#and responded the question of what my name was confidently with: Megan | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sideofmango · 4 years ago

Note

Okay, I know I already sent you another request, but this one...I just had to drop this one on ya. Can I request Bakugo, Hawks, Shinsou, and Dabi’s reaction to seeing their black s/o getting hit on in the most cringiest, fetishizing way while they’re standing next to them? Since the s/o is dating them, they know the things that should and shouldn’t be said to a black person, but the weirdo goes to them and says things along the lines of:

“Do you taste as chocolatey as you look?”

“Lemme conquer you in the bedroom”

“Twerk on me like Megan Thee Stallion”

And “Our kids are going to be great athletes”

Like the she is just stunned into mortified silence since she couldn’t process the audacity for someone to say something so disgusting. She’ll let her man’s handle it cuz the last thing she needs is to be charged with homicide.

(Trust me, writing those lines hurt me but not as much as it hurt when I was told these things 🤢)

“Why Don’t You Just Do Us All a Favor and Shut Up?”

You don’t understand how many times a trashy guy has said something like this to me thinking I would find it cute or attractive. So gross! As a society we need to do better and stop sexualizing and fetishizing black women and girls.

also the gif has nothing to do with this, I just thought it was cute.

Anyways...starts below the cut!

Warnings: swearing, fetishization of black women and girls, sleazy trashy guys, protective boyfriends, sexual implications

“Katsu, can we get ramen at that new place that just opened up the street?” (y/n) questioned, her (eye color) eyes wide with anticipation.

“Ok.” The usually explosive blonde agreed, snaking his larger hand into her slightly smaller one. (y/n) had finished training earlier and since it was a light day, Bakugou had suggested they walk around the downtown area. “It’s over this way, right?” (y/n) nodded simply, looking around at the different shops they passed on their way to the new ramen restaurant.

Ever since Katsuki had begun dating the black girl, he had calmed down significantly, though only around her...with everyone else he was just as explosive as he always was. The black girl was fiercely protective over her friends and especially Katsuki, though he didn’t really need it; probably a part of her tiger quirk, though it came off as more endearing than annoying.

“What are you gonna order?” She wondered, making small conversation as they waited to cross the street.

“What I always order.” He answered simply.

“The spiciest thing on the menu.” (y/n) and Katsuki said at the same time, (y/n) rolling her eyes with a smile.

“You won’t have any taste buds left if you burn them all off.” She teased as Katsuki rolled his crimson eyes at her, holding her close to him as they continued to wait.

A whistle caught the couple’s attention, Bakugou’s eyes narrowing as they fell on two boys standing at a shop located behind where they were standing. The two boys looked the same age if not a little older than (y/n) and Katsuki, the taller one had lime green hair and matching lime colored eyes. His pale face had a smirk plastered on it. The slightly shorter of the two had pink hair the color of bubble gum, lavender eyes focusing on the black girl, a smirk on his face also.

Despite (y/n) usually being confident, there was something highly uncomfortable about the way they were eyeing her that made her uneasy.

“Hey Riku, you think she’d go for someone like me? You know I have a thing for exotics.” (y/n) turned around, deciding to ignore them, they weren’t worth the time. She gripped Bakugou’s hand, turning him around, trying to think of something to say to distract them both from the annoying boys.

The ash blonde sent her a bewildered look, confused as to why she wasn’t going to say something to them. “They aren’t worth it. They’re extras, right?” She joked, flashing a half smile at her boyfriend.

Bakugou tched, but decided not to say anything since (y/n) didn’t seem to want him to.

“You know why exotics are the best?” The lime green haired boy questioned, loud enough to make sure Bakugou and (y/n) had heard it.

“Why Riku?” The bubble gum haired boy said, a creepy glint in his eyes.

“Because of that fat ass.” He snickered. “You think she’d let me get a taste of that chocolate?”

(Jesus Christ, I cringed writing that. 🤢)

Bakugou’s head whipped around to glare at the two boys, (y/n) turning around to look at them, holding herself back, but too shocked by what she had heard to catch Bakugou before he did something that would attract the attention of police.

“You two fucking clowns better shut the fuck up before you get a taste of my foot shoved so far up your asses it’ll be coming out of your fat fucking mouths.” Bakugou growled, punching them each in the face, making sure to heat up his hand so that it would definitely leave a mark.

(y/n) looked around to see a few people watching, as she let Bakugou beat up the boys before she finally decided it was enough. She placed a hand on his shoulder, as he looked up, the feral look in his crimson orbs dissipating to a gentle one.

“I just wanna go. Can we please, before the police get here?” She questioned as he punched them and kicked them a few more times before standing up and nodding.

“You won’t be fucking needing these either.” Bakugou said, going through their wallets, taking the money out before snapping the cards in half and tossing them on the street next to the boys who remained on the ground. “Let’s go.” He held out his hand, as she grabbed it and they walked across the street. “I hate these fucking extras.” He grumbled as they got to the ramen restaurant. Bakugou Katsuki had every intention of using the money he had just taken to pay for everything, it was the least they could do.

The woman was on her way to her apartment, getting off early from her patrol because not only was it a Friday, but the day after was her 23rd birthday and her pro-hero boyfriend seemed to have planned something, despite her telling him he didn’t have to.

Her phone rang, taking (y/n) out of her thoughts as she slid the answer button seeing her boyfriend’s picture pop up. “Hey Kei.” She answered happily, stopping at the corner, waiting to cross the street.

“Hey, Kid.” Came his response, causing the black woman to smile. “You got off early right? You wanna get (your favorite food/ drink)?”

“Really?!” (y/n) grew excited, her voice raising an octave as a laugh bubbled from her full lips. The couple was usually very busy and that meant they didn’t have a lot of time to just go to restaurants and walk around the downtown area, but since they had managed to get the afternoon and weekend off, Hawks was going to take full advantage of it.

“Yeah.” He laughed back. “I’ll meet you there?”

“Ok! Love you.” She told him.

“Love you too, Kid.” He said back before hanging up. (y/n) crossed the street, walking towards their favorite restaurant, her hero costume folded in the black backpack she wore on her back. She too was a pro-hero, though she wasn’t as popular as her boyfriend, she had recently gone pro in Japan, already a famous pro in her native country. She slid her phone into one of the pockets of her black jeans, her simple white t-shirt half tucked into her pants.

She increased her stride, her smile widening as she saw the crimson wings of her boyfriend up ahead. He turned around his own smile growing as she got closer. “How was patrol?” She asked him as he hugged her, the pair pulling away and intertwining hands.

“It was fine...kinda boring.” Hawks answered as they walked inside the establishment.

“Woah.” The cashier said softly, after ringing up your orders. Hawks paid, even though she protested though he responded by saying it was her birthday weekend and she wasn’t allowed to pay. The cashier, who seemed a little older than the two of the pros, named Ukyo, handed her her drink practically ignoring Hawks.

Keigo frowned, growing slightly annoyed, though he wouldn’t really peg himself as the jealous type, Ukyo just made everything very uncomfortable and Hawks was growing irritated that (y/n) was uneasy. It was the protective nature in him, which he would admit could get a little intense at times.

“Um, thanks.” (y/n) replied with a slightly awkward laugh before looking at Hawks to say she was ready to go. They had planned to walk through the park nearby. As they were stepping away, Ukyo called out.

“Hey wait, pretty girl!” He called out, catching the dark skinned woman off guard. “You forgot something.” She turned, raising an eyebrow before going back towards where Ukyo stood behind the counter. He held out a napkin to her, his messy chicken scratch handwriting on the piece of paper. “It’s my number. You should call me sometime, I’d love to get to know you more.”

“I already have a great boyfriend.” (y/n) replied, giving him a smile as he still pushed the napkin to her, managing to stuff it into her bag. At this, Hawks stepped closer, still remaining silent, wanting to let her handle it because he didn’t want to come off as overbearing or suffocating. “Really, I’m not interested. I love my boyfriend.”

“Who? Him? But our kids would be so cute! They’d be great athletes, you know?” He smiled widely at her, grabbing onto her wrist to stop her from leaving. Hawks had heard enough, at (y/n)’s silence and the way her eyes seemed to bore into his own, he dislodged some feathers, sending them at the cashier, stopping them a few centimeters away from him.

“Let her go, before you make me really mad.” Hawks said, glaring at the male, sharpening the feathers into blade-like devices, his golden eyes shining with anger.

“Chill out, Man! She’s hot! She was practically asking for it!” Ukyo put his hands up, Hawks’ eyes narrowing as a growl almost sounded from deep in his chest.

“You’re lucky my girlfriend’s here.” Hawks chuckled darkly, as (y/n) placed her hand in his own. “I would’ve cut your disrespectful racist ass.” Hawks walked away with (y/n), sending the feathers at the wall behind the cashier, just narrowly missing him.

Hawks smirked as he stepped outside, hearing the high pitched scream that came out of Ukyo at the feathers going near him, fearing he was about to be sent to the hospital. Hawks glared at him through the shop window, his wings flapping behind him as if he was about to send more feathers causing Ukyo to scream again, though this time a wet spot began to grow in his khaki colored pants.

Hawks’ eyes lit up as a loud laugh fell from his mouth causing (y/n) to laugh lightly. “Fucking bitch.” Hawks muttered as they walked towards the park. “I should’ve sent the feathers into him.”

“No, you did enough Kei.” (y/n) giggled, Hawks growing happy that he had gotten her to laugh after that rude cashier incident.

Every week after that Hawks would purposely walk past the shop, launching a feather through the window and into the wall, an adult sized diaper held to the wall by the sharp crimson feather, a note usually attached saying:

‘just thought you might need to start wearing these.

I hate you,

Hawks.

Ps: Show this to anyone, tell anyone about this, or do something like that to another person again and I’ll send the next feather so far up your ass, you’ll need surgery to remove it. xoxo’

(i decided to insert another character, like Mineta but 100x worse and not jokingly either. His name is Shintani Narisuke.)

(y/n) was sitting in the common room where everyone from the general studies class usually hung out during their down time. Although, surprisingly it was empty except for the purple haired Shinsou and his lavender haired girlfriend, (y/n). It honestly was just a coincidence that the pair both had purple hair, though the girls from their class thought it was the cutest. (y/n) placed her head on one of Shinsou’s shoulders as they watched a random movie on his laptop, pushing her goddess braids so that she could be more comfortable.

The common room was empty only because one of (y/n)’s friends and classmates had told everyone that they couldn’t go into the common room because Shinsou and (y/n) were on a date. Everyone obeyed her...she was kind of scary when she was determined about something.

“How can he just get away with that?” (y/n) questioned, placing some popcorn into her mouth, pausing to place some in Shinsou mouth as they continued to stare at the screen. The pair alternated, the next time Shinsou threw some into his mouth and then fed some to (y/n).

“I hate that guy...he reminds me of that annoying little grape kid in 1-A.” Shinsou mumbled, causing her to laugh.

“Mineta?”

“We don’t speak his name.” Shinsou joked as the pair broke out into laughs again.

“Hey (your nickname)!” The pair turned, Shinsou pausing the movie, to see Shintari Narisuke enter the room. (y/n) raised an eyebrow at the use of her nickname, that ONLY Shinsou used for her.

“It’s (your full name).” She corrected him.

“Aw, don’t be like that.” The average height boy pouted, sitting down next to her, causing Shinsou to sit up more, a frown on his face.

“What do you want, Shintari? We’re busy here.” Shinsou chimed in, slightly annoyed as he rolled his tired purple eyes.

“Not that busy.” The aqua blue haired boy responded, flashing a fake smile at Shinsou. His eyes narrowed as the frown on his face deepened.

“What do you want?” Shinsou repeated.

“Hey (y/n)...” Shintari dragged out, looking at the black girl with big eyes.

“Yes?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you kind of look like Megan Thee Stallion?”

“No…” The girl answered, confused as to where this was going. To her they looked nothing alike, though she was one of her favorite female rappers. “We don’t even look alike.”

“Your ass does though.” He answered smugly. “You think you could split on me like she does?” (y/n)’s eyes widened as she tried to process what he had just said. She was at a loss for words, completely surprised that he would go that far.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Shinsou grew angry, standing up and getting in the blue haired fool’s face. He had noticed that she was still slightly shocked, which is why he decided to handle it, because normally she was the one that would jump to put someone who needed it in their place.

“She heard me. Right, (your nickname)?” He said teasingly, his eyes not even looking at Shinsou. The usually disinterested male grew increasingly more angry, at being ignored and at the boy for using his nickname for his girlfriend.

“Do you think you could answer something for me?” Shinsou questioned catching the boy’s attention as Shinsou’s grip on his shirt tightened.

“Yeah, what do you want, Villain?” Shintari asked, falling for the trap. Shinsou’s purple eyes glowed softly as he activated his quirk.

“Shut the fuck up and…” Shinsou paused, really wanting to tell the kid to go take a long walk off of a short pier, but he knew he would probably be in trouble if he did that, so he took a deep breath. “Lock yourself in your room for the rest of the week and don’t come out.” Shinsou ultimately decided, letting the boy go with a smug smirk watching him walk down the hall.

The purple haired male turned, his focus going to his girlfriend who had a sick look on her face. “You okay, kitty?” He asked softly, sitting beside her. She simply wrapped her arms around him, listening to his steady heartbeat.

“I hate that asshole.” She mumbled.

“I do too.” Shinsou agreed. “I’m sorry he said something like that to you. That was fucking gross.”

“Thanks for handling it.” She half smiled at him. “I think I would’ve killed him...then he really would’ve called me a villain.”

“Who gives a fuck, let’s finish the movie.” Shinsou laughed lightly, causing her to laugh too. “Besides, he already calls me a villain.”

(For this one (y/n) works in a bakery)

The black girl came from the back of the shop, a tray of fresh cookies in her hands, the sweet smell filling the store. She opened the glass cabinet, carefully transferring the cookies inside before going to return the tray to the back of the bakery.

Customers sat throughout the store, reading books from the bookshelves in the corner, drinking their coffees and teas while working, or simply just enjoying the warm atmosphere with their friends. (y/n) came back to the front, taking her place behind the register after washing her hands.

She looked up from where she had been adjusting a machine to the door, the sound of the ringing bell meaning someone new had entered. “Hi Baby.” The deep gravely voice said. She could hear the smile in his voice as she looked up, her own smile growing as she immediately recognized the voice.

“Hi Staples.” She teasingly replied. “What are you doing over here? I thought you were busy today.”

“I needed more.” He replied, holding up the bag at his side with the black hair dye inside.

“You want my help when I get off?” She clarified as he nodded, his blue eyes looking over her appearance. “What? You don’t like my uniform?” A soft smile on her face as she wiped down the counter.

“No, you look good.” His signature smirk appearing on his burned face. (y/n)’s heart fluttered slightly, the fiery boy never failed to make her heart skip a beat even after two years of dating.

“I get off in 50 minutes. You wanna hang around? I just made a fresh batch of cookies.”

“The ones I like?” His eyes seemed to sparkle like a kid in a candy store. Dabi loved to act big and bad, and that side of him was definitely...hot, but you loved to see the goofy childish side of him as well.

“Yeah, your favorite.” She replied, a large smile on her face as he nodded quickly, the dark hood of the sweatshirt pulled up on his head. “Alright. Here. I’ll be done soon.” She handed him a few cookies, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he slinked off to the seat he usually took in the corner of the shop when he waited for you.

(y/n) watched as he stood, picking up a book he had already started last time he came, sitting back down and flipping to the page he had left off on. Dabi...Touya wasn’t a bad guy, no matter what anyone told her, otherwise.

She was pulled out of her thoughts at the chime of the bell, a blonde man walking into the store. He must’ve been a traveler because he looked lost, especially with the way he had pulled up directions onto his phone. (y/n) gave him a friendly smile, “Hi, what can I get you?”

“I’ll take a...hot chocolate.” He said weirdly, giving her a smirk as his light eyes trailed up and down her body, at least the part that wasn’t hidden behind a counter. She nodded uneasily.

“Anything else?” Her mood had dropped, already tired of the male customer.

“How about your number?”

“No, sorry. I’m working and I-” He cut the girl off as she handed him his drink, ringing it up after she had made it.

“Come on, if it’s because I’m white...I’m hung like a black guy, if you know what I mean.” He said to the girl, Dabi’s eyes narrowing as he practically glared a hole through the blonde man.

“E-excuse me?” (y/n) repeated, blinking as she ran her hands over her apron, stepping back from him. She wasn’t even sure that had just happened, nothing that bad had ever happened at work before, just the occasional Wow, so pretty or Your hair is so fluffy, like a cloud from a few children when she wore it in an afro, that made her smile though, the kids were cute and everyone was generally respectful.

“If that’s why you won’t give me your number, you don’t have to worry about that.” He repeated.

“Yeah, I’m gonna need you to shut the fuck up.” Dabi chimed in, catching his girlfriend completely off guard. She hadn’t even noticed he had come up behind him or moved from his seat.

“What’s your problem man? I don’t think this involves you at all.” The blonde guy shot him a glare before turning back to the black girl behind the counter and stepping closer. Dabi’s blue eyes seemed to hold small flames in them as his anger grew. A dark chuckle left his lips as he harshly brought his hand down onto the blonde shoulder, heating it up until the man’s jacket was practically smoking.

“That’s my girlfriend, man.” Dabi told the man mockingly, his voice low and his eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t mind you calling her pretty, because she’s gorgeous but if you disrespect her, then you’re gonna deal with me.”

“Ew you fucking creep. I’ll call the police.” He threatened after turning and seeing Dabi’s face. Dabi tilted his head to the side slightly, a slow smile growing on his face, though it seemed more eerie than anything.

“I’ll give you something to call them about.” Dabi threatened. “Now, why don’t you leave and if I see you around here again, I’ll burn your ass so bad you’ll be virtually unrecognizable.”

“Fuck all of you. This place is shit anyway and the bitch behind the counter looks like a fucking monkey.” The guy announced going to walk out of the bakery.

“Not acceptable. Apologize.” Dabi demanded, his hand going around the blonde’s neck as he heated his hand up, making sure it would leave a burn.

“Sorry.” The guy cried out, Dabi rolling his eyes before shoving him towards the door, a scoff leaving his lips as the guy tripped on the way out.

“You know you’re gorgeous right?” