#like Jesus christ if that's the fuckin case then re-train me or something

[applejarjar]

My Boss: you're taking too long to do things, if you run into issues tell me immediately

Me: ok, will do

My Boss: so how are things going, did you make progress on the thing?

Me: I'm having issues, the only way I can get it to work is if I do X

Boss: we can't do X anymore

Me: well in that case I cannot do the thing and need help

Boss: how about you mess with the thing some more until it works and then come back to me

Me *internally*: I just told you I cannot do the thing no matter what I try but you want me to continue to screw around with it and then come back to you later to cry for help when I've already made it clear that I'm incapable of completing the task without assistance and need help now >:[

Me *externally*: ok, I will keep working on it

[mochirou]

a fun holiday break

krbk

masterlist

•♡•

tags: getting together, sickfic, hurt/comfort(?)

tw (unintentional) dehydration and starving

A/N: this was in my drafts and i realized i never posted it. yes i am aware this is very very self indulgent and i’m only slightly sorry

•♡︎•

“Yo, has anyone seen Bakugo lately? He disappeared like… right after Christmas. It’s been two days.” Kaminari tilted his head questioningly, making eye contact with some of the other students sitting in the common room. Everyone gave him shrugs and noncommittal noises, clearly not that concerned about it.

“It’s nice around here without him, no yelling. Dunno about you guys, but I like my winter break better when he’s not here.” Mineta punctuated his statement by popping a candy in his mouth, and the rest of the class fell silent. Some looked at Kirishima nervously, who had definitely heard what Mineta said. He was staring out the window blankly. He didn’t even react, he just pressed his lips together tighter.

“I’m checking on him, don’t wait for me.” As he said that, quiet conversation started back up, and the tension was relieved when he stormed out of the common room.

When he stepped into his dorm room, he didn’t see Bakugo. His bed was unmade and it was a total mess, blankets piled up haphazardly. Weird, he doesn’t like leaving his bed like that. Thinks only lazy people don’t keep their rooms clean. He moved further in to check if he was in the bathroom, but was stopped short by a weak snarl coming from under the blanket pile.

“Bakugo?” He crept closer to the bed, hyper aware of the fact that he might’ve wanted to be alone, in which case he was intruding.

“Get the fuck outta my room, asshole.” His reply was barely audible and watery, as if he’d been crying before he walked in.

“Not until I know you’re alright. You haven’t come downstairs to get food, have you even eaten since I last saw you?”

“None of your goddamn business, Kirishima.” He let out a quiet sob, and the blanket mound shifted a little. He still couldn’t see Bakugo, so he moved to sit on the floor at the head of his bed. His face was the only thing exposed, and it was deathly pale and sweat covered. His face was twisted in a half-grimace with his eyes closed, and he was violently shaking under the covers.

“Holy shit dude, are you okay?” Kirishima went to feel his forehead on instinct, and he didn’t even flinch or try to bat his hand away. He just squeezed his eyes shut further, and made a whimpering noise at him.

“You’re ice cold, why haven’t you gone to Recovery Girl?”

“...On vacation, remember? Just… go away.” He then pulled his face into the sheets.

“I’ll be right back.” Kirishima quickly walked out the door, disappearing in a flash.

When he came back, he was holding a thermos of pot roast and a glass of water. He set the things he brought on the nightstand, and he saw that he’d poked his face out.

“I’m not leaving till you eat.” He sat back down in his spot on the floor, and Bakugo opened his eyes to see what he’d brought.

“No.”

“Why not? I’ve seen you eat this before, and you… uh… didn’t say it was shit, so I assumed you at least tolerate it. What’s up?” Kirishima tilted his head questioningly at him, and edged a bit closer. His stomach growled loudly, enough for him to hear.

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes and started struggling to sit up with a grunt of effort, but his arm gave out on him and he flopped back onto the bed.

“I’m so fucking pathetic, can’t even do this.” He instead opted to curl up into a ball and dry sob.

“Um… When’s the last time you drank anything?” Kirishima made a concerned face, and scooched even closer to the side of the bed, until he wasn’t even a step away from it.

“How… How long have I been away?” He glanced at the clock, as if that’d give him a clue to what day it was.

“Have you not gotten up once since you laid down?” Kirishima gasped, almost sounding offended.

“No… No energy.” He stuttered, shaking his head slightly.

“Not even to go to the bathroom?”

“Haven’t needed to.”

Oh shit, he’s dehydrated, he thought. I need to get him to drink some water right now.

“That’s it.” Kirishima stood up suddenly at that.

“What the fuck-“ He had started crawling over Bakugo, to the side against the wall.

“Can I?” He gestured to the thick layer of blankets that he was kneeling on, asking permission to join him under them. He huffed at him, but he didn’t say no, so he pulled off the hoodie he was wearing. He didn’t have a shirt underneath, and a little bit of color returned to Bakugo’s face.

“Jesus Christ, I’m- What’s that for, idiot?” He growled weakly.

“I’m warming you up, you can’t feel my body heat as well through a hoodie.” He pulled a particularly fluffy blanket off the top of the pile, and wrapped it around himself.

“I’m gonna put you on my lap and help you sit up, that okay?” He didn’t respond but Kirishima knew that if he didn’t want to, he’d say so. He peeled back the sheets, exposing his shivering body, and picked him up so he could move to sit with his legs over the side of the bed.

