#but im sick so imagine that with extremely long coughing fits

[staretes]

t-the oranges

[valsnonsense]

BNHA x Soul Eater Pt. 1 - A Fateful Encounter

Hey I did a thing.  Please excuse the crappy coloring.  I may make this a series or something.  Dialogue under the cut!!!

I think in this universe where meisters, weapons, and people with quirks exsist, people with quirks are called ‘Quirkies”

Lol im funny

Soul sighed.

This always happened when he and Maka took leave.  Especially when they took leave to a place they currently had a mission at.

Soul kicked up an empty soda can lying abandoned on the floor as he walked the streets of the amusement park.

He and Maka decided that with their trip to Tokyo, they could spend some time seeing the sights.  While they were originally here for a three-day mission, they got done early and decided to take some r&r.

Soul wanted to try the park’s super crazy rollercoasters, while his partner wanted to just go through some of the simpler rides, like those haunted houses or teacups or some shit like that.

So, for the afternoon, they decided to split up and enjoy the rides they wanted to and meet up later for dinner.

Soul looked up from his phone, currently texting his buddy Black☆Star about his quest for a rollercoaster.

And it wasn’t hard to find one.

When he looked up, a large, twisting railway greeted him, making him hum in surprise.

“...That was easy…”

He smiled, sending a ‘found one’ text to Black☆Star before stuffing his phone in his pocket and beginning to trot forward.

Weaving his way through the crowd, he looked at all the entrances to try and find the one to the rollercoaster he saw.  

When he saw a long line right in front of it, he picked up his pace to a slight jog, wanted to worm his way in line now and maybe have enough time later to do more things.

He placed himself in line, sighing in relief and checking his watch.

11:23.

He had time.  He’d get through the line, ride the rollercoaster, probably tweet about it then move on.  Easy peasy.

  Not easy peasy.

It was 12:20 before he got even close to the front of the line.  

Soul was biting his lip in frustration, tapping his foot impatiently as the next lucky group crossed the rope and boarded the ride.  

He had gotten a few texts from Maka during his hour-long wait, asking how many rides he had gotten on.  He wanted to just lie and say three, but he actually saw Maka pass by, and decided against it.  The only thing he said was that he wasted time playing those rigged carnival games, winning nothing, and was now in line for a rollercoaster.

He sighed, watching the people board, strap themselves in, and the rollercoaster mozied off, climbing up the ramp.  

But, he was alright.  Soul only had three people in front of him, and that thing could hold twelve people.  He’d be getting on next time around.

It was maybe five minutes before it came back around again, the people on the ride chittering excitedly about how extreme it was.

Soul’s heart began to pound in excitement and nervousness, bouncing a little on his feet in anticipation.  

When the guard unhooked the rope, Soul had to claw his way forward while a bunch people behind him tried to fight their way to the front.  

When he got past the barrier, he had to stop and dust himself off quickly, looking behind him to make sure he was past the barrier.  

He smiled, fixing his jacket and looking up towards the rollercoaster.

Most of the seats had been filled up, and he felt a slight twang of panic go off.  

But he sighed when he saw one left.

Up in the front, next to a boy with fluffy green hair, who looked about his age.

And seemed to have a green face to match.

When Soul sat down, the restraint was lowered, and he couldn’t help but peak off to his right.

The boy was trembling something fierce, gripping the brace so tightly it was like he’d fall out now.  He had a freckly face and matching green eyes, those eyes watered with some tears.  

Soul pursed his lips in concern.  If he was this scared why he was on the ride?

“...Hey, you okay?”

The boy jumped, not only because of his words but also because the rollercoaster lurched and began to move forward slowly.

“U-Um… y-yeah… I guess,” the boy whimpered, wiping his eyes furiously as they began to climb.

Soul rose a brow, leaning forward slightly to see him better.

“Are you sure, you look a little pale.  Why’d you come on the ride by yourself?” he asked, watching the boy sniffle.

