#during high school I got mom hooked and we were able to see a pro show or two every year or two

[obstinaterixatrix]

last year: yeah I’ve been into musicals for a while but I can’t really say I’m a hardcore fan only because I don’t know much beyond a couple specific shows and I haven’t gotten to see much at all for a while

this year: an entire world of resources has been opened up to me I’ve watched 3 shows 7 times each and have been chewing on this workshop recording with rabid intensity for months

[hanamakkiss]

Pros and Cons

Matsukawa Issei x reader

summary: Being childhood friends with Oikawa and Iwaizumi had a few perks, it's all worth it when one of those perks came in the form of one(1) Matsukawa Issei.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

At the start of their last year of high school, Oikawa and Iwaizumi started hanging out with a girl. Walking her to school, sometimes eating lunch, chatting in hallways. Oikawa's fanclub went nuts at the sight. Mattsukawa Issei, however, thought you were cute. He expressed this to Hanamaki, who agreed, wondering when Oikawa would mention her, because she certainly didn't look like a new girlfriend.

The conversation never came.

Three weeks in, Makki breaks.

"So, who's that girl thats been hanging around you two lately? She doesn't look like Oikawa's new girlfriend," he sets down his lunch tray. Mattsun stiffens next to him.

"Hm? Oh her? She's just a friend," Oikawa replies nonchalently, sliding in next to Iwaizumi.

After a minute of silent eating, Iwa decides to answer, "She's a childhood friend of ours, moved away during junior high and just came back," he swallows, "her mom asked us to help her settle in."

"Why'd you tell them? I wanted them to beg," Oikawa wailed before turning back, "Why, you wanna meet her?" he tilts his head.

"Oh it's not me who's-"

"Speak of the devil and she shall appear," Iwaizumi sighs, glancing in the direction you were approaching from.

You marched up to them, eyes fixed on Oikawa, Mattsun thinks he sees him tremble a little, "Kawa! Didn't you promise to introduce me to some handsome-" you eye the two infront of him, "Oh, hi! You guys from the volleyball club? Kawa?" a big smile makes it way unto your face.

Oikawa dramatically sighs before ceding to your request, "Guys, meet yn. Y/n, meet Matsukawa and Hanamaki," he gestures to them respectively, the former gives a small wave while the latter grins. Iwazumi looks apologetic when u wave enthusiastically.

Makki laughs, "What makes you think we're from the volleyball club?"

The reply is immediate, "Only club members can stand being around Oikawa," earning another laugh and a smirk from Mattsun.

You turn back, "So when are you gonna let me meet the rest of them handsome boys?" you wiggle your eyebrows smugly.

Iwa looks dead inside, "You can watch us practice one of these days." You beam. "Thank you! This is why you're my favourite," you give him a side hug which he returns. Oikawa scowls.

Makki pipes up, "Anyway, who do you think is handsome in the volleyball club?"

"Oh!" you clap, eyes lighting up, "Well, Iwawa is handsome!" you look them over, "And so are Matsumaki and Hanakawa..." the two of them grinned at each other, letting the messed up names slip by.

"What about me?" Oikawa pouts.

"Hmmm.... you're not so much handsome as you are pretty..." you trailed off, finger tapping on your chin. Oikawa beams.

Makki chimes in, "yea, pretty ugly,"

"Yes thank you! I was looking for that word!" the two of you high-five. Oikawa deflates, sulking.

"Yea but anyway speaking about hot guys," you redirect the conversation to where it matters, "there's that one second year- you know that one, with the cropped blonde hair-" you gestured to your head, "who's so hot, just thinking about his hands wrapped aroun-" Iwaizumi somehow slaps a hand across your mouth, effectively silencing you. You would be mad if his blush wasn't so amusing.

Mattsun's chokes, did she just...? He turns to Makki, who's face is frozen with glee.

"OK! Your mom would be so disappointed in us if we let you continue," Oikawa lightly slams his hands on the table, standing. "Thats enough of you for today, we'll see you again after school," he guides you away from their table.

"My mom would be disappointed in you if she knew how you treated girls but we don't talk about that do we?" you retort while pushing his hands off you, "but I get the hint," you scowled. Mattsun is silently holding back laughter while Makki snorts endlessly.

Turning to the rest, "Bye guys! Hope to see you two again," you winked and Makki grins, Mattsun gives you a small smile (you'll take what you can get) "Bye Iwawa! I'll be waiting for you later!" you blow him a kiss for good measure. He rolls his eyes but grunts in acknowledgement.

"Bye Kawa," you walk away.

"Hey, what's with that attitude?" he huffs before returning to his seat. You wave your hand without turning back.

He settles back into his seat.

"So, that's her, are you satisfied now?" Oikawa asked.

"Why didn't you introduce us sooner? She's fucking hilarious," Makki grins, "invite her to practice soon, I'm sure Mattsun's itching to talk to her," he side-eyes the other boy, who glares back, silent. They're patient.

"She's interesting," he finally admits, Makki's smirk grows. "Is that all? Didn't you tell me that she was cu-oof" he shuts up after a sharp stab to his ribs.

Oikawa mimics wiping his eye, "Oh, they grow up so fast, Mattsun's finally taking notice of a girl," earning him a whack from Iwa.

"No one wants to hear that from you, you disgusting flirt," he grunts before addressing Mattsun, "besides, you barely even interacted with her, and she can be a handful sometimes, are you sure she's the one you're interested in?"

"Calm down sheesh, it's not like I like her or anything, she just looks fun to be around," he stabs at his food, piercing the poor chicken. "can't I think she's funny platonically?"

They stare at him, "Okay~" Oikawa sings, ending the discussion. The conversation moves to other topics, leaving Mattsun to peacefully analyse your interaction.

Later in the week you appeared at one of their practice games. Walked in half-way and made your presense absolutely known.

"GO IWAWA! SPIKE THAT BALL LIKE IT'S KAWA'S HEAD!" you scream from the bleachers. Iwa smashes the ball down. He gives you a wave and an evil smirk. Oikawa turns a shade paler. Makki looks delighted.

Damn, Mattsun snorts, that’s a helluva entrance.

The fangirls nearby glared when Oikawa and Iwaizumi specifically greeted you in between plays. He notices you stiffen a little before flashing them a toothy grin with a thumbs up. Weird, he notes before focusing back on the game.

You stay til the end. Even while they’re cooling down, you stay seated, scrolling through your phone. He discreetly takes in your relaxed form, the way you lean back on one hand while using your bag to prop up the hand using your phone. He hears Makki’s voice next to his ear, breaking up his thoughts. “So, when you gonna stop staring and ask for her number?” Fuck, he thanks his parents for not passing him the gene of blushing easily. 

“I wasn’t staring,” he switches the hand he’s stretching, “I just happened to be looking that way,” his tone is harsher from the embarrassment of being caught.

Makki laughs, “Dude, just stop being a coward and ask for it, she already thinks you’re hot,” 

Oikawa’s head whips over, “What? You want her number?” he asks loud enough for you to hear, causing Iwa to roll his eyes. You jolt from your phone. 

“Hmm? What’s that? You guys good to go home?” you ask absent-mindedly, going back to your phone, a slight furrow in your brow.

“Y/n, weren’t you paying attention? Mattsun wants your number,” he knocks your head lightly.  

At this, you come alive, giving the mentioned boy an absolutely shit-eating grin, phone forgotten in your hand, “Oh? Sorry, I’m a little lost, what was it you wanted again?” 

This little-, he takes a breath, two can play this game, he smirks, “I wanted to ask for your number, but since you seem so unwillingly to give it, maybe I’ll just try elsewhere.” He’s makes a move to turn away, grinning when you stop him. Hook, line and sinker.

“Wait! Okay okay I’ll give it to you since you asked so nicely.” I don’t remember asking, his grin conveys. You pout as you exchange numbers. Oh well, all roads lead to Rome, what matters is I got his number, you comfort yourself. 

When you turn your attention back to Oikawa, you find the three of them huddled together, a little away from the two of you, chatting seriously.

“Hey!” making your way over to them, you disrupt their conversation, “Ya’ll ready to go home? I’m tired,” you flop unto Iwa, forcing him to carry your weight. 

He sighs, “We’ll grab our bags, just wait here,” before standing you up properly.

The three of you make your daily walk home, air filled with easy conversation.

“So,” Oikawa starts, “what about Mattsun?” you nearly fall while balancing on the curb, Iwa pulls you back (be careful!)

Your face is pink, “He’s,” you turn away from their knowing glances, “cool.” 

“Just cool? That’s not what your face says,” he peers into your face, laughing. You hurriedly push him away, sputtering excuses you can’t remember.

“Iwawa! Save me from this monster,” you whine, hands still pushing Oikawa’s cheek.

“Mmhm, he spares you a glance, “as far as all your past relationships go, he’s not a bad guy,” he chuckles at your betrayed expression. 

“See? Even Iwa agrees, Mattsun is a catch,” Oikawa praises, “Maybe you’ll finally stop getting your heart broken,”

You turn even redder, and on deciding that you won’t be able to win, you shut your mouth and start power walking. Laughter filled the air as they easily kept pace. 

That night Mattsun adds you to a groupchat with him and Makki.

Edit: added line breaks!

[bookebased]

Corrupt (Devil’s Night #1)

by Penelope Douglas

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ stars !!

Erika I was told that dreams were our heart’s desires. My nightmares, however, became my obsession. His name is Michael Crist. My boyfriend’s older brother is like that scary movie that you peek through your hand to watch. He is handsome, strong, and completely terrifying. The star of his college’s basketball team and now gone pro, he’s more concerned with the dirt on his shoe than me. But I noticed him. I saw him. I heard him. The things that he did, and the deeds that he hid…For years, I bit my nails, unable to look away. Now, I’ve graduated high school and moved on to college, but I haven’t stopped watching Michael. He’s bad, and the dirt I’ve seen isn’t content to stay in my head anymore. Because he’s finally noticed me. Michael Her name is Erika Fane, but everyone calls her Rika. My brother’s girlfriend grew up hanging around my house and is always at our dinner table. She looks down when I enter a room and stills when I am close. I can always feel the fear rolling off of her, and while I haven’t had her body, I know that I have her mind. That’s all I really want anyway. Until my brother leaves for the military, and I find Rika alone at college. In my city. Unprotected. The opportunity is too good to be true as well as the timing. Because you see, three years ago she put a few of my high school friends in prison, and now they’re out. We’ve waited. We’ve been patient. And now every last one of her nightmares will come true.

