce can find another parent to start an alliance with—one who actually cares about their kid. Maybe Crystal Brown is free tonight… Bruce flags down a passing nurse. “Can I get some discharge papers for my son, here?” Might as well throw that in, give himself some extra authority. Whatever gets them out of here quicker. “Thank god,” Tim says. He plucks out the IV and swings his legs off the bed. “I’m sick of this place. You can just drop me off at home and I’ll be all set?” “Drop you off? You’re coming home with me, Tim.” Was that part not clear? “It’s cool, really. I’ll be fine after some rest. You don’t have to look after me.” “I know I don’t have to. I want to.” Bruce thanks the nurse who brings over the discharge papers in record time. People really don’t appreciate nurses enough; he should donate a few million to boost their salaries. He pushes the clipboard into Tim’s hands. “Here, fill these out and we can get going. I’ll call ahead and have Alfred make supper.” “And then I can go home?” Bruce shrugs, eyes fixed on his phone screen as his thumbs fly. “You already have a room made up at the manor, so I don’t see why you can’t stay over tonight. Besides, I’d like to keep an eye on you, just in case.” Anaphylaxis can be a tricky thing. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a mother hen?” “Once or twice.” “Well, they’re right.” Bruce snorts. He works more on his email draft to the school, making a mental note to censor out the swear words during revision. He’s getting flashbacks to years ago when Jason had a close call with some shrimp at a party for a museum opening. Bruce nearly decimated the catering company for not putting out warnings for potential allergens. “Tim?” “Hm?” “How come I’m your emergency contact?” Tim freezes. He doesn’t look at Bruce and twiddles the pen, quiet for a moment. “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t know who else to put? I figured it would never actually be needed, so it wasn’t like you’d ever find out about it anyway. But don’t worry, I’ll change it tomorrow so you don’t need to do this again.” “No,” Bruce says, a little too quickly. “Keep it. It’s...more logical for it to be me. And I really don’t mind.” “You sure? You don’t have to.” “I want to. Partners look out for each other, right?” Tim’s cheeks are flushed under the allergy-induced redness, but he nods. “Right.”

[buckysflannelpajamas]

Bleeding Hearts

Summary: Being Tony Starks daughter has its pros and cons. One of the pros being you get to live with your best friends, the Avengers. One of the cons you will soon find out is having to deal with the one and only, James Buchanan Barnes...

Takes place during the imaginary time after Civil War where everyone love in the tower and goes through to Endgame.

TRIGGER WARNING: victim blaming (though he doesn’t mean it) and mention of attempted r*pe and past attempted s*icide

Beep

Beep

Beep

Ugh. What is that sound? It’s disturbing your sleep.

Slowly, you open your tired eyes to find yourself in a dull grey room. Your heartbeat starts to pick up when you realize this isn’t your room.

Where are you?

The sound of the beeping quickens as your eyes race around the room, trying to figure out where you are. Dull grey walls, uncomfortable bed, heart rate monitor, IV bag… you must be in a hospital.

Shit, what happened?

You can’t help but notice that the IV is connected to a needle in your vain. Your heart rate continues to rise. Fuck, you hate needles! You move your hand to pull it out, only to be stopped by a large hand gently grabbing yours.

“Woah, woah, woah. You're ok, just take it easy.” A cold hand presses your shoulder gently to get you to lay back down.

“Bucky?” You recognize the voice immediately. Why are you in a hospital and what is Bucky doing here? Just as the questions enter your mind, fuzzy memories of the night start to drift back.

Arthur, the car, Bucky, the ambulance.

Oh shit, what did you get yourself into.

“You’re in the hospital.” Bucky starts. “You, Uh, had a ruff night.” Seeing that you’ve calmed down, Bucky carefully takes his hands away.

You don’t say it, but deep down you don’t want him to take his hands away.

“I know, I remember… well, kind of.”

“That’s good. You must not have gotten too high a dose.”

“I’m so fucking stupid.” You groan to yourself.

“You got that fucking right.” Bucky agrees.

Wait… what? Wasn’t he being nice to you last night?

“Excuse me?” You question, unsure you heard him correctly.

Bucky takes a step back from you, starting to pace. “I mean, what were you thinking?! Leaving the compound unsupervised!”

“I took a few steps outside! I didn’t think it would be a big deal!” You defend. It was one thing if you were upset at yourself about what happened, but Bucky has no right to be.

“Well it was! You’re fucking lucky that it was just some scumbag actor that took you and and not a group like Hydra! Also, seriously? Hasn’t your father ever told you to not take your eyes off your drink?!” Bucky continues to rant. “Or maybe you thought it’d be fun to be rebellious and try whatever drug he offered you?”

Your mouth hangs open in shock. How dare he! How dare he have the audacity to suggest that you were stupid enough to just take drugs from a stranger!

Bucky opens his mouth to yell again but you interrupt him. You’re tired of taking his shit and letting him do all the talking.

“Fuck you!” You shout. “How dare you suggest that I would be stupid enough to take drugs from a stranger! And don’t get on to me about watching my drink. I assumed that I wouldn’t get drugged in my own house while surrounded by Avengers!” As you rant you decide that it was time to put it out all in the air. To let him know how wrong he is about everything. “Also, what’s your fucking problem with me? You say I'm too happy and nice, well so is Steve and I don’t see you screaming at him? And by the way, I’m not this happy-go-lucky person all the time! New flash Barnes, everybody has shit they deal with, some are just better at hiding it than others!” Your fists are clenched and your chest is heaving as you continue to yell. “You wanna know why I have daddy issues? Cause I tried to fucking kill myself a few years ago! And my dad, instead of letting me recover and go to therapy in the medical wing of the tower, he sent me off, knowing how terrified I was of doctors and hospitals. And to top it all off, he didn’t even visit, make a phone call or even write me a fucking letter! Not to mention that he hates that I do art and has never once said he is proud of me! I mean, he likes that fucking spider kid more than me!”

“Y/n I’m sorr-“ Bucky starts.

“I’m not done.” You cut him off. “I’m sorry about what Hydra did to you, I really am. But everyone has their own shit. The rest of us just chooses not to take it out on other people.” You sigh, finally done.

Bucky stares at you silently, unsure of what to say. You had just dropped a bomb on him and he was thoroughly unprepared.

“Get out.” You tell him quietly, too worn out to yell anymore.

Bucky doesn't put up a fight, simply nodding. He walks slowly to the door, hesitating before leaving. “I’ll tell Tony you’re awake…. I’m sorry y/n.”

As soon as Bucky closes the door, you let out a sigh as you fall back against the bed, already wanting this day to be done.

~

You're sitting up, sipping on the small juice box the nurse had left by your bed while flipping through the channels on the hospital TV.

The door to your room creaks open, Tony coming from behind it.

“How ya holding up kid?”

You shrug, setting the juice down and muting the TV. “Fine I guess… the juice here is good.”

Tony walks further into the room. “That’s good.” He takes a seat at the end of the bed.

A few moments pass, neither of you knowing what to say. The tension in the room is thick and one of you would have to be the first to cut it.

“Dad.” You finally speak. “We need to talk.”

Tony sighs, an awkward half smile making its way to his face. “Why do I get the feeling that you're not referring to last night?”

“Why-“ your voice cracks, your emotions weighing heavy on you. “Why did you send me away?” You start to tear up. “Why didn’t you call or visit?”

Tony clears his throat, clearly feeling the same emotions bubbling up as you. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

This pisses you off. “You could have had me stay in the hospital wing of the tower! You could have been there for me instead of sending me off like some kind of unwanted burden!” Tears start to leak out of your eyes. “Just like my mom did.” You mumble, voice barely above a whisper.

You had never met your mom, didn’t know anything other than that she was one of Tony’s one night stands. She never cared about you, didn’t even care enough to name you. She simply left you in a basket in the lobby of Stark industries with a note claiming you were his daughter.

Tony moves right beside you, taking your hands in both of his. “You can’t possibly think that.” His voice is strained and you can tell he’s only moments away from crying.

“What was I supposed to think!” You cry.

Tony’s lip quivers as he speaks, two heavy tears falling down his cheeks. “I made a mistake.” He admits. “I thought you would do better being around people you could relate to. That’s why I sent you off.”

“And the reason you didn’t call or visit?” Your shaking hand wipes tears from your eyes.

“When- When you found out I was sending you to a facility upstate you told me you hated me. That you never wanted to see or hear from me again.” Tony pauses. “I thought I was doing what you wanted.”

Then it hits you, it was all your fault. If you had never said those terrible things to your father he may have come to see you.

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper. “It’s all my fault.”

“No, hey, don’t do that.” Tony pulls you close, letting your head rest on his shoulder as you hug. “It was my mistake, I shouldn’t have listened to you. It’s my fault.”

“Dad, you think everything’s your fault.”

“So do you.”

You both laugh lightly. Like father, like daughter.

Tony pulls away from the hug, just enough that you can look him in the eyes. “I just need to know… why’d you do it kid?”

You sigh, frowning. “It’s not anything in particular… it’s just, in the moment, you feel so sad and worthless that you think the only way you can escape the pain is to- is to end it.”

“I’m so sorry you ever felt like that.” Tony apologizes. “I should have known.”

You shake your head. “You can’t fault yourself for that. I hid it well, you couldn’t have known.”

“Still, I just-“

“Let’s not not ruin the moment with ‘ifs and buts’, ok? We’ve finally got it out in the open and now we can move on, right?” You suggest.

Well you worked out most of your problems. He has still never told you that he’s proud of you, but that’s an issue for a later date.

Tony nods, wiping the tears from his eyes. “You’re right, and besides, you have a visitor coming soon.”

You look at him in confusion. Who did he tell?

Before you can even ask, the sound of pounding feet coming running down the hall and into your room.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

Peter Parker. And he’s brought flowers.

“You told him?” You angrily whisper to your dad.

“He was worried about you when he didn’t see you at the tower.” He whispers back.

“You could’ve-“ you start to speak but cut yourself of as Peter makes his way over to you.

“Hey Peter.” You sigh. Your feelings towards the boy were complicated. On one hand, you resent him for his relationship with your dad, but on the other, the kid was really sweet and hard to dislike. He was almost like an annoying little brother to you.

“Hey y/n! I’m sorry about uh…” he trails off, not sure what to say. “I brought you flowers!” He changes the subject. “I didn’t know what kind you like so I got you a mix!” He smiles brightly.

You smile back softly, taking the vase of the artificially dyed flowers and setting them on the bedside table.

“Thanks Pete.”

Tony smiles at Peter. “That’s nice of you kid.”

Peter shrugs. “It’s no big deal, I mean, that's what you do for people in hospitals right?”

You nod absentmindedly as you read the card attached to the vase. You furrow your brows as you read it aloud. “Congratulations, welcome to motherhood…”

Both you and Tony give Peter an amused look.

Peter blushes, slightly embarrassed. “I didn’t read it.” He lets out a soft, awkward laugh.

