#ever since i nearly died ive felt like a real adult

[blookmallow]

more murder game 

to say the least 

YIKES

y’know im writing these going back through my screenshots after. being actually much further on and i dont remember if this was ever explained really. was this just there to fuck with them 

you guys keep leaving out really crucial information here i feel like this death game isn’t very fair 

at least monokuma makes the rules clear before making everyone murder each other 

anyway i think im missing a couple shots here but q-taro tried to get us all dead bc he decided he’s the most important person and needs to get out even if it means all of us die. which, y’know. i guess he’s got the orphanage he needs to get back to but im still a lil bitter about it 

i feel like we’re not nearly worried enough about the fact that they have identical duplicates of everyone just on hand, with the ability to make them be alive, AND advanced AIs of everyone here with the potential capability of updating in real time 

how the FUCK are we not talking about this. anyone could be a doll at any time 

oh boy 

that’s. good. that’s fine 

its FINE its FINE 

OK!!! THIS IS. WE’LL FIGURE THIS OUT THIS IS FINE 

i actually. literally could not get out of here without just ignoring them all because i never used the memory eraser thing (really just not a good idea to agree to erase parts of your brain, i think, ) so my hallucination level just kept going critical 

unless that’s Supposed to happen here and the point is you can’t get through it without just refusing to acknowledge them 

why is it ALWAYS GIN 

im not sure if the whole token thing is actually a factor you can control, i dont remember what the final token count was (if it said what it was) or whether it was like, a number i could have significantly influenced 

anyway this is the point where ive decided im Done with q-taro because like. ok the game here is, gin’s going to get shot with an injection of poison. they don’t have all the information from the start so they believe this will kill him instantly. q-taro can choose to switch places with him. i can understand that a man might not be able to bring himself to choose to die for someone else, even if it is a child, especially since he’s already said he’s willing to do anything to get back to the kids he’s responsible for at home 

but then they discover that the poison isn’t immediately fatal, and they in fact have an antidote for it, and there’s a way to solve this puzzle so everyone escapes if they don’t take too long. gin is a child. q-taro is a big athletic adult man. he still refuses to switch places with gin. meaning, he, an adult who will almost definitely be able to take a few shots while they’re figuring it out, and knows he’ll be able to cure it at the end, decides instead to risk the life of a child taking the shots for him when he’s much smaller and could die way faster. literally why would you refuse that unless you’re just That selfish or that cowardly. especially since he was previously down to vote a child to die just on the basis of “they’re less useful” fuck you q-taro fuck you i hate you 

I FUCKING KNEW IT 

doll reko is genuinely. one of the most tragic characters in this story and nobody really talks about her again after this. its really upsetting, 

oh. shit. oops 

was. that my fault somehow, 

sorry alice 

i guess reko’s still alive though so that’s a plus 

i literally don’t understand why this happened though like. isn’t it against the floor masters’ rules or whatever for them to directly intervene/attack participants?? like. what happened here was ranger threw a doll head at alice that looked like reko’s severed head, but then it turned out to be fake, but it exploded so he died anyway but. alice didn’t actually do anything to cause that. he didn’t violate any rules, there wasn’t a vote, and it wasn’t a Challenge/game that he failed. unless they’re allowed to just call fucking anything a game and justify themselves for just straight up killing you because they felt like it, in which case there’s no purpose in having regulations for the floor masters at all, and there’s just NO fucking structure to this whole game in the first place 

which i guess could be the point but it’s always more interesting when there’s rules and ways you Can win. if it’s just “we trapped you all in here and we’ll just kill you whenever we feel like it” that’s not a death game that’s just, like, murdering people. so why bother with all the traps and puzzles and complicated challenges if you’re just gonna sometimes explode people because, like, It’s A Prank Bro

or was that the reason ranger got dead. i dont remember Why he got dead other than gashu was just Done with him

#lucy plays yttd #scooby dooby queue

[zeawesomebirdie]

I have evolved from procrastinating by playing on my phone to procrastinating by washing dishes and im pretty sure this is what being an adult is like

#okay but no joke #ever since i nearly died ive felt like a real adult #whatever that means y'know #like ive passed some kind of test #im a real adult now #and maybe i dont know how to act or how to do things #but im still a real adult #and its kinda cool #while also being absolutely terrifying

[misscorn]

Day 6 Confession

Day 6 of @takaritsuweek 😄😄

***

Masamune stumbled into his apartment at a fresh 2:57 in the morning, completely exhausted, but relieved. One of his author's had had a nervous breakdown causing an issue with getting the manuscript and then once Masamune did finally get his hands on it he realized the author had been so reluctant because it was complete trash and then the printers were giving him a tough time and-

Masamune took a deep breath. It was fine. He got it done. He was the editor-in-chief of their department for a reason. There was no use stressing over it anymore. No, now was the time to let his exhaustion hit and allow himself to pass out on his bed.

It had been like this for the past few days now, Masamune coming home so late after a grueling day at the office. It wasn't even hellweek, no, instead it was just Masamune's own personal little hell made special just for him by whatever God or Goddess thought it was funny to mess with him. Not to mention all this trouble meant he hadn't gotten to see Ritsu outside of work recently, which pissed him off to no end. Hopefully it was finally over.

Only, there was one small, teeny tiny problem left.

His living room light was on.

Masamune knew for a fact that he did not leave his light on before he left for work. He wasn't so careless. Did he have an intruder in his home? Shit, he was too tired to deal with something like that.

Slowly and quietly, Masamune peeked around the corner and was shocked at the sight in front of him: Onodera Ritsu, on his couch, clearly focused as he made and reviewed edits.

'I must be so tired that I've started hallucinating.' Masamune thought to himself. Still, it was a nice hallucination. A life in which Masamume comes home to Ritsu after work is a life Masamune longs deeply for.

Masamune did give Ritsu a spare key in the past, but there was no way the brunette would ever actually use it. Right? Carefully, Masamune approached the Ritsu-mirage, not disturbing him out of his little work bubble until he reached forward to gently pinch his cheek.

Ritsu nearly leaped to his feet, smacking the hand away and pressing himself against the other end of the couch to get away from Masamune's touch. "You scared me!" He complained, placing a hand over his heart, feeling it race.

"You're real?" Masamune stared.

"Of course I'm real! What are you even talking about?" Ritsu huffed. "I came over earlier to ask you to review my edits, but you weren't here. Then I remembered you gave me a key and I decided to wait." Ritsu explained briefly. "...Are you mad that I used it?"

"No! Please, feel free to use it every single day. In fact, forget ever going to your apartment and just move in with me." Masamune said as he flopped on to the couch beside him.

