Avatar of Hey Im Jordan

Status

Recent Statuses

9 mos ago
Current happens
4 likes
2 yrs ago
i want to watch the overhaul arc again
1 like
2 yrs ago
sonic the hedgehog 2 is a certified banger
2 likes
2 yrs ago
i cant believe triple h retired i cant handle this
2 yrs ago
i like high school rps
1 like

Bio









black clover shit incoming

Most Recent Posts

you should ask, man. maybe he can update us in that little banner :D
Also if it's relevant I got a message from Mahz yesterday.

So it's not like we can't contact him.


how's he doin

how's the beach?
Still Wednesday morning, before school...
Collab with @Lovely Complex





Damian put his car into park outside of Jericho and Amity’s house. He’d finished his trip with Trevor, talked to Ender and Jude… His day was off to a good start. Now, he’d pick Joy back up, get a kiss or two and a peptalk for good luck, and then tackle the big one: facing his mother. He wasn’t looking forward to it, because he knew it was going to go poorly. Really, all Damian could do was hope that his dad would be there for backup.

Dad would get it! He would understand. He’d been a teen before too. Mom though? Mom was gonna go ballistic and possibly slit his throat. Who knows? Shaking his head, Damian leaned over and threw open the passenger door for Joy to slide in. “Hey, babe. I let you know that I was leaving, but I’m pretty sure you were still asleep… I dunno. I tried.” He shrugged his shoulders, and looked toward the center console where the Super Bowl ring Joy’s father had given him was, no longer around Damian’s neck. “But it’s done. Your Mom and Dad know and they approve. We’re good. I just have to talk to my mom…”

Joy wanted to respond with something snarky like you could’ve tried harder, but she decided against being a petty girlfriend and support her boyfriend with with his endeavors. That fact that he survived her parents was impressive, and later on, she will ask more about it, but right now they needed to think strategy with his… passionate mother… and how he was going to calm her down. He’s the ex-football-quarterback. He totally got this in the bag. Before taking her seat, she leaned in and gave him a little peck. After she settled into the car, seatbelt and all, she asked, “Soooooooo… how are you going to explain not talking to her for a of couple days?” Let’s get his mind thinking about the big issues she may point out.

“I’m gonna tell her I’m in love with you to make her happy for me instead of angry at me. My mom isn’t that hard to deal with, usually. You just have to use the right tactics, you know? She gets passionate, so I’m just gonna give her something to be more passionate about: her son is actually, truly in love. Should be good enough.” He shrugged and started the drive back down the winding road that led up the Snyder mansion, “if she really digs at me, I’ll just tell her I’ve been under emotional duress and also point out that Ender almost shot me with a gun. That should also distract her.” Damian had his ideas, whether or not they would work was up to contention… but what was the worst that would happen? Mama wouldn’t ground him. Well, she could certainly try, but Dad would fight for him. The most he was going to have to do was weather the storm. The trump cards of ‘I fucked Joy,’ ‘I’m in love with Joy,’ and ‘my godfather wants to shoot me’ would hopefully be enough!

“...aside from that, what are you going to tell her that you’ll do better in? This week hasn’t been a good week for you and I feel like your mom should know you’re not the one at fault. I doubt she follows everyone’s social media like Mitty does. Well, recently, she hasn’t because she’s been too focused on getting Owen back home. Then again… maybe your mom would stalk people to know your whereabouts. Hm.” Joy started to talk to herself, trying to dissect a woman like Melody. What would she do if her son got detention, lost his status on the football team, and basically abandoned her, not even informing her about a party he was throwing at her beach house? What would she do…. so many questions, not enough time.

“Nah, she’s psycho, but she’s not that psycho. Only when True’s involved. But I am a big strong man, I can take care of myself. I’ll let her know what went down, but it’s no big deal. I can weather the storm, whatever she wants to hit me with. Better me than Owen or someone gettin’ it rougher. I’m fine, whatever happens. I can’t say too much or she’ll call everyone else’s parents. Like, what if she got Henry’s moms and dad involved? Henry gets it bad enough from Alyssa, and I know he thinks Eve and Ty are against him right now. So I can’t have none of that. Trevor is like the Golden Child, Remy and Jareth can’t know that he was one of the masterminds behind the party… I gotta make sure she thinks it was all me. That’s what a captain does, Joy. Leaders make their people feel safe, and I’m… I’m nothing if not a good leader!” Damian shrugged his shoulders and gave her a smile and a shake of his head. “Don’t worry about my mom, I’ll handle it.” Damian wasn’t too worried about it… He was a teenager, and teenagers made mistakes — his mom could understand that, surely. He expected her fire to burn hot, but burn fast. Whatever punishment he received would break soon enough!

“You’re right. You are a great leader.” Joy squeezed his leg in agreement. “... I think I need to talk to my parents too, at some point. Especially my dad. I think my mom will only really care about contraceptives now that I think about it. She’s more on my ass about my grades than anything.” The more Joy lived life, the more she started to understand her parents a little bit more. Maybe, she wasn’t completely afraid to talk them about… stuff! Okay, maybe part of her was still a little worried, but hell, her role model was her uncle and if there was anything he was good at, it was telling people what was what. At least from past experiences, Joy knew her mother never really argued with her uncle. Yeah, if her boyfriend can talk to his mom, she could talk to her dad! And then mom! Dad seemed like the bigger beast for her to fight in this moment, especially since he could’ve killed her boyfriend.

“I think you’ll be fine. You’re the best, and your parents would be dumb to be mad at you over this. Hm.” Hm, indeed. Damian had an idea forming in his head, but he wasn’t sure if it was a good one, or even if it would be helpful in the long run. But still… hm. “I have two ideas. One of them needs your immediate agreement. Do you wanna come talk to my mom with me? You can be like the Mushroom in Mario. You can protect me from one hit, but probably nothing more than that.”

“...sure.” Of course, Joy didn’t want to get in front of the crossfire, but she honestly didn’t think Melody would harm her. Melody loved her too much.

“Great. Okay, second idea. Snake, call dad.” He said to his assistant, and there were only two rings before there was an answer.

“Yo! What’s up, big dog? You ain’t called, you ain’t been around. Your mom is doing that thing where she cuts vegetables too hard… Not to mention you’re sleeping with Ender’s daughter which is like… dangerous, at best. Now that I think about it, she’s probably there, huh? If I were you, she’d be there. Hi, Joy.”

“... Hi. Just fyi, we’re on our way, and I want to make sure you got some juice on you. This is imperative to my life right now.”

“There’s… some juice.” Connor seemed to be thinking about it, but before he could get too far, Damian jumped back in.

“Dad, I need you to do me a favor. Friday night. Dinner. Mom’s favorite restaurant. Me, you, mom, True I guess unless we think she can babysit herself finally, Joy, Ender, and Jude.” Idea #2.

“Bold move. But sure, I can do that. See you guys soon.” Connor said, before there was a click, and Damian looked over at Joy.

“Well, there you go. Two ideas, both of them seemingly operating flawlessly. Okay, we can either park in front of the house, or we can park two blocks down and make out for good luck.” What? Damian had his priorities, and they certainly weren’t ‘get bitched at by mom.’ As he spoke, they turned onto the street where the O’Connor house was located.

“Make this go without a hitch, then you’ll get all the ‘make out’ you want.” Joy teasingly smiled. He needed to stay focus and kissing was not focusing. He had a game to play. That game was facing his mom.

“You may come to regret that.” Damian muttered as he parked the car in front of the house, and threw open the door, absently checking his watch as he did so. Okay… so about an hour left before school? Hey, this one shouldn’t take more than ten minutes, realistically. Fast and hot. “Alright, let’s go do it.” With that, he led the way up the path to their front door, turning the already unlocked door and letting himself in.

“MAMA? I’M HOME.”

There was no response from Melody. Instead Taylor Swift was blasting upstairs. Shake It Off, specifically.

Joy tugged at Damian’s sleeve, “Are you just going in and hoping for the best?” Damian would know that his mother was most likely cleaning, which is the main time she blasts music throughout the house, but the music was coming from a distinct area in the house and there were loud ‘thumps’ in a very specific position in the ceiling.

