Also about the Spades thing I posted yesterday, I also wrote this and I’m pretty proud of how it turned out :3
[CW: Drinking/Alcoholism, Guilt-tripping, a lot of blaming stuff]
[CW: Drinking/Alcoholism, Guilt-tripping, a lot of blaming stuff]
Some pronouns are colored to make it less confusing on who is who. Also S
Me when I’m trying to get a midnight snack but the manifestation of all the guilt/grief about my dead acquaintance/coworker is lowkey haunting me again 🎉
it's been 6 months of me actually posting content and writing,
so here are my favourite things i've shared so far in a random order:
such is the life of a lobster [ how it feels to be afab in society ]
workshop poems [ first time writing poems !!! ]
will & nico being sad + queer [ writing chemistry and actually feeling it ?! woah ?! ]
dear prudence [ a happy, emotional letter // beatles reference bc idk how to describe this, it's just all the loveliness in the world ]
i implore y'all to read these, if anything of mine, to get to know my writing style or wtvvv i think these are most/what i wish to be representative of me :)
p.s. thank u for all the support these few months
p.p.s. i'd love to see other people make a post like this no matter the content!! [ not tagging anyone because i'm anxious and shy or wtv 💀 ]
"-and I fucking told you to leave the kid alone! What the fuck is your problem Jack?"
"I'm sorry I 'made him cry' but c'mon Blackie. He needs to toughen up a bit!"
"Toughen up? You called him-"
There was a loud slam followed by more yelling and Izzy did his best to ignore the fight. The eleven year old curling up further in his bed as he wrapped the pillow over his ears tighter. Biting back a sob as he heard his dad's voice get louder and louder. Clutching his possum plush, he clenched his eyes shut and tried to count backwards.
It started when they got home. It was surprisingly early considering the sun was still out when his dad and Jack stumbled in. The eleven year old was sat in front of the TV, eating the pre cooked dinner his dad left for him that morning. Izzy would've usually greeted his father but Jack was there too. Jack was just his dad's latest boyfriend and the less he acknowledged him, the easier it was. The smell of booze on them drifted through the air making Izzy frown further.
"They're in you're hand man." Jack laughed at his father's drunken state. Izzy gritted his teeth are he walked over to his dad and pulled on his shirt.
"You're not supposed to be drinking." His dad stared down at the child confused as the boy tried to lead him to the couch. "You told me you had a big meeting with the bank tomorrow."
"Bank? Oh fuck me, is the loan meeting tomorrow?" It was hard to forget. Izzy had seen his dad spend so much time into arranging a meeting so he could try to finally open the restaurant he'd been talking about. And then Jack came in and fucked everything up like he always did.
"C'mon man, forget the stupid bank." Jack brushed off Izzy's worries with a roll of his eyes. "Got more fun shit to do." Jack leaned into his father and none too quietly whispered. "Gonna keep you up all night." He giggled and Izzy watched his father do the same. Taking his father's arm, Jack began to lead him back into the bedroom but Izzy stood in front of them.
"You're leaving." The eleven year old spoke as assertively as he could. The other man staring down at him amused.
"Excuse me?" The man seemed slightly annoyed.
"Dad's gotta do something important tomorrow. You're just gonna ruin it like the last time." The answering machine was filled with messages from the bank and despite his dad trying to hide them, Izzy had seen the letters about final notices. Jack, as usual, didn't care. Instead this made him angry. Angrier than usual at least as he took his free hand and roughly jabbing Izzy in the chest with it.
"Listen here you little shit, you don't get to tell me what the fuck to do." Izzy watched his father snap to attention at this, pushing Jack away from his son.
"Hey, you don't get to lay a hand on my kid."
It spiralled from there until Izzy retreated to his room to hide from the two. Every shout and slam making the child wince until there was the telltale slam off the front door slamming shut. A minute passing before there was a knock on his door.
"Iz?" His father's voice called out. "Can I come in?"
"...is Jack still here?" As he spoke, Izzy realized how hoarse his voice was.