"N-Now you're just speaking nonsense." Ritsu said, pulling his phone out of his pocket to check the time. Maybe they could still go over some stuff before the two of them went to bed. However, Ritsu went wide-eyed at the time. "Three in the morning?! What are you doing coming home at three in the morning? It's not even hellweek, yet, moron!" Ritsu scolded. How had it gotten so late? Ritsu must have completely lost track of the time.

"Eh? What are you getting so worked up for?" Masamune yawned.

"Editor-in-chief or not, you still need to take care of yourself, which includes getting a proper amount of sleep! Did you even eat dinner?"

This felt wrong. These roles should definitely be reversed. The irony wasn't missed by Masamune.

"Aw, are you worried about me?" Masamune asked, his tone teasing, but instead of Ritsu blushing or quickly getting defensive and denying, the brunette frowned and crossed his arms.

"Of course I'm worried about you!" Ritsu said.

Masamune shrugged. "I'm fine, a few late nights at work never killed anybody."

"A few? How often have you been coming home this late?" Ritsu asked.

Masamune's tired brain tried to make sense of the timeline of these past couple days before he finally responded. "I think this is the fourth night." He said.

"Takano-san!" Ritsu exclaimed in a disapproving tone. Ritsu had thought that Masamune seemed a little out of it at work lately, but he hadn't been that worried since he trusted that if Masamune needed time off then he would take it. Obviously, he had been wrong.

"It's fine, it's fine, let me see your edits." Masamune said.

"Absolutely not." Ritsu stood and grabbed Masamune's hands, somehow managing to pull him up as well. "You are going to bed. Right now."

Masamune, irritable from his tiredness, made a sound of protest. "You're not my mother, Onodera. I can put myself to bed when I'm ready."

"Obviously you can't." Ritsu put his hands on his hips, narrowing his eyes at the taller man.

"Stop acting like you're the most responsible adult in the world and like you haven't literally worked yourself to the point of passing out. It's annoying and hypocritical."

"I know I'm not, I never said I was! And I'm seriously trying to get better at not overworking myself, so don't even throw that in my face." Ritsu said, starting to get equally as irritated.

"Why are you even really here?" Masamune asked, crossing his arms.

Ritsu was slightly taken aback by the question, hesitating for a moment before he spoke again. "I-I told you, I wanted you to review-"

"You would not have stuck around this long just for that. Yesterday you probably would've rather died than use that spare key I gave you. So why are you here? To nag me to death? To scold me like a child? I'm a grown man, Onodera, I don't need-"

"Why are you allowed to care about me, but I'm not allowed to care about you?!" Ritsu demanded, balling his hands into fists. "Why can you fuss over me and bandage me up when I'm clumsy? Why can you take care of me when I'm sick? Why can you be concerned about my well being, but I can't be concerned about yours without being annoying?! Isn't that part of what love is? Looking after one another? Why can you smother me to death with what you call 'lovey dovey' stuff, but I'm not allowed to love you back?! I love you, damn it, so let me!" He looked down, unable to maintain eye contact.

Masamune merely stood there, gaping at Ritsu's outburst and confession. "Ritsu, I..." He started, for once looking off balance and unsure.

"It's not fair. It's not fair if I'm the only one who has someone looking out for me." Ritsu said, a soft sniffle escaping him. "I want...I want to take care of you too. I want to be sure that you're okay, too. B-because I l-love you." He gripped the ends of his sleeves, using them to rub away some tears. So embarrassing...this was totally embarrassing. Mortifying, even. It was enough to make Ritsu want to quit his job, crawl into bed, and never come out from under the blanket.

Masamune stared, processing Ritsu's words as the brunette started to hurriedly gather his things. "S-Sorry for dropping by unannounced. I-I'll just go now." Ritsu said, quickly walking past Masamune, still trying not to burst into tears.

"Wait!" Masamune grabbed him by the wrist, not letting him get far. "You think I'm just gonna let you go after you say something like that? Idiot!" Masamune pulled him close, wrapping his arms around him and hugging him tightly both as apology and as a means to keep him there. "Don't go. Stay the night here." Masamune pleaded, giving his body a gentle squeeze. "I missed you."

"...I missed you too." Ritsu said softly. "That's why I came over." He admitted. "I...I just wanted to see you. I figured the edits would make as good as an excuse as any." He let his head fall against Masamune's chest.

"Say it again." Masamune requested, raking his fingers through Ritsu's hair.

"I wanted to see you."

"No. Tell me you love me again." Masamune began to tear up as the weight of Ritsu's words finally started to sink in.

Ritsu's shyness returned to him, his moment of courage over, but the sound Masamune's pounding heart was enough to make the brunette confess once more.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

#onodera ritsu #takano masamune #takaritsu week #sekaiichi hatsukoi

[strawberrysoup]

Let’s Review || Chapter 11

Peter Parker knew that his big sister would do anything for him to be safe and happy. She’d given up everything for him twice over already and would do it again in a heartbeat. And that’s why, when the criminal mastermind Tony Stark started inextricably following him around, he didn’t say a word. Because he knew without a doubt Penny would do whatever she had to if it meant keeping Peter safe. He had to protect her, just like she always protected him. He never considered what would happen if Stark decided both Parker siblings were worth taking. Never considered who else in Stark’s inner circle would agree. He just wanted to protect her and yet somehow, they both ended up with needles in their necks.

relationship: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character/Bucky Barnes, background Peter Parker/Tony Stark rating: Explicit/18+ warnings: Dark Steve Rogers, Dark Bucky Barnes, Dark Tony Stark, Dark Avengers, kidnapping, non-con/dub-con elements, underage Peter Parker, emotional and psychological abuse, very dark 

There was a weird sense of urgency and purpose when the soldiers appeared to collect her from the kitchens. They weren’t frantic per say, but she was definitely aware of a certain energy around them. As soon as Bucky walked through the doors, he made a beeline for her and swept her up into his arms. The pair were pretty touchy feely with her as a rule, but this was different for some reason. 

Most of Penny’s irritation had dissolved with the excellent meal she’d received. Chef Cohen had prepared Shakshuka, a very traditional dish that she hadn’t eaten since her mother had died. She’d burst into tears at the first bite and thanked him profusely through the meal. He was a very kind man in his late 50’s who explained that he was at her disposal whenever she was hungry, literally at any time, and would make whatever she asked for. She didn’t even have to know what she wanted specifically, all she had to do was ask for food and he would whip something up in less than an hour. 