His bedroom.

“Yeah, pretty much. That’s basically the ‘Damian special,’ y’know.” He shrugged his shoulders. He wasn’t particularly worried about what his mom was doing in his room — Damian’s most important and prized possession was the superbowl ring sitting in his pocket. He took Joy’s hand and smiled at her, leading her toward the staircase. Sitting on the bottom stair was a glass of juice, which Damian picked up and handed to Joy. “I guess that’s for you. It looks like tropical punch?” He shrugged and led the way to his room without much more to be said.

“Oh, thanks.” was all Joy replied. She graciously took her juice, with her free hand and drank. Her eyes glinted with intrigue as they got closer to the door. Truth be told, she assumed the worst and Damian’s room would be nothing but bare. That was her theory, at least.

However, when they opened the door, it felt like a scene straight out of The Stepford Wives. His room was completely renewed. New sheets, no wrinkles. All his laundry done. All his trophies polished, or well being polished. There was a box where she was throwing things into, putting in storage, because she deemed it not necessary and only cluttered his room. His closet door was open, revealing new sets of clothes and shoes. His desk was completely straightened up and all his papers were filed, properly. If anything was crooked, it was definitely straightened. The wooden floor was surely waxed too. His mother even looked completely on point. Her face glowing, her makeup on fleek, and her outfit as motherly as ever. Joy couldn’t read the situation. It didn’t seem bad at all, but Damian should know better. This wasn’t a ‘normal’ Melody reaction. Knowing very well that her son was in the room, she continued to polish his largest trophy, bobbing her head to Tay Swift and smiling.

“Hmmm, very dystopian of you… I’d make a Stepford Wives joke, but really, we both know even a perfectly obedient robot wouldn’t be as good for dad as you are.” Damian frowned. He’d expected his mother to yell at him, and be loud and aggressive, not be cleaning his room. Speaking off… “Hey, you know I had everything in orderly disorder. How am I going to find my things now? I don’t know how I feel about this. I’m almost certain it’s an evil tactic against me. I’m not sure how, but I have a feeling.” Damian glanced at his mother as he walked around his room, carefully observing the changes. There was probably something wrong — she was craycray. He knew that. Everyone knew that.

Finally, Melody responded, beaming a bright smile, her expression unperturbed, “What do you mean? Me, evil tactics? Hilarious. I’m just being a good mother, cleaning my son’s room. Doesn’t it smell so fresh and so clean?” Joy took a sip of the juice and nodded her head. The room smelt like clean linen. It was nice. “Welcome to my humble home, Joy. It’s good to see you.”

“You too.” Joy was not going to interfere too much. She was simply a necessary weapon for Damian in this weird situation.

“Evil might be a little strong, but I’m sure something is out of place.” Damian sniffed the air and looked around the room, before walking over to the box she was throwing things in and kicking it as he looked down into it. “Are you throwing my stuff away? That’s not… cool, y’know.” He frowned and looked at his mother, folding his arms over his chest. “I expected you to yell and shout, this is… different. I know you did something, I just haven’t figured it out yet. But, that’s okay. I just wanna make sure you know,” Damian decided that it was time to poke the hornet’s nest, lest this weird interaction continue for longer than it needed to. Setting his mom off was usually easier than this, so he figured it was worth a shot. The right combination of words would probably at least get him yelled at, “that I haven’t spoken to you for a while now because you always overreact and I had a lot on my mind and wasn’t ready to add ‘mom is yelling about how disappointed in me she is’ to that list of things. However, now that I’ve put out most of the other fires I started, I’m here and I’m ready to put this one out. So if you’re gonna yell at me, yell at me. If you’re gonna come up with some convoluted and unnecessarily extravagant punishment, hit me. But don’t be weird, especially not in front of my very first girlfriend.”

Yet again, rather than acknowledge her son’s words, Melody stopped polishing his trophy, and started dancing and singing to the song blasting, going around the room in a scarily good mood, “‘Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play; And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate; Baby, I’m just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, I shake it off. I shake it off.” She approached Joy, taking her juice out of her hand and cheesed, “Dance with me!”