“I-I was supposed to be on with my friends.  B-But the line was so chaotic, we got separated.  So n-now I’m he-here by my s-self,” he replied, staring at the top of the incline fearfully.

This ride had three loops and at least five sudden drops.  Soul could see he wasn’t ready to face this thing by himself.

Soul looked up, seeing they only had a few moments before they dropped.  

He lifted his hand, observing it for a second before offering it to the boy.

“...Wanna hold my hand?”

It was almost funny to him how quickly the boy seized his hand, squeezing it with one hell of a monster grip.  Soul winced, biting his lip to suppress a yell of pain, but he squeezed back, knowing his rollercoaster buddy needed a hand.

He looked up, their cart reaching the top so that he could see the drop and the rest of the ride.

After that, the coaster dropped.

   Soul should not have ridden that.

In a surprising twist, it was Soul who was barfing into the trash can while the boy rubbed his back, holding his bangs up so that he wouldn’t get them dirty.

“Are you sure you’re cut out for roller coasters?  You were practically emerald in color by the time the ride was over,” the boy asked, Soul coughing up the last of his lunch.

Soul heaved a few times, before coughing and spitting out all of the residue in his mouth.  He grimaced.

“God… I’ve never felt motion sickness like that in my entire-HRK!”

Soul coughed, and heaved up some bile, his throat burning.  The boy continued to rub his back, even going to massage the back of his neck to try and lessen the pain.

After Soul was coughing up nothing but bile, the boy reached into his bag and pulled out a water bottle and wipe.  

Soul stood up slowly, taking a few deep breaths while trying to regain control of his stomach.  The boy held out the water.

“Rinse your mouth before you drink it, and here’s a wipe.  You’ve got some on your chin,” he explained, watching Soul take the cloth first and wipe his chin before taking the bottle of water and taking a few sips.

The boy smiled, rubbing Soul’s back a few times.

“You think you’re gonna be okay?” The boy asked, Soul gargling some water a few times before nodding his head.

“Y-Yeah, I think so.  Damn… that didn’t feel too good,” he huffed, rubbing his chest.

The boy chuckled, giving him a sympathetic smile.  

“Sorry that you had to endure the ride with me, I hope you’re feeling a bit better,” he apologized, rubbing his arm sadly.

Soul rose a brow, giving the boy a confused glance.

“Why are you apologizing?  I was the one who got on the ride.  I knew I had a little bit of a motion sickness problem, but I didn’t listen to my brain,” he laughed, tapping his head for emphasis.

The boy laughed, smiling warmly at Soul.

“Heh, I guess you’re right… OH!  Oh my goodness!  I’m so sorry!  You helped me through all that and I haven’t even introduced myself!” The boy cried, placing his hands on his knees and bowing.

“My name is Midoriya!  Midoriya Izuku!  Thank you for what you did for me!”

Soul jumped slightly at the act, but waved his hands.

“N-No need for the bows, it’s alright.  I’m Soul though, Soul Eater.  It’s nice to meet you,” he replied, holding his hand out.

The boy, now Izuku, looked down at his hand curiously, before reaching out to shake it.

“Nice to meet you too!  So… you got any plans after this?  My friends are all still in line and it may an hour before they get to the ride,” Izuku chuckled, rubbing the back of his head.

Soul shook his head, looking down at his watch.

“Nope, not really.  I mean, I’m meeting back up with my meister for dinner around sixish.  You can join us if you-“

“Wait.  You’re meister?  That means… are-ARE YOU A WEAPON?!”

Soul reeled back when Izuku suddenly got in his face, his eyes wide and sparkling with anticipation.  He nodded nervously.

“U-Um… Yes?  You sound excited, about that…”

Izuku’s head bobbed up and down, bouncing on his toes excitedly.

“Yeah!  I’ve never met a demon weapon before, and they’re kinda like us Quirkies but all the same in a way but not because they all have a different weapon and-OH!  What kind of weapon are you?!” He screeched, clapping his hands together.

Soul bit his lip, feeling a bit bashful due to the sudden attention he was getting.

“U-Um, just a scythe.  N-Not anything too special-“

“Can I see?!”

Soul jumped, looking down at the excited Quirkie.

At first, he wasn’t sure, not wanting to transform and make a scene.  But, when Soul looked down and saw those big, sparkling green looking up at him hopefully, he kind of…

Melted.

He held his arm out, shifting his forearm into his blade.

Izuku made a small gasping noise, even squeaking when Soul flashed his blade.

“It’s not anything too amazing.  I’m only really cool when I have my meister with m-“

“It’s beautiful!”

Soul suddenly choked on his words.  He felt his face explode with heat almost up to his ears, staring down at Izuku with wide eyes.

“It’s… what?” He whispered, his head reeling when Izuku grabbed the blade and pulled it down towards him.

“It’s beautiful!  Not dull in any way, and the design fits with your structure.  The blade itself doesn’t weight much and can be easily swung.  It’s the perfect blade for a meister!  I can only imagine what it looks like when you’re wielded!” Izuku began to babble on about how amazing Soul’s weapon was, making Soul get redder and redder by the second.

“And another thing is-oh.  Are you okay?  You look a little red.”

Izuku suddenly stopped when he noticed that Soul’s face could put a firetruck to shame.

The weapon swallowed, smiling nervously.

“Y-Yes, I’m fine.  It’s j-just that… n-no one’s ever said so many nice things about m-me before…” he admitted, shuffling his feet.

Izuku gasped as if offended, staring up angrily.

“Really?  No one!?  Well, that’s… that’s just… dumb!  How can no one see how amazing this is I mean there are people who’d kill for this kind of quirk!  Well, I mean it’s not a quirk for you but this thing just looks powerful, with or without a meister!”

Soul’s blush darkened as he tried to suppress a huge, goofy grin.

Izuku smiles, letting go of Soul’s blade and throwing his arms behind his back.

“You wanna hang out with me until my friends are done?  They’ll probably be a while,” He asked, giving Soul a warm smile.

Soul smiled back, looking down at his watch and nodding.

“S-Sure…”

Izuku smiled, turning around and slipping off happily, taking Soul’s hand to lead him around.

Soul blushed, his ears becoming hot in embarrassment as he wandered off with his new friend.

The two weren’t seen until around eight, where they parted ways for the night and got scolded by their friends for disappearing.

But neither minded, not in the slightest.

[apsbicepstraining]

Hillary, ‘weak’? Not from where I’m digesting | Jessica Valenti

Womens presumed fragility was used as an proof against throwing us the vote. The dialogue about Clintons pneumonia plays into the same age-old prejudices

Like a lot of American women who have asking employment creation and little time to rest, when Hillary Clinton got sick, she didnt stop working. But unlike the many male political leaders who have fallen ill over its first year George W Bush who upchuck on the Japanese “ministers ” lap, General David Petraeus who fainted during a congressional hearing discussion of Clintons health has become a referendum on her fitness to lead.

The decision not to immediately disclose her pneumonia is being attacked as a lack of opennes. But, just as the illness isnt unprecedented on the campaign trail, neither is wielding through it without notifying the media: John Kerrys bout with the illness wasnt divulged until after his 2004 entreat had ended.

And its not difficult to imagine why Clinton wasnt keen on sharing her diagnoses. Any hour Clinton coughs or is in the vicinity of a pillow, plot theoreticians on the right insist shes succumbing of some horrific and well-hidden illnes.( Lets call it AgingWhileFemale-itis .) Her leaving from a 9/11 memorial service in New York, followed by a video of her ogling woozy and hit, exclusively heightened the frenzied speculation.

The delusion that Clinton is seriously ill is so ingrained in some peoples imageries that #HillarysBodyDouble started veering on Twitter soon after she emerged from her daughters apartment ogling markedly better. Simply in 2016, our time of political cartoonishness, would some people think its more likely that Clinton utilizes a doppleganger than the less exciting actuality that a few hours of rest and liquors go a long way when youre under the weather.

Using health regards as a cudgel to blame women participation in public life, nonetheless, is nothing new. Our expected fragility was a common anti-suffrage dispute, for example, and suffragists were often painted as mentally unwell their extremely desire to be part of the political process proof of their hysteria.

The link between womens mental and physical fitness to political commitment was so strong, in fact, that Susan B Anthony once said that bicycles had done more to emancipate females than anything else in the world. They not only quite literally get wives out of the house and into more comfy robes, but they chipped away at the notion that maidens were physically weak.

Decades later, the notion that womens forms are somehow little suited for political life remains. After all, it wasnt simply boorishness that guided Donald Trump to blame Megyn Kelly by alluding to her period theres a longstanding illusion about women hormones representing them unfit to cause.( Comedian Hari Kondabolu has my favorite response to sexists who contemplate a womans judgement is impaired formerly a month: Im a person with a penis and testicles, my judgement is impaired every 5 to seven hours .)

It wasnt a co-occurrence, either, that when Politico reported under Clintons illness they described her dizzy incantation as swooning a expression rarely has described guys. Even Trumps commentaries that Clinton doesnt have a presidential review signal a particular sexist disdain.

The truth is that the campaign trail is brutal, and making all hours through an illness like Clintons pictures persuasivenes , not weakness. That we would see it as anything but staman reveals a tired double touchstone. Besides, whats more important right now than private individuals health is the health of our nation. Coughs aside, I think we all know whose mitts that would be safer in.

The post Hillary, ‘weak’? Not from where I’m digesting | Jessica Valenti appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

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[apsbicepstraining]

Hillary, ‘weak’? Not from where I’m digesting | Jessica Valenti

Womens presumed fragility was used as an proof against throwing us the vote. The dialogue about Clintons pneumonia plays into the same age-old prejudices

Like a lot of American women who have asking employment creation and little time to rest, when Hillary Clinton got sick, she didnt stop working. But unlike the many male political leaders who have fallen ill over its first year George W Bush who upchuck on the Japanese “ministers ” lap, General David Petraeus who fainted during a congressional hearing discussion of Clintons health has become a referendum on her fitness to lead.

The decision not to immediately disclose her pneumonia is being attacked as a lack of opennes. But, just as the illness isnt unprecedented on the campaign trail, neither is wielding through it without notifying the media: John Kerrys bout with the illness wasnt divulged until after his 2004 entreat had ended.

And its not difficult to imagine why Clinton wasnt keen on sharing her diagnoses. Any hour Clinton coughs or is in the vicinity of a pillow, plot theoreticians on the right insist shes succumbing of some horrific and well-hidden illnes.( Lets call it AgingWhileFemale-itis .) Her leaving from a 9/11 memorial service in New York, followed by a video of her ogling woozy and hit, exclusively heightened the frenzied speculation.

The delusion that Clinton is seriously ill is so ingrained in some peoples imageries that #HillarysBodyDouble started veering on Twitter soon after she emerged from her daughters apartment ogling markedly better. Simply in 2016, our time of political cartoonishness, would some people think its more likely that Clinton utilizes a doppleganger than the less exciting actuality that a few hours of rest and liquors go a long way when youre under the weather.

Using health regards as a cudgel to blame women participation in public life, nonetheless, is nothing new. Our expected fragility was a common anti-suffrage dispute, for example, and suffragists were often painted as mentally unwell their extremely desire to be part of the political process proof of their hysteria.

The link between womens mental and physical fitness to political commitment was so strong, in fact, that Susan B Anthony once said that bicycles had done more to emancipate females than anything else in the world. They not only quite literally get wives out of the house and into more comfy robes, but they chipped away at the notion that maidens were physically weak.

Decades later, the notion that womens forms are somehow little suited for political life remains. After all, it wasnt simply boorishness that guided Donald Trump to blame Megyn Kelly by alluding to her period theres a longstanding illusion about women hormones representing them unfit to cause.( Comedian Hari Kondabolu has my favorite response to sexists who contemplate a womans judgement is impaired formerly a month: Im a person with a penis and testicles, my judgement is impaired every 5 to seven hours .)