She wasn’t sure if he understood her circumstances. He never let on that he had any idea what the situation was and she was too afraid to tell him and potentially put him in danger. He was so nice, had told her about his family— she couldn’t do anything to jeopardize him. And if he did know, she decided she’d rather him not tell her. He felt like he could be a friend if not a confidant and she couldn’t ruin that. 

“Did you have a good breakfast precious?” Bucky’s voice was nearly a coo, burying her into his arms and nuzzling against the side of her face, “I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so sorry we didn’t realize how hungry you were. We should’ve noticed, we should’ve taken better care of you.” 

Penny didn’t get a chance to answer before Steve came up behind her, pressing against her back and wrapping around the both of them, “we’re gonna do a better job from now on, doll, I promise.”

“We’re gonna take you to see Bruce for a check up, okay?” the brunet pressed against her brushed his lips over her temple, “Peter said you haven’t been to the doctor in a while, he’s just going to make sure you’re alright. If there’s anything you want to talk to him about, we’ll step out of the room.”

For a moment, she considered not answering. She hated that they were making her do anything, that they were telling her what was going to happen instead of asking, but she hadn’t been to a doctor in nearly 10 years. In fact, her desire to go to the doctor was outweighing her irritation. The food had helped too. 

“Yeah, okay,” she nodded in agreement, ignoring their mutual smiles as Bucky pulled back and wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her close before beginning to walk back towards the elevators. 

It didn’t take long to get to the doctor’s office, which was actually a lab. In the back of her head she remembered Tony saying that Bruce was a scientist that Peter liked to learn from. It would’ve endeared the man to her, if he wasn’t so fucking complicit in her kidnapping. The same thing had happened with Clint; he seemed like such a decent guy, they could’ve been friends in any other situation, and yet he wasn’t doing anything to help her. 

“Hey guys, come on in, I’m just finishing this up,” Bruce called from behind a computer, gesturing towards a table that almost resembled the chair from a doctor’s office. 

Steve lifted her up, setting her on the edge and giving her what was—fuck that was winning smile. She refused to let her heart race, remembering back to once upon a time in the coffee shop when she’d thought he was incredibly attractive and so, so nice. It was almost distracting. He leaned down and brushed his nose against hers sweetly, pressing a kiss there a moment later before backing away. 

“Alright Penny, I went ahead and pulled your medical records,” Penny didn’t want to know how he’d done that, what an invasion of privacy, “but we’re going to need to go through a lot of it now since you haven’t seen a doctor in so long and you’re a lot older now. If at any time you’re uncomfortable answering questions in front of Bucky and Steve, all you have to do is let me know and I’ll send them out, okay?” 

“Okay,” nervousness was thrumming through her a bit more now- God she hadn’t been to the doctor in so long, she wasn't sure what to expect. 

An arm came around her shoulders, a metal hand settling over the top of her arm. Bucky had saddled up as close to the table as possible, trying to offer comfort through his presence. She would absolutely never admit that she leaned into his heat a little, or that the attempt was even fractionally successful. 

The appointment wasn't as nerve wracking as she'd expected; there were a lot of questions about her past medical history and family medical history, her habits regarding smoking and drinking and exercise, he looked in her eyes and ears and listened to her breathing, did she have any allergies or take any medications? It was a lot of things she remembered from going to the doctor as a kid.

There was only one time when her heart felt like it might burst out of her chest: Bruce mentioned wanting to do a blood test. It was important in part because she hadn't ever had one, but also because she was Jewish and there were dozens of diseases passed genetically through the population. She knew of them of course, Tay-sachs and Gauchers and a slew of other things, but she'd never considered she could have them— there was no time. 

Luckily, he'd decided it wasn't a good time since she had barely been eating. Escape had been on her mind almost constantly since waking up in Stark's home but never so critically as when she thought there would be needles involved. Penny's fear of needles had started as a child and overtime had become an overwhelming, if irrational, phobia. The kidnapping via injection certainly made it worse too. 

Bruce finished up, continuing to address her rather than Steve or Bucky. It seemed peculiar for some reason, that he was being sure to treat her like her own person instead of the soldiers' property. 

"Have you ever had blood drawn Penny?" 

"Uhm, no," she did her best not to shift, not wanting to show weakness, "I'm sure it's not really necessary. I feel completely fine and—"

"There are certain genetically linked diseases I can test for with a blood panel. The fact that you probably have anemia is a little worrying because of your heritage. Now we can’t do the test today, you haven’t been eating or drinking enough, but we’ll keep an eye on your recovery over the next few days and schedule one. That being said, I want to hook up an IV for a few hours, you’re very dehydrated.”

“No, thank you,” Penny stood up from the table, composing her face carefully and putting her hands on her hips, “I’d rather just drink water.” 

“Penny I can tell you haven’t been getting enough hydration for days,” Bruce stated, ignoring the semi-panicked looks the soldiers sent each other, “Whatever your reasoning was, it’s hurting you. A drip will rehydrate you relatively quickly and you can get on with your day.” 

“I’m not in any critical danger, drinking water will be enough,” usually she wouldn’t argue with a doctor but if he came near her with a needle she would throw down. 

“Doll, it’s not an option.” 

God, how many times had she heard that. It’s not an option. It’s not an option. Nothing was ever an option. She’d been kidnapped, was being held against her will— fuck, she refused to list their sins against her again.

"I'm an adult, I get to decide what medical procedures I do and don't consent to."

"Baby, did you hit your head again? I think we're a little past consent." 

How many times would she have to physically fight these motherfuckers before they gave up. 

"I hate needles," she snapped, glaring at Steve with as much rage as she could muster, "no blood draws, no IVs, no vaccines, nothing."

Bucky stepped closer to her side, an imploring look on his face, "your health is suffering right now sweetheart, if Bruce says you need an IV, you're going to get it. We're going to take of you, Penny." 

They'd done a real stand up job of taking care of her in the last several days for sure. She'd only ended up drugged, concussed twice over, half starved, dangerously sleep deprived, and enraged. The skepticism must've shown on her face because Bucky visibly winced at the implication while Bruce had to turn and pretend to cough to cover his laughter. 

"Sweetheart, I understand that it makes you uncomfortable," Steve somehow managed to manifest in front of her in the blink of an eye and she startled backwards a step. 

The blond was freakishly fast and Penny was beginning to suspect that everyone calling him and Bucky 'super soldiers' weren't just mocking their demeanors. Steve had been strong enough to snap the lock on the bathroom door like twig, could bodily lift her with just one arm, and he moved a fraction of an inch too fast to be normal. Bucky was similar in the strength department, plus he had that arm. But instead of nearly vibrating with restrained power at all times, Bucky was almost preternaturally still. Even when she moved in the middle of the night and startled him awake, the only way she knew was because his eyes would open. He was so still sometimes she wondered if he even had to breathe, was his heart even beating? 