Then Kirishima pulled Bakugo into his lap, and immediately started spooning him from behind. He wrapped the blanket around him, making sure to close up all the gaps, and rested his chin on his shoulder. When he pulled him closer, he involuntarily shuddered at how cold he was. He could feel it through Bakugo’s thin tank top and boxers, and they were slightly damp with sweat. He was shaking violently, but as Kirishima’s body heat seeped into him, it slowly stopped.

“D’you wanna try drinking some water now? I’ll hold you up, you’ll be okay.” Kirishima gently squeezed around his torso, shuffling up the bed till he was within reach of the things he brought.

“Um… yeah… thanks.” His voice got quieter with each word, and he could barely hear the last ‘thanks’. Kirishima was stunned by the change in demeanor. Normally he would say something like “I’m not a kid, stop patronizing me, asshole”, but he accepted his help without complaint. He leaned over to reach for the glass, then handed it to Bakugo. He took a mouthful of water and swished it around for a second before swallowing, then he chugged the entire glass in one go.

“Want me to go get more water?” Bakugo nodded wordlessly, so he moved him off his lap and got up.

“Heh, try not to miss me too much.” Bakugo simply fell over in response, and he went on his way to get water. He stopped by his room first, to grab the large bottle he brings with him when he trains. Midoriya stopped him to ask if everything was okay, but he just waved him off and said it was fine.

When he returned, he came back to Bakugo with his face buried in his hoodie. He was half asleep with his eyes closed, and making small satisfied noises whenever he inhaled. God, he’s so adorable… That was all he was thinking while he watched him from the doorway, spotting a small but genuine smile on his face. He was sure that he didn’t know he was there, and he decided to save him the embarrassment. He walked quietly to the end of the hallway, then purposely stepped heavily to alert him that he was coming. Sure enough, when he poked his head back in, his hoodie was (vaguely) in the same place he left it.

“Hey, Bakugo, I got you more water…” He put it down next to the food, and then sat back on the edge of the bed. Bakugo stayed laying down but moved his head near Kirishima’s hip, so he could pick him up easier.

“Can you get up yourself?”

“Yeah, fuck off.” He then propped himself up shakily, Kirishima wrapped his arms around his torso, and lifted him into a sitting position on his lap. He re-wrapped them in a thick blanket, then pulled Bakugo’s back flush against his chest.

“Mm… Warm…” Bakugo mumbled sleepily, and relaxed against him.

“I put the food in a thermos, so it should still be hot.” Kirishima handed it to him, and stayed silent while he ate. It was gone within a couple of minutes, he ate and drank like he hadn’t eaten in days (which, coincidentally, was what had happened).

“Wanna watch a movie?” Kirishima eyed Bakugo’s laptop that was sitting on his desk, while he finished off the food.

“What fuckin’ ever, do what you want. ‘M tired.” He leaned back on Kirishima with his entire body weight, relaxing completely against him.

“...Dude, I need to get up. To put on the movie.”

“Sounds like an iss-you, not an iss-me.” Kirishima made a complaining noise at that, and he reluctantly laid down and moved off. It took a couple minutes to pick a movie, he settled for some random American movie, dubbed in Japanese.

“Hey, why don’t you have a password on here? Isn't that unsafe?”

“People don’ touch it if they know what’s good for ‘em.” After pressing play, he moved back to the bed, and sat down on the edge.

It took a bit before Kirishima realized that Bakugo was still shaking, and making quiet whimpering noises. He didn’t want to push his luck and risk setting him off, especially since he was probably feeling a bit more like his usual self. He was sitting at the foot of the bed, waiting for the eventual “get the fuck out of my room” he was expecting.

“Uh… Are you… okay?” He asked tentatively, with the least patronizing tone he could muster.

“It’s kinda cold in here, ‘M fine.” He pulled his blanket pile up further on his body, and looked straight ahead at the movie playing on his laptop.

Shit, how do I get him to accept help?

“Yeah, I’m cold too. Can I have one of your blankets?” He said in a sly tone of voice, and prayed that Bakugo had picked up on what he was trying to do.

“Fuck no, you crazy? As if. I guess we could share. Y’know, so I don’t have to give up any blankets.” He accompanied the sentence with an eye roll. That was all the invitation Kirishima needed, and he slid himself under the sheets with him. Bakugo immediately turned around and pushed Kirishima onto his back, then settled his body against him with a contented sigh. He rested his head right on his chest, and tangled their legs together. They were sitting up at an angle, with the pillows supporting Kirishima’s back.

“Um… Bakugo…” Kirishima stammered, taken by surprise by his sudden pushy affection. Bakugo was silent for a couple of seconds, lost in thought about something. Kirishima snaked his hands in under his arms and around his torso, and he made a small noise of happiness.

“Actually, it’s Katsuki for you now. Uh… If you want to. It’s whatever, do what you want.” He lifted his head up to look at Kirishima nervously. What he saw was a bright red face, and wide eyes.

“I… You can call me Eijiro, too. I’d like that.” He managed to get through the entire sentence without messing up, and he thanked whatever higher power was watching over him at the moment.

“Katsuki…” The way he said it was almost reverent, his voice laden with quiet awe. He made eye contact with him, and gave him a small smile.

“Eijiro…” He shifted up a little so they were at eye level, and he was sitting on his lap. He rested one of his hands in the crook of his neck, and pressed their foreheads together.