"No. Jack...Jack left. For good this time." Izzy peaked out from his pillows before going over and unlocking the door for his father. He looked just as upset as Izzy. The boy carefully helping his still very drunk father over to his neck to sit down. The man moaned as he lifted his leg and Izzy noticed he wasn't wearing his knee brace. The child took a seat next to him. They sat there in an awkward silence when Izzy spoke.
"I'm sorry..." Izzy cried. "I didn't mean to-I'm always messing up."
"Wha? Hey, hey, don't say that." Ed sat straight up. Wrapping his arms around Izzy in a hug as the child continued to cry. "Don't say that. You didn't do anything wrong." He pressed a kiss into Izzy's forehead before tightening his grip.
"I didn't?"
"No. Of course not." Izzy looked up to see his father tearing up as he spoke. "I'm the one who messed up. I should've known better." Ed rocked the boy slightly in an attempt to calm his child. "Izzy, I promise, there's nothing more important to me than you."
Thank you to everyone for your support! I hope ya’ll are enjoying the stuff I put on this blog!
So for new and old followers here’s some stuff about me and a mini writing showcase:
Tumblr username: Segadores-y-soldados
AO3 username: clickclickBANG
Twitter: https://twitter.com/SegadorYSoldado (I am very new at the bird website, please send help)
Semi-personal info: transdude from California, please use he/him for me
Semi-relevant skills: slowly improving my Spanish - feel free to correct my nonsense (also, 00halle, I saw your comment - I’ve been meaning to respond! Thank you again for the offer, I super appreciate it and will be coming to you with some questions when I get a chance)
Content: All Overwatch stuff, lots of Reaper76 shippy stuff - be sure to look at my About page to find my other ships I’ll reblog
Things I’m most well-known for: My essays (tagged as “my essays”) including references on Reaper, Soldier, and Ana; little dialogue scenarios (tagged as “dumb stuff”), usually involving Reaper/Gabriel and Soldier/Jack in some way; doing research on lore and locational stuff in Overwatch; writing fics about Gabriel and Jack being ridiculous smartasses who are in love (and oftentimes the poor people who have to witness their shenanigans).
Little writing showcase:
SEP: Sunsets (written for the amazing Vapewraith!)
They’re in one of the halls of the SEP facility - tucked away into a deep mountainside “somewhere out west,” the building is hard angles and brutal concrete and cut-steel, as soft as titanium and as gentle as the injections they get every morning and evening. Yet even here, in “wherever’s-range,” there is still beauty: the massive windows, normally just cold, crystalline glass, are open to the sunset, bleeding colors across the land and sky, dripping into the hallway with the vibrancy of oil paints. Reds smoke into bright, endless pinks, golds melt into bold, sunshine yellows, oranges shift into liquid amber, and at the edges of the atmosphere, velvet purples sigh into silky blues, tinting the more vivid colors and steeped clouds with the dusk of night and the emerging stars.
It’s a sight neither Gabriel nor Jack will ever get tired of -
No matter how exhausted they are.
“The doctors will see you shortly -” the SEP instructor starts to say, reappearing at the far end of the hallway, before he looks up from the papers on his clipboard and scowls at the group of crumbling supersoldiers, snapping, “Is that what you call ‘lining up?’”
“Maybe if y’all didn’t work us so damn hard,” Number: 141 growls, his voice climbing into a hoarse yell, “We’d still have the energy to fucking stand!”
There are shouts of agreement and calls of “Yeah that!” and quiet mumbles of assent. Gabriel huffs to himself, sliding himself onto the concrete barrier and trying his hardest not to wince as his muscles settle into a sitting position. He’s used to hard work and even harder workouts, but today had been…brutal. 3 am running through the facility and into the mountains and back, to 10 am sparring and boxing and hand-to-hand combat, to 1 pm “simulation training” where they ran teams in rubber-bullet fire-fights, to 4 pm regulated work outs of push ups and squats and curls, to now - 8 pm - where they fall to their pieces in concrete hallways, waiting for doctors to take their biodata and continue churning them into statistics for the U.S. government before jamming more needles in their arms and sending them to brutal, uncomfortable cots in the dorms.
Jack slides himself up next to Gabriel, sighing just loud enough for his best friend to hear, “Today…was pretty bad.”
“Would’ve been easier on you if you hadn’t burned yourself out on those push ups,” Gabriel grunts back, pulling a pack of cigarettes from a pant pocket. He taps one out, muttering with some confusion, “Why were you doing all those one-armed push ups?”
Old Habits (aka “the big fic”) - Rating: T - Action/Adventure for R76:
“PULL BACK,” Reaper’s shouting at the three goons who got blasted the fuck back with a concussive rocket, “ASSHOLES, THOSE ARE HELIX MARK VI, IF THEY FIRE A REAL ROCKET YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD.”
Louis is, remarkably, the only one who stays on his feet, although now that they’re all wearing their visors it’s getting difficult to tell who’s who. The other two roll backwards, flipping over a few times before slamming into the cliff wall behind them. Reaper could fucking push both of them off the ledge and into the depths of the canyon with how annoyed he is at them, but that’s not important right now.
Three of the Helix fliers pop up from behind the rock ledge, hovering just a bit above the ground - low enough to get shelter again, but just high enough to give them a subtle height and maneuverability advantage over the Talon and Deadlock ground units. He hears Widowmaker and Henri fire off a few more rounds, but distant screams are the only reward for that - they’re aiming at the U.S. military soldiers who are stupidly rappelling down from the stable parts of the train still up on the tracks and making themselves easy targets.
“Widowmaker, Helix units, on the ground, below you!” Reaper growls out over the comms before he fucking dematerializes -
- and reforms himself directly behind the three Helix fliers.
God, that hurt like a FUCK.
He punches one of them in the back to make up for it.
FUCK THAT FUCKING HURT TOO
WHY DIDN’T HE JUST FUCKING SHOOT THEM LIKE A REGULAR ASSHOLE
(More under the cut)
76 + 127: How We Were Made - Rating: E - Reaper76 SEP fic
Jack stands by one of the dull, concrete walls and bends himself over before slowly reverse-walking his legs up the side. The rush of blood to his already throbbing head just makes it feel worse, but the weird mix of exhaustion and energy courses through him and he -
He cannot tell if he wants to fight something
Or fuck something.
...Probably both.
That was the other thing: the fucking raging mix of hormones and chemicals - both natural and artificial - had only cranked individual personalities, energies, attentions, aggressions, and desires to the fucking max. It had been apparent from the day of orientation that all 150 of them were between 18 and 25 years old - all physically fit, largely martially-oriented people from a multitude of military programs across the country. Jack and Gabriel had been the top two picks from West Point, but Jack had recognized a handful of the others as being from the academy - like three upperclassmen and ten lowerclassmen and two from their own group - Adrien and Sarah.
So yeah
Of course both fighting and fucking had started occurring within the first week.
Pinche mierda, there had been packets of lube and condoms in their supply chests in their bunk rooms from the very first day onwards. The program directors had certainly known what to expect from a bunch of high-energy, high-intensity young adults.
Jack sighs again, not sure if he loves or hates the pressure in his head and neck, before pushing his arms up off his elbows and onto his hands.
Upside-down push-ups suck.
Gabriel’s wide, smug, fucking charming grin flashes into his head.
Sharpshooter: Hit Me Like A Drum - Rating: T - McHanzo meeting fic
Jesse flicks his eyes from the apparent quiver back to the man’s amazing face and his dark eyes and immediately knows two things:
1 - This man is absolutely the most handsome person Jesse has ever had the blessed fortune of meeting.
2 - He does not understand a word coming out of the man’s mouth.
“...Pardon?” Jesse asks absently, blinking awkwardly. The...archer (?) tilts his head a little and scowls a bit - oh jackrabbit turds, I pissed him right off - before saying in flawless English, “It is your turn.”
Oh. Jesse thinks lamely. English.
“Oh uh, thanks, partner,” Jesse says awkwardly, glancing back towards the counter where one of the chefs is waiting with an expression of stern politeness that is fading into increasing annoyance. Jesse makes eye contact with the chef and she gives him a small handwave of “hurry up, tourist, I don’t have all day.”
“Uh…” Jesse glances back sheepishly at the man behind me, giving him an embarrassed smile, “You wouldn’t happen to know which one is the spicy pork ramen, would you?”
The man’s scowl fades for a quick second before returning, and he says with startlingly serious focus, “Oh. You can’t read it.”
“Uh…no, sorry ‘bout that, darlin’,” Jesse apologizes without thinking and the man raises an eyebrow, asking, “‘Darling?’”
OH FUCK ME AND MY DUMB ASS
Why, yes, please do, the wiseass side of Jesse cracks in his head and he fucking flounders over the barrage of shame and embarrassment and attraction.
“Oh, damn, shit, sorry - oh cheese on a cracker, I shouldn’t be swearing, oh god you’re gonna think I was never taught manners - shoot, sugar, I’m so sorry, it’s a bad habit I got from my pa and - Shit, I just did it again - sorry, it’s been a long trip here and, oh Lord, I just swore again, this is so embarrassing -”
A startled look of wonder blossoms on the man’s face and if Jesse wasn’t so fucking flustered, he would love to try and mentally catalogue how the man looks so open and surprised. Jesse is in the middle of tripping over his words when the unthinkable happens.
A miracle occurs.
The man gives a surprisingly broad and genuinely happy grin and starts to laugh.
The cord is held in your hand after being quickly pulled from the wall. You’re kneeled down to the floor near your computer while you’re trying to catch your breath. Now the PC has been unplugged.
It all happened so fast. First, you remembered your mouse on the “Reset Character” button and now you’ve rushed to unplug your device.
As you begin to lie down, your eyes water while your mind tries to comprehend everything that’s happened.
That Natural Disaster game was the perfect moment to just let it happen. A chance to leave all of this behind, but there was a rush that hit you like a speeding train, you felt your heart pounding, and you exit out of the menu at the last second. Why did you hesitate? Why did you do that?
Maybe it was the thought of death that horrified you. Thinking about what happens after that, and where you go. Your vision feels blurry, and you begin to shut your eyes with tears streaming down your face. You place the empty hand on your thumping heart as your body begins to feel numb and heavy. You were so close to just letting it happen because you are so tired from all this. Tired from the constant encounters, the stars, the distancing from your friends—
Your friends.
Suddenly, you remembered that interaction with Dragon. You’ve sent him two quick messages, you told him that you could do his video. But look at where you are now. You’ve left him hanging, just like how you’ve done multiple times before. He’s been waiting for weeks, holding it off for you. You’ve messed up and ran away again. You always mess up.
But you can’t bring yourself to get online right now. Despite how much you want to go back for Dragon, you need a moment to pull yourself together. After all, you almost died. You look up trying to find the clock. 11:01 PM. It’s only been a couple minutes. You take a deep breath, wipe the tears off your eyes, and get up from the floor albeit you had a hard time balancing yourself. You walk over to your room, doing your best to keep your footsteps silent. You know you’ll barely get any sleep tonight, especially after that, but you didn’t wanna continue laying down on the floor like that.
As you head to your room, with blinds already covering the window and the door being shut, you immediately lay down on your back on the bed. Your eyes feel blank as they stare at the ceiling, your chest still aching a little.
You’ll continue the video with Dragon tomorrow. Just apologize and tell him that your parents called you. He’ll surely believe that. Keep making excuses and hopefully, that guilt will fade. It’s for the better.
i’m gonna use ellipsus as a way to send in my writings from now on cuz I don’t have dark mode on for google docs and I don’t like being flashbanged all the time
here is a platonic sixtyspades fic that’s will to live related. Just smth light-hearted as I work on other stuff https://write.ellipsus.com