“Uh…” Melody wasn’t going to take no for answer.

“How you’ve been? Is mom and dad good?”

“I… think so. Hey, are you okay?” Joy held Melody’s hands, shaking her body, but still confused. Was this her version of cold shoulder or was she trying not to explode?

“Absolutely! You know what I’ve been doing for the past couple of days?” The mother stopped from rambling, like she did, waiting for Joy’s response. In this moment, Joy regretted coming to this. This was some passive aggressive shit and it made her uncomfortable. She wasn’t even good at dancing.

“Cleaning?” What? It was the most obvious guess.

“I was just wondering when my son was coming home. Have you seen him? Because I haven’t! I’m sure if I saw him again, I would recognize him, right? Because the boy I raised I know very well and he was raised to know how to respect me. Ah! Oh well. I’ll just keep cleaning until he decides to you know, treat me right. Because it isn’t like me and his father pay for everything he has or like, makes sure that he has a roof over his head, food in his stomach, clothes on his back. Oh, oh, oh, but that’s okay. He’ll just live with some other family. I’m sure they do my job just fine.” To this, Joy did not respond.

“Ah, so it’s like that.” Damian understood the game they were playing now. This made it easier, at least he knew what was going on, anyway. He forgot how his mom could get sometimes… He was going to say something, he really was. It would have been easy enough to apologize and fix this… but, his phone in his pocket buzzed with a text message. Damian pulled it out, and looked down at it, frowning. “Hey, mom, this is like… just awful timing. I’ll apologize later, I don’t have time to do it well enough right now, but I, uh, gotta run. Trevor needs me.” He offered a shrug of apology, because it was all he could give, and then gestured for Joy to follow him, turning to leave the room and the house. This fire could be put out another day.

“Seriously, Damian?” Joy looked to her boyfriend, then to his mother whose right eye twitched. “Um, I guess I’ll see you later, Fairy.” Maybe using her old nickname for her godmother would help the situation. Letting go of Melody’s hands, Joy scurried to her boyfriend, grabbing the glass of juice on the way out. “Is this really fucking important? I feel sorry for your mom.”

“It’s a code red, S.O.S. It’s really fucking important to me. Mom will be fine, I’ll talk to her later, what’s the worst that could happen? She gets more upset and passive aggressive? Whatever, I’ll handle it.” Damian said, leading Joy down the stairs and back out to the car. He didn’t have time to deal with his mother right now, if she wanted to act like a child then he would deal with her when he had time to deal with a child. His friend needed him, and given the nature of the text, he could only assume it was, in fact, really fucking important.

Before entering the car, Taylor Swift stopped playing and there was a loud screeching sound coming from upstairs and things crashing all over the place, even glass shattering, “CONNOR, I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL HIM. CONNOR, GET YOUR ASS HERE NOW. CONNOR!”

Joy nervously clenched her teeth: “Whatever you say…”

“See, if she’d done that to begin with, we would be fine. I can handle that. Acting like a baby and like I’m all ungrateful and stuff because I needed some ‘clear my head time?’ That’s a bit of a longer endeavor. That’s the mom I love.” Damian started the car, and away they went.
Mentions: @smarty0114 Slidin’ right into Katie’s DMs
@Lovely Complex Haylee and AJ assist pls
Location: Scott’s living room —> his car —> the deep pits of regret —> the Tyler home porch
Featuring: Scott “Mama Please Come Home” Lyon, Gabriel “Did I Raise a Pussy?” Lyon, and introducing (briefly) Brad “Be Rad” Tyler
Time: Late Wednesday Night




Why didn’t it feel good?

He was done with Katie, it was the right play. So why didn’t he feel good?! No more fighting, all future awkward situations were avoided… He should have been jumping with joy, for fuck’s sake. But nah, he was laying on the couch, watching YouTube on the TV. Zoned out and about two steps from wavy. The only thing on his mind was whether or not he’d done the right thing. What if he’d done it differently? What if he’d went for her, instead of cutting it like he did? Those questions and a thousand more flooded through his head, but the loudest one was also the hardest to answer. What was she thinking?