I read Corrupt on a whim. I usually don’t read romance books; I always need the extra thrill element that fantasy novels provide, but something with this novel reeled me in and I was hooked. Usually books with duel POVs tend to lose the surprise element, but the author did an amazing job of not revealing too much; she kept the suspense and kept the reader interested; I think I finished this book in like 15 hours! The parallel storylines were done so well; she illustrated two different times which helped show how much the characters have evolved, not to mention how much the reader sees the love Michael has for his friends and how it shifts from a friend-centric story to a family-centric story. The storylines line up so perfectly, and by the time you really see what happened on Devil’s Night; you know that Rika is innocent and you’re already KNOW who it was; and the excitement (and desire) of revenge makes it impossible to put down the book. This is good because the only thing I didn’t like about this book was the random couple of chapters before the confrontation scene on the Pithom, it was just random scenes strung together that didn’t really serve a purpose; but then I realized it a romance novel and Michael and Rika need to get together before everything ended so I guess it served some purpose but I didn’t find it necessary; I just wanted to see what they would do to ****** ;). The plot twist with Damon’s character was one the best i’ve ever seen, NO ONE could’ve seen that coming even though it was implied so heavily (and it’s crazy to think that even HE didn’t think as to who it was; and thankfully didn’t go through a self-hatred arc because of it (mostly because he already hates himself so much)). 

But what really got me interested is Michael’s character struggle choosing between Rika and his friends. The age old mystery of “who will it be? Her or Us?”. His character was a bit more interesting then Rika just because we could see his inner turmoil. Years ago, he couldn’t be with Rika because of his blood family, and now he can’t be with her because of his chosen family, nonetheless his choice didn’t make me feel like he was betraying his friends; but that could’ve been because the reader has already figured it out. Rika’s character development in the last couple of chapters is phenomenal, especially because I didn’t like her comment towards Alex’s profession; like it was a pity that some people had to work in the sex industry to afford school and home; “[Alex] “Men who hire escorts aren’t paying for the sex…they’re paying us to leave when it’s done.” [Erika] Nice. I looked away, feeling bad for her…you may be the good time, but you’re also the dirty secret they hide. She must’ve seen the judgement in my eyes…”. But her friendship with Alex was like a more visible change in perspective for her and a visual guide for the reader to follow to see how much she changes. While it’s important to note that her transformation began on Devil’s Night years ago, you can’t see how much she’s changed until the end; I was taught to be brave from my father. Dip your toe in every ocean and try everything and anything. Learn, explore, take the world on… And from my mom I learned self-sufficiency. Of course, she’d taught me by default, but watching her showed me exactly who I didn’t want to be. And from Michael–as well as Damon, Will, and Kai–I learned to breath fire. I learned to walk as if the path were carved for me and me alone, and to treat the world as if it should know I was coming. (Chapter 11). The influence the guys had on her character wasn’t suffocating; it was liberating. She finally realized that the people around her have taught her all that they could and now it was her world and she controlled it, especially when she decided to face them head-on during their hunt. A couple chapters later, when she’s telling Michael off she says: “I don’t win by playing your games. I win by making you play mine.” (Chapter 24), which is the climax of her epiphany that no one can hurt her if she’s the one pulling the strings; if she’s her own Prince Charming. In the epilogue, Michael realizes it too; “Without the events of that night, I wouldn’t have challenged her. She wouldn’t have learned to be strong and fight back or how to own who was and save herself. …We wouldn’t have made each other the people we were now. Everything happens for a reason, she would say. But the epilogue, I would say, was Michael chapter. The flashback to his past gave readers a little insight as to how Rika made him who he was; “I bottle up what’s inside me–the anger and this need I can’t explain. Something inside of me wants to self-destruct, wants to make messes, and wants to do the things others won’t do. I don’t want to hurt people, but the more time passes, the more it feels like i’m trying to crawl out of my head. I want chaos. And I’m tired of being powerless. I’m tired of [my father] keeping me down… Michael wasn’t always so open with who he was and what he wanted to do, he was trapped in his own head, controlled by his father and name, bound by his duty; until he realized he had a duty to himself; ““I’m weak. I hate who I am. Everything gets in my head and I have no control. “People don’t see me Rika,” I confide. “I only exist except as a reflection of him.””. I think this is where I could relate to Michael the most; the fear of existing as a shadow of someone else, never truly being able to express yourself without judgement and soon it just becomes a endless cycle of fear and you just think of yourself as a coward or a pawn in someone else’s game. But then Rika said; “…it’s like you’re saving your energy for something. Holding back… but it doesn’t make sense. Life is one-way, and there is not return trip. What are you waiting for?”. This was, by far, one of the best quotes I’ve ever read, Rika points out that we can’t hold ourselves back because other’s demand it; it’s our life, and we need to take control and mold ourselves to fit our own warpath, people will either move out of your way, join you or create their own path right beside yours; you just need to choose who you will be. 

[daggerzine]

R.E. Seraphin molds tiny shapes into big songs.

Though he’s been on the scene for a while now (with different bands) I hadn’t heard the music of Bay Area musician R.E. “Ray” Seraphin until this year via a cassette called Tiny Shapes via Paisley Shirt Records (more on the label below). His first real band was Talkies, which he discusses below (and I have enjoyed), but he seems to have really come into his own this year with that cassette and a new EP, A Room Forever, which came out just a month or so ago. In his music you’ll hear influences of 80’s jangle pop as well as some deeper post-punk stuff (and for more current stuff I hear whispers of Dean Wareham and his bands and Wild Nothing). Reading below he seems very well grounded and seems to have a great attitude about everything (even not being able to play shows during a pandemic or being in a writing slump). I think once this is all over this guy will go on 5-year tour and gain lots and lots of new fans. In the meantime do check out his stuff, you won’t be disappointed.

   Where did you grow up?

Berkeley, CA. The area I grew up in was filled with Victorian homes and dilapidated industrial warehouses. My family home was walking distance from a lagoon and an old, rusty set of train tracks. I felt I lived in an unremarkable college town. There wasn't much activity outside of the school. I discovered Berkeley’s storied political and musical history much later in life. Now, of course, there are many books written about Berkeley, but I thought it was a kinda nondescript city as a kid.

 Do you remember what band made you fall in love with music?

Dating myself hard here, but I remember being floored by The White Stripes’ “Fell in Love With a Girl” video when I was 11. The Top 40 music making the rounds on VH1 and MTV at the time was beyond dreck — a lot of Train, Staind, Matchbox 20. The White Stripes were the first band I was exposed to that made succinct, catchy, no-frills music. I was genuinely enthralled. Plus, the Lego animation in that video still holds up.

 Was guitar your first instrument?

I started on bass. My first instrument was an extremely cheap, pointy BC Rich knockoff monstrosity. I believe I was 13. I had no idea how to play and little interest in learning. For the first year, I putzed around with a Pro Co RAT, a wah pedal, and a tinny-sounding Crate practice amp. I just tried (and succeeded in) being as obnoxious as possible. When I started writing songs, I eventually graduated from playing bass poorly to playing guitar poorly.

 Tell us about your first band.

My first band that played shows was called The Phil Spector Shotgun Experience. That was primarily a cover band I put together with my high school buddies and my mom. We covered Radio Birdman, the Pink Fairies, and the MC5; we also had an unwittingly hilarious original called “Nitroglycerin Man” — the first song I ever wrote (maybe I was subconsciously inspired by Wages of Fear). At some point, we kicked my mom out of the band and started playing as the Impediments. That band kicked ass — we made pridefully dumb American punk music. That was also my only band to sign a record contract, so it’s quite possibly been downhill from there!

 Tell us about The Talkies (unless that was your first band mentioned above).

Talkies (no article!) was a group I started in 2014 as a vehicle for my songs. My previous bands had been more of a shared vision, so Talkies was my first foray into being the lone genius of a group. The sound was mostly drawn from what is disparagingly known as power pop. Basically, I was heavily into the band Shoes for a few years.

We released a few albums and EPs. Did a couple short tours. During that time, the project was dragged from the Bay Area to Austin and back before I finally, mercifully pulled the plug last year. It was time.

 When did you transition from Talkies to the solo stuff you’re doing now? Did it feel comfortable?

Talkies had run its course, but I had a smattering of songs leftover from that project that I wanted to record. Around that time, I learned my good friend Jasper Leach (Burner Herzog) was getting ready to skip town. I had always wanted to work with him and, seizing my final opportunity to do so, we banged out my début, Tiny Shapes, last summer. The whole experience was fairly serendipitous. The stars aligned for that one.

I wouldn't say the process was comfortable. Recording the album felt necessary, urgent — almost compulsory at times. My heart was ready for a new project and I truly wanted to center myself for the first time. I’m glad I did. This is the happiest I’ve been musically in some time.

 “I think therefore I am”

I love the songs on A Room Forever. How did they come together?

So glad to hear that! I got asked to contribute to a compilation back in April. With the deadline approaching and inspiration still eluding me, I took a glance at my bookshelf, noticed a particular Carson McCullers title, and whipped up “Clock Without Hands.” After my trusty collaborator Owen Adair Kelley added his parts, I felt we had stumbled upon a great sound. I tried to harness the creative spirit and pushed myself to finish a few ideas buried deep in the recesses of my Voice Memo app. I got friends Matt Bullimore (The Mantles) and Yea-Ming Chen (Yea-Ming & The Rumors) involved, and that was that. No great origin story — just pure American ingenuity and elbow grease.

 Tell us about Paisley Shirt Records. Who runs it and how did you hook up with them?

Paisley Shirt Records is simply the man, the myth, the legend — Kevin Linn. He is a San Francisco-based musician and artist who records as Sad-Eyed Beatniks.

I met him when I was looking for someone to release my album, Tiny Shapes. He had just put out a tape by Hits — a great local band featuring some friends of mine — and I felt a kinship with his roster. So, I reached out to him. Foolishly, he agreed to put out my album and we’ve been inseparable ever since. Solid dude. High marks.

 Have you done any solo tours? If so where and how did they go?

Ha! No. I had only notched two shows as R.E. Seraphin before the pandemic hit. Likely not doing anything beyond the odd live-stream show for a while. That said, if any tastemaking European touring agencies are reading this — give me a ring!

The latest EP

 What are your top 10 desert island discs?

Ah, jeez. This question. I’ll just say these are 10 (plus one) that I come back to quite often. In no order:

 Marquee Moon by Television

The Everly Brothers’ Best

Forever Changes by Love

Let it Be by The Replacements

Third/Sister Lovers by Big Star

The First Songs by Laura Nyro

16 Lovers Lane by The Go-Betweens

In a Silent Way by Miles Davis

A Different Kind of Tension by Buzzcocks

Something Else by The Kinks

Old No. 1 by Guy Clark

 What are a few Bay Area bands that we should know about.

This is a golden-era for weirdo pop music in the Bay. To name just a few: Galore, Cindy, The Umbrellas, Tony Jay, Flowertown, Healing Potpourri, Latitude, Cocktails, The Reds, Pinks, & Purples, Yea-Ming & The Rumors, Anna Hillburg, the 1981, Toner, Frank Ene, Neutrals, Owen Adair Kelley, April Magazine, Telephone Numbers, Hits, Sad-Eyed Beatniks. Essentially every act associated with Paisley Shirt Records and/or Mt.St.Mtn. My bias is strong.

 Do you feel that the pandemic has helped your songwriting or hindered it (if either)?