“Kiss me.”

Their first kiss was soft and sweet and slow, both of them taking their time. The movie was long forgotten, in favor of lazily making out. Kirishima’s hands found their way to Bakugo’s back, running fingers lightly over his skin. The feeling made him whine into the kiss, and squeeze Kirishima’s hips in appreciation.

“That feels good,” He mumbled against Kirishima’s lips. His body went weak, and he melted against him with a little “mmph” noise. That just encouraged him to kiss harder, giving him a tight hug around the waist.

“‘M gettin’ tired…” At that, Bakugo pressed one last kiss to Kirishima’s mouth, and settled back down onto his chest.

“Your skin’s so soft,” He muttered quietly. He pushed his face into him a little and closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth radiating off him.

“God, you’re cute.” As soon as Kirishima said that, he stiffened, clearly not meaning to say that out loud. Bakugo just hummed contentedly in response.

He was only paying a little bit of attention to the movie. It was some old superhero flick, from the time before quirks started manifesting. The guy could shrink and control ants or something, for all Bakugo knew. Kinda weird, in his opinion. But he was safe, loved, comfortable, with someone he trusts taking gentle care of him.

...Kinda sucks that I had to be fuckin’ miserable as shit to get here, though.

That was the last thought he had before he finally stopped fighting his exhaustion, letting the warmth and Kirishima’s breathing lull him to sleep.

•♡︎•

A/N: watch kiri catch whatever bakugo has and get sick as hell from that kiss, then get called an idiot by bakugo even though it was his idea

masterlist • more hurt/comfort

taglist: @friendly-neighborhood-pan @burn-the-witch-now @koifishkiss @plusultrachaos @sillysaladtrash @demumbrigde @worst-bunny @nebula--system @neko-mancy @rxtprince

feel free to ask to be added/removed from the taglist!

[puroalgarete]

TASK 12

The Secret

Emilio walked into the court room, in a train of other young teens in shackles as they filed into a row to stand before a judge that would determine their sentences for crimes they'd committed. His knuckles still bruised and healing, from an altercation he'd had just weeks ago with, Heraldo Ramirez. Also, his reason for being where was, in that paling white and blue striped juvenile jumpsuit.

"Todos pueden tomar asiento ahora (You can all take your seats now)," an elderly male judge called out to them, as he came out and sat down in his seat.

The tone already turned sour when the judge began huffing and puffing and slamming down case papers as he began calling case numbers. Each case, seemed to be automatically deemed guilty without so much of a chance of being heard out. Two and a half hours later, the judge came upon, Emilio's case. He sifted through it, as if it were a menu at a poor restaurant with nothing appealing. There were several heavy sighs, a few tsks-tsks and disapproving head shakes before he finally raised his gaze to look down the row of teens still awaiting their cases.

"¿El número de caso, 0097854, por favor, levántese y diga su nombre y edad, por favor? (Will the case number, 0097854, please stand up and state your name and age, please?)" The judge lowered his reading glasses as he waited for him to stand up to the podium.

Emilio cracked his neck slightly, already annoyed himself, then stood up and slowly walked his way towards the podium. The shackles made it difficult to maneuver, as the chains that tied his hands to his ankles smacked against just legs.

"Soy Emilio Ram-," he said before being cut off by the judge.

"Tu nombre completo (Your full name)," the man's voice already snippy, as he hit at the counter with his hand.

"Perdon (Sorry)," Emilio inhaled deeply, already feeling that anger boiling up again. "Soy Emilio Christian Ramos y tengo dieciséis años, (My name is Emilio Christian Ramos and I'm sixteen years old)."

"¿Dieciséis? Y este es el primero, no ... Veo que ha cometido algunos otros delitos. Pero ninguno para calificar el tiempo real en la detención de menores. ¿Es eso correcto? (Sixteen? And this is your first, no... I see you've had a few other crimes. But none to qualify actual time in juvenile detention. Is that correct?)," the judge peered up at him, as he spread his case out over the counter to no longer have to sift between pages.

"Sí, juez. Eso es correcto (Yes, judge. That's correct)," Emilio replied with a yawn.

The judge became more aggravated, assuming that Emilio had in someway disrespected him by yawning. Only, in actuality, Emilio hadn't slept in his cell; do you issues with several of the other boys trying to stir up drama to pass the time, deciding to choose him as their new play thing to pass the time. Something he didn't take lightly. If there was anything he truly hated, it was people trying to hurt others for no reason. It infuriated him and their actions against him the night before, left him without any sleep and severely agitated.

"Oh lo siento. ¿Te estoy aburriendo? (Oh, I'm sorry. Am I boring you?)" The judge shouted angrily at him, which seemed to wake up a few of the boys seated behind him, that had dozed off through the other cases.

"¿Que? (What?)" Emilio asked confused, unsure of what just happened.

"¿Necesito recordarte que estás aquí por un delito muy grave? En el que un adolescente quedó en estado crítico. Una coma. Con lo que están diciendo los médicos, ya muestra signos de daño cerebral irreversible (Need I remind you, you're here for a very serious crime? In which a teenage boy was left in critical condition. A coma. With what doctors are saying, already shows signs of irreversible brain damage)," the judge hit the counter top extremely hard, as he grew angrier, detailing the case; as if he were speaking of an innocent boy that didn't deserve precisely what he got.