You smile at him genuinely as you chuckle. “Don’t sweat it kid… Now, does anyone know when I can get out of here? I’m dying for a cheeseburger.”

“I’ll let the doctor know you're up and we can go from there.” Tony gives you a pat on the shoulder before getting up from the bed and moving towards the door. “Com’ on Pete, let's give her some privacy so she can change.”

Peter nods, following after your dad. “Later y/n!”

“Later Pete.”

~

3rd person, Bucky’s perspective

“I fucked up.” Bucky admits as he walks into his shared apartment.

Steve, from the couch hears Bucky come in. “Bucky what the hell happened? Is y/n ok?” He jumps up from his spot and makes his way over to Bucky.

Bucky furrows his brows. “Haven’t you talked to Stark?”

“No.” Steve replies. “The only person I’ve heard from all night is you when you told me that y/n was in an accident and that you were at the hospital.”

“She…” Bucky pauses, debating on how to relay the information. “She left with this guy, some actor… he had drugged her and took her to a motel.” Bucky notices Steve clench his fists.

“Did he-“

“No.” Bucky responds immediately. “I got there just in time.”

Steve sighs, visibly relaxing. “Thank goodness. How is she doing?”

“She's fine. She’s pissed at me but fine.”

Steve groans. “What’d you do now?”

“I yelled at her...Basically said it was her fault.” Bucky admits.

“Why the hell would you do that?!” Now Steve is pissed. “She’s been nothing but nice to you and all you do is treat her like trash!” Steve starts to rant.

“I know, ok! I messed up and now I don’t know what to do!”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Why do you even care? You act like you hate her.”

Bucky groans. “I don’t hate her! Look, I don’t know why but I can’t get her out of my mind. She’s so sweet and perfect and beautiful! I guess I was just pissed because I knew I could never have her! So acted like an ass to make her hate me so the feelings would go away. But it didn’t work, and I only yelled at her this morning because I was so upset with myself for not being there to protect her sooner.”

“You’re an idiot, Barnes.”

“I know.” Bucky sighs. “And I want to fix it. I don’t expect her to ever want to be with me after the way I’ve been acting, but I’d like to at the very least let her know I’m sorry.”

“Maybe start with saying you’re sorry.”

“I don’t think she's going to want to listen to anything I have to say.”

“Then write a note.” Steve suggests. “And attach it to a pack of sour gummy worms.”

“Gummy worms?”

“She loves them. Give her some of those and she might accept your apology.”

Bucky nods. “Anything else I should know?”

“Well she loves Star Wars…”

~

When Bucky heard y/n had called the Avengers to a meeting, he was surprised to say the least… and a little nervous. Was she going to demand he be kicked out? Not that he will put up a fight, he knows he deserves it.

“Any idea what this is about?” Sam, who is sitting next to Bucky at the table in the meeting room, asks.

Before bucky can respond, y/n walks in, not an ounce of unease shown in her presence.

The Avengers all stop murmuring, giving y/n there full attention.

“I’m sure you’re all wondering why you’re here. I’m not going to pussy-foot around it. It’s going to come out to everyone eventually so I thought it would be best that it comes from me. Last night an actor at the party drugged me, took me to a motel, and attempted to rape me.” She doesn't even hesitate to say it. “I’m fine, he was stopped in time and arrested. No, I will not be talking about it further or answering any questions. If you’re upset, talk about it to someone who’s not me.” She pauses, looking over the faces of everyone in the room, excluding Bucky. “You’re all dismissed.”

Y/n leaves the room, leaving the team to sit and absorb the information just dropped on them.

Before y/n can get too far away, Bucky follows after her, rushing down the hall to catch up to her.

“Y/n wait!”

“I already said I’m not talking about it.” She continues walking down the hall.

“I’m sorry!” Bucky shouts, before she is too far away to hear him.

Y/n surprisingly stops and turns around. “You’re only sorry because you pity me, not because you actually mean it.”

[twst-headcanons]

Hey! I was scrolling through some of your older posts and i found the band au one. I was really interested about it so maybe if you haven’t done it, could you do a continuation of it through hcs?

AUHROENFOSHDJNDKD WAIT OHMYGOD ANON THANK YOU IVE BEEN MEANING TO POST MORE STUFF I ALREADY HAVE PLENTY MORE WRITTEN ABOUT EACH SO I HOPE YOURE OK WITH ME POSTING THE BASIC BIOS

HEARTSLAYBUL

A band of five boys looking to enjoy the rest of their highschool experience together before moving on to the real world as adults.

Riddle Rosehearts; A junior at Night Raven, and the young heir to his mother's company. He wishes to do the best he can to take on her business once he graduates, though feels pressured to do so.

Trey Clover; A senior at Night Raven, and Riddle's childhood friend. He looks forward to having enjoyable moments with Riddle and the others before graduating and moving on to college.

Cater Diamond; A senior at Night Raven, and a generally easy-going and "people's person" type of guy with a need to make others around him smile. He thought joining a band might be a good way to promote his social media, and an overall nice change of pace.

Deuce Spade; A sophomore at Night Raven, and a former "bad boy", Deuce is looking to redeem himself so that he can have a pleasant and worry-free highschool experience.

Ace Trappola; A sophomore at Night Raven, and a bonafide flirt as well as an active troublemaker/class clown. He thought joining a band might garner him more attention from girls.

SAVANACLAW

A band of three boys looking to make a change, and their voices heard in the world. Struggling with different issues, they decided to come together to form a band.

Leona Kingscholar; A "super" senior at Night Raven, and the second-born son of a recently-deceased millionaire. Feels as if he was cheated out of his "rightful" inheritance, he hopes to vent his frustrations via music.

Ruggie Bucchi; A junior at Night Raven, and a lower-class student who was lucky to make it to the prestigious school in the first place. He joined Leona's band in hopes of getting famous and being able to give back to the struggling community he grew up in.

Jack Howl; A sophomore at Night Raven, he looks up to his seniors and hopes to support their efforts as best he can, and joins Leona's band to put his drumming skills to good use.

OCTAVINELLE

A band formed by three childhood friends hoping to promote the Monstro Lounge, a restaurant gifted to Azul by his parents. Found out that they enjoy performing together as a band, and decide to continue even after the Lounge gains traction.

Azul Ashengrotto; A junior at Night Raven, and a young yet passionate restaurant owner. He hopes to make it in the restaurant business, and formed a "temporary" band with Floyd and Jade to promote the Lounge.

Jade Leech; A junior at Night Raven, and childhood friend of Azul. He wishes the best for his friend, even if it means joining his band and working at his restaurant.

Floyd Leech; A junior at Night Raven, and childhood friend of Azul. A bit of a loose cannon and rather unpredictable, it was a miracle that he agreed to joining Azul's "temporary" band.

SCARABIA

A duo focused on sharing their culture with others, Kalim's only real goal being to make others smile while Jamil tries his best to keep him out of trouble.

Kalim Al-Asim; A junior at Night Raven, and a wealthy foreign-exchange student sent to attend with his servant, Jamil. He thought it would be fun to perform music and pick up an instrument, hoping to spread the joy his culture brings him to others.

Jamil Viper; A junior at Night Raven, and a fellow foreign-exchange student sent to watch over Kalim while they're overseas attending school. He decided to perform with Kalim as to make sure he wouldn't get in any trouble or messy situations, picking up an instrument as well.

POMEFIORE

A band of three boys formed by an agency with the goal of spreading Vil's influence as a celebrity. Clashing opinions oftentimes cause concern for the stability of their band in the long run.

Vil Schoenheit; A senior at Night Raven, and a famous model/social media influencer hoping to dip his feet and test the waters of the music industry. He demanded that the agency only pick him the "fairest" musicians to choose for his band.

Rook Hunt; A senior at Night Raven, as well as a friend and admirer of Vil's. He decided to pick up the bass in the past but never got serious with it until he heard that Vil was looking to form a band, and asked to join.

Epel Felmier; A sophomore at Night Raven, and a candidate hand-picked by Vil's agency. He hates the thought of being seen as fragile and "pretty", and started learning how to play the drums by Jack. He oftentimes has opinions differing from Vil's, and gets irritated easily by arguing with him.

IGNIHYDE

A pair of siblings hiding anonymously behind the alias of "Ignihyde", they work together as a DJ duo.

Idia Shroud; A senior at Night Raven and a textbook shut-in, he has a talent when it comes to technology, and secretly enjoys making his own music in his free time. Prefers to keep to himself, and is viewed as "the strange student", or even as "mysterious".

Ortho Shroud; A child attending the local middle school, he oftentimes comes after school in hopes of Idia opening up more around others. He was involved in an incident that left him missing a leg and needing a prosthetic, oftentimes joking that he's like a robot because of how the prosthetic is modeled. Asks Idia if he can sing for some of his songs, or at least help him with the instrumentals, even if the answer is usually an embarrassed "no".

DIASOMNIA

A band of four who've known eachother for most of their lives and act as family, and are hoping to stay with eachother for many more. They have decided to create slightly altered "personas" to act as onstage.

Malleus Draconia; A college student attending the local university his grandmother works at, in hopes of taking up her place as a professor once she retires as a means of "continuing her legacy", as Lilia jokingly phrases it. His "onstage persona" is a powerful mage and dragon fae who rules over a civilization.

Lilia Vanrogue; An older college student who never had the chance previously to attend, becoming a father and caretaker by the time he was fresh out of highschool. He used to play the bass, but had to prioritize taking care of Silver and Malleus over his own personal hobbies. He thought it might be fun to start a band with Malleus and Silver. His "onstage persona" is a vampire fae who acts as an advisor to the powerful dragon fae in power.

Silver Vanrogue; A junior at Night Raven, he's a rather sleepy and quiet individual who suffers from narcolepsy, even if it isn't immediately obvious. He's rather indifferent to the idea of being in a band with his father (and Malleus, who he somewhat views as an adoptive brother), and his "onstage persona" is that of a knight training to protect and serve the powerful dragon fae ruling over the faerie civilization.

Sebek Zigvolt; A sophomore at Night Raven, he's actually a rather shy and skittish boy when not acting as his onstage persona, though he's taken to adapting it into his regular behavior to fit his tall and intimidating stature. He decided to join his childhood friend, Silver, in Malleus' band, hoping to grow less shy and to impress Malleus, seeing him as an older brother figure. His "onstage persona" is a rather boisterious yet serious knight-in-training, hoping to live up to his master's expectations and more.

EXTRA INFO

- Night Ravens is a group formed by all seven main vocalists to perform a song for homecoming week, as per the request of the oh-so-generous Principal Crowley.

- No magic exists in this AU. Think of it as a sort of "spin-off" BanG Dream! universe.

- The Diasomnia boys still go by their names onstage, though they act differently according to their onstage personas.

- Each dorm name is their band name. For example, Octavinelle would perform regularly at the Monstro Lounge.

- Any boy that might have "strange" or non-human features are human. If they get body modifications (such as the twins with their teeth, perhaps) then they keep it, but Malleus doesn't have horns offstage, the Savanaclaw boys don't have animalistic features, the Octavinelle boys cannot turn into mermen (sea creatures?), and both Idia and Ortho have normal hair, even if it may be dyed.