A li’l column A, a li’l column B. I’m a natural procrastinator, so I’ve definitely savored the lack of band practice and shows (things that often necessitate new material). That said, I doubt I would have finished A Room Forever had I not been quarantined at home. Without having many obligations and without being able to leave my house, music definitely became my raison d’être for the first time as an adult. I was fortunate to not be deemed an “essential” worker and to be able to focus energy on my passion momentarily. Silver lining.

 What’s next ? A new record by the end of the year possibly?

Hopefully continuing to promote my music and play shows on the ol’ webiverse. A Room Forever will be receiving a small vinyl and tape pressing at the end of September via Mt.St.Mtn. and Paisley Shirt Records. So, looking forward to that.

I was creatively tapped for a few months after A Room Forever. While a new album is possible, it’s not probable. I am plugging away at a few tunes, but I tend to conceptualize albums as a thematic whole and not as a collection of songs. Haven't stumbled onto my next Big Idea yet. Don't count me out, though. I could see myself dashing off a covers album for sure.

 What is one song you wish you’d written?

Too many to name! I’ll reframe that question to mean a great song I could see myself capable of writing in an alternate time, place, or dimension. Maybe one of Peter Holsapple’s songs from The dB’s — “Black & White” or “Neverland.” Also: anything by Wreckless Eric or Martin Newell.

 Final thoughts? Closing comments?

Just finished reading an interview with the great James Purdy, and thought this quote summed up iur current political climate well:

“You go out into the world and no one knows you, you can be ruled because you’re programmed. Everything is stamped, put on the shelf, described, thrown out into the garbage. It’s a political process, and behind that an economic process. But to be nothing, that is the worst of all possible things.”

   www.reseraphin.com

www.paisleyshirtrecords.bandcamp.com

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 040: Deku VS Todoroki (Conclusion)

Previously on BnHA: Oh god. Shouto flashed back repeatedly to his horrific childhood. Deku decimated basically his entire body in his quest to get Todoroki to finally use his left side. Like, he literally chose the most perverse and insane possible way to do this. For reasons I can’t begin to fathom, none of the adults bothered to intervene in this bloodbath. My god it pissed me off so much. Anyway, Todoroki finally did realize that his power is his own and he can use it without it automatically meaning that he’s giving in to his evil father. It made him very happy and was a very powerful moment tbh. BUT AT WHAT COST.

Today on BnHA: Deku and Todoroki nearly blow up the stadium and each other before the U.A. faculty FINALLY steps in. Deku is blown out of bounds and the fight ends. Endeavor is all, YESSSSS, JOIN ME AND TOGETHER WE CAN RULE THE GALAXY AS FATHER AND SON but Shouto is just, WHATEVER, I DON’T EVEN CARE ABOUT YOU and it’s the best. All Might and Deku have an emotional moment in the nurse’s office while Recovery Girl is just like, “smdh.” Basically the manga shyly offers me an apology and a bouquet of flowers for putting me through all of that bullshit in the last chapter, and LIKE A FOOL I fall for it hook, line and sinker.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’ve read up through chapter 94 now, so any ETAs will reflect that.)

so here we are at chapter 40. officially about 20% of the way through the story so far. a lot has happened! Deku has learned to control his powers! somehow it’s made absolutely no difference in terms of how frequently he’s been gravely injured! in fact if anything it’s all gotten much, much worse!

oh my god Endeavor is jumping up in the stands and fucking SCREAMING about how Shouto’s finally accepted his blood and now he can finally fulfill his (Endeavor’s) ambitions

someone push him down these stairs

oh my god the chapter is titled “Emancipation.” lol I assume it’s metaphorical, but what I wouldn’t fucking give for Shouto to somehow legally tell his dad to just fuck off forever

Mic calls Endeavor a “doting parent.” that’s... a take. possibly the most ironic fucking thing anyone has ever said

Aizawa seems to know a little bit more about Shouto’s history with his dad though, since he’s thinking to himself that they’re not on good terms. but maybe he just figured that out from Shouto’s insistence on not using his left side

Todoroki is completely thawed out now and on fucking fire and Deku is grinning and Shouto asks him what the fuck he’s smiling about lol. he’s smiling because he helped you, silly! but yes you’re right he is totally fucking screwed

can we get this match ended at last please?? can we get a fucking mercy rule implemented into this fucking tournament

please help me out here, U.A. as unfathomably badass as Todoroki is at full power, I really don’t want to sit through another whole fucking chapter of Deku doing insane things he really shouldn’t be able to do

you know what I would enjoy, though? a quick cut to show how the villains are reacting to all of this. or Deku’s mom, for that matter! assuming she hasn’t passed out or anything. but even if she did, she said she was recording it, so

(ETA: lol are you guys sick of me speculating about Deku’s mom every five paragraphs yet)

DEKU YOUR SECRET IS FUCKING OUT NOW. IT’S WHAT YOU DESERVE, QUITE HONESTLY

and finally Cementoss is springing into action. JESUS CHRIST. TAKE YOUR TIME WHY DON’T YOU. honestly, both he and Midnight -- and really the entire faculty -- are lucky if they’re not charged with child endangerment after all of this

(ETA: well I’m glad U.A.’s student safety record does actually become a plot point later. but slightly annoyed that no one had any problem with this particular spectacle and that it only became an issue after the second villain attack)

having no self-preservation instincts isn’t a fucking superpower and it isn’t something children should be aspiring to

fucking look at these idiots

DON’T EXPECT A ROUND OF APPLAUSE FROM ME NOW, CEMENTOSS

jesus there was like a fucking shockwave. that was all Deku, I’m sure. the giant fire tornado erupting from the stadium is all Todoroki, though!

I’m pretty sure everyone in the stadium just collectively shat their pants

lol forever if a single one of the heroes in the stands even thinks about having the audacity to think they could ever claim either of these two as a sidekick after this. no matter who it is, THEY’RE THE ONES WHO WOULD BE THE FUCKING SIDEKICK

fucking I don’t even know, Mic

so who fucking won. was it a tie?

there’s so much fucking steam from all of the suddenly-melted ice

that shit should be scalding Deku and Shouto both. but we’ve long since torpedoed past the boundaries of realism within this particular fight

there’s a panel of Deku’s shoe but not showing the rest of him...

HE’S OUT OF BOUNDS. OH MY GOD. PRAISE ALL MIGHT. FUCKING FINALLY THIS FIGHT IS FUCKING OVER

so Todoroki moves on to round three

no matter who wins in the Shiozaki/Iida match, they should just fucking forfeit afterward lmao

the audience can’t understand what Deku’s strategy was. there’s no point in trying to understand it, he was basically just trying to make his friend feel better to the point that he became near-suicidal in that pursuit

still, would anyone in this crowd actually want to fuck with him after witnessing that??

YOU DON’T COUNT

lol do you still want these two as your rivals though. and Deku went and made your job even harder for you

and he overheard that conversation earlier, so he understands the significance of what just went down better than anyone else in this audience

oh look, Shouto is being confronted by a walking piece of flaming shit. what an interesting sight

he says Shouto is finally ready to replace him. fucking get over yourself. I’m trying to think of truly awful things to compare you to but I’m so mad I can’t even come up with any

but he seems to think that this means Shouto is done “rebelling” and has anyone ever been so wrong before I wonder

FUCKING YESS

YESSSS RIGHT IN HIS PRIDE

AND NOW HE’S WALKING AWAY

SHOUTO STAY RIGHT THERE!! I’M COMING AROUND!! GOT A BIG HIGH FIVE WITH YOUR NAME ON IT

aaaaand the nurse’s office again!!

so just how dead is Deku this time

shit

shit. I hope they maxed out his painkillers, this poor stupid fucking kid

WHAT ARE YOU PEOPLE GOING TO TELL HIS MOTHER GODDAMMIT

and okay but, can you please stop putting it on All Might though. yes he put pressure on Deku, but Deku’s inner fire has like a psychotic edge to it that even he couldn’t have ever anticipated. All Might told him to go out there with a smile, not screaming like a madman and methodically breaking all of his bones one by one

also, he didn’t anticipate Shouto’s involvement in all this and just how far Deku would go for him

which, by the way, I know there’s a sizable chunk of the fandom that ships TodoDeku (or really it’d probably be the other way round wouldn’t it), and like, it’s hard not to see why. you know I’m all about that BakuDeku ship, but Deku clearly has a lot of love to go around. lots of terrifying, violent love

anyway, the point is this wasn’t All Might’s doing. he’s not fucking Dumbledore manipulating the poor kid left and right. he’s still new to being a mentor and he vastly underestimated his protege’s propensity for getting himself deep into the shit

Recovery Girl says All Might better not praise him for what he did. okay, yeah, that I can 100% agree with. it wasn’t healthy or sane or smart by any stretch, and it accomplished absolutely nothing that a couple of sessions with a halfway decent therapist couldn’t have done. though from what I’ve seen, I’m not sure if this school believes in things like therapists

and here comes the fam

oh shit I just realized All Might is still in Skinny Steve form

um

-- DEKU IS CONSCIOUS???!

HELLO NICE TO MEET YOU

DEKU IS FUCKING CONSCIOUS THOUGH??!

I HOPE HE’S DOPED UP TO THE NINES

apparently they took a break to repair the arena

this piece of shit is expressing an opinion I happen to agree with. it happens

but that’s okay because Deku doesn’t need to be some stupid shitty so-called pro’s shitty sidekick. I hate like 90 percent of the pros outside of the U.A. faculty anyway

well. but Best Jeanist though...

now Recovery Girl is chasing them all out and saying he’s about to have surgery

they’re all like “SURGERY?!” YES, SURGERY. WERE YOU NOT WATCHING THE SAME FIGHT THAT I WAS

sdlfkhl damn it and Deku’s apologizing now

he’s so fucking out of it, I can’t be mad at him even though I was so fucking mad at him!!! you idiot!!