"¿Y que? (And what?)" Emilio laughed, now actually not caring about what the judge was saying.

"¿Crees que esto es gracioso? (Do you think this is funny?)," the judge asked sternly, locking eyes with him.

"Sí, creo que lo es. Creo que es muy divertido (Yeah, I think it is. I think it's really funny)," Emilio laughed as he nodded his head and shrugged his shoulders, as if already bored of the topic.

"¿Perdóneme? Ese adolescente ya no podrá tener una vida, como todos los demás. Se verá obligado a someterse a años de terapia. ¿Eso significa algo para usted? (Excuse me? That teenager will no longer be able to have a life, like everyone else. He will be forced to undergo years of therapy. Does that mean anything to you?)," The judge stood up enraged, his fists pounded hard against the counter, nearly causing papers to fall off and forcing someone who worked there to fix them before they did.

"¿Que vida? Era un pedazo de mierda que consiguió exactamente lo que le esperaba (What life? He was a piece of shit who got exactly what he had coming to him)" Emilio shot back at him. "¡Ese tipo jodió con mi familia! (That guy fucked with my family!)"

"Bajarás la voz- (You will lower your voice)," the judge cut in, his voice rising.

"Aterrorizó a mis abuelos durante semanas! (He terrorized my grandparents for weeks)," he ignored the judge and kept going.

"Dije, baja la voz. (I said, lower your voice!" The judge's voice now booked through the court room, as he stared Emilio down.

"Quemó su panadería. Y ninguno de estos policías hizo una mierda sobre eso, ¿verdad? (Burned down their bakery. And none of these cops did shit about any of that, did they?)" Emilio shouted back at him, his fists in chains, slammed hard against the podium.

"¡Hará lo que le diga en mi sala de audiencias! (You will do as I say in my courtroom!)" the judge slammed his gavel down hard, thinking it would quiet him. Only it made Emilio more angry.

"Amenazó con drogar a mi hermanita y tú estás ahí en tu jodido caballo actuando como si fuera Jesucristo. Puede ahogarse con una jodida polla, me importa un carajo lo que le pase. (He threatened to drug my little sister and you're standing there on you're fuckin' high horse actin' like he was Jesus fucking Christ. He can choke on a fucking dick, I don't give a fuck what happens to him)," Emilio was screaming back at the judge, already having reached his boiling point.

"BASTA! YA BASTA! (Enough! that's enough)," The judge was beyond furious, he slammed his gavel down so hard that it broke in his hand.

"¡Vete a la mierda! (Fuck you!)" Emilio shot back at him, without missing a beat.

"Está acusado de agresión y agresión. Se declaró inocente en su última audiencia. Pero está claro, con su comportamiento aquí hoy, que su enojo es un peligro real para la sociedad y por la presente lo considero culpable de agresión y le ordeno que pase seis meses en el centro de detención de menores. En el cual tendrás que asistir a terapia y terapia de ira para ojala estar rehabilitado para reingresar a la sociedad. Tienes suerte de que no muriera o te juzgarán como adulto, por la gravedad de tu crimen. (You stand charged with assault and battery. You pleaded innocent at your last hearing. But it's clear, with your behavior here today that your anger is a real danger to society and hereby I deem you guilty of assault and order you to spend six months in the juvenile detention center. In which you will have to attend therapy and anger therapy to hopefully be rehabilitated to re-enter society. You're lucky he didn't die or you'd be being tried as an adult, for the severity of your crime)," the judge boomed, as he was handed a new gavel.

"Bueno. ¡Porque me importa un carajo! (Fine. 'Cause I don't give a fuck!)" Emilio snapped back at him, as the judge waved at the guards.

"Sáquenlo de esta sala de audiencias. ¡No toleraré más este comportamiento! (Take him out of this courtroom. I will not stand for this behavior any longer!)" The judge fumed, snapping his fingers at the guards, who hurried over and grabbed Emilio's arms to usher him out.

"¡Puedes joderte a ti mismo, viejo hijo de puta! (You can fuck yourself, you old fuck/son of a bitch!)," Emilio yelled over his shoulder as they forced him out of the room and back down the long white hallway toward the holding cells, where he was to be processed for his transfer.

Surely, it hadn't gone precisely how he'd of wanted, but in reality, he didn't care that Heraldo's life was over. Only that he could no longer mess with his family and that filled him with relief. It was enough having to see his father try to bully them into paying him for protection or to use their bakery for a front for his business. Their neighbors had gotten together to raise enough money for repairs, allowing them to eventually start up again. Those six months, Emilio would have to undergo, would feel like an eternity. Although he felt no guilt towards the state of Heraldo, he began to feel guilt for how it affected Heraldo's family. He couldn't imagine having to look after someone that terrible for the rest of their life and for that, he felt sorry.

[chromecutie]

Not A Ghost - part 18

A/N - Multi-part fic. Colossus x OC where OC has come home after being wrongfully imprisoned in the Icebox. Warnings for whole fic - references and flashbacks to harsh prison environment, including various types of abuse. Takes place shortly after events in Deadpool 2. Whole thing will end up on my AO3 eventually.

Taglist: @emma-frxst  @ra-ra-rasputiin  @holamor ​  @empressme-bitch  @marvel-is-perfection  @hazilyimagine ​ @marvelhead17 @rovvboat @angstybadboytrash ​ @whitewitchdown ​ @master-sass-blast ​ @mori-fandom @mooleche @dandyqueen . Wanna be added or removed? Holla at me.

