#I wouldn’t have been so kind to censor your names | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

doctorbitchcrxft · 2 months ago

Text

Ghostfacers | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: reader's a little traumatized by this one, angst, canon violence, canon gore, slightly NSFW (MDNI 18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 6023

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

“Do we have to do this?” you asked Dean.

“Unfortunately, yeah,” he replied.

You, Dean, and Sam were heading toward the lair of “the Ghostfacers,” as they had dubbed themselves; otherwise known as the “mooks”— Dean’s words, not yours— you’d met at the Hell House in Texas.

After exchanging some awkward “hello”s with them, you settled into lawn chairs in the Ghostfacers’ “office,” otherwise known as Ed’s parents’ garage.

You and Dean had been to Batman Begins in theaters a few months prior, and from that experience, you knew neither of you would be capable of silence during this viewing of the Ghostfacers’ documentary.

With Dean on your right, Sam to your left, and the Ghostfacers sitting in front of you, you turned your attention to the projector one of them had set up and aimed at the garage door.

***

The screen faded in on Harry and Ed sitting in fancy chairs holding glasses of brandy and wearing suits.

“Hello. I am Harry Spengler”

“And I am Ed Zeddmore. Now if you have received this tape, you must be some sort of bigwig network executive. Well, today is your lucky day, mister.”

“Because the unsolicited pilot you are about to watch is the bold new future of ‘reality TV’,” Harry continued.

Ed hummed. “We know you've had it hard during the crippling writer's strike.”

“Lazy fat cats.”

“Who needs writers when you've got guys like us?”

Harry reached for a cheap dimmer switch.

***

“Why wouldn’t they edit that out?” you whispered to Dean.

“Skill issue,” Dean replied, smirking.

***

Ed appeared on-screen, voice carrying loudly through the basement once more. “Our team faced horrible horrors to bring you the footage that will change your world forever. So strap in for the scariest hour in the history of television.”

Harry stupidly continued, “In the history of your life…”

“Strap in for…”

“Ghostfacers!” Harry and Ed disjointedly exclaimed together.

Then, a horrific theme song started playing over the introduction to each of the Ghostfacers, and, to your surprise, Sam was introduced as well. The man in question went white when his face appeared on screen.

You snickered, but your laughter didn’t last long when you appeared next. Your name flashed across the screen in bold white letters while they played a clip of you pointing your finger in Harry’s face and yelling at him. Dean laughed at you, but again, his laughter was short-lived when he was introduced flipping off the camera, his finger censored by a weird drawing of a skull.

You turned to him smirking, and he jokingly rolled his eyes at you.

***

“You know,” Ed began, western music playing in the background of a shot of him and Harry walking forward, “it can get kind of hard balancing our daytime careers with our nighttime missions.”

“Yeah, but Ed and I pretty much call the shots at the Kinko's where we work, so we can usually pretty much get off by six every night?” Harry chimed in.

***

You shot a look at Dean.

***

The video continued. “Yeah, six o'clock. It used to be just, you know, you and I taking on the cases— just Harry and me.”

“Two lone wolves,” Harry added, his face appearing on-screen again.

“And two lone wolves need, uh… other wolves,” Ed finished.

***

“I can’t tell if I find their remarkable stupidity endearing or not,” you whispered to Dean.

***

“Morning, 'facers,” on-screen Ed announced.

“It's seven p.m., dude,” Spruce chimed in from behind the camera.

“It's morning to a Ghostfacer,” Harry said. “Corbett, what do we got, buddy?”

“Oh, I'm just putting up some of the—”

Ed cut Corbett off. “Yeah, this has got to go up here. That's got to go here. got to see the whole field. Markers, eraser— good job.”

Then, the video cut to Corbett introducing himself. “I first saw Ed putting up flyers down at the— the outlet mall in Scogan, so I- I read one, and I thought to myself, ‘huh. Where do ghosts come from?’ And now here I am.” He smiled awkwardly.

“Ed, your sister's abusing staff,” Harry said, appearing back on screen.

“That's adopted sister, thank you very much,” Ed replied.

It then cut to Maggie, the sister in question. “Ed has been obsessed with the supernatural since we were kids, y’know, and then he meets Harry at computer camp. And love at first geek.”

***

“I genuinely do enjoy her,” you whispered to Dean.

“What, you got a crush?” he whispered back.

“Hell, no. Harry can have her,” you said, nudging his cheek with your nose playfully.

***

“Spruce here.” He’d turned the camera around on himself. “What up, playa?” It then cut to him driving a cart picking up golf balls. “I am fifteen-sixteenths Jew, one-sixteenth Cherokee. My grandfather is a mohel, my great-grandfather was a tallis maker, and my great-great-grandfather was a degenerate gambler and had a peyote addiction.”

It cut back to the interior of the garage.

“Okay, people,” asserted Ed. “Let's cut the chatter and get on a mission. Okay? Morton house. One of our big fish. Alright, we all know the legend. Every four years, supposedly, this becomes the most haunted place in America.”

“The leap year ghost, some call it,” Harry added. “The ghost returns at midnight just as February 29th begins.”

“And no one has ever stayed the night, right?” Maggie chimed in.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, well, every testimony that we dug up, every eyewitness has cut and run well before midnight.”

“Well, that's all about to change, baby,” Ed commented.

Harry nodded proudly beside Ed. “Absolutely true, Ed. Absolutely true.”

***

Dean leaned down to you. “You think they’ve ever fucked?”

“Oh, definitely,” you answered.

***

Corbett handed Ed a coffee. “Mmm. That's good,” Ed told Harry. “It's French vanilla, 'cause the other day, you said how much you liked it, so…” Corbett cut his own rambling off.

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

Then, Harry appeared in the driver’s seat of his car. “I like Corbett. I do. Shows up early, does his job, lot of good hustle out—” Suddenly, Corbett knocked on the window of the car and waved.

Harry awkwardly waved back. “I think he's got the hots for Ed, and that could spell trouble for the whole team.”

The camera cut back to Corbett. “Ed's kind of the more rugged, with that really golden… beautiful sort of beard. Definitely nice. Uh, and Harry's nice.”

While the antics on-screen continued, you reflected on how you’d ended up in this situation.

***

Coincidentally, Dean had always had an interest in busting up the Morton house. According to him, it was your “Grand Canyon” as Dean called it; whatever that meant. And with Dean running out of time, you and Sam were eager to appease him.

When you looked back at the screen, the Ghostfacers had broken into the Morton House, as had you and the Winchesters.

You remembered seeing the van Harry and Ed had driven their friends to the house in as you approached the house with Sam and Dean. From there, you and the brothers were as silent as possible while moving into the house.

***

Either Corbett or Ed had a camera on their head when you confronted them upon your entrance into the house.

“This is spooky, man. This place…” Ed trailed off.

Three flashlights appeared on screen with the three of you in shadow.

“Freeze!” Dean demanded. “Police officers! Don’t move! Let's see some identification.”

Corbett began to panic while you and the brothers confronted them. ““What— are we under— under arrest?”

“We are unarmed!” Ed squeaked.

“Oh, god,” Corbett mumbled, handing his wallet to you.

For the first time, your face was visible on-screen. “What’s with the get-up, Mr…” you trailed off, reading the I.D. in his wallet, “Corbett?”

“I know you,” said Ed.

Apparently, you’d recognized him at the same time. Still, you chose to keep up the act. “Yeah, sure. Lemme see your I.D.”

“Yeah, ho—” Ed snorted. “Whoa, hold on a second. I know all three of you guys. Yeah!”

“What?” Corbett asked.

“Holy shit!” Sam cursed.

Dean hadn’t caught on by that point. “What?”

“West Texas,” you rolled your eyes. “The Hell House. These fuckers almost got us killed.”

“Yeah, the hellhounds or something?” Sam remembered.

“Fuck me,” Dean sighed.

***

Pulling your eyes from the screen, you turned to Dean. “You’ve got a face for camera. Anybody ever tell you that?”

A chuckle rumbled deep in Dean’s chest while the interaction continued on-screen.

***

Ed had informed his friend Corbett that the three of you weren’t cops.

Dean was asking Ed where Harry was.

“He's running around, chasing ghosts,” Ed had told him.

“Okay, well, listen, you and Rambo need to get your girlfriends and get out of here,” Dean grumbled.

“Alright, listen here, chisel chest, okay?”

You snorted at Ed’s comment, both in the video and while watching it.

“We were here first. We've already set up base camp. We beat you.” On-screen Dean rolled his eyes, mockingly telling you, “They were here first.” He grabbed Ed’s shoulder.

Ed’s face paled, and he said, “Oh, god.”

***

You smiled proudly at your boyfriend as you watched the video.

***

“Where's your partner?” Dean growled in Ed’s face.

***

Dean leaned over to whisper to you as the video continued, “You look a little uncomfortable, sweetheart, you okay?”

He had obviously noticed the way you pressed your thighs together. “Fuck you,” you whispered in response. You turned your attention back to the video.

***

Spruce, Maggie, and Harry were poking around somewhere in the Morton House. They’d stumbled across the first of the death echoes you’d encountered that night.

Back in the living room, Dean was interrogating Ed. “What are you doing in the Morton House, Ed— on leap year— what are you thinking?”

“We're here to spend the night, okay? It's for our TV show,” Ed scoffed.

Sam’s eyebrows shot up as the camera turned to him. “What? Great. Perfect.”

“Yeah, nobody's ever spent the night before,” Corbett replied from behind the camera.

“Uh, actually, yeah, they have,” you said.

“Well, princess, we’ve never heard of them,” Harry replied.

“Don’t call me that!” you snapped, stepping up to him. “The ones that have, haven’t lived to talk about it!”

Ed shrank away from you. “Oh, come on, I don't believe you.”

*** Dean leaned down to your ear. “Can you yell at me like that?”

You shoved his head away from yours, cheeks burning.

***

“Look: missing-persons reports going back almost half a century.” Sam was showing Ed the research on the house you’d gathered. “John Graham stayed on a dare— gone. Julie Wilkerson— gone. There are tons more. All of them came to just stay the night through, always on a leap year. The only body they ever found was the last owner, Freeman Daggett.”

“These look legit,” said Ed.

“That’s because they are, dimwit,” you told him.

Sam kept going. “Look, Ed, we ain't got much time here, buddy. Starting at midnight, your friends are going to die.”

Harry, Maggie, and Spruce ran into the living room screaming about the apparition they saw in their bizarre ghost-classifying nomenclature.

“Hey, aren't those the dickheads from Texas?” Harry asked Ed, suddenly noticing the three of you were in the room.

“Alright, let's have this reunion across the street, guys,” Dean encouraged dryly.

Harry spoke over Dean as he continued to urge them outside. “Crap. What are you guys doing here?”

Maggie pulled up footage on her laptop of the apparition which you began to pay attention to. It was of a man in a sharp, 1920s-style suit, who then got blown away by an invisible gun shot.

You lightly hit Dean’s arm to get him to walk away from the group, and Spruce followed the three of you walking off with his camera. “Death echo, guys,” you said.

“Think we’re off on this?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, but what's it doing here? Did anybody get shot here?” Dean replied.

“No, not that we could find,” you told him.

“What’s a death echo?” Spruce piped up from behind the camera.

You sighed and turned to him. “Look, there’s a real problem here. But that ghost ain’t it.”

“What's a death echo?” Spruce repeated.

Dean was clearly exasperated. “Echoes are trapped in a loop, okay? They keep replaying how they died over and over and over again; usually in the place where they were ganked. It's about as dangerous as a scary movie.”

“So the echo’s not our goon,” you added. “Something else is, though.”

“You're right,” Dean nodded. “Alright, we need to get out of here, guys. Come on. Let's go. Let's go. Let's go. Pack it up.”

You helped the boys shove the Ghostfacers toward the door despite their rising protests.

“Wait! Wait!” Ed shouted. “Where's Corbett?”

***

“Oh, this poor bastard,” you whispered to Dean, who shot you an empathetic look.

***

The camera then cut to the feed rolling on the camera attached to Corbett’s head.