All Might, hey, hold it. wait up. dude. you don’t get openly emotional and you never have up till this point so don’t start now when it’s so late and I’m not prepared. if you lose it even the slightest degree I will literally be a mess

and now All Might is realizing Deku was trying to get Todoroki to get over his hangups

and Deku’s saying yes, because “it was just too sad...”

does All Might know what he’s talking about? he can probably guess some of it, but he doesn’t know just how bad it was with Todoroki and Endeavor

Deku says he tried to mind his own business, but he couldn’t take it

“it was so frustrating.” kid, I 100% agree. but like, you and I have different approaches to solving problems like this oh my god

anyways so he completely forgot about his goal of winning the tournament and “lost himself”

well at least this exonerates All Might from having had anything to do with this outcome. just in case he was prepared to blame himself

Deku hasn’t cried once during any of this, incidentally. is he just too exhausted

he needs huuuuuuugs. surgery and then hugs!!

you know what could have changed what happened. literally anyone intervening at any point before the match actually ended

ooooh just like that I’m starting to get mad all over again lol. but not at you, All Might. and not at Deku, who was clearly out of his mind, just totally off the rails with his psychotic good intentions

“however, giving help that’s not asked for... is part of what makes a true hero.” awww ;_;

look, again, I don’t deny that Shouto needed help in some shape or form

and I guess all’s well that ends... sort of... okay

just. wow, what a fucking outcome. what a train wreck of a battle. that was something, all right

“Midoriya Izuku... finished in the top eight”

and the chapter ends

bonus

looks like we’re done with character profiles for the time being! NOW IT’S COSTUME COMMENTARY OH GOODY :D :D :D

how much of this did Bakugou design himself, I wonder? he probably just explained how his quirk worked and what he wanted the gauntlet thing to do and that he wanted it to look cool (by his weird definition of cool)

I really love Bakugou’s quirk. I don’t know if I’ve said this. but it’s probably my second or third favorite, after Ochako’s and possibly Aizawa’s. just something about explosions. I’ve been a Gokudera fangirl for too long lol. and I also love his fighting style and his blasting all over the place

look at the thought that went into even the fucking grenade pin design

Bakugou can fucking blow shit up with his knees?? holy shit. I thought those were just weird Mad Max style knee pads lmao

(ETA: I think maybe by “kill with his knees” they just mean he could like. crush some poor dude or something. just bludgeon them or some shit. how violent)

and he can put his explosive sweat into the grenades on his belt too. “what’s the point?” well, you never know. plus it looks cool to have the grenades there on his belt

“all in all: heartless” this guy never stops shitting on my favorite character lol

[mksc77]

Andy sat up and rubbed his eyes as he watched Sharon bustling around the room, getting dressed and gathering her things like the miracle of life wasn't usually a long and agonizing process. "Uh...Sharon...Why don't you at least wait for Emily to call and see if she has an idea of how close she is?" He said sensibly. "It can take hours."

"Oh, really?" Sharon asked with feigned surprise as she pulled her hair up and secured it with a clip. "I had no idea!"

Andy ran his hand over his face, not in the mood to argue. He'd walked right into that one, and he knew it, but it seemed a little ridiculous for someone who was well aware of the fact that labor wasn't typically a quick process to be running around like a chicken with its head cut off in the middle of the night like she might miss something if she didn't leave right now. "I know you know that, obviously, but you might want to make sure you'll be able to get in. I know Emily said you probably wouldn't have any trouble after visiting hours, but that might depend upon who's working at the time. She does have to get approval, and you don't want to rush to the hospital just to sit in the waiting room for hours."

"I guess you're right..." Sharon knew there was no way she'd be going back to sleep, though, so she quickly finished getting herself ready and turned the lamp back off. "Go back to sleep. Call me when you get up in the morning." She kissed Andy's cheek and left the room. While she was waiting for Emily to call, she went to her and Emmett's bedroom to gather any last-minute items Emily might've forgotten. Her bag had been packed for over a month, but she still could've left behind some things she wanted. In their haste to leave, they'd left the damp sheets on the bed, so she stripped the bed and put the sheets in the washing machine. After packing a small bag with extra towels, hair ties, makeup wipes, her robe, and a few other things, she put fresh sheets on the bed and straightened up the bedroom and bathroom. Once that was done, she dug through the small fourth bedroom that had been taken over by baby stuff in the last few months. When she found the little rock 'n play that Emily was going to try for the baby to sleep in first, which her friends had sworn by, she set it up beside their bed and went back to the other bedroom to move the washed-and-waiting newborn clothes into Emily's and Emmett's room. After checking her phone for the thousandth time to make sure she hadn't missed a call and that it wasn't on vibrate, she gathered some newborn nightgowns, swaddles, pacifiers, and a couple of other things to have out and within easy reach for the first few days. With the baby stuff out and the cradle-like device beside the bed, the baby's pending arrival became a lot more real, and Sharon couldn't help but let out a tiny squeal as she looked around the room. She was going to have a new granddaughter under her roof in the next couple of days, and she couldn't be more excited about it.

When Emily finally called and confirmed that Sharon would be allowed to visit, she didn't waste any time getting to St. John's. She would just have to call the unit and use the Emergency Department entrance. Emily had debated between St. John's and Cedars, but one of the perks of having her first baby at 35 was that several of her friends had not only started having children, but that she had at least a couple of friends who had used one of the hospitals, and some had used both and could compare the pros and cons. Between her high school and college friends, she still had several in the LA area. "Mom, I told you not to speed!" Emily chastised when Sharon came in her room. "I just got the epidural, and they haven't even given me Pitocin yet. It's going to be a minute."

"I know, but I remember how frightened I was when I went into labor with you. Your dad was actually great during it, but I still wished Mimi could've been with me." Sharon put her things down, sat on Emily's bed, and brushed her hair back from her face. "If you want me to leave at any time, I will, and I'll understand."

"I am glad you're here. This hospital's visiting hours aren't as strict as Cedars, and that was a huge selling point," Emily admitted. Her friends had also told her that St. John's was just as good as Cedars, but that it wasn't as busy and felt more personal. "You wanted Mimi?! I can't imagine that. Not, like, in a bad way, it's just hard to think about you wanting your mom."

"I know, but I was more frightened and in more pain than I had ever been in my life. My hormones were all over the place, especially after you were born, and I don't think I'd ever been so happy to see my mom as when she got to LA the day we brought you home."

"Em, you're having a contraction," Emmett interrupted.

Emily shrugged. "Could've fooled me. This epidural is no joke. I can't even feel my feet."

Sharon got up and stood beside Emmett. He was watching a machine that was hooked up to Emily. "How can you tell? That shows when she's having a contraction?"

Emmett nodded and pointed at the screen, explaining to Sharon what one of the nurses had told him about what was on the screen. Once she understood what she was looking at, she watched it for a few more minutes before unpacking the extra things she'd brought for Emily and the baby and putting them with their other things.

"Oh, thanks, Mom, I meant to grab that stuff before we left," Emily said as she watched Sharon unpack.

"You're welcome. So, what happened? Were you having contractions at all last night, or did you just wake up and realize your water had broken, or what?"

"I felt fine last night, but I woke up at about midnight with a contraction. They weren't that regular and didn't hurt too bad, so I just read for a while. Emmett woke up a couple of hours after I did and was begging me to go to the hospital, but then my water broke not long after that."

Sharon nodded. "How much have you dilated?"

"Six centimeters. I thought the last contraction I had before I got the epidural was going to kill me...Did you have epidurals with us?" Emily winced. "I can't imagine doing this without being numb from the neck down."

"I didn't with you. I think they were pretty common by then, but no one really talked about childbirth to one another like they do now, so I didn't know much about them. By the time I couldn't take it anymore and asked for one, it was too late, because you were about to be born." Sharon gave Emily a wry smile. "With Ricky, I asked for one the second we got to the hospital. My nurse forgot to give me a catheter, and I didn't know to expect one, so I didn't ask. I guess I didn't really think about not being able to feel anything. I wanted to die when I peed all over Dr. Hughes. I only saw him once or twice before Ricky was close to finally deciding to come out, but he was the lucky one who was there at the time." Sharon's face flushed when she remembered Emmett was in the room. He was still glued to the screen that was monitoring Emily's contractions. "Sorry, Emmett. You're so quiet, I almost forgot you were over there."

Emmett shrugged. "That's not even close to the most disgusting thing I've heard since we got here. You're good."

Andy stopped by on his way to work soon after 8:00 that morning and placed a vase of flowers on a table before kissing Emily on the cheek.

"Thanks, Andy. They're beautiful."

"It was the best I could find at 8:00 in the morning," he said apologetically. "How are you feeling?"

"Blissfully numb."

"I imagine that's a good thing."

Sharon was back in front of the contraction monitor, peering closely at the screen and following the measurements with her finger. She was oblivious to Andy's arrival, despite the fact that she'd talked to him on the phone less than an hour ago and knew he was stopping by. Emily got an ice chip from the bowl beside her bed and pelted it at Sharon. "Hey, Dr. Quinn. We have a visitor." She rolled her eyes at Andy. "Mom and Emmett are obsessed with that contraction thing. I couldn't care less whether I'm having one, but they think they have to tell me every time."

Andy nodded. "That sounds about right."

Sharon jumped when the ice hit her cheek. "Wha—Emily—oh, hi, honey."

Emily's doctor came in to check her progress then, so Sharon and Andy stepped out into the hall. He had examined Emily more often than he normally would have during labor because of her 'advanced maternal age.' "I thought her doctor was a woman," Andy whispered as they left the room.

"She is, but Dr. Jensen was the one on call in her office when she went into labor," Sharon explained.

"Is he really a doctor?! He looks like he's twelve! We've got to find someone who's been out of medical school longer than two days—"

"Andy, he's a great doctor," Sharon said, looking amused. "Emily had to have an appointment with all of the obstetricians in the practice, since there was a possibility of someone besides her own doctor delivering the baby. She really liked him."

"But how long could he have been doing this?! I'm sorry if I'm a little concerned about having Doogie Howser deliver my granddaughter!"

"My god, Andy, would you rather do it yourself?"

"I've probably delivered more babies than he has!" With being in patrol for a few years when they started out, both Andy and Sharon had delivered a couple of babies, but the necessity for that had been rare for both of them. "He's probably too caught up in some hospital romance to even focus on Emily! What, you're the one who made me start watching Grey's Anatomy! This place is a romance war zone!" Andy said after Sharon gave him an odd look.

A few minutes later, they were allowed back in the room. "I'm serious, Sharon, Em needs a more experienced doctor! All you've talked about is how this isn't a typical delivery, with—"

"Andy, if the next thing out of your mouth has anything to do with my age, you're getting the ice," Emily warned, holding up the bowl of ice chips.

"I don't recommend it. She has a pretty good arm," Sharon advised.

"Okay, but seriously, can't you ask for someone who's delivered more than five babies before?!"

"I've actually delivered over a thousand," Dr. Jensen informed him, coming back in the room to get something he'd forgotten. He gave Andy a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. I'm not as young as I look, and I'm perfectly qualified." A horrified expression came over Andy's face when the doctor came back in, and Sharon, Emily, and Emmett burst into laughter.

The rest of the chapter is at ff.net

[nerdiests]

So I’m participating in Kaminari Appreciation week, and. Yeah. 

Check it out on ao3!

prompt: past/present/future

It’d been a long while since Denki had the opportunity to visit his hometown. Considering his full schedule with heroics, he didn’t have much of a reason to take a flight over to Houston, Texas, for sentimental reasons. He’d told himself, however, that he would try and visit again before he turned twenty five and see what had changed. So here he was, walking out of George Bush Intercontinental with a messenger bag on his shoulder and a suitcase in hand. For a moment, he paused. All he could hear around him was English, a sound he’d missed back in Japan. Even though he’d lived in Japan for the past twelve years, Denki still found himself more comfortable speaking in English.

“C’mon, Denki, we’ve got a hotel to get to,” Denki muttered to himself, tightening his grip on his suitcase and heading towards the car rental so he could drive to the Marriott he’d booked for the duration of his stay. He’d stayed at this particular hotel before his family had moved back to Japan. It was thrilling, he’d get to order room service again, and he could have orange juice in a wine glass!! Ohhhhh, Iida would be jealous!