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

Piotr had made a massive platter of tacos for lunch. Piotr, Ellie, Yukio, and Rhonda sat around the table and had just started eating when Wade and Cable showed up.

Wade gasped in dramatic mock-offense, “What the fuck, Colossus? You made tacos and didn’t bother to invite me?” He pulled his phone from a pocket and after some taps and swipes, showed the table an Instagram post--Yukio’s smiling face in a low corner, holding a taco, while Ellie and Piotr were behind her, assembling more tacos. “I gotta hear about this shit from Yukio’s adorable Instagram! -- Hi, Yukio!” he waved cheerfully at her.

“Hi, Wade!” she beamed and waved back. “Happy to see you!” When she gestured toward the tacos, Wade snatched one up and started crunching away.

Piotr hesitated and almost turned them away, but he checked Rhonda’s face. She held her head tall, shoulders down in a posture that didn’t look nervous. Her eyes had the slightest squint in a reserved smile, but she didn’t look afraid like she had when she first met Cable.

Turning his attention back to his boisterous friend, Piotr said firmly, “A plate, Wade. Hello, Cable.”

Cable, quiet as ever, got plates for himself and Wade to join the table for lunch. He gave everyone his typical curt nod, but gave Rhonda an actual verbal greeting with his nod, “Rhonda.”

“Hey,” she returned politely between bites. It might be surprising for a Russian to be good at cooking Tex-Mex, but Piotr certainly made some fabulous tacos. The seasoning was flavorful and spicy, without being overbearingly hot.

“Oh, heyyy!” One of Wade’s cheeks bulged as he eyed Rhonda. “Look at you! Less Shawshank, more spank bank. I like it.”

Piotr’s eyes bulged and he nearly choked on his food. Rhonda almost spat the drink she’d just sipped. She checked her clothes, scoffing. “What about sweaty hair and old hoodie says spank bank?” 

Wade shrugged, “Ask the Venom fans, I honestly don’t know.”

As she thumbed away the little spot of sour cream on her lip, Rhonda shot Ellie a look, hoping for an explanation for what the hell he was talking about. Ellie rolled her eyes and shook her head.

This visit was going much better than the last one. Cable usually matched Ellie for hard scowls and pretending nothing has ever been fun ever, but even both of them had some laughs. The group generally caught up and shared news.

“So wait,” Wade interrupted Piotr in the middle of some updates about the school. “Who did your wife try to stab last week?”

Yukio and Ellie hesitated, Piotr tried to shut down that line of questioning, but before he could, Rhonda thumped one hand on the table. “Okay, look,” she said, defensive and irritated, “Kurt did his bamf-out-of-nowhere thing, like he always has, because he thought it would be funny to startle me, like he always has.” She huffed. “It’s just that my...startle reflex is no longer jumping or shrieking--it got re-trained so I now go straight to stabbing a motherfucker. But I did not actually hit him.”

In truth, the fact that Rhonda had almost stabbed a close friend had scared her as much as Piotr. The look on Kurt’s face when he’d bamfed away to avoid the shiv, however, was priceless. Who’s startled now, bitch?

Rhonda grumbled into her taco, “It was nice to see him get scared for once, though.”

Wade’s face was lit up with pure joy as he slapped at Cable’s shoulder, “Oh my god. We gotta take her to a haunted house in the fall!”

A worst case scenario flashed in Piotr’s brain that involved several people missing their kidneys and his wife shaking in a corner. “Absolutely not,” he said. 

“We’ll see!” Wade insisted.

Cable did his best to rein him in and shift the subject. “Rehab, though?” he asked, “The music helping you?”

Rhonda brightened. “Yeah! Well, sort of. It helps me focus.”

Yukio beamed, “Have you listened to Hozier yet?”

Ellie and Rhonda exchanged sly smiles before Rhonda answered, “Next on my list.”

Piotr beamed proudly, gesturing to his wife, “She had wonderful breakthrough yesterday! Lit a bulb so bright, it shattered.” He said more quietly, “Though, perhaps don’t hold it so close to your face next time, sladkaya.”

Steri-strips still criss-crossed her face over the nicks as she gave a halfhearted eye roll. She only kept the strips on so Piotr didn’t force something more drastic like a cone of shame.

Scooping up little taco remnants onto her fork, Rhonda admitted, “It’s not like when your abilities are new and you’re just trying to do better than running on raw emotion.” She tapped one of the steri-strips, “This caught me by surprise while I was venting about something, but otherwise...I know exactly how I used to control it, I just...it’s like I can’t reach it.” 

That just-out-of-reach feeling itself was frustrating, but what made it even worse was not knowing how to make her friends understand. Why would they, if they’d never experienced something like this themselves? She gestured, struggling for words, “Like if you...took a ton of piano lessons as a kid, didn’t keep up with it, and tried years later to play piano.”

Yukio nodded sipping her water, “You might remember a few of the easy songs, but nothing fancy?”

Rhonda nodded and shrugged, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess that’s close enough.”

“So what I’m hearing,” Piotr teased with a gentle smile, “Is that perhaps we don’t have to worry about you frying all the wiring in the house?” At his wife’s sigh and snicker, Piotr clarified for the rest, “When we were young, this one would blow the circuits in half the house every time she got nervous.”