“I wish to communicate with the restless spirits here,” Corbett’s voice carried through the upstairs room. Then, the camera and the lights flickered. Corbett switched on his night vision. As soon as he flipped the camera around to himself, a ghostly, looming figure appeared behind him.

The camera cut back to the living room.

***

“That’s not a bad editing choice,” Dean told you.

You slapped him lightly, knowing poor Corbett’s fate.

***

“No man left behind,” Ed was saying on the screen.

Suddenly, Corbett’s scream echoed through the speakers in the garage. You shut your eyes and squeezed Dean’s hand, knowing the unfortunate fate Corbett had suffered.

Ed’s face appeared on screen when you reopened your eyes. “That was Corbett.”

The Ghostfacers were making a run for the second floor while you and the Winchesters protested.

“Guys!” Sam called. “Fuck!”

The camera cut to the remaining Ghostfacers searching for their friend among harrowing screams.

Spruce caught sight of you searching for the missing man. “Corbett!” you called.

“Help me!” Came his anguished reply.

The Winchesters took Spruce and began shoving him down the stairs with the rest of his group, the camera leaving you behind.

Dean made Spruce turn the camera off, which you thought was funny to watch back.

Back in the living room of the Morton House, the group was panicked. They tried to search all of the camera angles while Spruce turned his camera to you and the WInchesters bickering in the corner.

“Well, it’s 12:04, Dean,” Sam told his brother. “You good? You happy?”

“Yeah, I am happy,” Dean grumbled.

Sam continued his mockery. “ ‘Let's go hunt the Morton house,’ you said, ‘it's our Grand Canyon’.”

“Sam, I don’t wanna hear this,” Dean responded.

“You got two months left, Dean. Instead, we're gonna die tonight.”

“Lay off him, Sam,” you grunted as you picked up a chair and smashed it against the sealed front door as hard as you could.

“Whoa!” Spruce cried. “What the hell is going on, guys?”

“Every door, every window, every fucking exit of this house— they’re all sealed,” you announced to the room.

“Wh— Why are they sealed?” Maggie asked you.

Dean took over the explanation. “It's a supernatural lockdown, okay? Whatever took Corbett doesn't want us to leave, and it's no death echo. This is a bad motherfucker, and it wants us scared.”

“Or it just wants us,” Maggie suggested.

The EMF detector somewhere off screen went wild. The camera flickered, and Harry slid up to Maggie to hold her hand.

“Uh, guys, the camera's fritzing again,” Spruce told the group.

“Whoa. Whoa. Guys, the EMF's starting to spike. This is a big one!” Harry said.

“Everybody, stay close. There's something coming,” Sam instructed.

Another apparition appeared before the camera.

“That’s not the same echo!” you noted off-camera.

“Multiple echoes? What the hell's going on?” Dean’s frustrated grumbling came from behind the camera.

“Beats me,” Sam replied.

“Hey!” you cried, waving your arms in front of the echo’s face, form visible on-camera. “Hey, man, you’re dead! Hello!”

“What’s she doing?” Harry asked the Winchesters from behind the camera.

“It's rare, but sometimes you can shock an echo out of its loop if you can talk to the part of the ghost that's still human, but usually you have to have some kind of connection to the deceased,” Sam explained.

“You’re dead, man! Time’s up! Cross the veil, or whatever!”

The apparition flickered and turned around while the screen flickered.

“You guys hear that?” Harry whispered into the microphone.

You kept yelling at the ghost. “Yo, dude!” You jumped in front of it again. “You’re so very dead! Super dead! Wake up!” Suddenly a bright light appeared on the apparition’s stomach, and a train horn approached. It seemed as if the train hit the man as he flew backwards and disappeared.

You had cowered and covered your eyes to avoid potentially being hit by whatever was heading for the death echo.

“Where the hell did it go?” Harry asked.

The camera cut to footage of the outside of the Morton House.

***

“This is getting kinda painful,” Dean whispered to you.

“Absolutely,” you replied.

***

Back on screen, the group was following you, Sam, and Dean with the camera as you peeked around upstairs.

“Dude, there's no records of any of this here,” Dean grumbled. “No one got shot here. Obviously, no one got run over by a fuckin’ train.”

“Stay close,” you ordered the group.

“Did the echoes take Corbett?” Maggie asked from behind the camera.

“Yes. No. I don't know,” Dean huffed. “We don't know what's doing what here; that's what we're trying to figure out, okay?”

“Okay, look, um, death echoes are ghosts, okay?” Sam was now close to the camera and talking into it. “Now, ghosts, they usually haunt places where they lived or where they died.”

“Except these mooks didn't live or die here,” Dean added from a few feet ahead.

“So, what are they doing here?” Maggie asked. “Hey, give the lady a cigar.” Dean turned to the camera. “Alright, seriously, does looking at this nightmare through that camera make you feel better or something? I mean…” He trailed off, frustrated.

A string of disjointed replies ended in, “Uh, yeah. I think so.”

The smirk on Dean’s face faded. “Oh.” He kept walking forward. He led the group into a room where deer heads and kills of Freeman Daggett hung on the walls.

“Freeman Daggett, house's last owner, officially commended for twenty years of fine service at the Gamble General Hospital.” The camera turned to Sam, holding a broken frame with a certificate inside he’d just read from.

“He was a doctor?” you asked.

“Janitor,” Sam replied.

“This looks like his den. When'd you say he died— '64?” Dean chimed in.

“Yeah, heart attack,” you nodded.

“What are these, c-rations?” Maggie’s hand came out from behind the camera to point at a few objects around the room.

“Yeah, army-issued, three squares; like a lifetime supply,” Dean noted.

“God, is that all he ate?” You could almost see Maggie grimacing behind the camera.

“One-stop shopping,” Dean quipped.

***

“Hey,” Dean whispered as you continued watching, “this ‘Dean’ guy’s pretty funny.”

You rolled your eyes. “Egomaniac.”

***

You turned your attention back to the screen as Ed came into view. “Oh, come on, guys. This is ridiculous. I mean, how the hell is this supposed to find Corbett, huh? We should be digging up the fuckin’ floorboards right now.”

Maggie panned over to Sam. “Huh. ‘Survival Under Atomic Attack’.” He was holding a dusty pamphlet. “An optimist.”

Dean pried the safe open in the corner of the camera’s view. “Crap. Crap. Taxidermy. Okay. You said Daggett was a hospital janitor?”

You nodded.

“Ew,” he grimaced. “Got three toe tags here: one, death by gunshots, train accident, and suicide.”

“Oh, shit,” you sighed. “Well, hello, death echoes. Their bodies ‘ve gotta be somewhere in the house, then.”

“Daggett brought the remains home from the morgue. To… play,” Dean explained to the camera.

A chorus of disgusted sounds came from around the room of the Morton House.

Maggie moved the camera across a mirror and clearly startled herself. Dean tried to herd her closer, and the camera landed on you and Dean standing next to Sam. Then, the camera flickered, and you were gone.

You grimaced watching what happened to you. The room the ghost had brought you to smelled horrific, the scene was grotesque, and being in that room with Corbett… it was almost too much for you. You squeezed Dean’s hand at the memory.

Back on the screen, Dean was frantically shouting your name. You almost smiled at the sentiment.

“Where'd she go?” Spruce asked from behind the other camera.

Dean picked up your dropped flashlight. “(Y/N)!” he yelled.

The camera cut again, and as soon as it picked up, Dean was yelling for you again. Sam was, too, and the rest of the group was yelling for you and Corbett.

The camera swung around to face Maggie and Harry.

“God, I am so scared. I'm so scared,” Maggie said. “It's gonna be okay. It's gonna be okay, Maggie.” Harry hugged her close to him before stooping to kiss her.

Then, the camera cut to Ed in a hallway.

***

Dean grumbled, “Sure, my girl’s missing, but cut to a fuckin’ love story.”

You kissed his cheek. “I’m back now. All good.”

***

On screen, Ed stumbled upon Maggie and Harry. He immediately flipped out. “My best friend... and my best sister. Are you banging my sister?!”

“No! No!” Harry shouted back.

“Hold my glasses,” Ed sneered.

“You got it,” Spruce said from behind the camera.

Ed jumped at Harry, albeit weakly, and the tussle carried on until Dean and Sam came to break it up.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Dean roared. “Cut it out! We're down by two people. (Y/N)! Sweetheart, answer me!”

“(Y/N/N)!” Sam called. “(Y/N)!”

Their voices became distant while Spruce stayed with the group recovering from the fight.

Then, the camera cut to a night-vision camera on the table in the room you’d been brought to.

***

You squeezed Dean’s hand tighter.

***

The camera was lying awkwardly on the table across from Corbett.

“Corbett!” you whispered from off-screen. “Corbett, buddy, wake up!”

“It’s My Party” by Leslie Gore was playing statically in the background.

You remembered the table in front of you had been set with a cake, confetti, and party hats.

“(Y/N)?” Corbett whispered weakly.

“Corbett, hey, you gotta keep listening to my voice, okay? I'm right here. Stay awake,” you urged him.

Off-screen, the ghost murmured, “Don’t listen.” He picked up a knife and moved behind Corbett. “It stops hurting, so don't worry.”

“Corbett, stay with me,” you pleaded.

You knew at that point you were struggling against your restraints.

“Stay with me!” your voice came from off-screen. “I’m right here, Corbett! Oh, god— no, no!”

Daggett stabbed Corbett through the throat.

***

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill these guys, I swear,” Dean muttered to you having watched you tear up as you relived the horror on-screen.

“Dean, it’s fine,” you whispered back. “I’m okay now.” You sniffed.

***

“Corbett! Where'd you guys go?” Harry called on-screen. “Dean, what are you doing?”

The camera pointed to Dean rummaging through Daggett’s belongings. “Okay, so Daggett was a cold war nut, okay? He was— he was an amateur taxidermist. He liked to slow dance with cadavers, and all he ate were c-rations, so what the hell are we looking for?!”

“Horrible little life,” Maggie commented.

“Dean, that’s it,” Sam realized.

Maggie turned the camera toward the younger brother.

“He was scared!” exclaimed Sam. He took off into another room.

Dean followed close behind.

Another camera closer to Corbett showed you on the opposite end of the table from him. On either side of you were two rotted corpses. The smell of that horrible room would never be erased from your mind.

“Get away from me,” you begged on-screen. You struggled even harder against your binds.

“This won't hurt,” Daggett sing-songed. “It's okay. It's okay. Relax. Relax.” He strapped a party hat onto your head.

The camera cut to Corbett, who was slumped over dead at the other end of the table.

***

“I swear, I’ll never forget what that looked like,” you whispered to Dean, referring to what Corbett’s corpse looked like six feet away from your face.

***

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Where are you going?” Maggie asked from behind the camera, the video having cut back to Dean and Sam.

“Guys like Daggett back then, the ones who were really scared of the Russians,” Sam explained, “they built bomb shelters.”

“I'm guessing he's got one. I'll bet you it's in the basement,” Dean added.

Suddenly, Dean and Sam were cut off from Harry, Ed, and Maggie while Spruce was with them.

Dean yelled from behind the door, “It wants to separate us! Ed! listen to me! There's some salt in my duffel. Make a circle and get inside.” The group did as they were told despite some minor miscommunications.

Spruce’s camera showed Sam and Dean running down the basement stairs.

The camera cut back to the Ghostfacers getting in the salt circle.

“Harry, listen— listen to me, okay? listen. If we don't die... it's totally okay if you, uh, do my sister,” Ed told Harry.

Maggie pushed Ed from behind her camera.

“Ow!”

The camera flickered again.

“Hey guys, hey guys, it's coming again,” Maggie said.

The group huddled together as the lights continued to flicker around the Morton House, but Corbett appeared in front of them. He was bloody, the wound gnarly and gushing.

“Oh,” Ed muttered. “Corbett.”

Cutting back to Spruce, he had a question for Sam. “Hey, can I ask you something?” “What?” Sam asked.