The hotel was wonderful, the food was even better, and Denki was ready to go around and check out all his old haunts. Like the Houston Natural Science Museum, and the Downtown Aquarium, and the Memorial City Mall with the Cheesecake Factory. He made a lot of money as a pro hero, and he was going to use it! ...Plus he wanted to have some souvenirs from Houston back in Japan he could show his friends - specifically Hanta, Mina, and Eijirou - once he went back.

It was probably a good idea that Denki hadn’t gone during spring break, because he wouldn’t have been able to visit any places he’d enjoyed in his childhood. Even the ones he’d checked out were slightly different. Denki couldn’t ride the ferris wheel because it was getting fixed and the white tiger was gone, the meteorology exhibit at the museum had been taken down, and the mall layout had changed! Along with those changes, he couldn’t even remember his old neighborhood and couldn’t go and visit and see how it had changed in twelve years, and he couldn’t ask his parents about it either. At least he could go and check out the Baskin Robbins he used to go to with his parents when they still lived there! Hopefully.

The Baskin Robbins was gone. Treasured and cherished childhood memories were also gone. How wonderful. This trip was going absolutely swimmingly. He’d spent two hours in traffic getting out here, because he remembered this place’s existence at 4:39 in the afternoon and everyone was getting off work. It was a surprise he’d remembered how to get here without a GPS. But the Baskin Robbins was no more, and all remained was a crafts store. Denki might know how to knit, but saying he made a sweater because he couldn’t remember his old neighborhood was so lame!!

“Oh you’ve gotta be shitting me. Denki Kaminari?” Denki whirled around at his name and was met with a slightly familiar face.

“Wait wait wait… Madeline Versailles? You still live here?” Denki blinked at the sight of his old childhood… Rival? Is that even the right word? They’d just tried to do better than the other in school, so rival was fitting, he guessed.

“Yeah, went to college at U of H. What’re you doing back here? Thought you’d moved to Japan to stay twelve years ago,” Madeline replied, shifting her shopping bag from one hand to the other. Denki shrugged.

“Decided that I’d come back before I turned 25, and being a pro hero makes a ton of money, not at all surprisingly,” Denki said, putting his hands in his hoodie pockets. Madeline raised an eyebrow.

“So you did go on to pro heroics, then? It’s probably a lot easier in Japan, yeah?” she asked. Denki nodded, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He turned it so the phone case was facing Madeline.

“Dunno if you’ve heard of the Stun Gun hero Chargebolt, but that’s me,” Denki said, slipping his phone back into his hoodie pocket. Madeline paused, before walking over to Denki quickly.

“No shit, really? My fiancée loves Japanese heroes, and her favorites are Cellophane, Red Riot, Suneater, and Chargebolt! Hanako’s always talking about when she could interact with heroes on the street back in Japan when she still lived with her mom, and she kept up with Japanese heroics once she moved in with her dad,” Madeline replied, pulling her phone out. Denki noticed the familiar pattern on the phone case.

“I’m more partial to Earphone Jack,” Madeline said, small smile on her face. Denki grinned.

“Well, I happen to know Cellophane, Red Riot, and Earphone Jack. Plus Red Riot knows Suneater, has since first year of high school, so I could… Hook you up?” Denki said, tilting his head sideways. Never let it be said that Denki wasn’t a generous man.

“Oh my god that’d be a literal blessing,” Madeline grinned, tapping something on her phone and handing it to Denki.

“I’ve been trying to get a good anniversary present for Hanako for our three year anniversary next month, but this would take the cake,” Madeline explained. Denki looked down and saw a contact open. He blinked, before giving Madeline a look.

“I trust you won’t give this number out to anyone? This is my personal number and it’d be fairly difficult to get it replaced again,” Denki said. Madeline nodded, and Denki plugged his number in.

“You’ve got an international plan, yeah?” Denki asked, getting another nod. Then Madeline tapped something else in, before putting it up. Denki felt his phone buzz, but left it alone.

“So, how long’re you in Houston?” Madeline asked, and Denki shrugged.

“I was planning on two weeks, since that’s how long I booked my hotel stay for and my plane tickets are scheduled for the same day I’m checking out of my hotel, so. Enough time that I’ll suffer when I head back over,” Denki replied. Madeline chuckled, before looking at the crafts store.

“If you ever need something to fill your time with, Hanako and I are typically free most days. Except Tuesday afternoons and Saturday evenings. Tuesday is couples ballroom dancing and Saturday is my cooking class and Hanako’s book club. So any days that aren’t those,” Madeline said, and Denki shrugged.

“I’m about 45 minutes away with minimal traffic, so I’d be down,” Denki said. Madeline grinned, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Brilliant!! You free tomorrow? Hanako wanted to head down to the zoo,” Madeline replied. Denki nodded.

“Don’t have any plans, though I am gonna go on one of the exclusive tours at Johnson and check out the Astros game next week. Can probably grab some extra tickets if y’all’d want to join me at the Astros game? Fun is always better with company, after all,” Denki said. Madeline waved a hand.

“Nah, Hanako’s dad has a box. Some of the best seats in the house. We can probably get you in there, if you’d want?” Madeline offered. Denki paused for a moment.

“If you’re gonna get me into some of the “best seats in the house” then let me get those zoo tickets tomorrow. It’s only fair,” Denki replied. Madeline opened her mouth, but closed it shortly after. She looked pensive for a moment.

“It’s only fair,” she replied. Denki nodded, before glancing over his shoulder at the crafts store.

“You know what? I’ve got yarn to buy and a sweater to knit,” Denki said, turning around.

“Text me later with what time you and Hanako are planning on going to the zoo, and I’ll meet y’all there,” Denki said, waving over his shoulder as he walked inside. He had a plan for this sweater.

The rest of Denki’s trip was absolutely phenomenal. The zoo was wonderful, though he couldn’t look at the meerkat exhibit as he once had. He saw the Johnson Space Center through new eyes, and had a bird’s eye view of an Astros game for the first time in his life. Not only that, but he got a new perspective on his “rivalry” with Madeline. Apparently the both of them had made botched attempts at being friends with the other. Good thing they cleared that up, because apparently the two of them got on like a house on fire.

Madeline and Hanako had decided to see him off at the airport, since that was what friends did. He knew that was what friends did, since half of 1-A did when he took his plane flight over here in the first place. At least it was a direct flight back to Japan, he could nap the whole way over. Or work on his sweater, he was almost done. Plane rides were the perfect opportunity to work on knitting. Plus he could finish that custom hat he was making for Kyouka… Yeah, he’d probably do some knitting too.

“You keep in contact, now,” Madeline said, slight grin on her face. Denki nodded, grip on his suitcase tightening slightly. Hanako smiled as well.

“It was a pleasure getting to meet you, Kaminari-san,” Hanako said happily, and Denki sighed.

“Hanako, how many times have I said this? You can call me Denki, it’s fine,” Denki replied, with a somewhat joking tone. Hanako giggled, slightly nervous.

“I’m sorry Kaaaaaaaaa… Denki. It’s. A bit hard to call a hero you’ve looked up to by their first name so suddenly,” Hanako said, fiddling with the hem of her dress. Denki grinned, reaching over and patting her on the shoulder.

“Really, Hanako, it’s fine,” he said, before looking back at Madeline.

“Expect those things I’m getting you in a few weeks,” Denki said. Madeline nodded, while Hanako looked confused.

“What things? Madeline, Denki, what are you two conspiring over?” Hanako asked, looking between the two. Madeline only grinned, while Denki pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time. He blinked when he saw the time, processing for a moment.

“Oh hell I’ve gotta go through customs, I’ll talk with y’all later!!” Denki said, rushing off towards customs.

“Bye Denki!” Madeline called, and Denki glanced over his shoulder to spot both Madeline and Hanako waving. Denki only grinned and waved back, before continuing the walk to customs. That’d be a hassle and a half to go through.

[avengeultrons]

Title: The High School Newspaper (Reader x Peter Parker)

Summary: Principal Morite recruits Peter and the Reader for the school’s first newspaper.

Word Count: 1742

A/N: OK I love this and it’s very cute I mean I don’t mean to toot my own horn but *toot toot* I hope you enjoy! --

You were sitting in the uncomfortable chair opposite of Principal Morita’s large desk, waiting patiently for Peter Parker to join the two of you. He ran in breathlessly, his backpack hanging from his shoulder as he skirted to a stop and dropped himself in the chair next to you, “Sorry I’m late. You wanted to see me, well, us?” he looked over at you in surprise and smiled nervously, averting his eyes to the carpeted floor.

“I brought you two here because I have an idea,” your principal leaned back in his office chair, the type that swivels and rolls on wheels, “Y/N, you're a fantastic writer. All of your teachers speak highly of you. Peter, you're a wonderful photographer. I’ve seen your work.”

You glanced over at the boy sitting next to you, his face turning read from the compliment. You felt like you had an idea where this conversation was going, “I want to start a school newspaper, featuring our high school’s games, events and activities, things of that nature. I thought we could start with the two of you to see what we could do! Even just a page of the top stories to start, it could be great.” He stared at the two of you, excitement crinkling up the corners of his eyes.

“Well, I, I’m busy most days and I-,” Peter looked flustered at your side, his face turning a pink shade. Your heart fluttered and you sighed, biting your lip anxiously. The things you were about to go through for this boy, and you didn't even know yet.

You jumped forward and put a hand in front of him to cut him off, “We’ll get started right away,” you said. Principal Morita’s face lit up and he clapped his hands together gleefully, ushering the two of you to the door.

Peter followed you like a lost puppy as you trudged out, already pulling out a notebook to jot down ideas for your first piece. He stopped abruptly and you turned to face him, cocking your head to the side.

“We can't, well, I can't…” he trailed off, looking at the beat up sneakers on his feet. You sighed and continued to jot down notes for both himself and you.

You were always doing that, no matter the circumstances. The teachers always complimented your note taking, even, “We can and we will. Look, this will be great on college applications. Come over after school tomorrow and we can set up a plan before the football game? I’d better, uh, get going,” you sighed loudly and plastered a smile onto your red face.

You'd been one to observe the adorable Peter Parker from afar at lunch and in science class, during scholar bowl and pep rallies. Being as close as you were to him was practically making you break out in hives.

“Oh, okay. I'll see you around then? Y/N?” you nodded nervously and hurried off, biting back a smile. He said your name!

“So, I was thinking we could make up an outline of the things we want to capture at the game tonight. Just an idea of photos you'd want to take, interviews we might want, stuff like that,” you poured both you and Peter a glass of water, your notebook lying open in front of you. Being as pro-active as you were, you had already gathered a master plan of ideas.

Peter smiled nervously and looked at your list, “Wow, you're ahead of the game,” he said as he added a few of his own ideas to the list. You laughed and tapped your fingers along the kitchen countertop, “You're not even nervous about creating a school paper? We have no idea what we’re even doing.”

“Not really. No one really knows what they're doing, they just fake it until they figure it out,” Peter looked over at you with the most adoring face that it made you want to crawl into a hole, away from the eyes of Peter Parker, “Do you have a game plan?”