Glancing around the kitchen, Rhonda added, “I did get pretty good at fixing the wiring.”

Lunch was wrapping up and Ellie, Yukio, and Cable moved dishes to the kitchen. Wade playfully poked Rhonda’s arm, shoulder, and face. “Well, come on, show us what you got!”

Rhonda glanced at her husband, then back to Wade, swatting his hand away, "I dunno, um...there’s really not much to see yet." She shifted in her seat, folding her arms and pulling her hoodie tighter.

"Last time we saw you,” Wade gestured wildly, “you could do the human sparkler thing." He waited, and when she was still narrowing her eyes at him, he added, “PLEASE, what the fuck, COME ON, I just wanna do the Uncle Fester thing!”

“Who?” Ellie asked in disgust. 

Rhonda leveled a disbelieving sneer on Wade. “You want me to light a bulb in your mouth?”

Cable’s face fell. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he murmured to himself.

Pointing at the steri-strips on her face, Rhonda said, “You realize that’s dangerous, right?”

Wade just laughed. And laughed and laughed.

Rhonda turned to her husband and shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the stupidest thing I’ve done.”

--

Piotr wasn’t happy about it, but they all went into the backyard to see if Rhonda could actually light a bulb held in Wade’s mouth.

Yukio was earnestly excited. With some electrical abilities herself, she liked finding new party tricks, even if this one seemed risky for her taste. Ellie started recording a video, not because she doubted Rhonda’s control, but anything involving Wade had potential to go hilariously wrong. 

Cable and Piotr wore matching exasperated frowns, both crossing their arms as they watched their respective partners. Leaning his head just a bit toward the Russian, Cable asked, “Any advice for how to rein him in when he’s a jackass like this?”

With a halfhearted shrug, Piotr said, “With her, sometimes I just have to wait until she falls asleep.”

“And?”

Piotr blinked and shook his head, “And then she is asleep. Wade is like that too, in my experience.”

Rhonda carefully considered between two light bulbs which she would use for Wade. The lower watt one was more likely to shatter if she accidentally hit it with too much power, but the higher watt bulb might be tougher to sustain a light.

“I want the big one!” Wade pointed, eyes and smile wide with glee.

Hoping it was the right choice, Rhonda handed the smaller bulb to Yukio. Wade looked directly into the camera on Ellie’s phone and made his best Christopher Lloyd impression, “My name is Fester! It means...to rot!” He was practically bouncing with excitement as he beckoned Rhonda, “Okay, okay, put it in me!”

“Wow,” she said simply as she set the fitting in his mouth. She backed away a few feet to get clear of Ellie’s shot, and focused. 

Rhonda could feel the electricity that was in the air and pulsed through everyone’s bodies. It pulsed and flowed through her, stronger than through other people. Carefully targeting the bulb in Wade’s mouth and nothing else, she sent a pulse. At first it flickered. For about ten seconds, flicker was all it did.

“All right, Wade,” Cable grumbled, “You had your fun--”

Wade indignantly waved him off. Rhonda was about to give up when she decided to push just a little harder. To her surprise, and everyone else’s, the light suddenly grew stable and bright.

Yukio clapped, Piotr beamed with pride, but Wade made an alarmed sound and dropped the bulb into his hands. Rhonda immediately dropped the pulse and reached for him to see if he was okay.

“My mouth started buzzing!” Wade yelled. “Fuck! That was--that was like doing a BUNCH of cocaine, and then eating pop rocks! Or sucking off a Tazer.”

Rhonda took back the bulb and chided, “We said it was a dumb idea.”

Wade’s voice came out smooth and sultry, “I didn’t say I wasn’t into it.”

Unsure what to say to that, Rhonda turned to head into the house. Behind her, she could hear Ellie’s quip, “Yeah, I’ll get some good memes out of this one.” Piotr caught up to Rhonda, with Yukio and Ellie behind him and Cable and Wade bringing up the rear. 

--

A trio of teenage boys were getting snacks in the kitchen when Rhonda and the rest came back in from the yard. A particularly chunky boy narrowed his eyes at Rhonda before pleasantly smiling in recognition. “Hey! Guestbook! I didn’t know you live here!”

Rhonda’s blood went cold and she froze. Piotr stopped short to avoid bumping into her. She recognized this kid as the one who had tried to pick fights and assert dominance over the same thugs she avoided at all costs.

“Russell!” Wade yelled excitedly from behind Ellie.

Russell, for his part, wasn’t particularly good at reading people, but he knew he’d said something wrong when the strange woman’s smile turned to a murderous glare. She crossed the room, not too fast, but certainly full of intent. She stopped slightly outside of arm’s reach.

“Sladkaya?” Piotr asked behind her.

She ignored her husband and looked Russell directly in the eye. In a low growl too quiet for anyone else to hear, she said, “My name. Is Rhonda Rasputin. And you do not call me by any other name.” Her dark eyes were hard like onyx as Russell swallowed, trying to look less afraid than he was.

Before he could answer, or apologize, Rhonda spun and headed for the hall, calling over her shoulder, “Yukio, I heard you wanted to play with some hair dye? Let’s go.” 

Elated, Yukio practically skipped after her, tugging Ellie behind her.

Piotr watched his wife stalk off, deciding he would have to see Wade and Cable out as soon as he could before he could ask her what that was all about.