This was that stupid party’s fault. If he’d been drunk, maybe he wouldn’t have dove into the water after Katie. But, no. He had to go for it, and be the hero. Then they were quiet and damn near sentimental when they were alone. He should care that mu—

“Whoa, shit!”

Scott very suddenly found himself tumbling forward as the couch was tipped, sending him flying to the carpeted floor, and narrowly missing his face on the edge of the coffee table. He quickly hopped to his feet to face the culprit: his father, Gabriel. “Dad, what are you doin’, dude!? That ain’t cool!” He shouted, glaring at his father, who sat the couch down and sneered at his son.

“You’ve been laying on the couch fucking moping like a pussy since you got home. The fuck is wrong with you, Scott? You’re not a bitch, I raised you better than that. You weren’t gettin’ up, so I helped your dumbass up.”

Scott knew what he was going to do next. He was going to fire back, of course. Just standing there and taking it from his dad with that smug look on his face (and Scott knew his dad was only acting like this because his mom and sister were out on vacation) wasn’t an option for him. Even as he spoke though, a little voice in the back of his head had him questioning if it was even worth it, “I’m not mopin’. I’m thinkin’!”

After Scott’s reply, if Gabriel’s eyes had rolled any harder, they might have popped out of his head. “About fucking what? What could you possibly have to think about?! Your mother spoils you fuckin’ rotten, you have everything you could ever ask for, you’ll never have to work a gotdamn day in your fuckin’ life, and you’re thinkin’. Are you retarded?”

And that was why Scott shouldn’t have said a word. His dad wasn’t exactly… the nicest person in the world, in fact he was far from it. Was there even a point to telling his father what was on his mind? No, he frankly needed his mother, but… desperate times called for desperate measures. “I’m, uh… Thinking about girls. Girl problems.” Again, he immediately regretted saying a word, as his dad scoffed at him.

“Seriously? Are you joking? ‘Girl problems.’ Bitch, I ain’t never seen you with a girl. In fact you only ever talk about one girl — oh my fucking god. It’s that Katie bitch, ain’t it? The blonde one that you’re always whining about.” He asked, and Scott nodded a little bit, before offering a response.

“Well… yeah. I told her today that I don’t want to talk to her anymore, but as it turns out, that was a fucking lie. I think I… like her. I didn’t really think about it before, but she’s… kind of a blonde bombshell.” Oof. Probably shouldn’t have said that, judging the way his father laughed at him.

“Seriously? What the fuck are you doin’ here, then? Go get her, you idiot.” Gabriel snapped, pointing toward the exit to their house. “I didn’t raise no fuckin’ pussy, so you get the fuck out of my house, and you don’t come back unless you got yourself a ‘blonde bombshell’ on your arm.” Gabriel went so far as to make air quotes when he mocked his son’s choice of words.

“Uh… dad it’s like 10:30 at night. You’re kiddin’, right?” Scott asked, and Gabriel shook his head in response.

“You think I’m playin’? Hop to it if you wanna sleep in your own goddamn bed.” He snapped his fingers in the direction of the door, and Scott walked toward it, feeling more numb than ever.

Did… did I just get kicked out?

He hadn’t expected this to happen for a while. At least until he was eighteen, for fuck’s sake. He wandered outside and to his car, sitting down in the driver’s seat and turning it on as he looked down at his phone, scrolling through the possibilities. The other Lyon families were off limits — they’d probably call his dad and make it even worse. That left… the Helmsleys? Nah, Grandma Bi might freak out.

His options were limited, until he landed on AJ’s name. ...would anyone even be awake there? Well… it was Wednesday, Bad Movie Night for the Thomas and Tyler families. It was his only shot. But first, there was something he had to do.

Making a grumbling noise, Scott pulled up the Instagram app and scrolled to Katie’s account, tapping it before he sent her a DM. Was he really doing this? Yes, he had no other choice.

To Katie:
hi. i know i said we’d never talk. this is gonna be weird. i need you


Wait, what? FUCK. His finger hit the ‘send’ before he was done. Quickly typing, he hurriedly added.

To Katie:
r help. i need YOUR HELP.


Jesus fucking christ.