- Ortho is a normal human boy, though he lost his left leg in a currently unspecified incident that might be delved into at a later point in time. All that will be currently mentioned is that Idia feels immense guilt and like he was the one responsible for it happening.

- In this AU, it isn't specified whether Silver is adopted or if he's Lilia's biological son. Malleus was put into Lilia's care as his parents couldn't be bothered to raise him/make the time to care for him and his grandmother is busy as a well-known and highly-regarded university professor.

- The setting that this AU takes place in is a city based in a country similar to the United States, and works on the United States school system. This is moreso for convenience on my end, though as it is unspecified it can be adapted to other school systems as needed.

- The faculty are all teachers at the school, though Sam runs an on-campus convenience store. Yuu is the insert character, and Grim is an online friend of Yuu who very conveniently happens to attend Night Raven as well.

[vivrcard]

TAKE A BREAK TAKE A BREAK and if youre vibing with it i'd love to hear about 26 and/or 37

THANKS FOR THE ASK SAARNA listen.. i was doing so well with taking breaks but suddenly it’s all getting far more difficult……. also this replys a long one because of how my thought process typically works and how ive avoided thinking about economical stuff so tee hee this is going under a read more

Is the economy currency based or based on bartering physical goods? What is most valuable? What is least?

there wouldnt have been much time for doing more “meaningless” things like using time and effort to create monetary items (coins, paper money, etc) and people probably wouldnt have put much value on things like this because the goal was survival and that was that. gold isnt going to get you anything in terms of surviving. so that leaves trading and things of that nature. im on the fence about this because i think that, given aitarans views on physical/emotional bonds (they are important as HELL) it’s safe to say that these beliefs had roots in pre split aitaran, especially since aitarans pretty traditional to begin with. so! considering that, it’s also safe to believe that people were doing a fair amount of leaning on each other and so trading wouldnt have been as big of a deal! just giving stuff for free so that everyone can keep surviving. if anything, i imagine that larger scenarios where people give another party a LOT of stuff would end in there being some sort of trade. it could also be a scenario where it was on the condition of ok! i will give you X things of great value but im taking one of your kids (for help on the farm etc) OR seeing if we can get two of our kids to hook up (because mortality rate was incredibly high, lots of people were dying young what with the whole apocalyptic setting, people were really freaking out about whether or not humanity would survive as a whole).

obviously humanity keeps on going and does not die out because we wind up with wthi a solid ~1900 years later (barring timeline resets). i would imagine that over time, people resume trading materials instead of giving things for free. again, though, these are material trades and not monetary. the thing is though! now there are multiple gods because we’re post split! people have become very careful about making sure that all gods are worshipped almost equally (some people pick and choose which gods to worship but religion is a whole nother can of worms). what IM thinking is that different gods enjoy different offerings, so that would mean that some economies would be booming. lets use different minerals as an example. assuming that different gods enjoy different minerals (copper, bronze, silver, gold, hell, maybe something more fun like lapis), i think itd be reasonable to think that there are multiple industries involved with mining, polishing, and selling/trading these minerals so that they can be used as offerings for gods. in turn, these minerals could become a sort of currency, some being more valuable than others. theres probably some sort of conversion rate between all of the minerals depending on what is most commonly found in the mines. obv i have to think more about how many types of coins exist, but im thinking 3-5 at minimum. the other thing with this is! lets say that a business owner is one of the people that pick and choose what god they wanna worship. theyre not gonna care as much about certain currencies because they offer X currency to X god and thats it. so! you wind up with some businesses only accepting X type of coin and no others.

so! i guess in a way you could interpret these coins as indulgences when theyre offered to gods. people essentially just pay the gods to leave them the hell alone and not try to start another apocalypse lmaoooo. this DOES raise the question as to what medriva and vanaam (euvimanite society) do for money. vanaam, being incredibly closed off, probably sticks to trading objects and not money. medriva deals with an entirely different religion for the most part but began as part of aitaran, so they probably have retained some aspects of aitaranian money with some minor differences (ie no offering it to gods, maybe less forms of currency. this also all hinges on the availability of some minerals up north since trade between aitaran and medriva is very very difficult).

ok. whew. question 37. How do people navigate? Do they have maps, compasses, or something else? How are these things made?

i think for the most part people just use maps! probably ones made out of some kind of paper as opposed to tanned hides or something of that nature. some dark magic users have started on trying to create technology that allows you to locate places/things more easily, but dark magic tech is a long ways away from being fully usable because of how few people are capable of using it proficiently

[etheralisi]

Hi. It’s the anon who asked about the Apollo-gets-reincarnated-as-a-child-of-Demeter fic again. How hectic are we talking? I mean, Apollo is the god of an absurd amount of things. Ive got this mental image of all of the Olympians taking on his various responsibilities/domains and acting all stoic on the outside, but also dying on the inside because they only took on one (maybe two) each, and how did the guy have time for anything? Also: Did Apollo have a funeral? A shroud? Who punched Zeus?

Hi again anon! Considering a lot of his domains have someone else working with it (the muses for poetry, Artemis with archery, Asclepius for medicine etc) it does help with the blow. However, that’s not to say there’s going to be no effect whatsoever. Probably some bad years in the music industry, widespread disease running rampant, the sun. Now, in toa it’s stated that as long as the gods from other pantheons uphold taking the sun across the sky AND the science thing, the sun will still look to be journeying across the sky. But you can’t just not have a god of the sun. Who will take it? Who will accept the offerings because it’s not as if he’s died because of a lack of belief in him. No, no, people are still praying. I’d imagine because it’s such a big domain to be the god of, you’d have a lot of smaller gods chomping at the bit to become in charge of it, even if it involves going into the shoes of someone on bad terms with Zeus. But maybe you’d get those on the council wanting it too, like Demeter who needs to the sun for her crops. Then of course you’d have some who would be all ‘I’m god of enough, my domain needs enough management as it is’ or ‘I’d rather not get put in the spotlight for this’ or ‘wake up at sunrise to pull the sun? Count me out.’ But for a temporary fix in my fic, it’s going to Artemis. With the pjo gods, Artemis is on better graces with Zeus (though after this incident she’s seriously going to have a bone to pick with him) so the sun may go to her. It wouldn’t feel right to her for someone else to take it. Though, if I felt like writing a crack-ish concept, I’d write out some sort of sun tryouts where the gods get given a schedule of what days they’re in charge of the sun and have to take turns with it. Basically what you said XD I love the idea of them tackling his domains

(Wow, if you think about Helios as well, the sun is being passed around like a torch here.)

Though as for the permanent solution… things may get interesting if they learn of his reincarnation… ;)

Usually gods fizzle out, like Helios, and don’t die. Death is so incredibly… human to them that treating a god that way wouldn’t cross their minds. But it would be befitting of the god who died a human. If they do end up having a funeral, I can imagine it to be with this giant empty casket shaped like the case of a musical instrument (what instrument you say? Perhaps it’s all at once) a giant sun on the front and lots of little engravings carved into it with all the things he was god of (taking up quite a lot of room.) “The sun always rises again,” Artemis says at sunset as it dips down beneath the horizon.

Those at Camp Halfblood would treat him as one of their own. “He died like one of us.” They say as they fire an arrow and the body Meg brought to them burns in the water. The moon’s extra bright tonight, as if gazing down but unable to bring herself any closer. And if you perhaps see Hermes in the crowd… well, did you?

As for punching Zeus, I have this idea in my head that a lot of the gods want to form a line like what happened for Leo, except being unable to do it without knowing if the others would follow suit. If it was just one god on their own, who is to say Zeus wouldn’t do with them the same he did with Apollo? It’s a death sentence

[hermannsthumb]

you know how hermann finding The Tape is like, a popular fic prompt? imagine newt listening to the tape, after the breach is closed only to find out it kept recording after he passed out? imagine newt listening to hermanns frantically confessing his love to him :^)

god ive seen the opposite (hermannn finding the tape with love confession from newt on it) but THIS.....IS A GREAT IDEA

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

“I’m not dying, Newton,” Hermann says. “Don’t be so melodramatic. It’s standard procedure, is all.” He shifts a little under his stiff medical-issued blanket, and blinks at Newt hazily; the pain meds they gave him have made him crazy out of it. A bit loopy. Unbalanced. Newt had to help him into his pajamas today, and that was enough blushing mortification for a life time, thank you. “I’ll be out--oh--tomorrow, I reckon.”

“Standard procedure, my ass,” Newt scoffs. “If that was true, I’d be in here with you.”

Hermann shuts his mouth and, wisely, doesn’t push the point. Probably because he knows Newt’s right. They both drifted with the kaiju brain, after all--shit, Newt drifted with one twice, practically fried his brain to smithereens the first time. Geiszler served over-hard. If anyone should be doomed to an overnight medical stay, it’s him. Hell--a week-long medical stay. Instead he’s being sent away with nothing more than an MRI, a pat on the head, and instructions to never fucking do that again, and meanwhile Hermann is being imprisoned for a whole twenty-four hours. Fucking ridiculous. Newt’s half-considering raising a fuss and insisting on being admitted to the bed beside Hermann’s just to keep him company.

“It’s nausea,” Hermann says. “Merely nausea. And--ah--” He lifts one hand, slowly, like he forgot he had one, and raps his knuckles against his temple. “Bit of a nasty headache.”

Hermann has always had a predilection to migraines, the brutal kind that leave him groaning in the dark for hours on end while Newt hangs, tentatively, out of sight, and they’re usually set off when he’s particularly stressed or overwhelmed by something. Usually work-related. Newt thinks hooking your mind up to an alien hivemind counts as a pretty intense stressor. “They merely want to keep me under observation to ensure it’s nothing more serious.”

Newt bites his lip; he shrugs. He still doesn’t like the sound of it, but he’d rather know one-hundred-percent Hermann’s okay. “I guess.”

Hermann gives him a rare smile. It crinkles the corner of his eyes and makes Newt’s heart race just a bit faster. “Go on, now, make yourself useful. Tidy the bloody lab. Oh--get started on our paperwork, why don’t you? Don’t sit around moping for my sake.” He pats Newt’s hand. “It’s terribly unbecoming for a rock star.”

The nurse at the front desk, when Newt badgers him, echoes Hermann’s sentiments exactly: no, Dr. Gottlieb isn’t dying, Dr. Geiszler, don’t be silly, both of your scans came back sparkling, overnight observation is just to ensure the headache and nausea aren’t something more serious (which we’re almost completely sure it isn’t), you can come pick him back up tomorrow morning at seven. Okay?

“Okay,” Newt sighs.

He casts a forlorn glance back at Hermann. “I’ll come back with dinner,” he says, weakly. 

The nurse coughs. “Actually, Dr. Geiszler, I’m afraid there’s no outside food allowed.”

“Right,” Newt says. “Bye, Hermann.”

“Paperwork,” Hermann calls to him.