The brunette's arms came to wrap gently around her shoulders from behind; the way he held her was more reminiscent of a loving cuddle than a restraint but it worked all the same. If they didn't want her to go anywhere, it was going to be very hard to run off. The doors to the lab swept open abruptly, as if beckoning her to escape, but no one came through. JARVIS, always looking out. 

"I'll make your lives hell," she hissed through gritted teeth, eyes locked on the blond in front of her while Bucky backed them up and sat on the exam chair, tugging her into his lap, "if you come near me with a needle I'll shove it through your eye." 

"Penny, be sweet," Bucky's tone was firm, his arms squeezing around her in what she assumed was supposed to be a comforting gesture, "it'll all be okay and you'll feel so much better after."

Penny's eyes were dragged away from Steve when she caught movement, zeroing in on Bruce. He was fiddling with something in crinkly plastic and her blood froze in her veins when she realized it was a sterilized needle. He was preparing an IV despite her protests and panic began coursing through her like poison. 

"W-wait, wait I don't need an IV, I swear I feel fine, I'll drink a ton of water, don't do this—" 

"It’s gonna be alright babydoll," Steve cooed, understanding that her anger in this case was 100% a result of sheer terror, "Buck's gonna hold you the whole time. Bruce will give you a shot to numb the pain and—" 

"No, n-no, no, no please," Penny could barely move as Bucky locked his arms in place, holding her steady while Steve moved to block her view of Bruce, who was filling a syringe with lidocaine. 

"Shhhh, just watch me, baby," the blond brought his hands up to cup her face, manipulating her head to face him dead on, "don't pay attention to Bruce, just keep your eyes on mine." 

Tears of panic and fear began falling from her eyes, overwhelming terror beginning to consume her. There was no rationalizing the phobia, no talking herself through the fear, all she could think was I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die. When she could hear the doctor's footsteps shift in their direction, she opened her mouth and started to scream bloody murder. Thrashing wasn't effective in the least but she did the best she could, jerking every inch of her body as violently as possible. She couldn't hear anything any of them were saying, she couldn't even hear her own screams; all she could hear was the blood rushing through her ears and the mantra, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die over and over again in her head. 

"Dr. Banner, sir is currently on his way and asks that you wait to perform any procedures until he arrives." 

Bucky tensed under her but Penny barely noticed. The edges of her vision were going dark and Steve wasn't so much holding her face in place anymore as trying to caress her cheeks and jaw. She could see the doors to the lab, still open as if waiting for her to run.

Instead, Stark came through them. There was a tightness to his usual swagger and she wondered if she was imagining the irritation in the lines of his face. 

"You know I thought I had sound proofed all of the labs, but I can hear my poor girl screaming from three floors away," he commented casually as he swept in, easily pushing past Steve and stealing Penny from Bucky's lap,  pulling her into the cage of his arms, "now this is over an IV, correct?"

"Please, please, please—" Penny's voice choked off in a sob as she tried to tug away and make a break for the door. 

"Shhhh, angel, look at me," Tony carefully manipulated her head, making her look up at him through her panic, "you're going to drink plenty of water and relax all day, understand? You're going to eat plenty and drink so much water you have to pee every thirty minutes." 

"N-no needles—" 

"That's right baby, no needles," he pulled her into his chest and hushed her, stroking her hair gently while giving the three men behind her a careful look, "with supervision you'll be fine without an IV, but you have to be good, do everything you're told. Can you be a good girl for me, Penny?"

Steve and Bucky watched as their girl nodded against the man's shoulder, still crying. This wouldn't be strike two, not quite since she'd gotten so upset as a result of them trying to take care of her, but apprehension was setting in. Tony was their friend, but he wouldn't put their feelings before Penny's and that was a dangerous position to be in. Especially considering JARVIS had all but jumped ship on them and was firmly on Penny's side. 

"Now, is there anything else Brucie Bear? Because I think Penny here is gonna come with me to the labs and watch Peter try to make a robot." 

Somehow, despite the fact that they knew Penny hated Tony just as much if not more than she hated them, he was the one who managed to get through to her. Tony Stark was her mortal enemy, the kidnapper, the pedophile, and yet he was the one holding her while she cried in distress. Bucky and Steve watched on in amazement and disbelief. 

There was something about Tony that was just a touch unnatural. The way he could manipulate people was almost beyond comprehension. It showed in his friendships, the way that people who were sent to kill him were so easily turned to his side. People who didn’t want anyone, who didn’t want friends, found themselves enfolded in his presence. It was also apparent in the way that Peter had almost accepted his new situation, how he was so quickly coming to terms with the way his life had changed. Tony Stark was, as far as anyone knew, not enhanced in any way, but some of his companions had started to wonder. 

They watched as the older man spirited her away, talking loudly and keeping her tucked under his arm as they walked. Steve and Bucky were left in the dust, feeling dejected once again. 

“Leave it to Tony to decide he has more medical authority than me,” Bruce gave a low snort, rolling his eyes, “does he have 7 PHDs? No, he doesn't.” 

“We keep fuckin’ it up, don’t we?” Bucky groaned, watching the doctor step back towards his computer system, “We’re gonna end up dead. World War II and HYDRA couldn’t kill us but Tony fuckin’ Stark sure will.” 

“Hard to compete with a Goddamn witch,” Steve muttered, running a hand through his hair before crossing his arms over his chest. 

“You two need to be doing what Tony is with Peter,” Bruce interjected before the super soldiers could continue to lament their situation, “he panders to him just enough to keep him happy. He can give an inch and Peter thinks its a mile. You’re strategic geniuses, master interrogators, use your strengths.” 

The ‘dumbasses’ was implied at the end of the statement. In all fairness, he was right. 

Steve exhaled through his nose, a stabilizing breath, before turning to regard Bucky, “A garden, to start. She had a lot of things on her Pinterest account, we’re gonna look through there. JARVIS? Can you please make sure our kitchen is stocked with plenty of kosher foods?” 

“And is there anyway we can get the extra room in the apartment turned into a garden? Maybe a rooftop garden?” 

“Sir has given me full discretion to green light any construction projects that will aid in Ms. Parker’s adjustment. A section of the roof can easily be cleared for a garden and greenhouse. The east facing wall of the spare room can be replaced with floor to ceiling windows and UV lights can be installed. Might I also suggest a knitting area?”

"Yeah, that," Bucky nodded, "any other suggestions JARV?" 

"On her Pinterest Ms. Parker has shown interest in softball, soccer, crocheting, yoga and video games."

"Can you have everything she needs for those things sent for and brought to the apartment? And have everything set up as much as possible considering the renovations that'll be made for the garden room?"

"Yes sergeant, although I would suggest making room in your personal gym for Ms. Parker do to yoga."

“Good idea JARVIS,” Bucky felt a bit of relief that the AI was willing to help, even if it was only because it would help Penny in the long run, “I know we talked about keeping her secluded but I think we should show her the game room, introduce her to Thor and Sam so she can play video games with them.” 

Steve looked hesitant. The brunet knew why; they’d waited what felt like so long to find a girl who appealed to both of them. They were possessive by nature and having so little over time, growing up in the Great Depression followed by fighting in the war, only to suffer a hellish betrayal and go into the ice for so long, meant they were covetous. Sharing their girl so soon was uncomfortable and just the idea made both of them chafe. 

“Yeah, we should,” he choked after a moment, clearing his throat. 

“We’re gonna build a life, Stevie,” Bucky said quietly, stepping closer to the man and putting his hands on his shoulders, “we’re going to work this out with our girl and eventually, she’ll want to be with us as much as she can. But until we get to that point we have to make some concessions.” 

“But she’ll still sleep in our bed.”

“Yes Stevie, she’ll still sleep in our bed.” 

#steve rogers x oc x bucky barnes #steve rogers x oc #bucky barnes x oc #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #dark!tony stark #dark!mcu #let's review #let's review chapter 11

[jackalopefreckles]

I feel like Ive aged at least 6 years since covid started. Im angrier. Less adapted to being outside then I used to be- which is saying a lot. This time last year I was?? Actually healthier mentally then I had ever been and looking forward to having the house alone for a month which?? Was the most freedom I wouldve ever had.

A lots fucking changed. I drove halfway across the country- all 30 hours at once with my big brother AND two elderly dogs, plus my cat. All animals on too many drugs (the vet said they couldnt overdose, and then failed to give any further instruction) cami peed on herself twice, unable to move. I had to waterboard her in Phoenix, a truly terrifying hell city where all the roads are raised and overlapping and its a hot as shit cause its?? What june?? Time was so fake this year I mustve just been stoned the whole time till I ran out of weed, and since moving its been a relief to be able to turn off the spinning anxious thoughts for a few hours

my big brother joined us. He brought a new dog with him which?? Is always a lot, plus I have this pack of dogs now cause the puppy wouldnt leave the super cancer ridden dog alone, and Im able to get her cbd regularly here, so shes always comfortable now instead of just?? Sometimes which is a lot nicer. We didnt think shed make it to chrisrmas. I thought shed die with me home alone to take care of everything, like always. It was almost a relief, I wouldn't have to coach my brother through the grieving process at least, and I had already finished. Its hard now even, for me to realize she might even have another christmas (but I wont hold my breath)

I feel safer going outside here then I did in Austin. I only went out a handful of times in texas, for the last few months I was ordering almost all groceries, and only going to the store once mask mandates were mandatory (theyre not anymore. Im so worried for texas. I missed a huge freeze by mere months. I dont think my elderly dogs wouldnt survived it. If I was alone with them, Im not sure I woudlve.

My parents took my brother to mexico with them. I begged them not to go, told them how irresponsible it was to travel across boarders. To visit an island and take all the plane germs with. I told them that even if my mom and brother were staying at home all day with me, my dad was still going to work and he didnt know what his coworkers were doing. That they wouldn't know what the people on the plane were doing. That at any point they could become the stupid americans that killed half an islands population.

They left a week after today last year. The boarders were closed the next day. Their friend has been traveling back and forth ever since. I have no idea how, except for the fact shes white and rich and wont hesitate to destroy a child, so I can only imagine how shed treat costomer service.

I will no longer allow this angry aggressive woman to ever make me feel bad, and I will allow myself to finally fight back. Im an adult, maybe not all the time (cause lets be real I'll always be a bit too eccentric for most) but when I get angry and allow myself that anger, it's not a bad thing. Anger doesn't have to make me feel like Ive done something wrong. Im usually very just in my actions, and I wont allow my parents influence to tell me all anger is misdirected and hurtful for reasons I couldnt understand. Its okay for me to be angry.

I think being alone with animals for months is at least reassuring that my childhood was unreasonable if nothing else. Which of course is a silly polite society term for pretty fucked, if nothing else.

My aunt had to gall to say weve had a good 2020 cause our family wasnt hurt, and I had to walk away from the zoom call. I haven't attempted communication with any of them since, not that I normally do. Of course none of us died, all rich old white people, most of them retired and able to stay home all day (not that all of them did, I learned about my grandfathers routine and just.. Im honestly surprised no one got it yet. Of course I knew from the beginning if anyone was gonna get it and die, it probably wouldve been me. Hence the 8 months of solitude before the move.

Was the move in August?? Im so unsure about time. Even with 2020 vision.

I tried to date when I moved here. Strictly on tinder. What was the point? On and off testosterone due to the wonders of texas, hadnt changed my body nearly as much as they should've a year after being on them. I look much more handsome now. Im also allowing myself to toss gender aside completely. He/him doesn't mean man, and they/them dont mean nonbinary, so why not mix them since Im?? Not really either.

It wasnt even a thought process like that to start. Much more "this is nice" which I think more gender should be allowed to be. Dont gotta be deep just comfortable.

I wont ever allow my parents to forget what they did. I ended up with three dogs I didnt want (I was so looking forward to not having any dogs) and I ended up taking care of my brother. Again. Its easier without my parents at least. Everything always is. My dogs are even happier. Cami finally isnt anxious 24/7. Again, a sad reminder my childhood wasn't great. Daisy is healthier. Trauma can be stored emotionally or with health issues, often both. I think the cancer dog getting better and?? Surviving and thriving so much longer then the vet said (how good was my old vet?) Is another unfortunate nail in thay proverbial coffin.

Im not as soft and openly loving. Im even more touch starved somehow. Harsher. I still want to choose love and compassion, but Im not letting myself fall into the trap of being so nice people wont be nice to you. Fighting back is something I wont feel shameful about, because it never stopped me from doing it completely anyway.

I was already reaching this on my own though. This was just more coffins, more nails. This didnt need to happen. We know our government let this happen. Its still letting it happen. Im not sure when Im getting my vaccine. My big brothers sick of quarentine and keeps trying to get us to go out. Sometimes I yield, and we go to a park, or the top floor of the parking garage. I get a vegan hotdog from nearby. We talk and laugh and were genuinely just. Boys being boys.