[ekebolou]

The Tenor Group: Doors

If we were all Seth, we could all use a little Firmament in our lives.

Sadly, I think we all have a Bosh or two.

Part One

Firmament had been gone for almost ten minutes before Bosh realized he had zoned out, and zoned back in. His abilities crowded back in like paint ringing the edge of a glass of water.  For a minute, there, he had forgotten he wasn’t using them.  It almost felt loud.

That was annoying; he hated having to punch down his abilities, but he hated even more than when they came back all of the sudden it was like… leaving a show and getting used to the quiet outside and then stepping back in and having your ears hurt at the noise.  It ruined the fun. 

He didn’t want to get pulled apart by a mad crowd in Krakow.  Or anywhere.  Maybe Fir was just making shit up to scare him.  It didn’t feel like it, though.  If he had been using his abilities, he could tell for sure whether Fir had been making shit up, and he got mad all over again.

Maybe he was a little scared.  It wasn’t really being brave that made him get up and walk over to Decon’s room, but because he was a little scared.  That was one thing; his abilities made it impossible to lie to himself.  At least, not for long.

Decon was sitting on the bed, reading, pillow cushioning his back against the wall.

“God, everybody here reads a lot,” Bosh said.  “’S fuckin’ weird.”

Decon smiled – not at the comment, but at him – and put his book down.  It had robots on the cover; looked like something Bosh would’ve seen passed around his homseschool group in sixth grade.  He moved to the edge of bed and stuck a hand out, offering his desk chair for Bosh to sit in.

“Hey, Bosh.  What’s up?” Decon asked.

Bosh sat.  He couldn’t think of what to say.

Decon just waited, the thick, warm current of his patience undercut by the cool, sharp scent of pleasure. It was literally like drinking lemonade by the lake, and Bosh felt like the only goth kid at the picnic.  Decon worked his heels over the side support for the mattress so he could lean forward, elbows propped on knees.  He smiled again when Bosh looked up.

“Why the fuck do you always have your door open?” Bosh asked

Decon cocked his head, not mystified, but considering.  “Why do you ask?”

“I just wanna know, man,” Bosh said.  “I don’t get it, and I wanna know.  It’s not like I never wanna know stuff, you know?”

Decon nodded solemnly.

“I don’t know where he gets off accusing me of, like, not investigating stuff.  I mean, I help!  When Seth asks me to go on ‘missions’ or whatever I go, and I do what I’m supposed to.  I’m not like Julie, I don’t just bitch the entire time and hide behind shit and never help out.  How am I supposed to not use my powers for that shit?  I just… how was I supposed to know what happens when I use my abilities? I’m not even using them like that unless somebody’s, you know, trying to kill me… or is kinda annoying, or whatever. I was just a kid, then, anyway, like, how was I supposed to have some deep understanding of the lasting effects of my abilities.  It’s just shit I can do, you know?  I can do it, so why wouldn’t I do it?”

Decon nodded again, then knit his brows.  “You’ve been talking to… Fir?”

Bosh nodded.   “Yeah, man, I don’t see what his problem is!  I don’t get why he’s always fucking with everyone!  He’s always, like… making an example of people and getting in their shit and stuff.  Seth doesn’t do that shit, and she’s the one that’s got, like, the leadership position or whatever it is.”

“I mean,” Decon said, punctuating himself with a little shrug, “he probably does it so she doesn’t have to.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean that he’s got the most real-world experience, so he’s taken it upon himself to make sure that everyone is learning stuff that he knows will be useful to them.  He’s taken up the position of being, like, the team trainer.”

“That’s Wes – Wes knows all that combat shit.”

“Yeah,” Decon said, “but that’s all he knows, and he’s got a lot to learn about everything else. Plus, man, can you imagine Wes trying to get everybody to go to weekly training?  Wes trying to make everyone feel better after they’ve fallen off the obstacle course for the sixth time?”

“How in the fuck does Firmament make anyone feel better.  Dude’s a gold-plated asshole.”

Bosh could feel the delicate creep of sympathetic embarrassment over his skin, but he wasn’t embarrassed. 

“He’s a lot different in the weekly training.  I mean, he’s still pretty hard on people, but he’s really great to spar with and things. He won’t let you quit if he thinks you can do more, and he always thinks you can do more than you think you can. It really encouraging.”

Technically, that’s exactly what Firmament had been saying – that Bosh’s abilities did more than he thought they did – and it rankled. 

“All dude does is say I’m useless.”

“No,” Decon said, as careful with his denial as a sommelier with a two-hundred year old wine.  “He says your abilities are useless.  He says that to me, too.”  Decon’s chuckle genuinely surprised him, and the unalloyed taste of his amusement made Bosh’s tongue curl in his mouth.  “He’s actually said that Seth, of all people.”

“How the hell are Seth’s abilities useless?”

“In that case, we were learning about subduing people – like, capturing someone we needed information from.  If Seth concentrates too hard on doing the moves, her abilities flare up and she can really burn someone; if she concentrates on subduing her abilities, it slows down her moves.  Her abilities are useless in this situation, and, in fact, hinder her.  It would be better if she did the moves as if she had no abilities.”

“How the fuck is supposed to do that?” Bosh asked, thinking of the pain of pushing down his powers while he talked to Fir.  For Seth it had to be even worse, right?  Her abilities raised her body heat, made her like a battery; she was prone to literally spit fire if she wasn’t keeping things tied up.