No one’s been in the lab since before the whole Breach-bombing extravaganza, a whole forty-eight hours, and Newt can’t help but be a bit unsettled by it later that evening when he finally rolls up his sleeves and trudges down dutifully to get a crack on Hermann’s requests. It’s too quiet--too stagnant--like some sort of weird memorial to a lifestyle that’s now as obsolete as the kaiju. There’s a half-finished mug of coffee on Hermann’s desk (the milk gone curdled); Newt’s filthy work tools still in the industrial sink; a bit of kaiju intestine hanging off his work bench, decaying at an alarming rate; Hermann’s last equation, unfinished, on the chalkboard--what he was calculating Newt guesses he’ll never know.

“It smells like shit in here,” Newt declares to no one.

The paperwork about the, uh, legality of their drift Hermann was so eager for him to complete is nowhere to be found--probably because the entire fucking ‘dome is on an unofficial ‘we didn’t die!’ vacation, except for him, and no one has the time to deliver paperwork to two weirdo scientists in the basement--so Newt decides to start cleaning instead.

That’s maybe misleading. Newt does decide to clean, but he never actually follows through on that decision, because he immediately gets distracted by all the fun and interesting stuff in Hermann’s desk. The dude keeps, like, a million Rubik’s cubes on hand. All solved. A miniature chess set Newt thinks they played together once on a slow day. An entire drawer-full of those weird British digestives he likes so much that he almost definitely purchased on the black market. There’s even a photograph of Newt in there--the two of them, together, probably at some Shatterdome party, Newt holding a beer and smiling cheekily at a blushing, disgruntled Hermann.

It’s...kinda cute, actually. Newt props the frame up on Hermann’s desk over a somber Gottlieb family photograph. It deserves to be displayed.

Once he’s exhausted Hermann’s desk, he moves to his side of the lab and actually starts cleaning. He tosses out the decaying entrails--suddenly wishing, a bit sadly, that he’d taken better care of his kaiju specimens, because they just got even rarer--and rinses down Hermann’s grody coffee mug as he debates out what to do with the leftover pile of junk from his drift machine. He also wishes he’d planned ahead and made a back-up: the UN seized Newt’s machine from the Bone Slums milliseconds after Mako and Becket’s escape pods popped out of the ocean, and he has a feeling he won’t ever be seeing it again. Oh well. It had a fucking awesome run.

He’s just finishing washing out Hermann’s mug and setting it on the drying rack when he pauses; his tape recorder is on the kitchenette counter.

Newt recalls his almost-parting message to Hermann with something like guilt. At the time, he’d meant it... Well, he’s not sure how he meant it. As a joke? A weird, superstitious way of ensuring his drift would be successful, because he couldn’t possibly die with last words that bad? He’s not sure he would’ve said it if he knew what Hermann would be doing for him in a few short hours. Frankly, he’s not sure he would’ve said it if he thought about it for more than five minutes.

He wonders if Hermann listened to it.

A bit of the plastic is cracked. Newt thinks he must’ve knocked it to the floor when he started, uh, spasming, and Hermann probably picked it up before he got Newt a glass of water, which could be how it migrated here. He could’ve listened to it then. He could’ve listened to it when Newt headed out to meet Chau, and Hermann sent him off with the awkwardest little hug of all time and a quiet, terse little “Don’t get yourself killed.” He could’ve listened to it before he hopped on a helicopter to the Bone Slums to risk his life for Newt. He could’ve snuck back into the lab without Newt knowing and listened to it any time yesterday, in fact.

Newt rewinds a little and presses play. Despite the crack, it still works.

“Unscientific aside,” he hears himself say, “Hermann...”

He listens to the rest of his message in morbid fascination. Three, two, one--

The loud clatter of the recorder hitting the floor, then the even louder one of Newt hitting the floor. A prolonged period of loud, pained gasps. Before Newt can switch it off, suddenly, to his surprise, there’s Hermann’s voice, out-of-his-mind, frantic--saying his name--what have you done?--low, terrified murmurs of no, no, no--

The sound of the helmet being ripped from Newt’s head and thrown, violently, to the floor. “Don’t,” Hermann stammers, “Newton--you stupid, stupid man--you can’t leave, I--” Fast, panicked breathing. “I love you, you stupid--”

The tape runs out, and cuts Hermann off mid-sentence.

Newt sets the recorder down with shaking hands.

“Oh,” he says.

He knows, in the vaguest sense, that Hermann harbors a regard for him that matches Newt’s regard for Hermann to some degree--he got enough of that in the drift, in Hermann’s too-long too-shy lingering glances across the lab, his too-long too-shy lingering touches, the way he never smiles for anyone but Newt--but hearing it spoken so blatantly out in the open like that makes Newt’s heart race and his stomach feel a little funny, like it’s being twisted up in knots. 

Hermann loves him. Like, loves him, loves him. 

It’s late, which means there’s only one nurse on duty in medical this time, and Newt manages to use his newfound rock star status to charm his way pass without a problem.

(“Pleeease,” he whined. “Please, please, please--”

“Fine,” the nurse snapped. “But if you annoy Dr. Gottlieb, you’re out of here.”)

He finds Hermann where he left him, conked out in one of the stiff beds with his blankets and hair in disarray. There’s a little bit of drool on his chin. Newt wipes it away with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, folds his glasses up on the nightstand, then--after glancing around to ensure the nurse isn’t looking, though it’s dark enough in here he doesn’t think anyone would be able to see him anyway--burrows underneath the bedcovers beside Hermann. It’s a tight squeeze, but they’ll fit.

Hermann stirs. "Newton?”

“Yeah,” Newt whispers. “It’s me.”

Hermann sniffs, then wraps an arm around Newt’s waist. “Jolly good,” he mumbles, sleepily. Newt smiles against his chest. Hermann loves him--how funny. “Do stay.”

“Of course,” Newt says. “You can go back to sleep, if you want.”

“Mm. Yes,” Hermann agrees.

Hermann’s breathing steadily evens out. Newt laces the fingers of his left hand with Hermann’s right, and--still smiling--drifts off to sleep, too.

[eyestells]

i. basics

full name: evelyn jinyi johnson

nickname: evie

gender: cis fem

pronouns: she/her

power/s: magic

weapon/s: n/a

dominant hand: right

sexual orientation: demisexual

romantic orientation: panromantic

age: 26

birthday: 11/23

role: ambassador 

focus in role: modeling and acting

zodiac sign: sagittarius 

hometown: crystal cove (new port), ca

living condition  ( in nl or off site ): in nl, she shares a room w all her sisters sdfksd

spoken languages: english, greek, korean

ii. appearance

face claim: jisoo

hair color: naturally black, dyed purple

eye color: brown

ethnicity: korean

nationality: american

height: 5′4.9

piercings: a bunch on her ears sdfk

double earlobe piercings on her left ear, triple earlobe piercings on her right ear, industrial on her right, orbital on her right, a flat piercing on her right, and a 2 helix piercings on her right

tattoos (nl tattoo position and others):  nl - above her right inner elbow. example

birthmarks: a mole under her left eye

scars: she has various scars from picking scabs that weren’t healed all the way

iii. psychology

sociability: very

phobias: clowns, spiders, tbh anything scary. she can’t watch anything horror 

vices: being on her phone too much sdhfkjd

alignment: chaotic good

briggs-myers: infp

temperaments: the high i ; sanguine

how do they view themselves? 

she thinks she’s hilarious hsdfk

how do others view them? 

fun i think? she takes ppl on random adventures so impromptu if anything 

iv. mannerisms:

accent: so-cal

hobbies: being on her phone always, making money for nl, using her magic for everything

motivations: her family, she wants to make them proud

v. relationships

human parent: yoonki johnson 

step-dad: chad johnson

godly parent: hecate

siblings: nat, kat, astrid, pax

relationship with the human family: 

good! she’s v close to her dads and learned how to cook from kdad

relationship with godly parent: 

she’s spoken to hecate a few times and gets along with her

what was their childhood like? 

she was a fun kid and her mischief only grew as she grew up

pets:  

 hellhound - bear

fruit bat - stellaluna

western hognose snake - teddy

ideal significant other: 

they gotta be qt :/  mainly she wants someone she can mess around with and makes her laugh

vi. misc

glasses/contacts? yes, she prefers contacts

clothing style: comfortable but fashionable  

favorite food: pambasos

favorite desert: blueberry chiffon cake

favorite hot drink: hot chocolate 

favorite cold drink: anything with guava or mango

favorite movie: teen titans go! the movie

favorite show: sunnyside 

favorite book: she doesn’t read enough to have a favorite book and to be attached to one

favorite weather: raining

coffee or tea: tea

cats or dogs: both

pineapples on pizza or no pineapples on pizza? 

she’d rather not but if it’s on her pizza she won’t complain, she’ll j eat it first

vii. traits

positive: trusting, helpful, funny

negative: naive, fickle, forgetful

extroverted / introverted / in between

disorganised / organised / in between

close minded / open-minded / in between

calm / anxious / in between

disagreeable / agreeable / in between

cautious / reckless / in between

patient / impatient / in between

outspoken / reserved / in between

leader / follower / in between

empathetic / unempathetic / in between

optimistic / pessimistic / in between

traditional / modern / in between

hard-working / lazy / in between

cultured / un-cultured / in between

loyal / disloyal / in between

faithful / unfaithful / in between

viii. ic questionnaire

why did you come to nl? 

it seemed fun!

how are you dealing with the recent changes? 

it’s fun! i like my new jobs i always have something to do

what did you do before the change? 

mainly just lounged around and poofed to random cities 

why did you get into the role you’re in? 

i did some modeling before the change so it seemed like a natural next step

how do you like it? was this the role you wanted to be in? 

i like it a lot! i think it was the only role i could’ve been in, tbh

if you could be in any other role, what would it be? 

i guess standard. the other ones are too hard

how do you like your powers? 

i like it a lot! it’s super handy

how much control do you have of your powers? 

full control, shoutout to my trainers

what are some of your goals?

i guess making sure nl does will with all the changes going on 

what game could you destroy everyone in?

the only game i play is maplestory and it isn’t pvp

what did you want to be when you grew up?

i wanted to be a magic girl and it worked out!

thoughts on your own singing voice?

it isn’t bad!

what’s your greatest fear?

either being a disappointment or being alone

what are some things you always carry with you?

my phone

do you drive?

yeah but i’d rather just teleport. i drive okay but i have pretty bad roadrage 

what’s your favorite book and why?

you think i read? 

what’s your favorite tv or movie genre?

anything funny, tbh

[icedcappujaeno]

03. Signal. | jjh. [ idol!au ]

warnings: none in particular.

word count: 1,547

“There’s something on your sandwich.”

Before you could even react, Soomin was already taking the sandwich off your hands, peeled the piece of paper away and gave it back to you. Your stomach growled for the 3rd time today and it was only 10A.M. - and the only meal that was in your stomach right now was the small cup of coffee your manager made for you before going to your respective schedules. Now, you’re inside the dressing room, taking a break for at least 10 minutes before your respective make-up artists and hairdresser do their works on your trio.