He threw his phone onto the passengers seat, and shifted the car into gear, and headed toward his destination.



Knock, knock

Scott was standing on the porch of the Tyler home, waiting for someone to answer the door. What did he even say? The truth was basically the only option. When the door swung open, he found himself face to face with AJ’s father, who was eating from a bowl of ice cream, and wearing a hat. Brad took another bite from his spoon, and raised an eyebrow, patiently waiting for an explanation. “Hi. My dad kicked me out. Can I stay here tonight?”

Brad smiled and rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Yeah, that sounds like him. Let me ask wife, and let your dude know. HAYLEE! AJ! SCOTT’S HERE! HAS SOMETHING TO ASK YOU!”
Mentions: @Silent Observer @Lovely Complex {Marshall and Trixie, respectively}
Time: Noonish? on Wednesday
Featuring: Ophelia “I guess I’ll do it Live” Brycen Lyon and, however briefly, Belle “Was I bad?” Lyon
Location: Ophelia’s room!




Ophelia had chosen to take the day off from school, hide in her room, and nurse her wounds. She didn’t want to deal with the fallout she was sure to have. She’d betrayed her morals, betrayed her friend, put the blame of a touchy subject on the shoulders of Hailey, and gotten punched in the face. All in all? Not bad as far as Tuesdays go! If it didn’t hurt to move her face, she might have even laughed. Her mom hadn’t asked much about whether or not she could stay home, and for that, Ophelia was very grateful. She didn’t want to deal with the fallout, of all her good intentions.

What happened next was truly her own fault. Who else could she blame at this point? She’d lied about Owen cheating on Trixie, she’d lied to Trixie for a couple of months about it now… She’d seen Owen at the Lyon family dinners, and the fact Ophelia had made it through those scenes alive was nothing if not a testimony to her bravery! Telling Trixie the truth was hard though, harder than she liked to admit.

It was all dumb though, really. From the top to the bottom, the social ladder was dumb. They all bled the same blood (orange and black! haha, just kidding — half the school didn’t care about sports), they were all the same on the inside, and really? They were all heading to the same place. In the end, none of this would matter. And that? That was really what drove her to do what she did the night before.

#hotisdead

At least she’d made something trend (locally, not worldwide. sigh) before she dropped out of the game, right? She’d always have that to fall back on! It’d just taken a haymaker to the eye. Could she have reacted more confidently to it? Could she have deflected or gotten out the way? Honestly, probably. Trixie had been sloshed when she threw the hand, but Ophelia had decided she deserved it. So, she took it to the face. Even so, the punch was nothing compared to something like facing Marshall after this. Geeze, Marshall was gonna end her life. Or at least their friendship… fug, just kill her.

And then there was Hailey, but… Ophelia felt like Hailey had given up. Like she’d grown bored of the game she’d played, and that she was instead interested in the new game she played privately with Hana. Probably for the best, since Hailey was… something when she truly dedicated herself to a cause. Without her at the apex, maybe the whole ladder would suffer a collapse, and everything could revert back to the before time.

These, and more, were the thoughts flowing through Ophelia’s head as she laid on her bed and gazed up at the ceiling. Thinking things through, with a clear, less party-addled brain helped her make sense of all this. She could handle it; there was pain left to go through, but… she was strong enough. She could handle it. Besides, she had only herself to blame.

If it was different, and she could pass the blame off onto someone else, then… maybe. Maybe then, it would make sense for her to pout and hide and be afraid, but… it was all on her. If it meant most people in her life wound up happy, then Ophelia could handle being the martyr and the catalyst. She only had… what, two years left? Not even that, more like one and a half! She could handle people hating her for one and a half years. After that, she didn’t have to see them ever again so, fuck it, dude.

Knock, knock.

The sudden sound of someone at the door caused Ophelia to sit up. Okay, self. This is like the fourth time Mom’s come a knockin’. You gots a plan now. Tell her you got this one! This is easy. Just a couple of ruined lifelong friendships. You're still breathing! You can do this. You’re tough. You’re strong. Besides, you already decided you’re the fuck up anyway. Fuck it. Do it live.

