people have probably been much more eloquent than me in saying this, but as a penguins fan i am absolutely disgusted at their decision to go to the white house, especially given the circumstances of today. their dumbass statement could not be anymore tone deaf and shows where they truly stand on these issues. “respecting the position of president” is such bullshit because this is so much more than politics; this isn’t democrat vs. republican, this is right vs. wrong. trump has consistently showed us that he does not care about anyone who is not a straight, white male. he attacked the NFL and called the players who kneel “sons of bitches” and said they should be fired. in only 8 months of his presidency, he has said so many bigoted things and even today he signed a new travel ban as the old one expired. he is a terrible, disgusting excuse for a human and the penguins had the opportunity to take a stand and do something right, but they showed us today they do not give a fuck about their minority fans and will do what is in their best interests, with no care for anyone else at all.
every time i see batman i get the urge to hold my heart and fawn, like an old church-going woman who wears fake pearls from belk when she hears her nephew caught the winning pass at the high school football game. i’m so proud. i feel like a mother lovingly watching her baby swing around on the jungle gym, telling random strangers all about how he’s grown so much recently, i can barely buy enough clothes to keep up! like every time i catch the silhouette of those pointy ears, i’m like, “ahh, there he is. dominator of the rental space in my heart. my big fuck-up baby. he had a feeling today and didn’t immediately lock himself in a cave to scream at the bats, and i’m proud of him for that. at this rate, by 2054 we’ll graduate him to two feelings. my tiny justice turtle is doing so well, i believe in him. i love him and if you take that from me i will slit your abdominal cavity with an exacto knife and feed your bloated organs to a herd of pigs.”
that piece about time travelling Neil....... it's amazing, can you elaborate?
Hi! thanks so much for being interested…I haven’t written for aftg in a while, but I’ve been inspired lately so I’m giving it a second go
Also, wanted to share this:
there is a rl game of stick ball happening outside my window right now…I see you, kevin…
Anyways, you read the other part of Loneliest Lighthere!
Millport, Arizona is a lonely town. Houses are empty and left crumbling, and Neil finds a space to call his own amongst the rats and the crows and the dust.
What was this neighbourhood like, when it was alive? Would the air have been brisk, filling his lungs until they couldn’t fill any more? Would the evenings be saturated with laughter and colour and —
What? Neil isn’t familiar with the mechanics of a happy neighbourhood, so he doesn’t know what else would make a happy neighbourhood. Perhaps all it would take is the absence of the Butcher of Baltimore.
Neil would try it, if he could, to see what this neighbourhood was like. But he’s not very good at controlling where he goes. It’s been worse, ever since his mother died. He’s…aimless. Lost.
Playing exy helps. The physicality of it, the adrenaline — it helps to keep him in the present. When he’s running across the court, he doesn’t need the cracks in time to pull him in and take him away — on his own two feet, he can fly.
Months pass — the final buzzer goes and Neil stomach is bruised when the butt end of a racket slams into him.
“God damn it, Minyard. This is why we can’t have nice things.”
“Oh, Coach,” someone said over Neil’s head. “If he was nice, he wouldn’t be any use to us, would he?”
“He’s no use to us if you break him.”
Neil blinks once — light, and a hand on the back of his neck. Blood on the mirror, blood on the tiles. Happy 19th Birthda — twice, Andrew Minyard towers over him, the tightness of his grip on the stolen racket betraying the blankness of his expression.
Andrew Minyard’s ability presses him to the ground, holding him captive and making his stomach churn. He radiates power and strength, and to Neil it wouldn’t have felt any different if Andrew had his hand wrapped around his throat.
He tosses the racket to his other hand and tilts his head, feigning curiosity. He pokes Neil with the racket, and does something with his face that might have been a smile had it not been so sharp or so wicked.