To say that you’re hungry was an understatement. Famished seemed to fit better with how badly you want to take a bite off the sandwich you’re holding right now. Though you try your best not to roll your eyes and grunt as it was deemed unfit for a lady-like idol like you, you still did. Voluntarily.

“Let me guess, it’s from Valentine’s boy again?” Mari giggled, taking a bite off her own sandwich as well. “I wish Chanyeol-sunbae would do the same for m-ouch!”

You glared and pinched your co-worker’s side before she could even end her statement. All the while she’s talking, you finished your share - all in hunger. Your female manager was glaring daggers at your direction but you heed no mind - what is etiquette and public figure when you’re dying of hunger in any moment?

Also, you did glare at your other manager, who was a male. It was him who went to the cafeteria and got your snacks, and apparently, he was an asset to all these stuff. He only shrugged and chuckled, so he was taking part in this - why was it so fun to tease you with Jaehyun?

“What did it say?” Mari cooed, leaving her seat beside yours to scoot beside Soomin. 

“For the meantime, I hope this will do. But next time, I want to take you out on a romantic dinner for two. - JH”

Soomin and Mari looked at each other with knowing smiles on their lips. 

“Gross!” 

“But it’s still sweet Soomin! And it rhymes too!” Mari laughed, slapping Soomin’s thigh out of habit.

You only blew a raspberry, and your manager thanked all the heavens that your hair isn’t done yet as your hands ran through your hair in frustration - forehead lightly bumping the tabletop. You were sure it will leave a red mark - but whatever, your make-up artist would do something about it anyway.

“Why don’t you just tell it to him straight?” Soomin shrugged, picking one of the sliced apples from her plate. “It’s been months, I kinda feel pity for the guy.”

“He’s going to be enlisted next year!” Mari reminded. “At least give him a chance? I mean, he’s pretty cute-”

“Why don’t you date him then?” You jabbered and raised your head. 

“Ah, Jaehyun’s not really my type. I told you, Chanyeol-su-”

“I get it,” your eyes rolled annoyingly. Although sometimes Mari’s crush over your seniors are cute, it gets overboard. But now you know she’s just teasing you. Everybody does.

“Break’s over, let’s get back to work,” your female manager said, cleaning up the left-overs at your table while the three of you go back to your respective places to get dolled up for music core.

“This came in the mail.”

A bouquet is thrown on your bed by your female manager while you were busy putting make-up on. You were glad she came in with notice because you were sure that your make-up will get ruined once she didn’t. Another thing you’re sure of was the sender of the said bouquet, and looking at your manager’s expression through the mirror, she wasn’t very happy about it.

“Message him to stop, please.” Though you weren’t pleading, rather than a command. You could only sigh and nodded, saying that you will and she left. You picked up your phone and took a deep breath before typing in his name on the recipient bar.

It only took you seconds before you received a reply.

You sighed. Pretty sure this is going to be a long conversation. You know he’s joking, but the topic isn’t going anywhere intellectual.

Finally.

You locked your phone and continued with your make-up. You were glad that you woke up earlier than expected, so you had a lot of time to prepare for an appearance at a music festival later at night. For a moment, you felt weird with Jaehyun’s final reply. It felt odd but you carried on, and just when you finished your brows, his message tone ringed and your phone lit up.

Ugh!

Jaehyun was at his peak. 

A solo single coming out to the public in 2 days, which concludes fan signs on the following weeks during the promotion. Music shows and award show appearances. Another recording for collaboration for SMTOWN Station in the next month. Jaehyun did have time, but it was all cramped on his busy, idol, schedule. 

All while the others are still in the military, Jaehyun and the remaining had to carry their group name, as well as keep the sales coming for the company. The idol industry isn’t just entertainment, after all. In the end, it was business -- the rest of those who still haven’t enlisted must carry on.

And because Jaehyun is going to be enlisted for the next year and a half - it was only necessary that the company utilize each member, especially Jaehyun. In this current generation, Jaehyun is a King - all with his god-like visuals and heaven-sent voice, it was sure that he’ll be stable until his enlistment.

But all that, King Jaehyun is lonely. Sure, his entire body and soul is dedicated to his work - it’s his life. But his heart was needing something - someone to fill its void. And he was pursuing that need, the need that was you.

“Have you heard?”

Soomin asked, looking directly at your eating figure. You were slurping on a cup of ramyeon as you watched The King of Masked Singer with your team: squished between you and your female manager was Mari while Soomin rests her head on your crossed legs.

“Heard what?” You replied, slurping on another set of noodles.

Soomin wiped her face in disgust while some of the ramyeon soup went on her face. “God, I wish our fans could see how much of a pig you are.”

“Whatever,” you replied.

“What were you going to say Soomin?” Mari asked, eyes still glued on the TV. It was very much expected of Mari not to forget rumors — but not choreo. You still love her anyway.

“Jaehyun was rushed to the hospital just this afternoon.”

You coughed, dropping some blessing onto Soomin’s face causing her to jump.

“Ya!”

Thankfully there was a nightstand beside the couch where you placed your ramyeon. You wiped your mouth from the droplets of spicy and salty ramyeon and immediately fished your phone from the side of the couch and dialed Jaehyun’s number.

The other line answered, Jaehyun’s voice resonating through.

“Yes hello? It’s rare for you to call,” you hear him chuckle.

“Are you okay sunbae?” 

“What do you mean?” 

Your brows raised with his question — confusion was written all over your face. Soomin shrugged and stood from where she sat, Mari and your manager following you. As soon as they had their backs on you, they giggled, making you miss the smug grins on their faces.

“Hello? Still there?” Jaehyun asked on the line.

“Yes, Soomin told me you were rushed to the hospital—“

“I’m perfectly fine,” he laughs. “I think you just missed me.”

You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. Proven, you were stupid enough to fall for Soomin and Mari’s tricks. You were thankful that Jaehyun can’t see your face as you were sure that your face is as red as a tomato right now.

“I’m just worried…” with threaded words you replied.

“Sure you do,” and sure you were that he was being sarcastic. 

“Sunbae…” You could only flop your butt back on the couch, palming your forehead of how much dumb you are.

“Well, I’m glad that my baby missed me, but break’s over and I have to head back to practice,” he chuckled.

“Alright,” you sighed. Yes, you heard the name he called you, but you were sure that if you mention it more, more teasings would come your way. You decided to pretend that you didn’t hear it. “Goodluck with practice, Jaehyun-sunbae.”

You hear the line go silent that you thought he ended it without you noticing, but when you looked at the screen, he was still on. You put your phone back beside your ear and hummed. “Sunbae, put the line down.”

“Why don’t you go first?” His tone was teasing—you could almost see the smugness written all over his features.

“Alright. Bye sunbae.”

With that, you pressed the red button on your phone and tossed it aside—The King of Masked Singer already on its ending cue.

On the other line, however, was Jaehyun lying on the hospital bed, IV inserted on his median cubital. His lips tugged into a smile as the call ended as your photo with him flashed on the screen.

“Hard to get, are we?”

the third fic for @jackbabewang and I’s drabble game! check out her work here!

[lamptracker]

FIC: Counting Down the Days (part 1/?)

Here we go with part 1.

FIC: Counting Down the Days

Pairing: Peter Parker/Female Reader

Inspo: “Cancer” by My Chemical Romance

Summary:  While visiting a children’s hospital as his alter ego Spider-Man, Peter meets a girl his age. She’s sweet, she’s smart, she’s funny… and she’s dying of cancer. When she laments the fact that she probably won’t get to live long enough to have the typical teenage experiences of prom and a boyfriend, Peter offers to fill those roles for her.

Warnings: Talk of death. The usual cursing (he is from Queens). Endgame spoiler. 

Tagged: @flokidottir-imagines-br  @babyplutoszx2   @musiclover1263   @judemoos   @drxgxnslxyer   @hollanderheart   @thequeensardine   @ive-got-some-lies-to-tell   @captainbuckyy   @xxtomxo   @deleteidentity   @yessterekthings   @itsyaspacemom   @upsidedownparker   @starksparker

(if I tagged you and you don’t want to be let me know, k?)

**

“Mr. Spider-Man! Mr. Spider-Man!”

A boy, about five years of age, ran full-tilt down the hall at St. Mary’s Children’s Hospital; he only stopped when he ran smack-dab into a pair of blue and red legs.

“Oh!” Peter Parker, known to many as Spider-Man, looked down at the small boy hugging his calf.

Peter had recently decided to give back to the community he helped keep safe. His aunt May had suggested going to a children’s hospital in uniform, to help brighten the patients’ spirits. St. Mary’s was the closest, so he tried that one; he soon fell in love with the small patients there.

“Hey, DeMarcus! How’s it goin’, buddy?”

“Guess what, Mr. Spider-Man!” DeMarcus’s little brown eyes gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lighting. “The doctors say I’m all better! I have something called re...re...  ugh, Mommy, what was that word?”

“Remission,” DeMarcus’s mom said, smiling widely.

“Yeah, that. But I get to go home, Mr. Spider-Man! Isn’t that awesome??”

Peter held out his gloved hand for a high-five, crouching down so he and DeMarcus were eye level. “That is so awesome, dude! I think that calls for a high-five.”

DeMarcus giggled as he returned the high-five. “I’m going to miss you, Mr. Spider-Man.”

“I’m gonna miss you too, buddy. I’m sure I’ll see you around, though.”

“Mommy! Can you take a picture of me with Spider-Man?”

DeMarcus’s mom pulled out her phone, snapping a few pictures of the two of them together. “Thank you for doing this,” she said. “It really made him happy, that a real superhero took time out of his day just to come see him.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Ma’am, really. DeMarcus is a good kid, I really am going to miss seeing him. Hey, buddy, can I get a hug?” Peter asked, crouching down again.

Wordlessly, DeMarcus flung his arms around Peter. “I love you, Mr. Spider-Man.”

Peter chuckled. “Love you too, buddy. I’ll see you, okay? In the meantime, be good for me. Study hard in school and stay out of trouble.”

DeMarcus nodded, firmly grasping his mother’s hand. “Mommy! I can’t wait to go back to school and tell everyone I’m friends with Spider-Man!”

Peter chuckled as he walked down the hall.

“Is that everyone?” he’d asked a nurse.

The nurse checked her chart. “I know you don’t normally go there, but you could visit the teen wing, maybe? It’s not usually very full, which is why we don’t usually have you go there. But… we have had one patient in there for a while now. Would you like me to see if she’s up for a visitor?”

“Sure.” As the nurse walked down the hall, Peter sat down in a chair. “Karen, any messages for me?”

“Text message from Science Bro Shuri. Displayed or read aloud?”

“Displayed is fine, thanks, Karen.”

Hey Spider-Doofus. When you get done there, come by the lab. Got a little something for ya

Peter chuckled. Probably a suit upgrade, again. Ever since she came to America to work for Stark Industries, carrying on Tony’s work, she had been upgrading his suit at every opportunity.

“Follow me,” the nurse said. Peter followed her down a hallway, into a room on the corner; the nurse peeked her head in. “(y/n)? You ready for your visitor?”

“Sure. Forgot to ask who it is, though.”

“It’s Spider-Man.”

A chuckle. “Is it really Spider-Man, or is it just my uncle Leo in a rented costume again? Because that was kind of a bummer.”

“It’s the real deal, (y/n). Can he come in?”

“Make him prove it,” the girl called out skeptically.

Without another word, Peter shot one of his webs through the crack in the girl’s door.

A long pause, then: “Yes, I’d love to see him.”

Peter laughed as the nurse opened the door wider, allowing him access. He paused at the end of the girl’s bed.

She was thin, not painfully so but definitely thinner than she was supposed to be. Her hair had all fallen out, but based on the pictures littering her nightstand and taped to her walls it had been (y/h/c). But the thing that struck Peter the most was -

“Holy shit, you’re my age,” Peter breathed.

The girl chuckled. “Yeah, I- wait, what?”

“How old are you, anyway?”

“Seventeen.”

“Me too.”

“No way, really?”

The nurse had left at this point; Peter closed the door behind her and webbed it shut for extra insurance. “You cannot tell anyone about this,” he said.

The girl scoffed loudly. “Probably in this joint for the rest of my life,” she said, almost bitterly. “And I practically have nobody. Who am I going to tell?”

“You… well, we’ll get to that, hold on.” Peter carefully removed his mask, looking at her; he ran a hand through his thick auburn curls.

“Wow, you’re cute,” she mumbled to herself; Peter laughed. “Do you, uh, do you live around here?”

“Sort of. I don’t know you from school, though, where’d you go?”

“Townsend Harris. Where do you go?”

“Midtown.”

The girl laughed. “Ah, smart guy, huh? You know I missed getting in there by like three points? I got held back in fifth grade, because I missed so much school when I got sick the first time. It’s a long and winding explanation but to sum it up, it’s cancer. My name’s (y/n), by the way.”

“I’m Spider-Man. But my real name’s Peter, Peter Parker.”

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Peter Peter Parker.”

Peter smiled warmly at her. “So… what do you mean, you have practically nobody?”

(y/n) sighed. “Well, my dad left when I got sick the first time. Said having a sick kid was causing too much stress on him, turns out he’d been cheating on my mom since I was four. Um, he pays child support but it’s not much so my mom works two jobs just so she can pay for my bills. If she’s not at one of her jobs, she’s here. But she works such crazy hours that she’s not here as much as she wants to be. I don’t have any siblings, both sets of my grandparents are dead. I have cousins but they live in Maine.”

“Any friends?”

“Oh, sure. They come by once in awhile, but they never stay long. I know being with someone who’s dying is kind of a bummer. I’m still in the group text and on Snapchat, but it’s hard watching someone live the life you’re supposed to be living, y’know?”

Peter just nodded solemnly.

“I’ve had this twice before,” she added, “and I’ve beaten it both times. But this time, it’s spread too far and my body really can’t handle anymore chemo, so… I’m just around until I’m not around anymore, I guess.”

“Wow,” Peter said. “That is incredibly not fair.”

“Tell me about it. My friends are all stressed out about their SAT’s, what college they’re going to pick, and here I am wondering if I’m going to live until dinner.” (y/n) puffed her cheeks out, exhaling slowly. “That’s dramatic, I’ve got at least a month or two but you know what I’m trying to say. But anyway, prom is in a few weeks and they’re texting me pictures of their dresses and they’re all going to look great.” She smiled sadly.

“But you’re not going to get to go,” Peter said softly.

“Nope. That’s the thing that sucks about this the most. They get to have lives, Peter. They get to go on dates, have boyfriends, go to prom. I won’t get to do any of that.” A tear slid down her cheek; she hurriedly wiped it away. “I’m sorry, you came in here to cheer me up and now I’ve bummed both of us out.”

“No, no, it’s okay! It’s okay.”  Peter smiled at her warmly.

But the wheels in his head were turning. And once they’re in motion, he finds it very hard to get them to stop...

“Hey,” he said finally. “What if I did that?”

“What if you did what?”

“Well, I-I know you can’t leave, right? But maybe… maybe you could have a date? In here? With me? And-and maybe we could have our own tiny prom?”

(y/n) scrunched up her face in confusion. “You just met me, you’d do that just for me?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Because you’ll get attached,” she said simply. “And then I’ll be gone, and then you won’t know what to do?”

Peter laughed bitterly. “You think I’ve never lost anyone close to me before?” he asked, voice tinged with sadness. “Let’s see, I’ve lost… um… both my parents. My uncle Ben - who I watched get shot, by the way. And you’ve heard of Tony Stark, yeah?”

“Yeah. That was so sad, I… oh, no.”

Peter nodded. “He was my mentor, the closest thing I had to a dad since Uncle Ben died. And I watched him die too. So… I’m sort of used to it.”

“God, Peter. I had no idea, I’m so sorry.”

Peter shrugged. “Eh. You never know what’s going on with a person just by looking at ‘em, y’know? So, um… what do you say, huh?”

“You can't fall in love with me.”

“I can’t promise that, I fall in love very easily. I almost married a key lime cheesecake last week. Our children would have looked really weird.”

(y/n) laughed slightly. “You know what? Okay. Let’s do this. What have I got to lose, huh?”

“That’s the spirit.” Peter winked at her; they both burst into laughter. “Okay, um… I have robotics club tomorrow after school, and then I need to-”

“Robotics club? God, my fake boyfriend is such a fucking nerd.”

“And my fake girlfriend is really fucking mean.”

(y/n) started laughing again.

“But anyway, I can’t come by tomorrow but I can the day after? I’ll bring coffee, where’s your favorite coffee place?”

“I always like Rosita’s on the corner of 41st Street and 43rd Avenue?”

Peter nodded. “You got it. I’ll text you when I’m close to there, you can tell me what you want when I get there.”

(y/n) grinned slightly. “Well, Peter Parker, how you gonna do that without my phone number?”

Peter cocked his head to one side in confusion, then laughed. “Ah, (Y/n) used flirting! And… it’s super effective! You do raise a good point, um… can I see your phone?”

(y/n) nodded, handing him her phone; he programmed his number into it quickly. “Here, I’ll just text you so you have mine, I… it’s complicated, I…”

“Phone built into your suit?”

“My fake girlfriend is really smart too.” Peter shook his head as he dissolved the webs holding her door shut. “Okay, so… see you in a couple of days?”

“I’m really looking forward to it, Peter. Bye. Great Pokemon reference, by the way.” She waved slightly as Peter returned the gesture, then slipped his mask back on as he walked out the door.

“I don’t know what you two were talking about in there,” the nurse said as Peter stepped out of the room, “but that’s the most I’ve heard her laugh since she’s been in here. I think that’s just what she needs right now. You will come by and see her again, right?”

Peter laughed. “I promise.”

He thought about that old adage - To the world you may be one person, but to one person you may be the world.

He’d only known (y/n) for about a half hour, but he already knew her world had been filled with hospitals and sadness. He hoped that he could make what was left of her world a little bit brighter.

[cancer-man-speaks]

Cancer Sucks But You Live

My punctuation sucks because I haven’t evolved thumbs.

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

Sometimes I put things off so long that I feel ashamed and in turn try to bury it even deeper in the pile of things to do. As far as excuses go it’s not the greatest but most fall short of that. A great deal of that lost time is laziness but there is also a part of me that doesn’t want to look back, that doesn’t want to remember what it was like to be where you are at.

    Always obsessed with outward appearance, I cracked a joke when the doctor told me that my PET scan lit up like a Christmas tree on crank. I cried in my sister’s arms when she ran to me across the snow dusted parking lot of the clinic. I smoked a pack of cigarettes on the car ride home, trying to keep my hands busy, to do something other than think about what this all meant. I calmed down before walking in, steeling myself to be as stoic and stone faced for my family as I could. In my head I thought that I couldn’t feel this for the sake of others around me. The moment I walked in the door, I saw the tear streaked faces of my mother and sisters. The dogs milled around their ankles not sure what to make of all their sorrow and their inability to help (or in our beagle’s case, his inability to get fed.) All my bluster, all my hubris fell away when I saw my loved ones, the things I had to lose all in one place. They embraced me one at a time then we came together as a group and I lost it. All motor control lost, my legs felt like jelly. They as a group, as a family supported my weight until I could stand on my own two feet again. The beagle, ever caring, bit me in the ankle for being too far into my mother’s person space.

When I got home from the biopsy, that confirmed the doctor’s suspicion of cool case of type b small cell non-Hodgkin's lymphoma, I took to sleeping on the floor. I told myself it was to keep my bad back comfortable but the truth was it felt good to have something solid underneath me as everything was changing. The days passed and the face in the mirror grew ever more foreign. The bone under my flab carved itself out in my cheeks and jaw. Hollow pockets formed around my eyes that gave me the look of an upstairs basement dwelling gnurdsferatu. The only thing that didn’t change were the patterns on the pitted hardwood of my floor. I’d take off my glasses, lay my head on the cool floor, and follow the whirls in the grain with my weary eyes until they lead out of blurry site. There was a comfort in knowing that just because I couldn’t see where the rich, brown lines ended it didn’t mean they were done travelling.

Either through pity or not being able to read the signs of chemotherapy I’d occasionally get compliments on my physique. Over a beer or two somebody would ask, “You look really good, man. What’s your secret? You been going to the gym or doing heroin?”

Nothing beats the satisfaction of the anti-joke that is responding with an off handed, casual, “I have cancer. It beats the hell out of doing palates.” After you explain the sitch to people a million times explaining it one more time is mundane and boring. They will stumble a second on their words; not sure if you are telling the truth or a joke in poor taste. It’s the ultimate, “Gotcha,” moment. When your diagnosis becomes blasé your spirits soar.

    From a few days after I was diagnosed letters poured in by the boatload. Friends, family, friends of family, people that had passed me once at the mall and paid a compliment to my shoes all wanted me to know that there was hope and that I was not alone. I’d read them and be dumbfounded by the amount of care people could express for a stranger. I was even more dumbfounded by the amount of care the family could express. No matter how hard I tried to blend into the background, to continue my weird, self-isolation from my family they kept firing salvo after salvo of cards and gifts. They’d send me gum, stickers that said, “Fuck Cancer,” (Because as we know cancer is terrified of strong language.), and all manner of sweet, sweet candy treats. There was no way for me to stay off the radar of the people that loved me.  