“Yeah, come in! It’s not locked.” They didn’t really lock doors in her house; as far as she knew, none of the Lyon family really locked doors, a habit picked up from Sebastian himself. In his opinion, a closed door was a good enough deterrent for people, and if they needed to talk so badly that they’d open a door without confirmation from the occupants? Then they deserved to see whatever it was they saw.

Fortunately, there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary in Ophelia’s room when her mother, Belle, walked in. It was just Ophelia, laying on the bed. There was a book on the floor, opened face down. As her mother walked over to her, Belle bent down and picked the book up, “Isn’t this like, your first edition or something? You should be more careful with it.”

“Okay three things. First off, I honestly feel attacked right now. I don’t need that comin’ from you too. Secondly, it’s a trade paperback, mom. They don’t really have editions, And… thirdly, my signed copy of the Long Halloween trade is in a glass case in my showroom, surrounded by first editions of the single issues — all rated 9s and 10s of course. That’s just the one I read. Leave me alone, I like the Long Halloween. It’s a good story. More… detective-y, and I like when Bats has that feel about him. Why are we talking about comics? This isn’t about comics, is it?” Ophelia immediately found herself assuming that Belle had one that on purpose. Why wouldn’t she? Get her daughter rolling on stuff she cared about, and then swing in hit her with the one two to bring up Ophelia’s social problems. Oh, Belle was good. But Ophelia was better.

“Nah, kiddo. I guess it isn’t about that. How are you feeling? I heard that last night was an adventure. And, before you ask, no it wasn’t Kylie. But, I pay attention, and I know things. Do you wanna talk about it?” Gentle prying. Honest? Belle was still learning how to deal with a teenager. She couldn’t exactly learn from her parents. Her dad was great, but her mom had been a little… not there when she was growing up. She was around now, though, and Belle was grateful for that.

“Ya know, typically? I do! But this time? I honestly think I got this one. Stay on deck though, yeah? Just in case things go… poorly, which like they probably will. Trixie can be a bit, uh… short fused?”

“That makes sense. She’s always been more like her mother than her father. Izzy? Izzy gets incredibly furious about all kinds of things. Wolfe’s… as cold as ice, though. Never understood how they wound up together, but hey. Can’t complain. If you got this, you got this. Ace it.” Belle smiled and waved, considering her job as a mother done; and it was. If she couldn’t leave her child to clean up her own messes, then she sure as hell couldn’t let Ophelia out to the wild. She turned and walked out, while Ophelia grabbed her phone and pulled up Snapchat.

Flipping the camera to face her, Ophelia flipped through the filters, before deciding there was nothing that suited her needs. “Man, I look super… anti-put together. Better fix that, or she’ll think I’m going for the pity points.” Finally, while the clocks around her struck noon, Ophelia pulled herself out of bed, and to the bathroom.

After she’d showered, washed the runny makeup (it was for the best she didn’t take the picture before the shower, she looked like a bad episode of Casting Couch) off her face, and fixed the matted hair on her face… Ophelia was as ready as ever. With a towel wrapped tightly around her, covering her chest and other bits she was pretty sure Trixie didn’t wanna see, well, at least not right that second… Oof, did Ophelia just catch herself winking in the mirror?

As good a sign as any that she felt better.

With a single index finger, she reached out and drew a heart around her face in the steamy mirror. With that done, she held her phone up (mirror selfie… maybe she should drop the towel? ...nah, Trix would just be pissy. next time, baby), she puffed her cheeks out like a squirrel, and made her eyes as big as he could, then snapped the photo.

Should have used a filter, whatever.

She scrolled for a moment ofind Trixie’s custom name, and tapped it...

To: Trixalicious
can we talk? ur call, i get it if u dont wanna


Boom.

Ophelia hit the button, and sent off a Snap that she assumed would never be opened.

And, one more… This time, Ophelia covered the fucked up spot on her face from Trixie’s fist, and sent another snap; this time with a neutral face.

To: Gumdrop
sorry


There.

Now, may God have mercy on her soul.
Scott Summers wished he could do it himself. He wished that he, Jean, Kitty, Jubilee, and, yes, even Logan, could put their spandex on and go and do it themselves. They couldn’t though; they were associated with a lot of memories, and the general public chose only to remember the bad. All they ever did was fight to be recognized as human.