“Earlier, you said he has three months left?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “A while ago—” Dean cut him off. “No, no, no. We’re not gonna whine about our fuckin’ problems to some shitty reality show. I’m gonna do my fuckin’ job.”

“Is it cancer?” Spruce asked after a moment.

“Shut up,” Dean growled.

“You hear that?” asked Sam, shushing Spruce and Dean.

The camera cut back to you.

“I've been waiting for some more friends. I get lonely. But you're coming to my party, aren't you?” Daggett asked you, his melodic voice haunting.

You were crying by this point and trying to get to the dagger in your jacket sleeve. “Dean, help me!” you screamed, voice raw.

Dean squeezed your hand and traced circles on it with his thumb.

“Is that music?” asked Spruce, the video returning to Dean and Sam.

“Yeah, it's coming from behind this wall,” said Sam.

Dean shoved a cabinet away from the wall single-handedly.

“Wow, you're strong,” Spruce commented.

Dean flipped the camera off.

***

You laughed, but your joy was soon cut off by the camera returning to you.

***

“You’ll stay a good, long time,” Daggett sang, tracing your chin with his hand.

Then, Dean burst through the door to the bomb shelter. “(Y/N)!” He shot at Daggett while Sam untied you.

You hugged Sam briefly before throwing yourself into Dean’s arms. He hugged you close to him and buried his face in your hair.

Spruce panned his camera around the room to reveal the other guests at the party and Corbett, the new addition.

“Oh, no, Corbett,” Spruce sighed.

Back in the living room, Ed, Harry, and Maggie were still in the salt ring. The group realized the poor man was now a death echo.

The camera cut back to you, Spruce, Sam, and Dean.

“What's this Daggett guy's problem anyway?” Spruce asked you.

“Loneliness,” you said.

“What, he's never heard of a Realdoll?” Dean scoffed.

“Shut up,” you snorted. “He’s the… Norman Bates, stuff-your-mother kind of lonely. He threw himself a party, and the corpses he stole were the only ones that would come. If he wasn’t so scary, I think I’d feel bad for him. Anyway, so, at midnight, he sealed them in the bomb shelter and O.D.’d on horse tranqs upstairs.”

“How do you know this?” Sam asked.

“He told me,” you replied.

“Jesus,” Sam murmured.

“Okay, so now that he's dead, what? Same song, different verse, trying to get people to come to his party?” Dean wondered aloud.

“Pretty much, yeah. Stay forever,” Sam nodded.

Spruce paused and pointed the camera down to Sam’s and Dean’s guns. “Are those real bullets?”

“It’s rock salt,” replied Dean.

In the living room, Harry was quietly singing the Ghostfacers theme song to himself. Corbett kept coming in and out of view.

“We gotta try and pull him out of his loop. We have to,” Ed mumbled, more to himself than the others.

Ed stood to face Corbett.

“Ed?” Harry asked.

“Corbett. Corbett, it’s— Oh, god.”

“Don't cross the line of salt,” Harry insisted.

“I gotta do it, Harry.” He hesitated but stepped over the line of salt. “Corbett, listen to me. Okay, I'm not gonna hurt you. Listen. Listen. Oh, god. Corbett. Oh.”

“Get back!” Harry told his friend.

Corbett started to flicker, and Ed quickly moved back into the circle.

***

“This is such crap, (Y/N), they’re profiting off this guy’s death,” Dean whispered.

“Cool it, okay? I’ll handle it,” you said.

***

On the video, Dean was trying to break down the basement door still separating you, the Winchesters, and Spruce from the others.

Sam turned to face the camera. “Seriously, you’re still shooting?”

“It makes him feel better. Don't ask,” Dean responded, out of breath.

The video continued to show the Ghostfacers trying to snap Corbett out of it by playing into the crush he had on Ed while you and the brothers were fending off Daggett in the basement.

Harry convinced Ed to pretend to be in love with Corbett to snap him out of it.

Hesitantly, Ed stepped out of the circle again. “Corbett, look. Hey, it's just Ed, buddy. It's just me. Hey, hey, Corbett, listen to me. Listen to me. I— You meant... Corbett, you meant a lot to the team. You meant— You meant a lot to me. You know, never back down. I remember that, Corbett. I- I remember that. I remember because I love you, Corbett. I really, truly love you.”

“Hey,” Corbett said. “Ed?”

“Yeah. Yeah, Corbett, it's…” Ed trailed off, surprised by what he’d been able to do. “Corbett, yeah, it's me. It's me. look at me. You got to help us, man. you have to help us, Corbett. Please. please. Please help us right now.”

The camera cut back to the basement where you and Sam were holding shotguns and Dean was continuing to try and break down the door. Suddenly, Daggett appeared behind Dean.

“Dean, look out!” you screamed, shooting at Dagget. You missed, and your gun clicked to let you know you were out of rocksalt. “Fuck!”

Dean went sailing past your head into the wall, followed by Sam, and then Daggett kept stalking forward to you and Spruce.

Suddenly, Corbett appeared behind Daggett. In a flash of blinding light, both spirits were gone.

Spruce turned the camera toward you running to Dean and Sam on the floor.

“You okay, guys?” you asked them, helping them sit up.

Dean picked himself up, dusted himself off, and shoved the camera to point toward the floor.

***

You laughed at his sourpuss attitude.

***

The epilogue showed you and the Winchesters bidding the others goodbye with Ed voicing over the background. “Leap year, February 29th, the Morton House. A tragic day. A day of souls bound in torment, of lives held in cruel balance. But the Ghostfacers, they did the best that they could.”

“We lost a beloved friend, but we gained new allies,” Harry continued.

It then cut to the two in their suits again.

“We know this much: that every day, including today, is a new beginning. We learned more than we can say in the brutal feat of the Morton House.”

***

Ed’s dramatic, phony voice was making you angry given the situation.

“You’re tense,” Dean whispered to you. “Relax.”

***

“You know, Corbett, we just— we just like to think that you're out there, watching over us,” Ed was saying back on-screen.

“As far as we're concerned, you're not an intern anymore. You have more than earned full Ghostfacer status. Plus, it would be cool to have a ghost on the team,” Harry added.

“And here we were thinking that, you know, we were teaching you and all this time you were teaching us, about heart, about dedication, and about how gay love can pierce through the veil of death and save the day. Thank you, Alan J. Corbett.”

“Go well into that starry night, young Turk. Go well,” Harry finished.

The camera cut to a clip of Corbett, and you were genuinely saddened for the sweet young man.

“Come on, Spruce, I gotta get all this stuff packed up!” he was saying to his friend.

“So, pack and talk!”

“I don't know what to say.”

“Say what comes to mind. This is one of our confessional moments, Corbett, so confess,” Spruce pressed. “What did you think was going to happen tonight? What do you think is going to happen on this trip?”

“I think tonight, I really do, I think all of our dreams are going to come true. Does that sound stupid?” Corbett smiled.

“Kind of does, yeah.”

“In Memory of Alan J. Corbett, 1985-2008 King of the Impossible,” flashed across the screen, and the video ended.

***

Genuinely, you and the WInchesters were stunned.

All of the Ghostfacers stood and turned toward you, prompting the three of you to stand as well.

“So, guys, what do you think? Are you alright?” Ed asked.

“You know, I kind of think it was half-awesome,” Dean nodded dryly.

You fought a smirk off your face at the thought of the snarky comment that was sure to follow.

“Half-awesome? That— that's full-on good, right?” Maggie rushed out happily.

Sam nodded and spoke evenly. “Yeah, um, I mean it's bizarre how you all are able to honor Corbett's memory while grossly exploiting the manner of his death. Well done.”

In the meantime, you discreetly left a backpack under the computer table. You knew Dean was the only one who’d caught sight of you and that he’d have some questions for you later.

“Corbett gave his life searching for the truth, and it's our job over here to share it with the world,” Ed told the two brothers.

“Right. Well, um, our experience, you know what you get when you show the world the truth?” Sam continued.

“A straitjacket. Or a punch in the face. Sometimes both,” Dean added.

“Oh come on, guys, don't be 'facer haters just because we happen to have gotten the footage of the century,” Harry protested.

“You got us there.” Dean held his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, c’mon, guys. We gotta hit the road,” you said, walking past the brothers toward the door.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, where you goin’, dollface? We didn’t really have much time to, uh, rekindle our connection,” Ed awkwardly flirted, chasing after you.

You scoffed. “ ‘Our connection’? What the fuck are you—”

Dean got between you and Ed. “We’re leaving now.”

Ed backed off immediately. “Yeah! Yeah, okay. You, uh—”

“Shut up already, will you?” Dean grumbled, leading you out of the door with a hand on the small of your back.

“Bye, guys,” Sam told them.

As Dean led you away from the house, Sam turned to you. “What’d you do? We clean?”

You stopped by the door of the Impala, smirking when you heard someone— possibly Ed— scream, “N0!” in the distance.

“Electromagnet. Every tape and hard drive they have is clean,” you grinned.

Sam mockingly sighed, “The world just isn't ready for the Ghostfacers,” as he ducked down into the car.

“It's too bad. I kinda liked the show,” Dean remarked, closing his door after settling in his car seat.

“It had its moments,” Sam noted.

“That theme song is abhorrent though,” you chimed in. “And a total ear worm.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, that’ll be stuck in my head for at least the next hundred miles.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #supernatural series rewrite #spn #spn series rewrite

138 notes · View notes

writingreadingdaydreaming · 8 months ago

Note

the round table sounds like a fun idea (in a so-much-angst-to-unpack fun of course) could you go into more detail? is there like episodes where they focus on different things or is more of a focus group on how to make things better for omegas in football? do they focus primarily on the professional challenges they face but with some personal struggles talked about as well like roy’s trauma? and would they be able to call out specific clubs? because part of me thinks they wouldn’t be allowed to just for sake of not “damaging the reputation” but if they’re retired maybe they just don’t care and then the clubs they call out scramble to create some generic “wow it’s so sad that happened to you but that has nothing to do with us because we’ve changed since then!” even though they barely have

AAAAAAAAAH ANON I LOVE YOU SO MUCH omg the DETAIL

Anyways lemme dive in head first and answer all your wonderful questions!!!

1. It’s filmed as a full-length, minimally edited documentary. Basically there’s only ever one video released but said video is nearly two hours long.

2. They would be talking about private and personal matters alike, because ultimately their private lives were being affected by football. For example, Roy feels he might have been able to get away from his abuser much early had he not had it drilled into him by coaches to never question the authority and to never show weakness, which therefore lead him to jump on and open himself up to manipulation by the first person who allowed him to show any kind of vulnerability. Gareth Bale’s point about medical negligence and the birth of his son showed the incompetence of the Real Madrid medical team, as no one managed to diagnose his broken tailbone that was putting him in extreme amount of pain for nearly five years. Del Piero, Steven Gerrard, Kaka and Fernando Torres all have slightly different messages but all touch on the same thing which is inappropriate behaviour towards omegas and assault, which ran rampant throughout football and in many clubs, even up at the coaching level. Vidic and Ian Wright both talk about how they felt they had to fight dirty and be aggressive to be taken seriously on the pitch. Zlatan talks about how there are no FIFA laws or guidelines dictating how clubs can or should handle an omega player having a miscarriage, as he had multiple and never received any support from his clubs themselves. Personal issues all mangle into professional lives too, cause in football, you can’t really leave your personal life at home cause football is your life.

3. Unfortunately no, they wouldn’t be able to call out particular clubs or players. The video is produced by the FOC (FIFA Omega’s Collective), who at the end of the day are a branch of FIFA. They can’t be seen ‘unfairly’ taunting the name of certain clubs when they don’t have physical proof. That is the part that would have to be censored as they would need everything to be very legally sound. Obviously the players in question could talk about certain clubs (eg Torres talks about how unsafe he felt after his move to Chelsea) as long as they aren’t making accusations about the club or its players.