Peter blinked to bring himself back to reality and shrugged, “I-yeah, totally. My camera is in my-,” his phone started going off like crazy. He sighed and jumped to his feet, “Oh, shit. I have to, uh, go. I'll see you at the game?”

“Yeah, sure. Don't be late!” you shouted after him as he waved quickly and ran out of your apartment. A sigh escaped your lips as you watched him go, knowing full well that he had been late to plenty of school events and activities before. Hopefully the game wouldn't be one of them.

Oh, those Friday night lights. The cheering of the high school aged crowds, the anticipation of both the players and the people in the stands. You felt pretty important, being able to stand on the track with the rest of the ‘media’ with the shiny laminated press pass hanging from your neck. Peter’s was still resting in your hands, but he had time. He would be here, he had to.

“Hey, Y/N! Where's Peter? The game’s about to start,” Principal Morita jogged over to you with an excited smile, his suit jacket slung over one of his arms.

You heaved a sigh and plastered a smile onto your face, “He’s...he’s on his way! We’re very excited, thank you Principal Morita,” you grabbed your notebook and clicked a pen, “Mind if I ask you a few questions? You'll be the school paper’s first person interviewed!”

“Well, of course!” he smiled proudly, turning his attention to the field as your school’s football team ran out. The crowd went especially wild when Spider-Man swung from the goal post, “What is happening?” the mood changed immediately as a motorcycle weaved throughout the track, running over people in its path. You let out a scream, grabbing your phone to snap photos.

Spider-Man and a runaway motorcycle? You couldn't even ask for this great journalism! If only Peter was there to snap photos for you, but you were sure that you could recall the events tomorrow, “Look out!” you shouted at Principal Morita, who stood stunned in the middle of the track, looking around the field as he tried to figure out what to do. You pushed him out of the way in the nick of time, right before the criminal on the motorcycle ran through your side of the track.

The revving of the engine sent a shiver down your spine as you stared at the bright headlight plowing its own path through the crowds of people running to get out. Your eyes went wide and you snapped one last photo of the motorcycle with Spider-Man, before being tackled to the ground and pushed into the field by the masked hero himself.

You stared up at him, your heart fluttering a mile a minute. This superhero had just saved your life! You couldn't make this stuff up.

“You okay?” he scrambled off of you, lending a hand up as you stared up at him, utterly starstruck. You managed a nod somehow and got to your feet, “Oh, I've gotta, bye!”

You helped your principal up and he thanked you quietly, dusting himself off. The two of you stared out at the ruined field, people scrambling to get away, “Well, the game is postponed until further notice. You'd better head home, Y/N. Be safe,” Principal Morita ran off to find help.

A sigh escaped your lips as you collapsed onto the steps outside of the high school, waiting for your mom to pick you up. It wasn't fun being alone after all that had just happened. You were battered and bruised, both your ego and your elbows. Peter hadn't even shown up and you were even more upset than you thought you would be.

“What's going on?” you jumped up and held your breath, clutching your chest as you saw Peer sauntering towards you, the streetlights casting an eerie halo on him, “Sorry I’m late, why aren't you at the game?”

The cool autumn chill was getting to you now and you sat back down on the step. Peter joined you, an eyebrow raised as you crossed your arms across your chest, “It's cancelled until further notice. Some guy on a motorcycle ran through the field and Spider-Man basically saved me. It was...a lot. I wish you would have been there to see it.”

“I wish I would've been, I'm sorry,” he sighed and looked over at you nervously, “Saved by Spider-Man, huh? Are you okay?”

You rolled your eyes and unzipped your backpack, “Fine,” you said simply, “I have an interview with Principal Morita but I think since the night took such a drastic turn, we can have an even better first piece now! I even took picture so you're off the hook, for now.”

“Thank you?” he said, more as a question, “I am really sorry though, I should've been here, for it all. For you.” Peter sighed, the hood of his jacket hiding his face. He sounded distraught to say the least.

A glance over at him sent your heart fluttering, which was annoying. He was now your partner in crime, you couldn't be developing a crush on the photographer of your shared newspaper.

You shrugged, biting your lip as your stomach twisted into a bunch of tiny knots, “Next time,” you said with a small smile as you got to your feet, “That's my mom, I have to get going. Look, I understand that you're nervous about doing this, but I believe in you, okay? You're talented, I just-I hope you know that I know it and we all know it. I hope you'll be there next time?”

“Of course,” Peter said quietly, his face a dark shade of red. He was blushing, because of something you said! Oh, God. You had to keep it cool.

You smiled nervously and threw your backpack over your shoulders, “Maybe next time Spider-Man will show up and you can see him! Have you seen him?” you jumped when your mom honked the horn, a laugh escaping your lips, “I'll see you later.”

Peter laughed after you, a knot of guilt growing in his stomach. Saved by the honk of a car horn to say the least. At least he had an idea for a title. The first headline for your school newspaper? “Spider-Man wracked with Guilt over Growing White Lie.”

[unfolded73]

Magazines and Multiverses (1/1)

Captain Swan, rated Teen, ~1500 words

This fic has everything! Fluff, angst, vaguely anti-Trump comments (yes, really), quantum physics, and a decidedly pro-Millian stance (because after the stuff out of FT5 yesterday, that seemed needed). Yeah, I don’t know, this is where my head was this morning.

“This country is going to hell in a handbasket,” Emma said, flipping the page of her magazine and reaching for her coffee mug. 

There was a pause, and she looked up to see Killian across the kitchen table, completely engrossed in his latest book. 

Another pause, and something in his senses must have told him that there was a fragment of conversation hanging out there in the air, waiting to be responded to. 

“Hmm?” he said, his eyes still moving over the words on his page. 

“I said, this country is going to hell in a handbasket. I know Storybrooke’s isolated, but there is some terrible shit going on out there in the world.” 

Her husband looked up at her and blinked, either uncertain about what she was referring to or uncertain what the words were that had come out of her mouth. He set his book down, ready to give her his full attention now. “That magazine seems to vex you more often than not, love.” 

Emma flipped to the cover, looking at the flowing script spelling out “The Atlantic” across the top. “I sent money to public radio, and I got this subscription for free. And it made me feel like an adult to have it,” she sort of whined. 

Killian raised an eyebrow. “My wife, the sheriff, savior, mother of a teenager needs a magazine subscription to feel like an adult? Last I checked, you were very much an adult.” He inflected the last word with so much filth that she actually blushed. And then glared at him for getting her off track. 

“My point is, we’re all nice and separated from the rest of the country up here in our magically created town, but we still technically live in the United States and things out there are really bad, Killian.” 

“I gather there’s a tyrant in charge, from what little I’ve read,” he said mildly, as if it didn’t concern him. 

“Yeah, to say the least.” 

“The governance of this land makes little sense to me. It’s quite complex.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Give me a single tyrannical king whose rule I can flout, don’t bother me with all these presidents and congressmen and whatever else.” He gestured with his hook for emphasis. “I can hardly keep track of ignoring the commands of the whole lot of them.” 

Emma sighed, looking back at her magazine. “I wonder if Regina could just poof the whole town over the border to Canada. It’s not that far.” 

Killian picked up his book again. “As long as we stay next to the ocean, tell her to have at it.” 

~*~

Emma’s political angst was one thing, but it didn’t compare to the storm that, unbeknownst to her,  had been brewing that morning as Killian read his book. That book was the first of what turned out to be many on a subject that he quickly became fascinated with: quantum physics. 

“But how can it be a wave and a particle at the same time?” he complained to Henry. “That doesn’t make any logical sense.” 

“Well, I don’t think that it’s literally a wave and a particle, it’s just that at the quantum level, there’s no better analogy to things in our physical world. And using the math for waves for some things and particles for others is what works, I guess,” Henry said. 

Emma looked up from her phone, where she had been dutifully liking the millionth picture of her baby brother that her mother had posted on Facebook that week. “Oh no, Henry, not you too.” 

“What? It’s interesting stuff, Mom.” He puffed out his chest, proud to be discussing grown-up topics with his stepfather, and Emma felt instantly bad for discouraging it. Or for letting womankind down by not being as interested in science as the two men in her household, maybe. The trouble was, she’d never gotten much of a formal education, moved from school to school as she bounced around between foster families and group homes. And then dropping out of high school and ending up in prison hadn’t helped, although at least she’d gotten her GED while she was incarcerated. Still, it made her self-conscious when the people around her knew more than she did about high-minded topics. 

“Okay, okay, carry on,” she said, smiling at them as she scrolled past her mother’s post to a picture of Robyn. And then one of Gideon. “There are too many fucking babies in this town,” she muttered under her breath. 

A few days later, she came to bed to find Killian reading and looking extremely, as he would say, ‘vexed.’ “What’s wrong, babe?” she asked as she sat down on the bed and pulled her jeans off. 

“Multiple universes, Swan, that’s what’s wrong.” 

She looked at him with elevated eyebrows. “Yeah, we’ve traveled to some of them. You’re from one of them.” 

“Not different realms, love. Different universes, pressed together like so many bubbles of dish soap.” He closed the book, which was by Stephen Hawking, a name she actually recognized, and tossed it toward the foot of the bed. 

“What’s the difference?” 

“A different universe is like one where a different choice is made, and it splits off from this one.” 

Emma snorted. “Like there’s a universe in which I didn’t have a third cup of coffee this morning? Because honestly--” 

“Like there’s a universe where Gideon killed you and you stayed dead. Or where I never made it back from the Underworld. Or where I wasn’t able to fight the darkness and destroyed everyone we love. Or where we didn’t fall through Zelena’s time portal together. Or we did, but--” 

“Okay, shh,” she said, climbing up on the bed and over his lap. “I get it.” 

“So many times we overcame the odds to be with each other, love, which means there are an infinite number of universes where we didn’t. Where one of us is mourning the other. Or worse.” 

Emma stroked his cheek, her eyes full of fondness. “Maybe, but we’re here, together. I don’t think there’s any use in dwelling on all those wrong turns.” 

“But if they exist somewhere…” 

She thought about that. It was disconcerting, the thought that there was an Emma, a thousand Emmas, a billion -- who hadn’t gotten her happy ending. 

“Okay, but also,” she said, moving her hand back to comb her fingers through his hair, “there would be universes where your brother didn’t die. Or where Milah didn’t die. Where you got to live out a happy life with her.” 

He tilted his head. “But then I wouldn’t be with you.” He smiled sadly. “I’d have died generations before you were even born.” 

“I know.” She kissed him gently on the lips. “Killian, don’t you know I’d give all of this up in a second if it meant you could have avoided all of those years of pain?” 

He grabbed her bare thigh, pulling her further onto his lap and kissing her hard. His lips parted with hers and he shook his head back and forth. She wasn’t sure if he was denying the idea that she would make such a sacrifice, so she pulled back, putting her hands on his shoulders and looking him in the eye. 

“I would, Killian. I met Milah in the Underworld, remember? It wasn’t hard to understand why you loved her so much. It would be pretty selfish of me to say it was worth it to me for her to die, and for you to endure so much grief and suffering, just so that I could have you as my husband at the end of it. I would never.” 

“It’s no use thinking that way, love. As you say, had she not died, our paths would never have crossed.” 

“Haha, see?” She grinned at him, feeling enormously clever. “It’s no use thinking that way.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Swan--” 

“I don’t care if there are a billion Killians out there living a billion different lives. All I care about is this one, right here.” She kissed him on the nose. “And I care about this one a lot.” 

He toppled her over then, his hand smacking on her thigh and then sliding up to tickle her side, making her giggle and kick her heel against the back of his calf. His mirth relaxed into something softer and sweeter, the more they lay there looking at each other. 

“Of all the possible universes, I can’t help but feel like I ended up in the best one when I’m here in your embrace,” he said. 

Emma grinned in spite of herself. “That’s either the most romantic or the sappiest thing you’ve ever said,” she groaned. 

He kissed her again, and at some point during the next few minutes, his book on quantum physics got kicked off the bed and onto the floor. A little while later, her stack of glossy magazines full of worries tumbled off of her bedside table when her arm shot out in a moment of uncontrolled ecstasy. 

Neither of them cared. For now, this moment, this place, this town, this universe was the only one that mattered.

[treehugginglibrarian]

Dear Poor People: Stop Having Sex. Love, the Pro-Life Caucus

There was a very brief article in the local paper the other day about the Ohio Republican Party putting forth a bill to ban all abortion. I’m uncertain what would make them think this would work, since they just saw a bill designed to ban abortion in the instance of Down’s Syndrome swatted away not because of its specificity, but because any attempt to strip abortion rights is viewed as unconstitutional at this point. Maybe they were thinking “Go big or go home, bitches!”

And go big they have. No exceptions for rape or incest. No exceptions for even the most extreme fetal malformation. And, my personal, favorite, no exceptions for the health of the mother. Because, you know, bringing a baby into this world is a completely joyous event that wouldn’t be complete without a mother dying on the operating table, right?! I clipped the article to add to my never-ending compendium of “ways Republicans are fucking over women’s health” (not the actual title of the pam file, clearly) and then turned to a colleague to find out if she found the idea of letting mom die in childbirth as ridiculous as I do. After all, I’m never going to give birth which means I’m never going to really know just how important a tiny, screaming, urchin is to its mother. Maybe a woman who wants to give birth would disagree with me, and think giving her life for the cause is undoubtedly worthwhile.

Nope. She didn’t. She thinks the idea that mothers can be not only left to die, but made to die, for the benefit of a baby’s delivery is counterproductive bullshit that stands to orphan not only the baby in question but possibly other children as well. Given the high rate of single-motherhood in this country, this isn’t an unreasonable concern, actually. Yet, some of her other opinions on abortion were, in my opinion, far from being “pro-woman.” At the very least, they were quite far from being “pro-all-women.”

Mothers shouldn’t have to give birth if doing so will kill them. Mothers shouldn’t have to give birth if the baby is going to suffer immensely through a very short life (think Tesachs). Mothers shouldn’t have to give birth to a baby born in incest, but should only be allowed to abort in the case of rape if it’s obvious the woman is not recovering well emotionally from the rape itself and carrying the baby will cause significant emotional trauma. In pretty much all other instances, mothers should be forced to carry the baby to term and either give it up for adoption or raise it themselves. Because, “they knew the risks when they had sex.”

Right. Where to begin.

I’m assuming she’s bought into the anthropologically false notion that all babies born of incest are going to be genetically inferior. Given the sheer number of non-incestuous, genetically inferior, humans on the planet, I fail to see why this should be an immediate cause for abortion, though. If the incest was consensual, fuck it, let her raise the kid if she wants. Arguably, that could be said of children born to rape victims as well. If a woman is strong enough, emotionally, to carry a baby to term following a rape, more power to her. I don’t think, however, that she should have to prove to anyone that she’s been through enough trauma to warrant an abortion. Rape is a traumatic experience. It’s not up to society, politicians, or even doctors to determine when “enough trauma” has been felt that we can reasonably conclude that nine months of carrying this fetus will push her over the edge.

As for the rest…

“They knew the risks when they had sex.” But did they, though? The number of high schools that don’t teach some form of comprehensive sex ed is pretty astounding. Especially after the passage of mandatory “abstinence primary” or “abstinence only” sex education models, many high schools avoid the topic altogether, arguing that this is the type of thing best left to parents anyway. The same parents that are often working two jobs and barely have time to make sure their children are eating full meals or doing their homework, but they’re supposed to make sure their kids know how sex works? For those schools that do teach sex ed, it’s often taught very late. Rather than being taught when these kids are 11 or 12, an age at which they’d understand it but likely wouldn’t be engaging in the described activities yet, it’s frequently taught when kids are 15, 16, or even 17 years old. An age at which many kids have not just figured out what sex is, they’ve already started experimenting. The school system is a day late and a dollar short.

Let’s pretend, for argument’s sake, that I didn’t meet two different women during my time on active duty who got pregnant as teenagers because they didn’t realize sex was how babies were made. Let’s pretend that, contrary to these two very real examples, ALL children learn about sex while in school, within a reasonable time frame. Teaching kids that sex leads to babies isn’t going to make them less horny. And, in the mind of a risk-driven, risk-loving teenager, it’s not going to be that much of a deterrent. We’re talking about a subset of the population that will go 100 miles per hour on the freeway “just because” and, when asked if they know how dangerous that is will answer, wide eyed, “yeah. But it sounded fun.” The possibility of a baby is not going to be enough to deter them. If the possibility of losing their careers in a fiery blaze of scandal isn’t enough to convince politicians to stop fucking people who aren’t their spouses, and isn’t enough to convince Catholic priests to stop fucking little boys, why on earth are we assuming that logic or reason will work on the most irrational subset of humanity on this planet?  

Some will get to have their cake and eat it, too, as they will have street savvy parents who know that “teens will be teens” and will, therefore, hook them up with protection. While condoms don’t require a prescription, parental permission, or doctor’s appointment, they do require access to a store that sells them, money to buy them, and the wherewithal to realize that the momentary embarrassment at the checkout counter is worth not producing a baby. A lot of teenagers get this part right. But a lot of them don’t. Particularly those who are embarrassed and/or frightened about what will happen if the condoms they have purchased get found by less-than-understanding parents. Which would then leave protection against tiny gremlins up to the girl in the equation.

Birth control is sort of an almost impossible thing to hide from your parents. It requires a prescription, which means it requires a trip to the doctor’s office. This often requires money for a copay and insurance information. It also requires a trip to the pharmacy. If you’re a together enough teenager, you may well be able to pull off this mission covertly, particularly if you have your driver’s license. If you require a ride to the doctor or the pharmacist, or you’re just uncertain about things like insurance information, mom and/or dad are going to know what’s up. For many teenage girls, that alone is probably enough to prevent them from seeking the pill. Again, parents who are accepting of the idea that “teens will be teens” will make all this significantly easier.      

Suffice to say, it’s actually rather easy to see how teenage girls in America could end up pregnant and scared. Often, parents faced with a pregnant, scared, teenage girl don’t even realize their daughter is sexually active, leaving them that much more ill-prepared to cope with the news they are hearing. How the family deals with the pregnancy is, in the grand scheme of things, completely personal and neither here nor there. For those who do opt for abortion, the availability of the procedure and the necessity of parental involvement will differ from state to state and, often from city to city. The end state is the same, however. A scared teenager having a procedure done that would probably be completely unnecessary if we lived in a country that wasn’t completely puritanical in its views on sex, and actually afforded all of its citizens access to comprehensive health care.

As shitty as the scared teenager situation is, however, the scared teenager situation is not the norm. The scared teenager is not the average woman needing at abortion. In fact, the scared teenager is the one least likely to be seeking an abortion. Assuming the woman sitting in the cubicle next to you is white, straight, and in a relationship, she’s statistically more likely to have had an abortion than the scared teenager is.

For those who like reading source material: https://www.guttmacher.org/fact-sheet/induced-abortion-united-states

For those who hate source material, allow me to break it down:

Most abortions in the U.S. in 2014 were had by women in their 20s, over half of whom had already had one child and over half of whom were married or cohabitating with a partner. Fully three quarters of these women were living under the poverty line. While most recipients were not white, whites were the largest single-race contingent to seek abortion services. Most of these women cited obligations to other people in their lives or a fear of future financial hardship as the primary reason they were seeking an abortion. Just over half of those seeking an abortion had gotten pregnant despite using some form of contraceptive.

We’re not talking about women who are stupid or who are using abortion as birth control. And before anyone says, “but roughly half of the people getting an abortion weren’t on birth control!” it’s worth noting that fully 45% of pregnancies in this country are unplanned. Almost half of ALL people having sex in this country are either not bothering with contraception at all, aren’t using it properly, or have really bad luck. Of those unplanned pregnancies, 40% will be terminated. The fact that over half of those seeking an abortion were using some form of contraception is actually pretty remarkable, given the numbers.

While the “they knew the risks when they had sex” argument would, overwhelmingly, apply to the average abortion seeker in this country, it’s a statement that is horribly tone-deaf in its approach to the problem. When you throw that out as a threat, of sorts, you are effectively arguing that the only people who should have sex are those who are both willing and able to face those risks. Of course they knew the “risks” when they had sex, since most of them already have at least one child. When you argue that they knew the risks, and thus should have to be saddled with the product this “risky” activity, you’re effectively arguing that poor people shouldn’t have sex.

The fact that three quarters of those seeking abortions in this country are living under the poverty limit tells me one of two things: the poor overwhelmingly lack access to reliable forms of birth control and/or those who are not poor do not have as difficult a time adjusting their lifestyles to accommodate and unexpected pregnancy. Realistically, both of these are likely true and neither should be a surprise. Without health insurance, birth control often costs a fair bit of cash. As the number of Planned Parenthoods and local clinics start to dwindle in some reaches of the country, options that don’t involve scrounging up that cash are becoming far harder to access. Contrary to what a lot of people on polar opposite sides of the political spectrum want to believe, the Affordable Care Act did not leave women everywhere with access to free birth control because it didn’t even leave women everywhere with easy access to affordable health insurance.

In certain reaches of this nation, there is still a reasonable gap between those who are eligible for Medicaid and those who are eligible for the subsidies that would make insurance affordable for residents of this gap. If you’re living in the gap, it wouldn’t be unheard of for you to be dependent completely upon condoms, the rhythm method, pulling out, or sheer luck in your quest to not have children while also having a fulfilling sex life. Therein lies the heart of the “they knew the risks when they had sex” argument. Rearranged just a touch, it implies that those who cannot “handle” the risks should not be having sex. Thus, those who are too poor to afford an unexpected child should their birth control fail, or too poor to afford truly reliable birth control (or the insurance to cover said birth control), should not be having sex.

Sex has now become a pastime for the wealthy. Because the poor haven’t already had enough of their dignity stolen from them via a government and a populace who views monetary compensation for work as the only real means by which to determine a human being’s overall worth and value to society. Let’s also tell them they’re no longer allowed to express or receive love, affection, attraction, or basic lust in the most human of ways because “shit, son, you too fucking broke to cope.”