He had hoped that after the X-Men stopped, that it would all sort of fizzle out. Most mutants he knew of were at the institute anyway, and there weren’t any anti-mutant or even pro-mutant extremist groups at the time; there was no one left to fight, so what was the point? The X-Men program died with Charles Xavier, and it was only the extreme circumstances rising around them that brought it back.

Scott was not Charles Xavier. He wasn’t sure he was the guy that could go in front of the kids and the one to ask them to do all the things he needed them to do. He wasn’t comfortable stepping forth and telling them he wanted them to fight a war they probably weren’t interested in. Who could be comfortable when making a request like that?

With the help of Jean, he’d picked the next group of X-Men, the people who would be his legacy not unlike he was part of the Professor’s legacy. Hopefully, they’d be able to live up to the expectations. He had high hopes, most of the selected few were valuable in their own ways, and all could contribute to a team.

Through his ruby quartz sunglasses, he looked out over the group of gathered teenagers, and decided to just go for it. “You’re wondering why we’ve gathered you here. Well, I’m sorry to say that isn’t good news. I brought you all here, because I want to make a request of you,” though Logan was nowhere to be found, Scott could still hear the groan in the air. Scott’s speeches tend to have a dramatic flair that Logan wasn’t exactly pleased with, and he didn’t suspect this would have been much different. “If you’ve been paying attention to the news lately, you’ll notice a shift in the balance of the already shaky world that we live in. Anti-mutant groups are on the rise again — particularly? The Purifiers. For those of you who don’t know, the Purifiers were an anti-mutant extremist group, led by William Stryker, up until about six years ago. After his death, they disbanded and dissipated. There were a few sects remaining, but nothing major. I am unfortunately standing in front of you with the information that they seem to have been started again, and are openly taking responsibility for the disappearance of eight mutant children.”

He paused, and let it sink in for a moment before he pressed on, “this has also stirred up pro-mutant resistance. Though Magneto disappeared shortly after Charles’s death, and we have no reason to believe that he has returned or has anything to do with this, a group claiming to represent the Brotherhood of Mutants attacked and murdered someone who publicly supported the Purifiers in their, ahem, ‘crusade.’ That’s what we know. Again, I’ve yet to answer the question of ‘why are we here, Scott?’ I’m getting there. You might also be wondering why the Avengers aren’t getting involved. Because, like always, the Avengers have something better to do. I called Stark. Nothing they can do right now.” He should have done this inside. Then he could have had a way to show them everything they knew; the propaganda videos posted by both the new Purifiers and the new Brotherhood on the internet, for a start.

“There is a group of humans and mutants alike who intend to peacefully protest against both groups at the Xavier Memorial in Central Park. Their leader is a mutant, not much older than the eldest of you, and both groups think he could lead people, like Charles once did himself. Needless to say, this has attracted their attention. The group, and we, have reason to believe that the Purifiers and the Brotherhood will get involved here, and their leader contacted myself looking to see if the X-Men could act as protection for the protest. I had to tell him that… I would see what I could do. Myself, Jean, Logan, even Kitty and Jubilee aren’t really X-Men anymore. The X-Men, as it stands: doesn’t exist.”

Finally, it was time to get to the point. “The protest is in three weeks time. I gathered you here to ask… to make a request that you could be the X-Men. That you could be the good guys, and fight for people who can’t, or won’t. Who wants to be a hero?” There, that seemed clean enough. Good, old fashioned speeching. Now, he just had to wait for them to react in either jest, joy, or negativity. “You’d have three weeks full of training, and a helluva lot less schoolwork.”

Hey, that worked on Kitty and Jubilee, way back when.
Hi. Will try to post in the coming days
So just a little update: I know I said I'd get it up this weekend but as of right now I don't see that happening as I'm currently dealing with some personal things at the moment. I will try my absolute best to get it up by the end of this week, though! I swear on my life.


Take your time, friend. I don't think anyone is in a rush.
© 2007-2024
BBCode Cheatsheet