“You know those burn-guard suit things Mr. Tenor had made up?  We each put one on and just drilled the moves with her, one after another, so nobody was in contact for long enough to get burned.  Did that until she felt like she really had it, and Wes said her form looked good, then did it without the suits and Fir said her hold was basically just a little like sitting in a sauna – hot but not damaging.  If suppressing the ability requires attention, then it’s the action she wants to learn that needs to the become second nature. She doesn’t need to work very hard to not set the building on fire when she’s sleeping, for example, or when she’s walking down the hall for breakfast – it’s the sense of division in her attention that lets the ability out the bag, so to speak.  Basically, she gets nervous, flares up, makes her nerves worse the second time.  So he took away the thing that was making her nervous, problem solved.”

Bosh paused, dubious. “Wes didn’t think of that?”

Decon’s brows knit a second time, this time accompanied by the ebullient, engulfing bubbles of concern. “Wes was going to just let her burn him until she got it.”

“Ugh, dude,” Bosh shivered, “I forgot Wes was so creepy.”

“It’s not creepy, really…” Decon began; if Bosh didn’t sidetrack him, they would be wandering down the rabbit hole of ‘just needing to understand’ for at least five minutes.

“Whatever, so Fir is, like, training guy.”

Decon nodded.  “I guess, yeah, more or less.”

“And that’s why he’s a dick to me.”

“Ehh…”

“What?”

“Well…”

“What, dude?”

“I mean, I don’t know if you noticed, but he’s also kind of a responsible, take care of business kinda guy.”

“What?” Bosh reared back in his chair, and not just due to the cloying smell of Decon’s attempt at delicacy.  “Like I’m not a responsible guy?  I don’t get things done?”

Decon looked at him sheepishly.

“Man, don’t I do what I’m asked?  My room is my room, but I, like, contribute to the group tasks and stuff.  I go when Seth asks me to go and I do stuff.”

“Yeah,” Decon said, “yeah, but, like… would you say you do that well?  Or, you know, of your own volition?  Without Seth or Fir having to, like, run you down and ask you a lot and give you a whole lot of shit and then re-do whatever you’ve said you’ve done because you only, like, half did it?”

“…Whatever, man,” Bosh said, because even to him it felt a little mean to tell Decon to fuck off.

“Also, you know, maybe you should consider taking on an even number of tasks to everyone else?  Or tasks that aren’t only part of tasks, like starting the dishwasher after you load it?  Maybe unloading it, too?”

“Dude, get off my nuts about the dishes!  Christ, I didn’t know everyone was so damn particular about how the stupid dishwashing machine works!”

“Okay,” Decon said, nodding along.  “…But one way the dishes actually get cleaned and one way they stay all dirty, I’m just saying.”

“Fuck, man!  Jesus!”

“…Julie doesn’t even like coming out of her lab and she vacuums the rug in the living room once a week. Moves all the furniture off and everything.”

“Lay off, would you! Fine, whatever, I get it!  Holy shit, dude!”

Folding his arms, Bosh threw himself against the back of the chair.  Decon was unpleasantly unperturbed and bobbed his toes for a minute while Bosh stewed.

“So you want Fir to like you?”  Decon asked, scratching an eyebrow innocently.

“No, fuck him, who cares what he thinks,” Bosh said.  He waited in the infernal blankness of Decon’s complete calm.  “I just want him out of my asshole, you know.  He doesn’t have to give me all this shit.”

“I mean, he kinda does,” Decon said.

“What?  No way, man, you’re not on his side!”

“No,” Decon said, a little flash of alarm showing under the fog of placidity.  “There aren’t sides to take.  But if Fir’s taken responsibility for training everybody, you know, keeping them on task…”

Bosh could feel his expectation, kind of like walking into a stiff wind, but couldn’t think of what to say.

“…he’s responsible for everyone’s safety,” Decon said.  Something was off between the anticipation, which deflated like a popped balloon, and the grim acceptance now rolling off Decon like boulders, but Bosh couldn’t quite tell what. 

“You should try maybe coming to the weekly combat training,” Decon said, sweeping all grimness aside with optimism.  “You know, you might actually find that kind of fun.  Plus, you can learn to defend yourself, and that’ll make you safer when you go out with the team, and that’ll probably get Fir off your back at least a little bit.”

Bosh sighed.  “Dude, he’s so lame.”

“I mean, safety’s important.”

Bosh sighed again.

“We get shot at sometimes.”

“We wouldn’t if we just stayed in our sweet penthouse, or did the PR stuff Tenor wants us to do.”

“…Yes,” Decon said, and Bosh could feel the way that agreement was a rough drop away from what he was really feeling, but it didn’t seem important.  Decon, after all, was all about that help-the-helpless horseshit.

“I guess I’ll come,” Bosh said.

“Cool.”  Decon’s happiness was sure pure it made Bosh’s cheeks hurt.  “I think it’ll help.  Fir has kind of a point; we are pretty lucky to be being trained for free by a literal, uh, ninja.  As literal as it gets in our neck of the woods, anyway.”

Bosh was sure it wasn’t an ‘uh’ there when Fir said it.  He stood up, turned towards the door, then turned back.

“Oh, yeah, so, uh, the door. I’m serious, why’s your door always open?”

Decon smiled.  “Well, if it wasn’t, you might not be coming to training next week.”

Part Five