3 notes · View notes

corruptedcadavers · 1 month ago

Note

hi!! not for the ask game, and sorry this is out of nowhere, but—i wanted to ask if you wouldn’t mind changing how you tag your posts so that they aren’t all in the main tags for the movie/characters? i enjoy seeing rp blogs out and about, but it’s just a lot of rp posts to scroll through when i’m browsing the tags :’-)

i know a lot of rp blogs use custom tags that don’t use characters’ full names/the media’s title, or stuff that censors their names (such as #r.eed)—if doing something like that would work for you, i’d really appreciate it 🙏

no need to post/respond to this publicly if you don’t want to—and have a good day!

CRACKS KNUCKLES alr chat hello hello it is your awesomesauce mod boy or whatever DEW I've gotten TWO of these so i wanted to say i did nawt mean to spam them :sob: i fear that ive done those kinds of tags be4 with other fandoms (saw primarily,) and i forgot how small this one is so arhghh sorry everybody lol BUT i will try and not spam them :L (I didnt even know I was spamming LMAOO ive been posting on and off throughout the day) but yas i will certainly work around this AARGHHH (thank yuo for being nice ab it LOL and for giving me ideas on other ways to tag)

#†- ADMIN.#supah dupah important

0 notes

because--palestine · 2 months ago

Text

Radio station just censored the word ‘Devil’

Clearly, we are on a different level

I guess you wouldn’t notice

all the rolling boulders,

crashing past your shoulders

when you’re taught to shift your focus lower,

scream at all the pebbles

Cheering on the bombers,

cause you can’t abide the rebels

But I bet you’ll Wring your bloody hands

when all the dust has settled

When the last little limb

is pulled from Gaza’s twisted metal

Then you can say how you were led astray,

and never once, in all your days,

would you have knowingly supported

all the genocide

for which you clapped and prayed

But they baited you

with unconfirmed blurbs about babies

until you were filled with rage

Yet, someone told you babies

had been starving, bombed, and caged

for nearly 80 years in Gaza,

and you looked the other way

So, Regret, but make it fashion,

Go and pluck the final petal

off a hyacinth on Instagram,

for every kid they kettled

Every son that Israel imprisoned

when they’re little,

that they tortured for a decade,

then surprised with their acquittal,

and when they got released,

and saw their parents,

and whatever siblings hadn’t met the missiles,

they stared right through their middle

Their eyes don’t seem to focus

And their words are all but dribble

Like they’re pondering the darkest riddle;

That is, How many false flags does it take

to make humanity inhuman and uncivil?

Distorted by the revel?

The crooked slant where Israel

contorts into America,

Biden bathing Bibi in a bloodbath in the bevel

I opened up my feed

and I saw children disassembled.

Turned some music on, and heard the station censor ‘Devil’.

Imagine thinking Doja Cat’s

a threat to moral fabric

in the single largest terror cell

that ever felled a temple.

That ever sparked a cleansing.

That ever burned a market.

That ever raped with bayonets,

or carpet-bombed apartments.

That ever turned your water off

and left you in the darkness.

Left you doing surgery on children

while they’re conscious.

You sing the devil’s praises

every time you sing our anthem.

You sing a hymn to him that watched us

birth a million phantoms

You’ll proudly wave his flag,

and yet you will not name the devil?

Well, clearly, we are on a different level.

I can give you names,

shit,

I’ll give you several.

They say the devil

wears a different face

for every General.

Like a composite of the char

we brought to fields of emerald

And the wail of every childhood

we made ephemeral

So, who else has left the stain of blood

on everything they touch?

Who else can starve civilians,

and they don’t so much as blush?

Who else has paid for Gaza

being flattened into dust?

If there’s ever been a devil on this earth,

then it is US!

That’s U-S.

What an ugly couple letters

Feeding shit and ignorance

to those it chose to tether

From the river to the sea,

both are slowly growing redder,

For the devil that you know

just knows you better.

It knows every gut reaction

it could ever make you feel

It knows fear is that which wakes you up

and gets you on your wheel

It knows just the kind of story

that will justify it’s war

And the script’s a wrap for World War Four

So, just imagine my surprise

to give the radio a listen

and to hear such pious morals

out of Zionists and Christians

That they’d take the Devil’s name

and try to clip it from existence

while they carry out his bloody business

You would wave a fascist flag,

and yet, you honor not, your Iblis?

Name you, not, Apollyon?

Hush you, now, your witness?

Bleed the name of Belial

til tongue is rolling, listless,

in the man-made mouth of Mammon

as Lamia’s whispers listen

When carts are wheeling bodies

through the cities that we crushed

and the very air is rotten

with decay of all that was

Who else would censor ‘Devil’

yet behave as Legion does?

If there’s ever been a Devil on this earth,

then it is U.S.

U-S.

But not a unity of souls,

More a mass of corporations

Turning houses into holes

Turning people into puppets

Turning puppets into mold

Turning mold into nutrition bars

worth their weight in gold

Cause they’re bombing every bakery.

Burning every field

With phosphorus that never, once,

has wanted for a meal

The Devil wears a mask,

and it delights in the reveal.

In that moment where the face is let to peel.

We do not love the underdog.

We do not cheer the rebels.

We lust for all their blood

until the dust has finally settled.

Then pity just ourselves,

that we were so misled to revel

Proudly wave his flag,

and yet,

we will not name The Devil.

#palestine #poetry #Poem #gaza #genocide #song #Jesse Jett #censorship #resistance #the devil #lesser evil #colonialism #imperialism #war criminals #war crimes

0 notes

project1939 · 9 months ago

Text

100+ Films of 1952

Film number 113: Models, Inc.

Release date: May 19th, 1952.

Studio: Mutual, distributed by Universal

Genre: noir

Director: Reginald Le Borg

Producer: Bernard W. Burton, Hal E. Chester

Actors: Howard Duff, Colleen Gray, John Howard

Plot Summary: A beautiful young con-artist enrolls in a modeling school to seduce its wealthy owner, but when her old boyfriend gets out of prison, he has a scheme of his own. Can she really keep her criminal past away from her new rich husband?

My Rating (out of 5 stars): ***½

OK, this one was fun! For a lower budget noir, this is about as good as it can get. The acting was above par, the story was interesting, and we were blessed with amazing cheesy dialogue and a thrilling ending. It’s far from a towering achievement in film, but it’s hella entertaining. I’m definitely watching it again. (Some minor spoilers)

The Good:

Rusty, the con-woman at the center of everything. Both her character and the actress who played her were perfect for this kind of film. First of all, Rusty is a great name for a shady woman in a noir! She’s basically morally bankrupt, but it sure is fun to watch her.

Howard Duff as Lennie the ex who has been part of Rusty’s crimes. He recently impressed me in Steel Town, where he left me wishing he had gotten the girl in the end. Here he plays a bad guy with strength and aplomb. You love to hate him.

John Howard was effective as John Stafford, the millionaire in the modeling industry who succumbs to Rusty’s charms.

This was a classic sleazy crime-ridden noir in all the best ways,

A terrifically cheesy romance montage- as Rusty and John begin dating we see them go to a horse race, then an art museum, then a classical music concert, and finally a shopping scene where John lets her pick out lots of expensive clothes.

One of my favorite things about noirs is their tendency to have odd everyday characters randomly appear for comic relief or suspenseful delays. This one had a great scene near the end with a man in a bank and a slow customer ahead of Rusty as she's trying to flee.

The details about the modeling school classes were a treat to watch. (Go to the bottom of this post for the details!)

The ending was Perfect!

During a climactic shootout in an alley, we get glimpses of ads papered to the walls. As a character dodges bullets, a sign right next to him has a pouring teapot and reads, “Time for Tea,” which killed me.

There was so much great hilariously “noir” tough-talkin' dialogue. Like- “You can’t blow into town, promise me a job modeling your crummy lingerie, and after a fast pitch slough it off as a sweet dream.” Also, “That’s right, Lennie, neither of us has changed very much. Oh, a better suit or a dress maybe, but in here where it really counts, we’re still the same kids, looking for shortcuts to the rainbow.”

The Bad:

There was maybe a bit too much vagueness of what actually went on with the photo taking racket Lennie starts. I know censors at the time couldn’t outright say prostitution was involved, but...

How could John Stafford, a man who made a fortune creating models, be so stupid as to fall in love with Rusty? Her intentions seemed fairly transparent. I know love can blind a person, but you’d think he'd been around the block enough to figure it out.

During a police car chase scene, you could clearly see that no one in either car was wearing a seatbelt. Afterall, seatbelts wouldn’t be mandatory for fourteen years! (The resources I could find said it was 1966.) It sent me into a mini-panic just watching it!

------As a silly bonus, here’s the schedule on the chalkboard at the Stafford Modeling School:

9:30-10:30 Poise and Personality

10:30-10:45 Exercise

10:45-11:30 Hairstyling

11:30-12:45 Posture

12:45-2:00 Makeup

2:00-2:45 Modeling Stance

So there’s 15 minutes of exercise, but 75 minutes for posture?

#1952 #1952 movies #100 films of 1952 #200 films of 1952 #200 films of 1952 film 113

0 notes

sincerely-krp · 10 months ago

Note

regarding the information you guys presented on the hqrise situation - as an outsider/lurker - it honestly kind of feels like you guys overstepped as admins. there might have been a lot of missing information but that doesn’t take away from inserting all this information publically even if there’s good intentions to prevent the rp from closing down considering the general consensus of the current members/etc reasons.

like any anything done anonymously, even though you guys have always done your best to handle things privately and protecting people’s identities, it still doesn’t take away that an admin reaching out has the right to not be 100% trustful of what you guys are saying to them as once again - there’s only so much proof you guys can provide someone without violating your own conditions which easily equates to empty words because no solid proof is able to be presented to them no matter what.

from that pov, it’s not going to be easy to just trust what other strangers on the internet are saying for an rp they’ve curated with specific rules. if people weren’t happy with the strictness of the plot and timeline, that means that need to look somewhere else because as you also stated the admin consistently put out polls as an attempt to figure out the future of the rp together with the collective.

but there were certain phrases through your information that kind of painted the admin in a negative light for making that post with their own decisions and reasons. i don’t think picking apart their post for what they want to do and how they approached the overall situation was necessary considering they did so on their own blog to address things privately with the direct members of their collective. but by making this post - regardless of if the admin asked for clarification - it feels like this situation has been made a public situation for all of the krp community rather than kept publicly within their own community. and if the admin didn’t ask for clarification but you felt the need to provide that clarification, i honestly think it would’ve been best to just reach out to them again unless if they had explicitly stated they no longer wished to discuss the situation with you guys. from what the admin posted, i didn’t interpret any insinuation that they were pinning anything on any removed members. which kind of brings me back to my point of why i think this was unnecessary on your end as admins. you guys are provided extra information because of the proof you guys have and therefore are more aware of things that outsiders wouldn’t know even reading through all of the admin posts up to now. essentially you guys are indirect insiders which no longer puts you guys as an outside party with analyzing and interpreting proof sent to you.

overall, i don’t think it makes sense for you guys as admins of this blog to be getting directly involved in other rp’s situations like this because it will be misinterpreted in multiple ways by everyone both involved and uninvolved.

if the issue came with being mentioned by name on their blog, i feel that could have been something then discussed privately with the admin as well before jumping to this.

but that doesn’t take away from inserting all this information publically even if there’s good intentions to prevent the rp from closing down considering the general consensus of the current members/etc reasons.

our response was public because we were referenced publicly in the original post, which may have been part of the cause for the anons in our inbox, or the traffic clearly driven to our blog! if we did not address it, then we would be seen as either censoring a situation or part of the harm that was being continued against a person that we knew for sure was innocent. being given all of the context and sides and seeing the result of the admin's post was a clear indication of the hate that was being directed to the innocent member! this is why we made a post about the misleading nature of the admin's post, because it was very clear to us the takeaway from the post was that it was the single removed member who made the original anon.

it still doesn’t take away that an admin reaching out has the right to not be 100% trustful of what you guys are saying to them

this is true! however, this only makes it more relevant for us to establish why the anons or comments in our inbox from the past week will not be posted. had there been no mention of our blog, we wouldn't have felt the need to clarify what we discussed with the admin that was not presented. we were willing to discuss further with the admin as long as identifying information was not required by us to be shared, which in the past has always helped admins that reached out to us verify our proof is real and therefore our statements are not empty words!