Republicans make me glad I’m queer.

[whitelennykravitz-blog]

I guess Warsaw now has very high contrast memories for me. I’ve been there twice: once on a fickle weekend for sex, and now on a weekend that was dense with my life. This second time was a Friday through Tuesday that included everything: laughter, crying, broken teeth, and mental spaces that both seemed insignificant and insurmountably oppressive.

I’ve been seeing Katarzyna for about a year. Or I guess we met about a year ago, when I walked into the building that housed my new studio, and saw her alit on a balcony wearing a kimono. I say “alit”, because she seemed to be drifting around the concrete railings after having just landed from above, with ivy around her that clung with an air of casualness to walls that showed no signs of hand holds.

She introduced herself a few minutes later and I was smitten. Her face beautiful and turned towards mine, and eyes that held vast confidence that clearly masked severe self-doubt. Eyes like mine. I think that’s why we got along so well. And the sex. Which was amazing. Although, we had the worst first sex I’ve ever had in my life. About halfway through there was a moment where we both looked at each other and the unspoken was almost deafening as it reverberated around awkwardly entangled limbs, “Do we really want to keep doing this?” I would have never thought that sex so clumsy and awful could ever become what it did. Insatiable. Our sex life was the Brussels sprout of my sex life: intolerable at first, and now craved and lusted for.

She was not so keen on me at the start of things. In fact I think she didn’t like me. But something of me found hooks in her, and vice-versa, and a year of fucking in clubs, lead to long distant telephone calls across the world, to us finally landing in the same area of the world once again, where I decided I wanted to break up. It’s hard to tell if it was a flare up of the crushing depression I suffer from that is what caused me to pull the trigger, or the fact that two artists hanging out is basically a pingpong match of people starting sentences with “I”. All those “I”s and distance and it became a practice of spending time with someone while somehow still being completely alone. Either way, distance and the sensation that I was screaming behind my face made me call it quits.

I initially did this over Skype. Never break up with people on Skype, especially if they are prone to large swings of emotion. I now know this after a 4 hour session of being yelled at, being called a coward, and then being told how much I was loved.  This all ended with us planning on meeting in Warsaw to talk about things face-to-face. I know that doesn’t logically follow, but suspend disbelief in the details of this story.

We decided to put off Our Talk until Sunday, giving us 2 days of pretending like we were a real couple. We saw friends, went to exhibitions, fucked like we were trying to redecorate rooms through kinetic energy. I don’t think I’ve ever navigated the texture of so many surfaces with my balls before. This was due to a stage of the fucking that meandered through a foyer and kitchen, where different ledges and surfaces (each adorned with it’s own selection of free range objects, knobs, and finishes) meant a new terrain for my balls to high five like a drunk frat boy at homecoming. Oven knobs, keys, and a steak knife, I believe, were all involved at one point.

We spent some time with her friends: artists she knew and an ex-boyfriend. The ex, had always treated me sort of like shit telling me that weekend, in condescending tones, how to pronounce Katarzyna’s name correctly while we bought beer in a convenience store. Or maybe it wasn’t condescension, but just the protection of someone who knew I was a day or two away from really hurting her. It’s hard to tell. The first time I met him he walked into the room briskly and declared “tell me something about you.” Which is a dismissive and affronting command that I tried to laugh off, as I thought about the ways gorillas establish dominance. I also thought about how I really didn’t have anything to say about myself, but the first thing that came to mind was to tell him the last thing I had had to eat. After this first meeting, Katarzyna agreed something strange had happened. Feelings that still dwelled? Anger over their breakup?

Katarzyna loved to talk about how beautiful she was and I could see how certain men looked at her. When I look back at the group of characters that I was flung through, I’m trying to guess which one she’ll fuck now. I guess that’s pretty stupid and shallow, but it’s the truth. My money is on Dawid, a photographer/PhD in art, who clearly likes Katarzyna, and who she clearly likes the attention from. Maybe he’s the one.

We also had a dinner with her brother who I had never met before. His boyfriend and he met us at an Italian restaurant where I watched the dynamics of sibling order take over, as Katarzyna turned into a younger sister, with simplified vocabulary and school girl antics. I think the love between siblings has the potential to bring out their deepest insecurities. Maybe it’s because they can’t let their ego swell up in the face of someone that knows them so well.

The breakup talks started the next morning, Sunday, around 1pm after a night in a shitty club, doing some shitty drugs, and having some rough sex that ended up with Katarzyna chipping two teeth. She was into getting slapped and thrown around during sex, but with the teeth grinding invoked by this particular drug, one slap ended with a chipped bottom and top tooth. This now gives us one more thing in common, besides our narcissism and being lovers, as both of my front teeth are chipped due to a night that involved acid, cocaine, a flaccid penis, and a woman intent on fixing this with an extremely eager blowjob (which I could only look down at both with fright and awe while I bit down so hard, that I broke my teeth. This woman, Cleo, was actually someone that I dated after a particularly long relationship, and on this teeth breaking night I had randomly ran into her at a bar and somehow ended up walking back to her place as I explained, “I’m pretty fucked up and definitely can’t get hard.” And she nodded with a sly smile like she knew something I didn’t. But she didn’t know such things. It was like a mall cop standing outside an English football stadium in the throws of a riot and saying, “Don’t worry, I got this.” before bolting into an entrance with too much enthusiasm.)

It’s an interesting connection to notice, because Cleo was the first person to get me into rough sex. Ropes, gags, and pushing the limits of physicality. We met when I didn’t have a room of my own — I was floating around Seattle — and I asked to use my friend Jon’s room for a date night with her. After being tied spread eagle onto his bed, fucked, and hit with a belt, we took a break for drinks, only to have Jon and his girlfriend return to his room. I guess a pro tip here is: don’t leave a bunch of ropes tied to the bed of your friend, with a random belt and a heap of condoms presented almost like gifts at the foot of his bed, when this friend has a very jealous girlfriend. This girlfriend will never talk to you again.

But Katarzyna and I took all that to a whole new level. It’s not a place to unpack here, but she made me reframe what a physical relationship is: the celebration of the independence of two bodies that choose to spend a moment of time together.

Anyway.

The thing about breakups is that both people want to be understood. To be heard, and acknowledged. The problem always is that if you both understood each other perfectly there probably wouldn’t be an issue in the first place; the issue would have been fixed. So the Long Tail of relationships can happen where you mix arguments with breakup sex over and over in the hope of baking the perfect We Both Understand cookie. This cookie doesn’t exist.

An extra piece to the whole thing was that on Sunday around 2 or 3 hours into talking/yelling, Katarzyna’s mom called to say her grandpa had died. This wasn’t out of left-field, he had stopped eating and drinking fluids a week before, but the timing was somewhat absurd. Over drinks the following day Katarzyna jokingly retold the story of our breakup, as if talking to friends, saying “and then my mom called to say my grandpa had died, and he thought, ‘nah, I’ll still break up with her.’” There’s a lot I want to say about her grandfather. But there are only a few snippets that popped into my head when I heard he had passed: he was in the war, his wife was mean to him, he had seen too much. My sister remembered that he had an apartment that looked exactly the same since he moved into it after the war. It was like going back in time. I didn’t remember this, which made me feel very bad.

There was a lot of crying that weekend. From both of us. At a certain point I broke down and wailed like an animal. Katarzyna drew me a bath and lead me to it as I seemed to be overplaying the part of a lobotomized patient. There was a point right before where I thought, “this looks good if I seem to feel this bad.”, but then I realized I actually felt that bad; playing crazy and then realizing no game is actually happening. 

She soaked a scarf in the hot water and draped it on my head. Splashed water on my shoulders and back. She couldn’t help but flick my cock once. That’s one thing: she creeped on my body hard, all the time, and it was the sweetest thing. The next day I was able to return the ritual to her, making her a bath and caressing her as she wept and took deep breaths.

I think she performed the ritual better: my approach felt a bit like applying sunscreen to someones face using only the backs of my hands.

Such strong emotional engagements in bed made for some interesting conflicts between body and mind. Katarzyna would scream or cry, but this look would creep in her eye, and she would excuse herself in an emotional explosion, getting out of bed by pushing off of me, her hand placed fully on my chest, or resting precariously close to my cock. It was like subway creepers “accidently” brushing against strangers. Similarly, I would be talking and holding her, and suddenly be completely hard. We were in middle school, slow dancing; a lot going on with maybe only a 30% conscious understanding of what was happening.

I think as I get older and look at what I have failed to accomplish, it can be hard to hang out with younger people making something of their lives. The whole breakup conversation was made worse by it being lead by a young woman driven and dedicated to a certain path. If I had been coming to awareness of my poor basketball skills while talking to Lebron James, the sensation would be similar.

I cried, and laughed, and fucked, while thinking, “that could be me!” Which is actually a funny sentiment to have with her as the previous year she had thrown me a surprise party where everyone was wearing masks of my face, which I then asked if she could wear during sex. We cut a hole in the mouth and I watched my unblinking face as I blew myself. It felt a little like getting a blowjob from a character in Goldeneye. After I gave myself a facial, she put on one of my sweaters and jumped eagerly onto all fours on my bed, looking over her shoulder. My face peeking over the shoulder of a beautiful young woman’s body, which made me see my normal face as one begging for sex as I tried to put everything together in my head. I couldn’t finish fucking doggy style. It felt like a bit much.

Anyway, I had technically been her at one point in my life. And fucked myself. Which seems very similar to the current situation.

On Monday we woke up late and I think I ate the best pussy of my life. Katarzyna’s entire body became paralyzed and she retreated to a ball and started crying. She was terrified at not being able to move and described something that, to me, sounded like her pussy throwing up all over her body. I’m sure the intense emotional context had a lot to do with it, but I’m going to go ahead and give myself a gold star anyways.

We went out for one last date together. We drank Prossecco and got a seafood platter that reminded me of how I hated seafood platters. It’s a lot of work spread across suspicious flavors; all Mike and Ikes mixed with black licorice that is too salty. But the point is they’re fancy and it seemed like a thing people get on a first date, which maybe are also the perfect things to get on the last date.

I left early the next morning. We lay in bed those final moments and I told her I loved her.  It felt a little like saying hello to say goodbye; Hawaiian customs adapted to a failed relationship. She stood in the apartment’s entry in a kumano. Her body a stripe down the open front. Light switches and door bells seemed to hover around the walls. But the door wasn't a good place to say goodbye, because half of my mind was on the elevator arriving. It did. I entered, and it closed around her body, the building swallowing her up.

I’m still trying really hard to remember exactly the look in her eye. Probably over the years it will be many things.

I turned to look at the mirror in the elevator and my hair looked like shit — I looked like shit — and I thought about how this is exactly as she would remember me.

I thought about two nights before as we both entered the elevator and immediately did the preening checks that most are wont to do in elevator mirrors: the subtle turns of the face and drawing of facial muscles, as we quickly scan the imperfections that we are trying to hide.

I can see her pretty clearly in the mirror at that moment, as stacked layers of a woman seen on a balcony, in a doorway, and through some things in-between that seem hard to put my finger on.