    I held it together through my first few rounds of chemo. It really didn’t bother me until my hair fell out. Until my fourth round I was feeling like a million bucks. I was getting skinny, I lost a few stray hairs, and I had an actual license to smoke pot. What 24-year-old wouldn’t love that? I was driving to the store to grab a drink and I ran my hand through my hair and it came back in tufts between my fingers. Pulling off the road into an abandoned store’s parking lot I started neurotically, compulsively picking away at my scalp and beard. Handfuls of the stuff coated the front seat of my 03’ Accord but still I couldn’t stop. I watched in horror as my reflection warped in the rearview mirror. I just couldn’t stop. After a half hour of what scholars refer to as, “Going bananas real manic like,” I regained my composure. I drove myself over to a friend’s house and had her shear my head with the clippers her dad used to shave his back. From that day on I was bald. It wasn’t so bad when I got used to it. Every now and then I would get a weird phantom limb sensation, as though I still had a rugged mane of hair, when the breeze blew on my naked scalp.

    I was in and out of the hospital all the time. My guts exploded one time when a tumor responded to the chemo and disappeared. It was what we wanted with the tumor, not so much what we wanted for my intestines. They cut out ten feet of my goop and stitched me back up. I was locked up in the cancer klink for two weeks after that. They had me on a tube and all of my food and fluids came from an IV, except when family or friends were around. They would sneak me a small cup of ice cubes, a rare sip of water, or even, once, a whole bottle of tangerine Bai over a whole night. Even when I was being a real grumpy cancer boy my friends, family, and everybody else would stick it out just to let me know I wasn’t alone. In that exact same stay, a friend of mine actually saved my life because he was able to understand my garbled speech through my nose/mouth tubes. I’d been trying to explain to my nurse that the bile vacuum they had in my guts was pumping my green-black bile back into me but she may have been one of god’s special people. When my friend confirmed that my gunk was being pumped back into me, he snagged somebody. Without that kind of support, I’d have either been dead or in the hooskow weeks longer. Not every situation is bubbling gut ooze but when it is remember to trust those people around you enough to say, “Hey, my bubbling gut ooze vacuum feels like its acting weird. Can you go look at the container the ooze is collecting in and tell me what it’s doing?”

    You’d think that with all this gut busting and chemo I’d be taking it easy. Wrong. I’m a big idiot so instead of resting I kept smoking, went to the bars regularly, and tried my hand at in the DIY rock n’ roll venue game. My nights before chemo were full of putting anything and everything I could inflict on my body. Jumping through tables, mosh pits, and drinking beer bongs to Jean Claude Van Dame flicks were everyday occurrences. I’d been dumb before cancer. With the ability to live a bohemian, YOLO life I did just that. I’d burn the candle at both ends because I didn’t know if there was going to be a tomorrow. Tomorrow always came; usually with a Jimmy Buffet grade hangover. Dumb. I was dumb. I did seven rounds of chemo then stem cell and not once did I let off the gas petal of stupidity.

    But you know what?

    I survived. Against all odds, against odds that I was actively trying to stack against myself, I survived. Was it a miracle sent down from the heavens? Maybe. Was it aliens? I’d like to think so. Was it the constant support of my friends and loved ones coupled with cutting edge, state of the art technology in the hands of the most competent doctors and nurses in the industry even though I was hellbent on dying young and beautiful because I’m an idiot? That’s a run-on sentence. It’s also a pretty good idea of what kept me alive, what will keep you alive. I was full to the brim with cancer while dancing on the brink of self-immolation. If I did everything in my power to give myself the odds of a three-legged horse at the Kentucky Derby what do you think yours are? I bet you take care of yourself at least slightly better. I’d like to think that if I beat cancer there is an infinite amount of hope for you, who is not an idiot with a death wish, to go into remission.

    There will be moments in the dead of night where you doubt your own survival. There will be bright days that you will sleep away. There will be moments where you lay on the floor in the fetal position bathed in hot tears and cold sweat. You will think of what a life without this hell would be like. You will feel like the cards are stacked against you. The, “What if’s,” will mix a cocktail of fatal fear in your skull eating away at your resolve. You will walk into your kitchen and forget for half an hour that you came in there for soup. You will throw that soup up and lay hunched and miserable over the porcelain for an hour. You will wonder who will carry your name? Who will see your babies walk across the stage at graduation?

The answer is you. This may be the worst moment of your life but it will not be the one that defines you. What defines you will be all that comes after this nightmare. With your two hands you will make great works. Gardens resplendent in their rainbow will call your master. You will see the white sands of far off beaches, will feel the artic chill of the frozen wastelands allegedly known as, “Canadia” far to the North. Mortal peril will be replaced with picking up the kids from karate and a gallon of milk. You will watch your children grow and cover this earth like that brand of paint I can’t mention for copyright reasons. As you watch them cross that stage or walk down the aisle you will have at your sides the same faces that did their best to make you smile from your bedside during your weakest moment. Trust in them as you would have them trust in you. They will be your guide when you cannot find yourself, we will be your guide.

[mattyslittleworld]

Snowbirds & Townies

1:42 am / Tick Tock Diner 34th & 8th Ave New York City. I don’t know what keeps bringing me back here. I was in Hoboken and grabbed my skateboard and hopped the path into the 9th street station in Manhattan. As soon as I got above ground it was snowing. Blizzard shit. I skated in the snow over to Union Square to see the punks but it was ghost. So from there I got lost in my headphones and skated all the way up 20 streets to 34th. The most free I’ve felt in awhile. I want to be so far from music. So far from anything and anybody I’ve ever known. It felt like I was a different person. Music isolates me, especially now, and it leaves me depressed and alone. During these dark lows I would stay at Bepa’s and talk to him in the kitchen over coffee and then hop the train to the ferry - into manhattan and get lost in a fake identity. Be whoever I want. Start over just for a little. But here I am, again. At the same diner that I lived above before I started touring heavy as a kid. Right before I took my first swing. The same closet sized room I’d leave late night and meet all my friends and just run wild in the city spray painting, skating, and terrorizing. But secretly deep down, hurting. Wanting something more. Edge of offing myself. Wanting companionship. Wanting love. Wanting to get the fuck out. Wanting everything I have now - and will have. I’m back here only difference is I worked with Cage. I sang for Shai Hulud, I’ve gained the respect and shared the stage with everyone I looked up to, I toured 14 countries, I worked with every top respectable rapper from the east coast, I’ve sold out shows, I released the album I wrote here, I did a song and video with Danny Clinch, I did a song with Jesse Malin, I played with HR from Bad Brains, ive played a sold out show at The Stone Pony (without an album), ive played a sold out show at The Bowery Ballroom, ive sang Clash songs with Brian Fallon and Craig from The Hold Steady  - I’ve done everything I ever wanted to do sitting in that room. I fell in love then out of love then back in love with my high school crush. I’ve been heart broken. Shooting the music video with Danny Clinch was intense for me. He’s become my bro and I’m mad grateful for his friendship, but damn was that wild. I was on a 3 day run. I hung out with a beautiful lady and passed out in my jeans after she stuffed my face with orange soda and candy and made me watch Ryan Gosling fuck a doll. I stayed up till like 5 am. Woke up in my clothes at like 7 am two hours later. Had the video shoot at noon and I was mad far from my house. Woke up shot up north with my Dunkin and picked up Rob. SOOOOO TIRED and sick from the soda and candy. Changed real quick and went to the studio where we shot the video. We set up the scene for 2 hours and got angles and then Danny got there and I’m tipping over tired and flustered from this pretty girl. We shot for a half hour then took a break and I was nodding off on the floor during the break. Came back and killed off the video by a piano. After that me and Rob were mind blown over this goal being accomplished. Gratitude isn’t even the word. Next day I get hit by Tsu Surf with a time and place for a session last minute so me and rob drop our shit and shoot over and bang out this hit song that’s got a summer vibe that I made off the influence of this pretty girl. He killed it. I’m an actual fan of him so it was mad cool we could get in the room together and knock this out. That was the first time ive ever collabed in a “Industry” setting where its all bout business - very corporate. I had to adjust to that environment and put a suit on. Times like those make you realize your love for music, your passion, and your “art” simply just don't matter. These managers and shit just don't give a fuck about your grandpa dying and the song you made out of it, or the girl you love and the song you made out of it - they're like yeah fuck yourself lets get money - and you have to jump in or jump out. I jumped in and learned my place. It’s wild to think of what he’s been through over the past few years. Getting out of prison for attempted murder then getting lit up 5 times, surviving, and then while you’re healing you make a tape and it goes up the charts to number 2 in a day, unsigned. Mad funny seeing local level bands desperate to get signed - they don't even know what that means now. My pleasure to work my man, I salute you with honor and respect. After that session I went home and took a week off, after non stop grinding for the past 2 years. The Danny Clinch video shoot right into the Tsu Surf session killed me off. In Surfs studio I couldn’t even keep my head up. I’m so burnt out. What am I searching for here at this diner? What is my soul lacking? What is my heart lacking? I spend many nights here alone, staring out this window drinking coffee. Missing Bepa. Missing people. Missing a certain time of my life when everything was free. But not in a I need to get a life and move on kind of way. It’s not pathetic. I have moved on. I did get a life. I did pretty damn good on my own. I got it from the mud. So why look back? It’s hard for me to mix my social personal life with people I know from music. They don’t know the memories I have, they don’t give a shit. They don’t know anything about me. They don’t want to find that liberating freedom that I am searching for when I come to this diner - that I had when I lived here. I still don't want to get drunk or high. I don't want to watch you get drunk. You could be sober and grinding with a clear head. I want to spend time with people like that. Gorilla promotion. Animalistic work ethic. The snow is coming down fierce and I gotta skate back to the path to go back to Hoboken, then drive all the way home. I won’t be home for awhile. Hopefully till the sun comes up. I want to be lost. I want to be gone. I want to be bliss. I want to walk into this pharmacy across the street again and get cherry coke 12ozs and just sit on my bed and watch blacklisted videos on YouTube. I want to go to pen station and grab a soda and a magazine and take the LIRR to a hardcore show and not get home till the next morning. Strung out after a night of fucking mayhem and laughing. Love, friends, and just fucking beauty. We can still be beautiful. After the money - you can still be whoever the fuck you want. Let’s be beautiful and reckless and never sleep. I love my life. I hate my life. I’m happy. I’m depressed. I want to live. I want to die. I am alive. I am dead. Now on the train back home, braved the blizzard. I noticed a void in how music has been touching me lately. Anything hip hop related seemed stale. Any Americana or folk seemed dead and expired. Rock n roll boring. Even heavy hardcore was horrible. I ended up in a wormhole of bands like Thursday and From Autumn To Ashes. Poison The Well, even weirdo shit like It Dies Today. Folly really hit me hard. I have specific memories to these records and they’re so beautiful and god damn I miss these people. Being in middle school and debating the differences between FATA and PTW. As I’m typing this I just got noticed on the path train for music and they complemented my shattered realm hoodie and I showed him I was listening to from first to last and he died laughing. He said he heard my career was “bumping” and I’m sitting here soaking wet freezing and hungry on a train in all black curled up in a ball around my skateboard. Emily by FFTL is the best song ever written. Even better than Bob Dylan. Fight me. 