I shouldn't have to deal with parent shit anymore. I do though, especially since two out of three are unemployed and we can really only afford to live here cause of them (they owe me if anything though. Especially with my brother and these animals) I hope I can get a job soon. Or maybe even go back to school. Im lucky I had so much saved up (for top surgery, which I guess wont happen before Im 25 like I really tried for. I wouldve done it before now, but texas waitlists and rules kept holding me up. I literally went to an appointment in dallas, a 4 hour drive, just to found out the surgeon canceled on me for the second time)

Its incredibly depressing, and I know Im lucky to have had that stash. So many people didnt have anything and lost so much. People lost people. Half a million at this point. I remember when it got to 300,000 and I just?? Felt so awful it was so close to how many people we lost to AIDS. Its over that by so many now. It doesn't really stop, does it??

Is that catholic guilt?? Or maybe just irish guilt in general. Is it something I inherited or earned through all the end of the worlds and once in a lifetime recessions Ive been through. Im not sure how many off the top of my head, theyve been coming since I was so small and its always more and more. Im not even catholic anymore. I cant stop being irish though, even though the brits tried (and succeeded. Weve lost a lot. The current royal cotastrophy is bullshit as well, the only person who deserves a royal title is from Meniappolos

My home is decorate all inside for st patrick's day. My big brother loves it so Im going all out, and its def making me feel much more irish then usual (which is a lot Im over half)

I think I just wanted to say Im not the same. I hope I can still be happy an obnoxious is public. I wonder if I remember how

#TIRED #happy covid anniversary #time to post this without reading it lmao #long post #rambles

[stretchjournalemerson]

Contrails

By Anthony Manupelli

Part One: Peace

Had a talk with my old man,

Said help me understand.

He said, turn 68, you’ll renegotiate

Don’t stop this train

- John Mayer

A month before the crash, it all came back to me. I spent hours, upon hours in fear. I hadn’t given it any thought since I was a little kid. Aside from the good memories, such as watching the Curious George movie with my siblings on a warm summer morning in 2007, I remember panicking about it when I was all alone.

The night it changed; I was nine. It was long past my bedtime and I had school the next day. My stomach turned as my brain spiraled out of control. My make-shift room in the basement of my childhood home had been repurposed from a small office to an oversized bedroom that I so thrillingly shared with spiders, the dark, and my overwhelming thoughts. Despite the unnecessary amount of space I had, I felt so trapped. Coming off a hot streak of realizations, including my discovery of the fact that Santa wasn’t real, and that the WWE was staged, I took a deep dive into an abyss of analysis into what was real and what was fake. And then, the mother of all struggles occurred.

I was raised Catholic and didn’t think much of it for most of my early years. We honestly weren’t very committed churchgoers. My siblings and I would fight with our parents pretty often about attending church early on Sunday morning. We kind of all just accepted the fact that our mother wanted us to be Catholic. So, I never really delved deeper into a spiritual awakening, I just did as I was told. But time and time again, I discovered I shouldn’t simply accept the world that is placed in front of me and the fact that I will only find truth in life by constantly questioning my reality, I began to question my mother’s teachings. I froze. As if I was hit on the top of the head, my brain began buzzing, and I fell down a rabbit hole, a psychotic conundrum of thought. The topic of my panic: what happens when we die?

“What happens after this, what happens, what happens, what is happening to me”? I couldn’t stop. For the first time in my life, I was spiraling. My blood curled, I felt it in my face. I rolled into a ball and clenched my stomach to avoid spilling out its contents. I felt my fingers numb and my brain freeze. All of this, as if no other human being had gone through a spiritual crisis or could understand my confusion and panic.

I continuously asked, “what if…”, and it never ended. At nine, I was bargaining with myself to come to terms with something that no human had ever completely understood. My panic stirred so deep into the night, that I was met with my father’s questioning, the next morning, as he prepared for his day.

“What’s wrong Anthony, you’re freaking out. What happened?”

“It’s nothing, it’s nothing, Dad. I’m fine.” I figured if I didn’t say it out loud then it wouldn’t be true.

“No Anthony seriously, this stops right now. What’s wrong?”

I didn’t want to invite my poor father into this personal hell of my over analysis of the spacetime continuum. So, I simplified it to the catalyst of my fear and promptly begged,

“Dad, what really happens when we die?”

He paused. I never knew if he did so to make me feel understood and calm me down or to actually process the question. Regardless, he resolved.

“You’ll understand when you’re older.”

And instantly, I was relieved. I never understood why. But from that moment forward, I never feared death or thought about it again. At least not in the science-fiction, fantastical, terrifying way my brain had me pondering in those moments. Not once, did I waste an ounce of my time fearing death, not until much later.

Part Two: Body Separation

Upside down

Who's to say what's impossible and can't be found

I don't want this feeling to go away

Please don't go away

-Jack Johnson

I remember my dad’s face when I got the car. As I drove out of my driveway, alone, for the first time, he waved goodbye. And it was at that moment, I realized I was grown up. I wasn’t the kid he had calmed down years before. I had a new cast of characters in my life. Friends he didn’t know but they were the people I brought my concerns, dreams, and questions to. I became my own person without even realizing it. And he wasn’t waving goodbye to me. He was waving goodbye to the little kid he had known all the years prior. He was waving goodbye to my childhood.

But time marched on and I became incredibly fond of my car. I drove all the time. I mean all of the time. Every month of the year, everywhere my friends or I went. I was always the one driving and I loved it.

Massachusetts winters are pretty brutal and it's usually hard to find something to do. So my car became not only a vehicle of physical transportation but an escape from the freezing cold and lack of activity. That car brought me together with so many people. The sheer amount of people who had taken a ride in my car had become a running joke. It encapsulated my entire teenage experience; it brought me so far away from home yet together with so many people.

The summer returned and it was time for one of my childhood best friends to go to school. I was the last person to send them off as I dropped them off to their house after spending the entire night out in commemoration of our years together.

I remember returning home, alone, after the sunrise, devastated. It was one of the most painful goodbyes I’ve ever had to do. It was a goodbye, not a see you soon.

So, when my dad found me in my car, he comforted me and asked why I was so upset.

“My childhood’s over dad. I’m not a kid anymore, and I don’t know how and don’t want to be an adult”.

He paused again and gave me time to relax. We both knew I just needed to get some sleep.

“I never grew up. I’ve aged but we’re all still kids at heart” he offered.