It wasnt a co-occurrence, either, that when Politico reported under Clintons illness they described her dizzy incantation as swooning a expression rarely has described guys. Even Trumps commentaries that Clinton doesnt have a presidential review signal a particular sexist disdain.

The truth is that the campaign trail is brutal, and making all hours through an illness like Clintons pictures persuasivenes , not weakness. That we would see it as anything but staman reveals a tired double touchstone. Besides, whats more important right now than private individuals health is the health of our nation. Coughs aside, I think we all know whose mitts that would be safer in.

The post Hillary, ‘weak’? Not from where I’m digesting | Jessica Valenti appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

from WordPress http://ift.tt/2ydmk24 via IFTTT

[apsbicepstraining]

Hillary, ‘weak’? Not from where I’m digesting | Jessica Valenti

Womens presumed fragility was used as an proof against throwing us the vote. The dialogue about Clintons pneumonia plays into the same age-old prejudices

Like a lot of American women who have asking employment creation and little time to rest, when Hillary Clinton got sick, she didnt stop working. But unlike the many male political leaders who have fallen ill over its first year George W Bush who upchuck on the Japanese “ministers ” lap, General David Petraeus who fainted during a congressional hearing discussion of Clintons health has become a referendum on her fitness to lead.

The decision not to immediately disclose her pneumonia is being attacked as a lack of opennes. But, just as the illness isnt unprecedented on the campaign trail, neither is wielding through it without notifying the media: John Kerrys bout with the illness wasnt divulged until after his 2004 entreat had ended.

And its not difficult to imagine why Clinton wasnt keen on sharing her diagnoses. Any hour Clinton coughs or is in the vicinity of a pillow, plot theoreticians on the right insist shes succumbing of some horrific and well-hidden illnes.( Lets call it AgingWhileFemale-itis .) Her leaving from a 9/11 memorial service in New York, followed by a video of her ogling woozy and hit, exclusively heightened the frenzied speculation.

The delusion that Clinton is seriously ill is so ingrained in some peoples imageries that #HillarysBodyDouble started veering on Twitter soon after she emerged from her daughters apartment ogling markedly better. Simply in 2016, our time of political cartoonishness, would some people think its more likely that Clinton utilizes a doppleganger than the less exciting actuality that a few hours of rest and liquors go a long way when youre under the weather.

Using health regards as a cudgel to blame women participation in public life, nonetheless, is nothing new. Our expected fragility was a common anti-suffrage dispute, for example, and suffragists were often painted as mentally unwell their extremely desire to be part of the political process proof of their hysteria.

The link between womens mental and physical fitness to political commitment was so strong, in fact, that Susan B Anthony once said that bicycles had done more to emancipate females than anything else in the world. They not only quite literally get wives out of the house and into more comfy robes, but they chipped away at the notion that maidens were physically weak.

Decades later, the notion that womens forms are somehow little suited for political life remains. After all, it wasnt simply boorishness that guided Donald Trump to blame Megyn Kelly by alluding to her period theres a longstanding illusion about women hormones representing them unfit to cause.( Comedian Hari Kondabolu has my favorite response to sexists who contemplate a womans judgement is impaired formerly a month: Im a person with a penis and testicles, my judgement is impaired every 5 to seven hours .)

It wasnt a co-occurrence, either, that when Politico reported under Clintons illness they described her dizzy incantation as swooning a expression rarely has described guys. Even Trumps commentaries that Clinton doesnt have a presidential review signal a particular sexist disdain.

The truth is that the campaign trail is brutal, and making all hours through an illness like Clintons pictures persuasivenes , not weakness. That we would see it as anything but staman reveals a tired double touchstone. Besides, whats more important right now than private individuals health is the health of our nation. Coughs aside, I think we all know whose mitts that would be safer in.

The post Hillary, ‘weak’? Not from where I’m digesting | Jessica Valenti appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

from WordPress http://ift.tt/2ydmk24 via IFTTT