[bayardboy]

Open Letter to Sunrise 3.13

“To Fellow Leaders: Sometime in my journey in Sunrise you impacted the way I move in this space, and I thank you for it. As someone who holds a title with weight I wanted to address my beliefs and role in the hub, especially as we head into the next stage of our course to win a livable future, together. I present my story of self, in hopes that I will hear yours one day!” - me, march 2021

OPEN LETTER TO ALL MEMBERSHIP AND LEADERSHIP OF SUNRISEPDX

March 13, 2021.

Hello Sunrise Hub Members; Hello my friends,

My primary purpose in this letter is to write the things I do not say, so you will know me better.

For those who skim, here’s the layout: First, my identities; Second, my roles; Third, my beliefs (including many quotes); Fourth, my observations; Fifth, cited sources. This is how I processed these thoughts; I encourage you to also reflect on your core tenants, in a way that’s most fruitful for you.

I am feeling called to write this letter because lately, many things are going unsaid. I don’t know if all of you are aware, but I have autism, and I don’t pick up on nuanced social signals. I’ve described it as, “when people tell me their story, I cannot read between the lines, unless I have read another book that tells me what may be within their pen.” However, I can tell something is amiss, because people have stopped talking to me without being explicitly asked to. There are many reasons this could be occurring. This silence is something I can hear, and something I want to highlight.

             I will first be clear about myself. My communication style is direct, and as honest as the English language can be (which is not very, speaking from experience). If you feel a strong emotion by reading this letter, please let me know and I’d love to have any length of conversation about your reflection.

             First, my identities: I am a white trans man, an educated youth, and a musician. I like to live my life in beats. I forget how big I am and that it is easier in this identity to intimidate people. I have been pushed to hold leadership my entire life, including girlscouts, theater troupes, camp counseling all ages, and many other privileged programs, but I would rather be sharing in a group of people. I live in the SunriseHaus because I have been financially independent since I was 18 and I love the culture of being working-class, except for capitalism’s burden. I was raised poorer than my younger siblings, in a majority-white Oregon town, which shaped my understandings about belongings and care. I like to joke around, and I don’t like when people are instructed how to show up. We should be here as our fullest selves.

             Second, my role: when I joined Sunrise, we had five hub Coordinators and weekly in-person meetings. When we locked down, a lot of the nuanced energies from being in person (which again, I do not read, but I can sense when they are awry) dissipated entirely and people moved away from online space.

             I was at my friend’s apartment on MLK on the first night of the grieving of George Floyd. We heard the people amassing on the boulevard, and we jumped up to join them. I realized quickly my earplugs wouldn’t be enough to keep me sensible in this crowd. An impressive Black man on a motorcycle drove into the mob to give instructions. I pressed close to hear him, devastated when he rode away. I began to shake with misunderstanding; in that moment, I knew I wouldn’t be of help to anyone. So I rode home, called everyone I knew, and figured out ways to support from home: water bottles, NLG numbers, jail support, bullying politicians, changing the public dominant narrative online, redistributing money, cleaning up after Riot Ribs… employing a diversity of tactics, outside of being frontline, excepting daytime rallies... in this work I do not understand the trauma of my peers from this summer, and I will not pretend I do.

Because of the way I showed up in online spaces (consistent, healthy, and truthful), I felt comfortable stepping into the trainings team co-coordinator role, then realized what I was actually doing was in the realm of Hub Coordination. It was a natural step to take on that title because of my focuses and my skillset, both things that were informed re: my identities. In the endnotes is a description of the Hub Coordinator roles that were drawn when Pauline and I transitioned in.[i]

             I’m learning that hub Coordination has a quality called, “soft power”. Defined by Wikipedia, “in politics, soft power is the ability to attract and co-opt, rather than coerce (contrast hard power). In other words, soft power involves shaping the preferences of others through appeal and attraction. A defining feature of soft power is that it is non-coercive; the currency of soft power includes culture, political values, and foreign policies.”[ii] This is an inescapable component of having organizers who are core tenants to the hub, as well as a community of friends who respect each other.

Also, Slack culture as a community has been severely shaped by the fact that some are very comfortable online, in writing, and others are not.[iii] As our community is also afraid of hard power, all our decisions in the last six months have been made by influence. I am very comfortable writing and therefore I am addressing that I know I wield more power.

             Is soft power problematic? It depends upon how it is wielded. There are hubs that operate and benefit without hub Coordinators. If I am ever asked to step down from this role, I will. Honestly, I’d rather be wholeheartedly focused on recruitment and relationship building. But what I’ve been hearing from our JEAO assessments[iv] is that we actually need more processes to bring leaders into soft power, to ensure that everyone has the equipment this work is asked for by our society. These are processes I am familiar with, but I also know that my understanding of leadership is inherently oppressive re: my identities and how I have been raised to interact with these constructs. Even though I’ll make mistakes and frustrate people, I will continue to show up everyday in the process of unlearning.

             Third, my beliefs: Because I wield this soft power, I need to be open about the way I encounter this work. If we interact often, these are the core tenants informing my words and movements.

1.       I believe in the complete abolition of the settler-colonial state, partnered with a societal reimagining and restructuring co-created by the most oppressed peoples of this nation-state.[v]

“As prison abolitionists, grassroots organizers, and practitioners of transformative justice, our vision for 2018 is one of clear-eyes awareness and discussion of the horrors of the prison system – and the action that awareness demands. As a society, we have long turned away from any social concern that overwhelms us. Whether it’s war, climate change, or the prison-industrial complex, Americans have been conditioned to simply look away from profound harms. Years of this practice have now left us with endless wars, dying oceans, and millions of people in bondage and oppressively policed. It is time for a thorough and unflinching examination of what our society has wrought and what we have become. It is time to envision and create alternatives to the hellish conditions our society has brought into being.” Mariame Kaba, “A Jailbreak of the Imagination: Seeing Prisons for What They Are and Demanding Transformation”. Truthout, May 2018.

“So, what might a Green New Deal built with rather than for Indigenous peoples look like? It would look like honoring what came before: the treaties, the tribes, the rivers from which we drink, the air we breathe, the land where we plant and gather our food and to which we return when our time is up. And by finally honoring these things – which have always been there, but which this country has ever respected or protected – we might build something Green and New.” Julian Brave Noisecat, “Green New Bingo Hall,” Winning the Green New Deal. Sunrise Movement, Simon&Schuster Paperbacks, 2020. p.124

2.       I believe in a complete just transition[vi] of our economic and power systems lead by social and racial justice reform and community building.

“Environmental justice isn’t a free-floating term. It was originally used by Black, Latino, Indigenous, Asian, and Pacific-Islander organizers to rebel against exploitative, unsustainable farming practices, fossil fuel plants, toxic waste dumps, destruction of natural landscapes they call home, and more. The harsh truth is that these communities have been organizing against environmental degradation from the beginning—white environmentalists just didn’t notice because the campaign message wasn’t flagged as pro-environment.” Rachel Levelle, “Confronting the Whiteness of Environmentalism”, 350pdx website, June 2017.

3.       I believe nonviolent civil disobedience is the primary tactic I must personally implement to be an accomplice in the accomplishment of the previous two goals.[vii]

“Peace is not something which exists independently of us, nor is war. It is true that certain individuals – political leaders, policymakers, army generals – do have particularly grave responsibilities in respect to peace. However, these people do not come from nowhere. They are not born and brought up in outer space. Like us, they were nourished by their mother’s milk and affection. They are members of our own human family and have been nurtured within the society which we as individuals have helped create. Peace in the world thus depends on peace in the hearts of individuals. This in turn depends on us all practicing ethics by disciplining our response to negative thoughts and emotions, and developing basic spiritual qualities.” Dalai Lama, “Peace and Disarmament”, Ethics for a New Millennium. Riverhead Books, New York 1999. p.203.

“Either [white people] accept that they have inherited this house of white supremacy, built by their forebears and willed to them, and they are now responsible for paying the taxes on that inheritance, or the status quo continues. I hope they will become radicalized by this moment and begin to fight fiercely for racial justice; but more than that, I hope they start at home, in their own minds and hearts. As I tell my students: a white person rushing to do racial justice work without first understanding the impacts, uses, and deceptions of their own whiteness is like an untrained person rushing into the ER to help the nurses and doctors—therein probably lies more harm than good.” Salvala Trepczynski, Black and Brown People Have Been Protesting for Centuries. It's White People Who Are Responsible for What Happens Next. Time Magazine website, June 2020.

             Fourth, my observations: The people who are called to this work know how to LOVE. Deeply, wholly, truly. We fight in love and we sing in love. We create amazing, beautiful projects together. I believe that we are called into this future together. We love the earth and all its peoples together.

             We do not extend that LOVE to ourselves. I take strong issue with the way people who are called to this work, approach this work. We create deadlines, overwork ourselves, and create stress that is mostly meaningless. We can be self-centric and self-serving in our immediate interests, but forgo food, water, and sleep in those moments. We replicate capitalist culture in determining value of projects and styles of work. We need to make better praxis of asking questions as we go, taking patience in our work and our bodies. It’s not our fault this is how we’ve been trained; but it’s our responsibility to resist echoing the structures that harm us.

             I am neutrally confused that we are afraid to take power as we position ourselves directly next to it. We have done the good work to recognize our voice as widely affluent, time-consuming, and progressive. This is a sound the State WANTS to capture, wrangle and blur in complacency. This dynamic is something we encounter so often in electoral organizing especially. Still working through this one, and the way it shows up in our lack of decision-making processes.[viii]

Subconsciously, we are adherent to the Jemez Principles for Democratic Organizing, which I think is a massive benefit to our partnerships and ourselves.[ix] We are also learning actively how to be representative and reflective of constructive allyship to people we cannot serve in our space.

             I am proud of how many teenagers and parents are in our hub. I am saddened by how often fighting for a livable future causes stress and burnout. This can be a joyous, relieving act: if we do not replicate the school systems that oppress us all, particularly Black youth; if we do not replicate the demands made of people with children, particularly by their workplaces. We should be working intentionally to create a safe, spiritual place to encounter these terrifying truths with patience and heart. We should be asking more direct questions of what will make this work enjoyable.

We don’t sing together lately, because singing to our screen is weirder than singing to our friends. I am anxious for the day we can lift our voices and spirits together again.[x]

I am EXCITED! to know YOU! And I hope YOU! Are equally excited to know ME!

I take responsibility both for my acts and their underlying motives. I own any contradictions.

We will be smiling in the end,

Mikhaila “Micah” Bishop (he/him) SunrisePDX Hub Coordinator text me with anything.

[i] Hub Coordinator roles

[ii] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Soft_power

[iii] White Supremacy Cultural Traits: Worship of the Written Word is number 5.

[iv] JEAO assessments: #3, Structure

[v] LandBack Manifesto, 8toAbolition

[vi] https://www.ojta.org/just-transition-principles

[vii] Bayard Rustin’s Letters are currently building my understanding of what this means.

[viii] Offering Boston’s decision making guidelines, which also did not totally exist? Our issues are replicable.

[ix] Jemez Principles for Democratic Organizing

[x] https://soundcloud.com/sunrisemvmt