Time marched on. And despite my initial doubt of my dad’s input, he was right. I had aged but I was still a little kid at heart. This became clear as I sat in my bed on a windy December night and began to panic again.

“What happens when we die”?

I hadn’t thought about that in nearly a decade. It hadn’t kept me awake, late at night, since I was nine. But here I was all grown up panicking in my top bunk in a new house, in a new room. The location, people, and time changed, but my fear remained the same.

Only this time, the fear sweltered unlike ever before. I found myself at a crossroads once again. However, my dad’s words and my logic would not comfort me. I needed something more.

But, after dwelling for over a month, I received my answer in the most unexpected scenario.

Part Three: Entering Darkness

Once in a while, when it’s good

It’ll feel like it should

And they’re all still around

And you’re still safe and sound

And you don’t miss a thing

‘Til you cry

When you’re driving away in the dark

-Also, John Mayer

The moments leading up to the crash were so normal, completely tranquil. I regret not paying attention to what song was playing; I was so focused on where I was going that I forgot to take-in where I was.

The road we were travelling down was a two-lane highway. Visibility was terrible, there were no streetlights the entire way as we drove through a road carved through the wilderness. The pine trees towered over the car, looming left to right; the moon casting their shadows onto the pavement. A light fog spilled onto the road perpetuating the gloominess of the scene.

I remember looking out the window and noticing a valley of dead trees. I wondered what had happened to them, all the way out there, alone. I had traveled that road before, many times. When I was younger, I never noticed the dead trees. I must have been enamored by the color of the other ones. But my attention no longer resided with what is. What once was seemed to be the solution to all my problems.

If I could just figure out why, then I’d feel safe again.

Why had all of this happened?

Why are we here?

Why me?

I became a full-time philosopher as a compulsion for my obsessive thoughts. To no avail, of course. None of it mattered anyway.

As I continued traveling down the road, I realized how comfortable I had become with it. The low visibility, the spooky trees, the moonlight, the life and death no longer stroking fear as I moved along.

I had traveled this road so many times before that I was as familiar with its features as I was myself.

So, it was in complete shock when I slowed down and took a left turn off the road only to be met with a blinding flash of white, followed by immediate darkness.

Part Four: Seeing the Light

The sun is going down

There's shadows all around

And I feel more than wine

We must do this again sometime

But I can't tell you when

But what a joy it's been

All that we have is now

- Jesse Winchester

…

My dad and I have a term for the situations life throws your way when you are doing one thing and then find yourself completely lost in an unexpected situation. We refer to this special place of confusion/limbo as “Claire’s Living Room”.

To provide an example of this phenomena without going into detail of its origins, I realized I was in Claire’s Living Room as I sat alone in a hospital bed, with an IV in my left arm, listening to the staff count down to the new year in the break room.

2020 was a tumultuous year, but I truly did not expect to be welcomed into 2021 by a man in a cloak in a blindingly bright room. That man, of course, being one of the nicest doctors I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. I just wish it had occurred under different circumstances.

They checked my vitals, all was well. Some slight bruising on my right ribs, but nothing that wouldn’t heal in a matter of days to weeks.

“Do you have any other concerns or questions for me?” He asked at just about two in the morning.

I couldn’t believe I was alive and okay. No one was seriously injured. No one had died. Yet, it felt like a part of me had been permanently altered. The crash was bad; really bad. Fortunately, both cars had done their job and protected every passenger. Everyone was wearing their seat belts and no other cars were there at the time of the accident. The street shut down for a short period of time to assist in the tow and clean up of both cars.

My memory of the aftermath begins with me already out of the car. I must have subconsciously exited the vehicle after getting hit with the airbags. The car was totaled. Immediately. Way gone. I remember watching the first officers and passersby see my car and look in disgust at how twisted it was. I was still out of it, so noticing other people looking shocked to see me standing on my feet brought tears to my eyes.

I wasn’t hurt, at least not physically. I went back into the wreck to find my phone. As more people began arriving at the scene, more strangers, cops, firemen, I began to panic. The situation was easily the most overwhelming experience of my life. And loud. I mean earth shatteringly loud. From the moment of impact, to the ringing in my ears, to the first responders, the sirens, the people.

But I couldn’t find my phone. I needed to call my parents and tell them to come to the scene. I needed them to know I was okay, to hear my voice before a police officer called them to inform them, I had been involved in an accident.

I was petrified that my parents would think I was dead.

After a few minutes of searching, I asked one of my friends to call my dad. My dad would explain to me later that my friend’s phone call sent him into panic. Apparently, he was sitting with my mom when he received the call. My friend was so shaken up that he could barely get the words out.

“Anthony, you need to get here.”

“What’s wrong? Where are you? Is everyone okay?” My dad immediately grabbed his things and waved my mom toward the garage.

“Down North Street, outside the state police barracks. We got into an accident, it’s really bad you just need to get here now”.

For about ten minutes, I had no way of communicating to my parents to let them know I was okay. For ten minutes, my parents feared the chance that I might have died. Something no parent should have to think about or go through. Certainly, something I would never have wished to have forced my parents to think about.

It was easily the most painful and anxiety inducing ten minutes of my life. Ten minutes of pure fear. And the people, more people, constantly more people. I had never seen so many people in one place in my entire life. The lights, the noise, the people.

My heart beat wildly, my brain froze once again, my stomach turned in my panic.

But when my parents arrived at the scene and I hugged them and told them I was okay, all my fear absolved.

I never understood how fast something as simple as seeing your family face to face could be taken away in the blink of an eye.

In a flash.

…

As I sat in that hospital bed, I realized I had the answer to my fears, crisis, and confusion all along.

In the face of death, all that matters is love. The only truth in life is found within. Love is the answer: all there ever was, is, and will be. And through love, life is eternal.

I’m not going to sit here and validate the specific hypothesis on near-death-experiences because I truly don’t know. What I will say is that the stages of life, growth, and change all coincide with the supposed course of a near-death-experience. And I don’t know that I would have found solace in my quest for answers if I hadn’t come that close to losing it all.

When I got a taste for nothing, I returned to find everything.

Part Five: Entering the Light

I've looked at life from both sides now

From win and lose and still somehow

It's life's illusions I recall

I really don't know life at all

-Joni Mitchell

Since I was a little kid, I’ve always loved contrails. People usually miss them and/or have no idea what I’m talking about when I use the term. Contrails are the clouds released by planes in the sky. The next time you’re outside, look up and I’m sure you’ll see one. I remember, during early quarantine, not seeing a single plane in the sky as if time had come to a halt. No contrails. Our inability to be with each other prevented their spirited existence within the sky.