from what the admin posted, i didn’t interpret any insinuation that they were pinning anything on any removed members. which kind of brings me back to my point of why i think this was unnecessary on your end as admins. you guys are provided extra information because of the proof you guys have and therefore are more aware of things that outsiders wouldn’t know even reading through all of the admin posts up to now.

we were not connecting ourselves to hqrise in any way prior to this, by solving things with individual muns in our dms and taking down the only post that made commentary on the krp. as we stated in our post, typically we come to our conclusions, and the only evidence of that publicly is whether or not a certain thread of conversation is never followed up again, or if we allow those pent up anons to be posted.

please keep in mind that while this was your experience, it does not represent the kinds of comments and takeaways that were given to us that made us aware of the post in the first place. as a gossip blog we don't often see 10+ messages in our inbox unless a situation has occurred and much of the krp is involved in it. the response to the original question gave us this, including actual conversation on the krp and actual explanations as well amidst the anons expressing their feelings about the steps taken. during the week after we privated the post we had bursts of inbox anons attacking the removed member. the other we had another burst in a short period of time, relating to the admin's final post.

as you mentioned, we had information that the krp did not have, the same way the admin had information that was not shared. while it is true they reached out to us and we said we could not provide that identifying material, it is also true that we ruled out for them the only member that could have been referenced as not in the krp. it isn't just us that came to this conclusion, it was more that our conclusion was made by looking at what those who viewed the admin's post made. once again, we will not show every anon we received (especially with harmful language), just enough to prove we are not lying.

it is very obvious that hqrise members read the admin's post as confirming who the original anon was, hence why we know the admin's post was misleading!

essentially you guys are indirect insiders which no longer puts you guys as an outside party with analyzing and interpreting proof sent to you.

the fact that evidence was brought to us, allowing us to piece the picture together does not make us indirect insiders. we would be indirect insiders if we were friends of people in the krp. we would be insiders if we were part of the krp. you are saying that because we had analyzed proof we are now no longer an outside party with analyzing and interpreting proof, despite us doing what you are saying outsiders do. we're probably misunderstanding, please clarify!

if the members in our inbox post admin note are the same from before, then it is proof that they were intending to try and use us to vent harmful and incorrect opinions. if the members in our inbox post admin note are different, then it involves us because they brought us more people who took away an incorrect assumption. our post clarified this assumption by linking relevant information that was left out, unintentionally or intentionally, by the admin, so as to clear up the misleading nature their post had (evidenced by the people in our inbox stating things like what we mentioned above. we included a specific timestamp below to prove that the anons were submitted after when the admin made their post, which would be either 9:00 AM, 11:00 AM, or 12:00 PM in american timezones).

to summarize, we do not think we overstepped when this was an issue that our blog was being referenced in, and when it was clear that people took the admin's note to continue to try and hate on a member who was not in the krp at the time through our blog.

if we had stayed out of this, despite knowing what was happening, then the krp members would have continued to believe and build an incorrect narrative that would have continued to be in our inbox, and we would have had to make a post proving the assumption as baseless which would have been a lot more violating for all parties involved, and would have dragged this issue out as well. this has occurred before on our blog and it did no one any good.

to be clear: if the admin had not referenced us, we would not have responded. even though they did, if the hqrise members had not consistently submitted things to us that were clearly harmful towards a member we know is innocent and have communicated to the admin is also innocent while REFERENCING said note that LISTS us as part of the whole issue, we most likely would not have gotten involved at all anyways. we did not consider ourselves part of the issue until we were named!

if the admin did not believe us to be credible, there was no reason for them to use us as a source on their post as a team that had credible information they wanted. we as a blog had been handling things privately for the last week +, and would never have made anything public if we were not publicly brought into this.

we are not trying to make you believe our decision was correct! only to understand why we did what we did! apologies if this is confusing in any way, we tried to really understand and respond to your points. if we missed the mark or misinterpreted, please let us know!

0 notes

majoringinsarcasm · 1 year ago

Text

I am ranting again ignore this xo

I will never understand the mindset of “Yeah I started this altercation because I publicly talked shit about you on my public account BUT bc you have a lot of followers and are a legal adult (19) the way you talk to me has to reflect that power imbalance. Yes I made up rumors about you or at the very least didn’t look deeper into the accusations but uhhhh all your followers are quoting my public tweet and I’m 17 so you’re literally harassing a minor and should feel bad about not coming to me privately the way I did not do to you.”

Like. Sure. Older people in fandom bullying teenagers is not something I’m about especially the older I get. But 17 and 19 is Not 17 and 25 I feel like you can’t pull the minor card on someone just bc they’re a popular artist which you Knew when you reposted their art to shit on them.

Like I’d say this rant on Twitter but I’m not close to the artist and this is just me hating so much the way fandom has become this evil competition and how you can say awful shit about people as long as you have less followers or you’re younger. In this case No the “gap” in ages is not enough to justify feeling entitled. Like if you’re gonna shit on someone two years older than you who you Know has a lot of followers…. Like I wonder why they have you blocked if this is how you behave. No one deserves harassment regardless of how popular they are or how many ppl are in their corner. But if I openly talked shit and spread rumors about a popular artists and then people were calling me out in the quotes I wouldn’t turn around and say “

I’m in my twenties and you’re 33 why are you acting like this”

2024 stop bullying and seeing it as justified bc you dislike something that’s not hurting anyone. Stop being mean and rude and thinking it’s fun. Stop using age when you’re only two years apart to claim that there’s some big power imbalance when you are the one who starts the shit. Bc and I cannot state this enough. Being a Legal adult by one year is not the same as being thirty and willingly bullying teenagers. Someone who is 19 is not somehow more powerful than someone who is 17 online. Like ppl have different maturity levels but a bully is a bully and it’s very clear who did something they didn’t need to. In public without censoring the name on the art they reposted.

Like the disconnect between “why did you send your followers who are able to see my public tweet after me you are bullying me”. Like no. People can step out of line and That is not okay. Bc again that’s not cool. But. A public tweet. With art. That has their name in it. They didn’t need to send anyone after you they know who you’re talking about.

Like I’m saying all this as someone who’s been in fandom spaces for a good chunk. Not super long but long enough to see this shift where being openly rude is super normal and when the person who is being shit on claps back it’s always Um I’m younger or Um you have more followers. And sometimes it’s a valid point. Sometimes it’s two teenagers who use Being 18 as some kind of weapon as if the actual age means anything when it comes to Literally and Publicly Bullying a person. I hen I turned 18 I didn’t think or feel any different. Being able to vote or look at porn has no bearing on who it’s ok to harass especially when you’re still in the same age range. Like.

I’m just so tired and it makes me sad to see young people have this kind of mindset in fandom. There are times when things need to be taken seriously and discussed with maturity. But pulling out trump cards AS the bully has been one so normal and it’s like they don’t even care. Being Weird is bad enough to warrant bullying and if you try to combat it you better be the same age and have the same follower count I guess.

0 notes

thereisnowarinnevercord · 5 months ago

Text

🫵😮 a nevermore discord mod! in the wild! OMG!

i have a feeww things to say to you if you’ll turn to me your almighty ear

first, a bunch of the people talking are either not banned or left of their own accord, just for clarity as i can tell you’re trying to lump all of us together into one hateful entity you can banish from the tumblr tag (koff, modding outside of the server) (whatever happened to us being allowed to, what was the wording red used again? oh right, decide together how we want our space to be)

(screenshot taken from hideout, from a conversation about the original nevermore confessions account, included to show the reasonable view on fandom culture given by red, i agree with)

next, do “bullies and generally nasty pieces of work” put in hours an hours complimenting every piece of fanwork posted in the discord server? so much that you, you yourself have had to replace them to hide their absence, by suddenly beginning to routinely and in similar format paragraphs compliment fanwork after a bistander pointed out the absence? (screenshots included) is it a common bullying method to be so beloved by the server that multiple people have brought up their absence? if this user was bullying people, wouldn’t it be easy to respond to their dms asking why they were banned with screenshot evidence? wouldn’t it be the simplest thing in the world not to ignore their many REAL, GENUINE questions about why they were banned from a community they loved?? if there was evidence of them breaking multiple rules, why hasn’t it been presented? unless, and this couldn’t possibly be the truth since you keep saying it’s not and you, the mod team, are always completely correct and forthcoming of course, there actually wasn’t a genuine reason for this user to be banned? 🤔🤔

(screenshots from fan gallery reactions. you, rune, only began complimenting fanworks after the compliment absence was pointed out. before that, your only compliments were short remarks. the imitation of this banned user’s style of compliments is abundantly clear. there are countless other examples of this banned user complimenting people and being kind and comforting to be around. anyone who had interacted with them would agree. their name is censored to protect a minor’s identity (koff), but you and i both know which user this is.)

next! i don’t know why you’re pretending you’re not a part of the mod team, but let it be known that YOU ARE.

calling us howlermonkeys does feel like bad faith ragebait, but what do i know! i’m just a bellyaching howlermonkey i guess!

also, “targeted tumblrs” O.M.G. they noticed me!!!!!! 🥰😋😍

if anyone feels bullied by me, send me an ask or a dm so we can hash it out and i can apologize plz! i never mean to make anyone upset or uncomfortable, very much just be trying to shed light on a situation certain modly peoples are clearly attempting to hush up.

& i never, NEVER bullied anyone for their art. i would NEVER do that (though you know who has done that? a certain user that hasn’t been banned from the discord to this day…. does kidnapping and torture ring a bell? or have they kept that secret from the new mods too)

There's a pack of howlermonkeys bellyaching cause they cant get over being booted out of the server for being bullies and generally nasty pieces of work.

As someone whose in the server, its a much nicer place to be now. They expanded the mod team, n R&F stepped down. The mods are slowly finding their feet after revamping the server for ease of navigation. They aren't hiding anything, they are going through a baptism of fire trying to find their groove.

More people join the server everyday. The artists who were being bullied and made feel like they couldn't post are regaining their confidence.

The mis-info the howlermonkeys who aren't in the server are spreading is laughable. They've had to resort to creating targeted tumblrs n tags to spread toxicity in the NM tag cause they got nothing better to do. And they've taken to bullying other NM fans on tumblr to such a degree that they're forced to turn off replies to their posts, or delete them completely. Pure fandom wank behaviour.

#nevermore webtoon #nevermore #nevermore webcomic #annabel lee nevermore #lenore nevermore #i want this to be over as much as anyone #but you DO know why this is happening dont you

41 notes · View notes

bradshawsbaby · 2 years ago

Text

Letters to My Love // Part II

Georgia on My Mind

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Female Reader

Summary: When you signed up to volunteer with the USO, you never anticipated that you would meet a man like Ensign Robert Floyd. Fate brings you together one balmy spring evening in Charleston—the night before Bob is set to ship off across the Atlantic. Pen and paper become your only means of sharing your heart with the naval aviator who’s captivated it, igniting a correspondence that spans the distance between you. Can love blossom even as war rages and thousands of miles keep you apart?

Word Count: 2.2k

Author’s Note: For those of you who may not be aware, the United States established an emergency wartime agency known as the Office of Censorship during World War II. The purpose of the agency was to censor any sensitive information contained in letters being exchanged between servicemembers and their loved ones, in case the letters fell into enemy hands. Information that could have been censored included specific locations, as well as information regarding supplies and military operations. For the sake of authenticity, you may see some of this censorship in Bob’s letters.

Set the Mood: If you’re looking for some 1940s vibes, check out the playlist I made to pair with the story!

The title for this chapter comes from the Glenn Miller song of the same name.

Dedication: Dedicated as always to @luminousnotmatter, who gives the best pep talks when I’m psyching myself out!

Warnings: Alternating POV, references to war, Bob being a sweet cinnamon roll, lots of fluff.

May 28, 1942

To the Sweet Peach from Georgia,

Hi. How are you?

Gosh, that’s a terrible way to start a letter, isn’t it? I’ve tried a hundred times to come up with something more clever or witty, but each time, I’ve ended up scrapping it and I think pretty soon the Navy is going to have something to say about the amount of paper I’ve wasted. This is the farthest I’ve gotten, and I think I’m just going to have to stick with it.

I’m sorry that it’s taken me so long to write this. I know it’ll take even longer for you to get it. I hope you haven’t forgotten me by now. I’m sure there’s been plenty of other lucky fellas who have been clamoring for your hand at the USO dances since I shipped out. And if you don’t feel like writing back, please know that you don’t have to. I’m already in your debt for the wonderful night we shared, and I’ll always be thankful to you for making my last night back home so special. If that’s all I get—well, I’m a lucky man indeed.

I think back on that night all the time. Paul, Tommy Boy, and Benny—you remember them?—they won’t let me forget it. Even if I wanted to (which I certainly don’t), they wouldn’t let me forget. That’s another reason why it took me so long to write you—though my mother always taught me not to make excuses. But every time I would sit down and try, the boys would razz me about how I owe them big time for us meeting. They seem to want to take all the credit for dragging me to the dance that night.

Don’t tell them I said this, but I think they’re right. Going to the dance that night was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made, and I’m glad the fellas convinced me to do it.

Now that they consider themselves the saviors of the night, they’ve been trying to give me tips on what to say to you in my letter—the only letters I’ve ever really written are to my parents and little brothers, so I guess they think I could use the help. According to Tommy Boy, I should spend the whole letter telling you how beautiful you are and complimenting each and every one of your features. He’s not wrong, but I worry I’d never be able to finish writing the letter if I did that. Benny’s advice doesn’t really bear repeating—Paul smacked him over the head for it, if that gives you any indication.

Paul is the one who told me to write from the heart—to just tell you anything that comes to mind, like we’re having a conversation. Kind of like that night when you took me on the stroll down King Street. I’ve never found it as easy to talk to anyone as I did that night, so I figure Paul’s onto something there. I’ve decided to take his advice, much to Tommy Boy’s and Benny’s annoyance.

I know the war is probably the last thing you want to be thinking about, but I figured I should maybe update you on where I am. Or maybe that’s too presumptuous on my part. If it is, I apologize. I’m not sure if they’ll even let me tell you this, but my squadron has officially arrived in [REDACTED]. This isn’t exactly how I imagined my first time in Europe would be, but we’re safe at the moment and I suppose that’s all I can really hope for right now. It’s certainly given my mother some peace of mind, which I’m thankful for.

You want to know something? Every time I’m feeling a little down, or missing something about home, I think back to that little ice cream parlor in Charleston and the way your smile lit up when I somehow managed to make you laugh, and things don’t seem so dark and dreary anymore. I still have that little ice cream cone wrapper you gave me, by the way—the one with your address? I have it tucked away in my trunk as a memento from my last night stateside. I know I’ve said it already, but I would say it a thousand times more—thank you for that night. It meant more to me than you could ever know.

Okay, I think that’s enough rambling on about myself. How have you been? I hope you’ve been well. I hope there are days when you forget this war is even happening, though I know that’s a rather tall order. I hope you smile and laugh every day, because you really do have the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen—Tommy Boy is rudely peeking over my shoulder right now and he approves of that compliment.

How are Dottie and Paddy and little Frankie? I remember that Frankie is only a month or so younger than Paul, Jr., so I imagine that they’ll be hitting a lot of their milestones around the same time. Paul received a letter from home just yesterday, and Natasha was happy to report that their boy has been laughing up a storm as of late. Paul was proud as could be to tell us all, but I think he’s a little sad, too, that he’s missing it. I still try to remind him that he’ll see them again soon.

Would you mind passing along my best to Paddy? Tell him I’m looking forward to another card game the next time I’m in Goose Creek. That goes for all the fellas in the squadron.

I’m including an address where you can send any letters you’d like to write. Again, please don’t feel like you have to. But if you’d like to, you can send your letters to Washington and they’ll make sure they get to me, wherever I am.

I’m sending you all my very best from across the Atlantic, and I hope you’re doing well, whatever you may be up to at this very moment.

Stay safe and, if it’s not too much trouble, maybe spare a thought for us every once in a while? It sure would mean a lot, especially coming from someone as special as you.

Sincerely Yours,

Ensign Robert Floyd

AKA, Bobby

June 12, 1942

Dear Bobby,

I admit that I’ve never been one for letter writing myself—funny that two people who seem to have no knack for dancing or writing letters seem to have found each other—but I think that “Hi. How are you?” is a perfectly lovely way to start a letter.

I’ll start mine by answering your question—I’m doing very well, thank you. And I’ll even ask a question of my own—how are you? I know you said in your letter that you were safe, wherever you may be in Europe—they did censor it—and I hope very much that that’s still the case.

I was so happy to receive your letter in the mail. It was the loveliest surprise! I know you had promised to write, and I believe you to be a man of your word, but I suppose there was a part of me that worried, like you, that that night in Charleston was the only night we’d have. If so, I’d more than cherish the memories, but I admit that hearing from you put a big smile on my face.

Of course I remember Paul, Tommy Boy, and Benny! They sound like they would get on quite well with Dottie—she’s still very smug about the role that SHE played in our meeting that night. According to my big sister, we have her to thank for twisting my arm until I signed up to volunteer with the USO, without which we, according to her, never would have stumbled upon each other at the dance. Paddy teases her all the time that she gives herself too much credit, and that soon her head is going to get so big, it isn’t going to fit through the door. Naturally, she’s the one who went to fetch the mail the day your letter arrived and you should have seen the way she tormented me, dancing around the house with it like a child on Christmas morning—if I didn’t love her so much, I really would have absolutely screamed.

Dottie should probably be the newest member of your squadron—just like your friends, she’s been very insistent on providing lots of unsolicited advice about what I should include in my letter. She’s an absolute doll, but she often seems to forget that she and I are very different people, and that includes when it comes to letter writing. But I will take some of her advice, and let you know that the night we met was wonderful, and I’m just as grateful for the time we got to spend together. I’ve heard “Someone to Watch Over Me” a few times since that night, and every time, I can’t help but think of you.

I rather like Paul’s advice though—to write as though we’re having a conversation. I feel the same way that you do. Talking to you that night was so easy. I meant what I said on that bench on King Street—I feel as though I’ve known you so much longer than that one night. I like the idea of continuing our conversation through our letters. Just like with our dancing, I suppose we’ll help each other get the hang of it, right?

The thought of you still having that silly little ice cream cone wrapper makes me smile. Please don’t be surprised by that—you truly do have a knack for making me smile and laugh. And if the remembrance of that night can make the darkness of this war feel any lighter—even for just a moment—then I’m so glad. We’re all doing okay back here in Charleston, and I hope with all my heart that you are as well, wherever you may be right now.

Paddy’s been working long hours, and he’s often exhausted when he comes home at night, but today is one of his rare days off, so he took Dottie and Frankie on a walk to the park. He shot me a wink as they were leaving—I think he was purposely trying to get my sister out of the house so that I could write my letter to you without her “helpful” assistance. They’re all doing very well though, thank you for asking! Paddy said he’s more than ready for a match of Rummy when you all get home.

Paul must be bursting with pride in his family—though we didn’t speak long at the dance, I could tell how much he loves Natasha. If it’s even possible, I’m sure he loves his children even more. Being separated from them must be so hard, but he’s so lucky to have a wonderful friend like you. I remember what you said about the two of you always having each other’s backs. That’s important, especially at a time like this. I hope and pray that you always will be there for each other, and that you’ll help each other get home. Same goes for all your friends.

I’m not sure if this will be helpful to you at all, and if it’s not please let me know, but I thought I might describe for you what the day is like today in Charleston to give you a taste of home. Well, I know that Charleston isn’t really home for you, but since I can’t get to Iowa at the moment, I thought this might be the next best thing. I’m sitting at our table in the kitchen right now, and the window and back door are open. It’s a sunny day here in Charleston, though it is rather brutally hot. South Carolina tends to get that way this time of year. It reminds me quite a bit of summers back home in Georgia—by the way, I was touched to see that you remembered. Maybe one day we’ll get to enjoy some Georgia peaches together. Anyway, the birds are chirping outside—it’s still fairly early in the day, so there is a light breeze. I wish I could bottle up some of this good weather and send it to you, but since I can’t, please know that I’m hoping the sun is shining down on you right now. I know you need good weather for flying.

Bobby, I want you to know that that night at the dance was very special to me, too. You keep thanking me, but I feel like I should be the one thanking you. I’ve volunteered at a couple dances since then, but none have been anywhere near as wonderful. I’ll be saving a dance for you, for when you come home. If you’d like, that is.

I think of you and your friends every day, and I wish nothing more than your safe return. Thank you for your service, Bobby. Thank you for fighting to keep us safe.

I hope this letter gets to you soon, and I look forward to hearing back from you.

All my best,

The Sweet Peach from Georgia

#robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #x reader #x female reader #top gun #top gun: maverick #lewis pullman #WWII AU #1940s AU

333 notes · View notes

lupically · 4 years ago

Text

#FFF8EA | XIAO.

genre | fluff

word count | 2233

warning | mention of falling off a moutain

note | i just have some ideas for xiao...

"the yaksha is fond of you."

madame ping was no stranger to you. the kind old lady roaming around yujing terrace, often seen admiring flowers or brewing a cup of hot tea, was someone you come across every afternoon after school when you head to the censor to make a wish to rex lapis.

the conversation you two have had always been brief, mainly because you were always in a hurry to get to work. she never minded your urgency, blissfully talking about how fast-paced and active young people these days are, and simply being happy that you even stopped to let her hand you some glazed lilies from time to time.

interestingly, though, she stopped giving you glazed lilies after a while and began handing you some pretty qingxin instead.

you never questioned it. it was just flowers. you could live without being gifted only one kind of them for the rest of your life. but after today's incident—after the burning down of your school located just outside the city, as well as what madame ping told you with hearty laughter laced in her voice, you were starting to think the switch to qingxin meant something.

"the yaksha is fond of you."

you tightened your hands around the weak strap of your school bag, made out of bamboo after lots of trials and errors, and you tilted your head with increasingly furrowing brows.

"pardon me, the what is fond of me?"

"the yaksha, my dear."

you stared at her. the corner of your lips was quirking up in confused twitches, and she could see that you were fiddling uncomfortably on your spot because you truly have no idea what she was talking about. it was not because of the history of the yaksha that might have made you feel jittery and out of place, you simply had no idea!

madame ping smiled even harder at your innocent oblivion then. how could you have such ample knowledge of rex lapis and the adepti, but nothing about the yaksha? especially the one with his mark, a jade green glow surrounding you like fireflies, all over your aura?

maybe that was why xiao chose you.

or, at least, it was one of the reasons why he liked you.

it was because you knew nothing of him. you never think about him, you never talk about him, and you would never suspect the string of random good luck and trails of safe travels that have been following you around.

while it must be tearing him down on the inside; the fact that he wasn't being able to approach the one person who made his good deeds a choice rather than an order. it must be plaguing his mind and patience every day.

but, even then, your surprising lack of information about his identity does save him the pressure of being chased down by you.

it saves him the problem of being even further attached to you. it was already pressing on his breaking point when he went out of his way to watch over you, leaving trails of his magic over your mortal soul to keep you safe when he was busy. any further interaction would be disastrous.

logically, he knew he would fall for you, so he was doing preventive measures. he has to keep his chest sealed so his heart wouldn't jump toward you involuntarily; he has to keep his chest sealed so you couldn't see all the mess inside.

"oh, sweet child," madame ping cooed as she walked toward you. she whispered to herself, "you're being protected by an adeptus and you don't even know."

she brought up a qingxin from her pocket, the petals slightly wrinkled from the confined space. she tucked it carefully in the pocket of your shirt before patting the bloomed flower, almost as if she was reminiscing.

"this is his flower," she said.

you hummed, looking down at it. "this is his favorite flower?"

"i'm not sure about his favorite flower, but this is his flower," she replied casually.

you pursed your lips together. well, at least now you knew the qingxin did have something to do with the... yaksha... or whatever.

"madame ping... may i ask–"

"you can find him at qingyun peak," she cut you off calmly. "during the lantern festival. he is always there during the festival. it was for the quiet, he said, that old man."

you shut your mouth, surprised that she knew what you wanted to ask. "uh... qingyun peak... is kind of... a big place..."

"you will find him if he wants to see you," she said. "you can speak his name–xiao. he might not show himself to you, but if you have something to say, he's likely there to listen."

qingyun peak. the lantern festival. the yaksha.

right.

that was how you found yourself bearing the freezing night cold with just a thin shirt and a ragged fabric wrapped and tied around your torso, your hands hurting from grabbing sharp edges and rough rocks, and your anxiety increasing with every jump that not only would the almond tofu in your bag fall, but you would as well.

as opposed to watching xinyan play for the lantern festival, being warm and cozy from the warm city lights and the tasty street food, and maybe even letting go of a lantern yourself after making a wish, you were here. you were alone, climbing mountains for a chance.

all for a random boy madame ping told you about! someone who was supposedly fond of you—if this xiao guy was so fond of you, he would have shown himself the first three times you called his name at the bottom of the mountain!

"fond of me–what a joke," you said through gritted teeth as you hoisted yourself up on a small ledge. "i'm going to kick his ass so hard when i find him."

you let yourself pant for a minute, regaining your stamina as you groggily accessed the higher peaks above you. your eyes squinted in dismay, but something inside you—the curiosity for the truth, as well as the longing for a friend, also the anger for playful revenge—urged you to keep going.

"he better eats the almond tofu i made," you muttered to yourself as you moved closer to the mountain. "i even picked some flowers... for him."

jump after jump, you were close to making it to the second ledge when suddenly, a slime jumped and appeared above you. it looked surprised, mirroring your expression, and as it prepared itself to attack you after seeing your hands move, it stopped when it saw you fumble about in the air before you began to fall further away from itself.

you had let yourself go. out of surprise, and an instinct to grab a weapon, your hands moved away from the edge and you fell.

your mind raced as the wind hit your face, your falling body heavy against the current that desperately tried to take you up from the ledge you just climbed up from. you would surely die from the impact if you drop. even without dropping down to the bottom, you would still suffer from a painful death.

was there something to do? how did this happen, you were doing fine! what should you do, what could you do? you were falling already—what was there to do now? anything, something?

"i–archons–" you heaved with the cold air, your lungs squeezing inside you with fear as tears began to drip out of your eyes.

anything? anybody?

xiao?

"you can speak his name. he might not show himself to you, but if you have something to say, he's likely there to listen."

"xi–" your voice broke for a millisecond when you could see the green grass approaching quickly. you squeezed your eyes shut, and your voice was louder than you have ever allowed it to be.

you called his name, loud and clear.

the first thing you felt was a lightning strike. you opened your eyes at the electric feeling to find a flash of green. it was bright, close and bright, in a way that was blinding. but then the tail broke into gentle fragments as a pair of arms circled your body to catch you from the fall.

one arm went around your waist, the other hand securely tightened itself around the back of your neck to keep it from breaking from the impact of his fast landing.

xiao growled under his breath when his feet struck the ground in a heavy blow. he pushed your head to his shoulder, shielding your face away from the soil that bounced upward as a result.

quietness ensued after a moment of calm. you took the moment to access the situation—you were fine. someone, likely xiao, saved you from the fall. you were fine.

he dropped onto the ground, sitting on the cold grass with your body pressed close to his, when he heard that you began to sob from the accident.

despite feeling awkward and unsure, he kept quiet and let you vent out the post-accident fear so you could slowly bring in the relief that you were still alive. but his quietness was unwelcomed when you suddenly curled your fist and hit him across the shoulder.

"screw you! why didn't you just answer me when i–when i was at the bottom of the moun–mountain! screw you!"

you blamed him and you hit his shoulder repeatedly. your weak fist was nothing compared to the pain he has endured in the past, but your cries cut through him like glass in the most seamless pattern when he realized he was part of the reason why you had to go through that traumatic experience.

if he had just jumped down from the peak when he heard you the first time, this would not have happened.

xiao looked at the empty spot before him. his golden eyes glowed with a softness that has long fallen into the abyss, forever gone and forever abandoned. but he brought it back out now because he cares about you, and he is, ultimately, attached to you, and he loves you.

"you're right," he said, holding you close to him. "i'm sorry."

ever since you discreetly left the almond tofu on the roof of the wangshu inn, your shy figure hunched over in an apologizing manner because you were told that you were giving food to an important, albeit weird, guest, and your blissfully ignorant words of encouragement as you told him to go out and explore the world, to give it a chance so he could find people he would like.

ever since then, he has loved you, in fragile and discreet ways, in unwavering and patient ways, in protective and caring ways.

"i love you, i'm sorry."

you stopped sobbing almost immediately, and he was afraid he might have said the wrong thing.

wasn't it what he was supposed to do? verr told him to speak his mind once. just be truthful with his feelings and nothing could go wrong. was he not supposed to show his affection blatantly, as he would his complaints and opinions?

"that... that is going a little too fast for me, xiao," you joked. "let's settle with appreciating each other for now."

he heard you laugh, causing the weight of his heart to drop, like finding lights in a fog, like seeing the lanterns in the night sky and realizing that there are more people alive with you than you think.

"thank you, for saving me," you said kindly then, your fist long stopped hitting him and was now patting his shoulder.

"always."

“but burning my school down is not the best approach for... whatever it was you were trying to help me with.”

xiao blinked in confusion, then realization hit him. he almost forgot about that! he was, shockingly, dwelling in the prideful fact that because he literally destroyed the building, you would be free of school for the day, and therefore not having to face all the hardships inside the walls he could not venture past. he thought it was the best thing to do, second to beating up everyone, which he politely opposed to.

“i am not sorry about that,” he muttered. “it was what i thought was best.”

he could feel you grin in his embrace. your laughter reverberated in the air, making his magic glow around you both. it was like nothing he has felt before. he wanted to stay like this—in this position where you were engulfed by him, where he could surround you with himself instead of the fireflies of green he has left behind, where he was with you in a way it was entire, in a way he could feel your beating heart against his own.

you are pressing onto his breaking point.

you are going to open him up, see him whole, and renovate his insides to your will. you are going to take his heart from his chest, breaking through his ribcage made feeble from his sheer affection for you, and claim it as your own. you are going to make him love, like sharp knives, like soft breaths, like tragic past, like warm blood, you are going to make him love.

you are pressing onto his breaking point.

and xiao lets you.

because you will be worth the tragedy, you will be worth everything.

#genshin x reader #genshin imagines #xiao x reader #genshin impact xiao #genshin impact imagines #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin xiao #genshin xiao x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact #xiao imagines #xiao x you #xiao scenarios #genshin scenarios #genshin impact scenarios

4K notes · View notes

not-a-perfect-metaphor · 3 years ago

Text

Alright, so….

Here’s a transcript of a recording.

I’m going to say as little as I can about it while hopefully saying just enough to ensure that it makes sense.

1. It’s a direct source, meaning it’s something that I listened to with my own ears, 100% in a ‘random lucky happenstance’ kind of way.

2. It’s somewhat recent (definitely not very, but somewhat), despite this particular bit being about events from seven years ago. Me having listened to it is very very recent.

3. I’m not going to outright say who’s speaking, but it’s fairly obvious at least for anyone who’s been around for a while. If you’re not sure, you can send me or anyone else who seems to know a message and it can be discussed like that.

4. On that same note, I’ve excluded all names and places, but it’s very likely that you’ll know (or at least have a pretty good sense of) which names belong in the more relevant blank spots.

Note: permission to use any of what was said was ultimately rescinded by the speaker after the initial recording (with an edited version given that was MUCH more vague), but to be fair…permission was technically only rescinded for use in a specific article about Creation conventions that was never actually written anyway, so…

Edit: I DO have permission from the person to whom the recording was for to post just the bit that I’m including as long as any direct references to names have been censored out (which they have been).

5. I’m not going to get into the sexual harassment issue right now. I don’t have anywhere near enough information, and therefore I’m not going to claim that it didn’t happen, because without evidence to the contrary, my assumption has to be that it did happen unless that’s strictly proven otherwise. But this is not about that.

————————————

“There were accusations of sexual harassment on my part, which you know I didn’t do. The whole thing was crazy and was really sprung on me. But I know they wanted me gone for other reasons, because when we were at _______, I joked that if ______ was going to be worried about some harmless comments, they probably all shouldn’t do half the things they do or say half the things they say. And that came up because apparently according to _______, I had insinuated things about _______ and _______ all these times, which I can’t really get into, but my point in bringing that up is that so had everyone else. Then I also said something as a joke that probably came across badly because we had all had some drinks, but it was something about how I wasn’t being paid enough to be told I had to shut up, like about- *doesn’t finish sentence* -and that sounds bad, but we were in a small group and when I tried to clear it up with _________ and apologize, I got nothing in return. _______ actually pulled strings for me and got me back on the schedule when I was first banned, but [half a sentence with too many words that would need to be blanked out]. And honestly me and _______ and _______ are not on bad terms now, so I wouldn’t ever talk on any of their private matters or…you know…talk on anything about either of them. So, that’s what I-…I don’t know, I really can’t get into any details, but yeah. Yeah, at the very least, to answer your question, it was very much related to _______ and ________.”

——————————————

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#j2 tinhat

123 notes · View notes

the-iceni-bitch · 2 years ago

Note

okay so, first of all, i want to say I'm sorry, I didn't know you were going through shit all this time, and hurting your feelings was truly not my intention. I really mean my apology. I never meant to kill your muse either.

second, I truly meant that I love your work and your writing and that series, I wasn't trying to sugar coat anything by saying that. and I agree that writers don't owe us anything and are rather doing us a favor by sharing content for free. I've been a fan of yours ever since I found out about you, interacted with you on anon, reblogged your fics as well and I think it's only fair to do that for the time you take out to write fics for us, and I swear, hurting you was not my intention. I should've known that you might not like an ask like that. you decide what to do with your series, and how to write it. you do you ❤️

honestly, I'm surprised at the comments wishing me a shitty month ahead and people calling me a bitch, a cunt, entitled and whatnot. as long as i was supporting you and all of the other writers in the comments, and dropping lovely comments on their fics, i was a nice person. but for once when I said how i felt about a fic, I got all that hate. imo, when people create content, they need to be prepared to receive criticism along with appreciation, they both come hand in hand, they can't ask for appreciation alone. please understand, that i know the difference between criticizing and hating or bullying someone. I didn't mean to come off as hateful or rude or entitled, but I get it that you never asked for criticism, and I shouldn't have given that, especially since it wasn't constructive criticism. I'm no writer myself and I failed to provide a solution with the criticism, sorry.

and people who want a reason to hate will hate this ask as well, they'll call me names and find a problem with this as well.

thank you for everyone who wished for a shitty month for me and everyone who called me names. i hope you all have a great month ahead, and sending you all a hug 🫂

Listen, I do feel bad about how aggressive my answer to your last ask was, and for the name calling on my part, so I want to apologize for that portion of it. I do stand by the overall message I conveyed, but it could have been done in a softer way. I’m not going to apologize for all the other authors, because I did set the tone of the post, and I also don’t believe in censoring other people’s emotions, and I think the notes on the answer provide a little bit of context for how the writing community on tumblr is getting constantly bombarded by criticism they did not solicit.

The reason you didn’t know about the stuff I was going through is because I try to keep this place fun and light, and honestly when I’m having a tough time, I prefer to privately reach out to friends and mutuals to get through it rather than broadcast it to the masses. But that’s another reason why everyone should consider how something they plan on sending could come off, because so many of us don’t share all of our lives here, and you never know what someone else is going through.

I do appreciate that you love my work, and the point of my last answer wasn’t that you need to love every part of it. You are welcome to skip whatever parts of it you want to, and if something doesn’t resonate with you for whatever reason, that’s okay. But once something is posted, that’s kind of it. I’m not going to go back and make changes, so unless I have explicitly asked for criticism, it is going to come off as unwelcome, no matter the context.

And I’m going to ask you this because I am genuinely curious: what were you hoping to accomplish with your previous ask? It’s very hard for me to come up with a scenario where that wouldn’t have been poorly received, but I’m on the other side of it. So I really would like to know what the overall intention of the ask was.

Wishing you a good day, and I do appreciate you reaching out again, because you didn’t have to do that and I know it was hard with the response you got.

#natalie answers #fandom discourse #anon answered #asks are always open

8 notes · View notes

themidnightguardian · 2 years ago

Text

just to be safe, here’s some tw: discussion of religion, mentions of authority figures trying to coerce a child, discussion of purity culture, brief and non-graphic mentions of alcoholism (family history) and sexual assault and abuse (in regards to fanfic) and genocide (the bible)

---

In light of how puritanical people are getting with trying to censor fanfic, I am thinking once again about how when I was young, I grew up in the catholic church. We went every sunday, my mom was a sunday school teacher, I have an uncle who’s a priest, all that jazz. but every sunday on the drive back home, my mom would draw us into a discussion about what we thought of the sermon, ask us to dissect our opinions on what we had learned. it wasn’t meant as a way to check if we had paid attention; she wanted us to think critically about what we were being taught and decide for ourselves if we agreed with it.

so when my other sunday school teachers said that my dad and grandmother were going to hell for being non-religious, or when our priest tried to tell me god would love me less if I didn’t drink the holy wine despite the fact that I was concerned since alcoholism ran in my family, or when the youth group leader tried to get me to sign a contract to ‘sign over’ my free will to god’s plan as if it was a tradable good, I didn’t have to take these authority figures at their word. I could decide for myself that it was bullshit and say no.

I am not religious anymore and neither is my mom, but that’s not actually the point of this post. The point is that engaging with toxic/problematic content does not inherently make you believe it.

Right now there is a rise in this purity culture, protect the children, get rid of any content (but especially literature) that conveys allegedly immoral ideals, etc. A lot of the arguments surrounding the regulation of these things suggest that people who write “problematic” content are obviously in agreement with it, or that people who read/view “problematic” content are at a high risk of normalizing it and then partaking in such things in real life.

The key to making sure the media & messages you are consuming don’t impact your real-life actions, however, is not to simply get rid of anything that is potentially “dangerous.” It is critical thought.

Without critical thinking, I would probably still be Catholic, and as a nonbinary queer, I would probably be so deep in the closet and full of self-loathing and denial that I wouldn’t even know that about myself. And yet if I had never been exposed to Catholicism at all, I don’t actually think that would be better. Because during the bible readings and the sermons and the sunday school classes, I decided that I loathe self-sacrifice to the extent of martyrdom. I decided that authority figures do not always have my best interests at heart. I decided that there is no good reason, ever, for genocide, not even in god’s name, not even if you are god.

When I apply that same critical thinking to some of the things I’ve read in literature and fanfiction, especially the things that people want banned because it’s “not safe to read” and “people will start to act like this” and “it’s glorifying these horrible things and everyone who reads it is sick”, what I’ve actually taken away from that kind of fic is this:

Sometimes people have a good reason to do horrible things, and yet that doesn’t make their actions okay. If you don’t want sex and your partner makes you, it’s still sexual assault. Abuse can take on a thousand different appearances, and many, many, many of them are not physical. People are rarely all good or all bad, and everyone is shaped by their experiences to some extent.

The idea that reading about things that are uncomfortable or dangerous or illegal is enough on it’s own to make someone repeat those behaviors is frankly ludicrous. I’d bet that most people are actually coming away more aware of the toxic/problematic things to avoid in real life rather than perpetuating them. And if you are becoming desensitized to the horrors in the world like one post I saw suggested, that’s either because you weren’t a super empathetic person in the first place or it’s a coping mechanism to deal with the fact that you cannot personally fix most of it.

#thinking again about fanfic and purity culture #religion #catholicism #fanfiction

9 notes · View notes

cipheress-to-k-pop · 4 years ago

Note

Could you write something based on this prompt Dick x reader! villain "I hope we never get to see each other again."

Dangerous People

Pairing: Dick Grayson as Nightwing x Reader

Warnings: Sexual assault and miscarriage. Extremely sensitive themes here, please don't read if you are triggered by such topics.

Word Count: 1.8K

Dick used to think the most dangerous people were the ones who had no morals. The people who did the dirtiest of things and had no way of redemption because there's a piece of stone where their heart should be.

He had seen it a million times over when he was Robin and then Nightwing. It had been that kind of person who took away his parents and he would learn it was the very same kind that took yours.

Detective Grayson met you one rainy night in November when you were brought into the police station in Bludhaven, cold and shivering. Tears were pouring down your face and you looked sick.

He would later come to find that night that your parents were killed by a man named Black. You told him all that you could, insisting that it was him and that they should arrest him.

As much as Dick wanted to, he couldn't just pick up a man and put him behind bars, not without evidence. Although he did promise that he would try his best to put him away. Dick could see the comfort that his words brought you.

The night he met you was also the night he slept with you. Not sex. Just sleep.

He had offered to drive you back home but you just shook your head in tears, saying that you couldn't go back home where your parents had just been murdered. And that you didn't have any money to stay at a hotel.

It was no secret that Dick had a bleeding heart, so when he saw your red and puffy eyes staring up at him, he quickly offered up his apartment for you to sleep in that night.

He took you home, and made you take a nice, hot shower before bundling you up in his spare clothes and letting you take the bed.

You repaid him the next morning by cooking him breakfast.

Thus, began the start of a beautiful relationship.

You panted, breath stuttering in your chest as Dick trailed kisses down your neck. Your fingers were carding through his hair, twitching and tugging at the roots every time his teeth grazed your sweet spot.

He held your hips to his body with a tight grip. He met your lips again with an open-mouthed kiss that swallowed your moans when his hands cupped your chest.

"I'm crazy about you..." Dick whispered underneath his breath when you cupped his cheeks. Your eyes fluttered open to see him watching you with deep blue eyes. You knew what he wanted to say, you felt it.

You kissed him again, slow and soft, conveying everything you could possibly be feeling.

"I love you too."

Falling for you made Dick want to capture Black even more. He knew of the kind of trauma that followed you throughout your life unless you got the closure you needed, so he poured his heart out into finding the man who robbed you of your family in one night.

But he was good, scary good. There was no evidence. No fingerprints, no DNA samples. No witnesses, other than you. But that wasn't enough.

He had known just how to avoid all the cameras and had left the weapon at the scene of the crime, a knife from your kitchen.

Dick felt helpless, he wanted so badly to be able to find this man and arrest him for your sake. He felt like a failure every time he would see the look of disappointment on your face when he said there were no leads.

So, he decided to go into his background. Black, a man who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He was a shareholder of your parents’ company and Dick wondered if there was something behind the scenes that made him want to kill your mother and father.

But none of it made sense, according to the contracts that each of them signed, in the case of a death then there was no possible way for him to get his hands on your parents’ shares. It was already enlisted to you. And Black had known about it.

So why try and murder your parents when it wouldn't have benefitted him in any way. Could it have been out of anger? In the spur of the moment? No, everything looked too well planned for that.

It was then he got a call from another detective. They got an anonymous tip that there was evidence found at the scene. He immediately went over there only to realize there was something wrong.

The footprints were even, too even. It was unusual that there was equal pressure at all parts of his sole. The cigarette lighter underneath the table was empty.

He had been so sure that he had looked over the place so carefully. How could he have missed the obvious footprint in the carpet and the lighter under the table?

It was then his partner mused that the evidence was fabricated and that Black wasn't the real culprit. That someone was trying to frame him.

And then everything made sense.

***

Dick’s heart pounded in his ears as he ran. Never in his life did the Nightwing suit ever feel so strained against his body. He felt like his chest was being compressed and each breath was harder and harder to take. Still, he pumped his legs until they ached painfully as he ran faster to you.

His head throbbed against his skull with the information he just learnt.

His eyes skimmed over all the words in your file and his heart rate picked up. He couldn't believe there had been so much information that he had overlooked before, simply trusting your words.

It was such an amateur move that he was surprised with himself. How could he have trusted you so blindly without verifying it?

As he read the file, his heart began clenching in his chest. With each word it was getting harder to breath.

You were the victim of a sexual crime case, that was left incomplete, the name of the suspect was censored. The next paper was another case, you were the victim of a planned mugging, it stated that you sustained injuries. The one after that was a medical report, a miscarriage.

Everything started making sense. The puzzle pieces started fitting in his head. The name of your assaulter was censored because he was a major shareholder of the company and partners with your parents. The mugging was planned so that you couldn't get a paternal test done.

Your parents and Black conspired against you. They made you hold their burdens so that their sins wouldn't be revealed.

When he got home to find the door wide open, his blood froze in his veins. He rushed through the apartment to find that it was empty, you had left in a hurry. He needed to find you, especially when he realized one thing.

His Glock was missing.

Dick swallowed roughly when he saw you, jumping across the roof until he was only one building away from you.

“(Y/N) don’t do it!” He shouted, as if you would actually listen but he still bounded across the gap between you, hand coming to wrap around the gun you were holding to deflect the shot against the ground.

The sound resonated through the area and his ears began ringing but he paid no heed, quickly disarming you and throwing away the gun in your hand. You struggled in his grip, screaming and kicking at him before you resorted to roughly elbow him in the face.

He let go of you, feeling pain and stumbling back but made sure that to get to the gun you’re have to go through him first.

You were new at this, you didn’t bother to assess the situation or even try to combat him again before you were lurching for the gun that lay abandoned at his feet and he tackled you, trying to stop your struggling as you rolled around on the rough concrete of the roof.

“(Y/N) wait!”

“No!” You screamed, voice thick with tears, “No more waiting! That monster doesn’t deserve to live for even a second longer!”

You thrashed in his grip, reaching for the gun again and he grabbed your leg, dragging you back before you could wrap your fingers around it.

"Please! Just stop and listen for a second! For me!" He pleaded but you started sobbing when he pinned you down and you realized you couldn't move.

When you looked up at him with tears in your eyes, he couldn't help his own that began falling from his eyes.

"You know what he did to me. You know what they did!" You cried, "So, why are you stopping me?!"

"It isn't right, (Y/N). You can't do this! If you do then you're just as bad as them." His grip on your wrists got tighter, as if scared you would try to pull away again.

"It's too late for me." You told him, "My parents are already dead. I did it."

He knew that. But he wished he didn't have to hear it. You made a mistake, a decision, that couldn't be reversed. And you would have to live with it for the rest of the life.

"I'll let you go." He whispered. He knew what he was doing was wrong, he knew that he was going against his morals but still, he couldn't be the one to take you to prison.

You immediately stopped squirming, shocked, and you looked up at him with wide eyes. Your heart pounded in your chest; he was willing to let you go? After everything you did you him?

He pulled away, not moving from his place on the floor. Dick looked at you one last time and your throat closed at the sight of his heartbroken gaze.

"I hope we never get to see each other again." He choked out, voice strained and you screwed your eyes shut to keep yourself from crying.

You wanted to tell him that you loved him, one last time, but you knew that wasn't what he wanted to hear. You weren't going to disappoint him one more time that night.

"Good bye." You whispered, turning around and leaving. It would be the last time Dick would ever see you.

It was that night that Dick realized that the most dangerous people were those who had nothing left to lose. And his heart would break even more when he realized that you never considered him yours to lose.

He never even got to tell you he loved you.

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

DC Taglist:

@emmacata

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

#Dick grayson x reader #Dick grayson imagine #Dick grayson oneshot #dick grayson headcanon #young justice x reader #Young justice imagine #Young justice headcanon #young justice #nightwing x reader #yj x reader #titans imagine #Dc titans #Titans dick grayson x reader #young justice dick grayson x reader #Dc x reader

371 notes · View notes