When I was younger, I was amazed by them. I always felt like I was watching an artist paint massive strokes up in the sky. They’re beautiful, truly amazing things.

The next time I saw a plane leaving its mark in the sky, contrails had taken on a new meaning. Instead of the stroke of an artist, they are the mark of a lifetime; mysteriously appearing out of thin air, releasing a beautiful stride for all to see, and gradually fading to the stars.

Acknowledgements

I want to thank my family and anyone else that’s ever loved me into being. I love you.

#stretch2021 #memoir

[liache]

little junkers in the past headcanon things that i really love and would love to infodump on and would probably make it into my fic If I Ever Got Back To Writing It:

rat’s mother died of radiation sickness when he was 6 and he was sent to a humanitarian boarding school/orphanage, where he reluctantly stayed until he was around 10, after which he ran away with a group of other kids

said kids would soon be his survival group, ranging from 13 year olds to 9 year olds. rat was one of the younger ones. tbh i like the idea that the ones he was closest to had “rat” as a nickname: packrat (leader), labrat (medic), rugrat (youngest), and then junkrat (scavenger). it probably coincides with the letters of their first names. they had shorthands for these too: packard, labba, ruggy, and junk

jamie was an illegitimate child between a wealthy wind farm operator and his mistress. he never once met his father, who his mom resented for dismissing her and treating her poorly. if the crisis had never happened, however, jamie would be next in line for inheriting the wind farm empire his father established, and would probably even be taken into the family and trained to succeed his father at some point. too bad it all got destroyed from the crisis and explosion. his dad might still be around along the metropolis coast, but who knows? they couldnt recognize each other if they had to.

rat and his gang made a living of selling scrap and stealing from other gangs, since they were small and quick and people were more likely to take pity on a little starving kid. they used this to their advantage, and would send the younger ones (ruggy and junk) to beg in the larger villages, especially after rat lost his leg.

rat lost his leg at the age of 11-12 after stepping on a landmine while running into enemy territory. it broke his left ankle and annihilated his right leg up to his knee. packard was the one who had to try and fix him up, but you cant really expect a 16 y.o to know how to do a proper amputation. rat still experiences pain from having his bone not really sawed off, but broken apart with a chisel above the knee and sewed over, and having his other ankle set improperly.

packard was kind of a dick and threatened to kick junk out of the group for being disabled, which drove rat to prove himself even harder. labba helped make his first peg leg and scoured for pain medicine for him.

rat actually blew part of his right pinkie off in his mid-teens, but just the upper part. so he already had a close call with that arm.

he lost his hand and part of his forearm much later while he was in his late teens/early twenties, when he tried building a new type of bomb after 4 days of no sleep due to his plethora of mental problems, mainly paranoia.

ive posted abt this before, but mercy is the one who fixed up his arm. she probably would have helped him with a prosthetic, but in a mania in the middle of the night after he woke up, he stole all the medicine he could out of the medical tent and took off. he OD’d after eating random medicine out of desperation (hoping they were for pain) and saw god, but managed to puke up the pills after god called him a stupid wanker. rat doesnt remember mercy, but he remembers god calling him a wanker.

mako was born in new zealand and is mixed: maori mother and white aussie father. he grew up very close to his mother and sisters compared to his dad, but had an alright relationship with him. his mother died in his mid-teens due to cancer, and afterwards his dad moved mako and his sisters to the australian outback where his father’s family was. mako became acquainted with his paternal cousins there, who basically moved in with how often they visited. it was a very big family. mako’s a middle child with two sisters on both sides, and three cousins around his age.

mako’s mother grew up in america but moved to NZ as an adult to be closer to her extended family/grandparents, where she met mako’s father and settled down. because hog was close to her growing up, he took on her american accent (shhh this is just me getting an explanation for his lack of NZ accent)

mako worked in a slaughterhouse as an older teen/before the crisis, much to his displeasure and horror. he would have loved to be a mechanic and worked on cars and motorcycles in his spare time, but the slaughterhouse was the only place he could find solid work in the middle of nowhere. he vowed to become a vegetarian after only a week of working there. it’s probably where the “roadhog” persona started to grow: the empty-minded lack of empathy needed to kill the animals, the way he needed to dissociate from his morals in order to make money and survive.

that being said, he really did have a hobby of fixing and riding motorcycles. he was part of the biker scene, though one of the more casual members.

when the crisis hit, it took a while to reach the outback compared to the populated coast. it only affected the outback within the last couple years of the crisis, but it was enough to decimate mako’s new home and cause the death of his cousin and two of his sisters.

after the crisis and when the government tried to relocate mako and the rest of his family due to giving away outback land to the omnics, mako was actually initially unsure whether or not to join the ALF. while growing up he was a bit more shy and less confrontational than his family, who all joined immediately, but his rage toward the government and mourning over his lost family members drove him to join and eventually become one of their most prolific members, mainly due to his strength and durability during protests. this also helped the roadhog persona grow, to shed his old softness and grow a harder shell. it’s also when he took it on as an alias, since it was a common practice not to share your real name while part of the ALF.

hog was actually not in or around the omnium when it detonated; it was a plan devised by ALF members (including hog) to raid the omnium but it went awry when they accidentally damaged the core and caused it to explode. hog was supposed to be on watch outside of the omnium, up on a cliff in order to spot potential attackers from afar and prevent interference. when the explosion happened, hog was nearly a mile away and behind cover, but still suffered radiation burns on his arm and face (if he holds his forearm up to his face, you can actually see where his arm scars fit into his face scars). however, most of his remaining family was part of the infiltration team, and were instantly vaporized. the few who werent inside at the time were closer to the building and were either crushed by debris, or died soon after from direct radiation exposure. hog probably would have died too, but he took off on his bike as soon as it happened and sped as far away from the radiation as he could.

the ALF was criminalized directly afterward, and overwatch was sent to provide humanitarian relief (and blackwatch to round up and imprison remaining ALF members at the behest of the aus government)

hog began to wear a mask due to the effects of inhaling radioactive dust on his already sensitive lungs, and to protect his identity (not that a 7′3 550lb man isnt already inconspicuous, but, yknow). it also helped really distance himself from “mako” and fully embrace “roadhog”, since now survival was on the top of his list, and would be harder than ever. roadhog is a method of survival, no matter what he would have to do. this is also when his survivor’s guilt began to set in, which is part of the reason why he stayed in the outback for so long. he felt that he caused it to be this way, so he deserved to rot there. roadhog was born from the wastes, and that’s where he belonged.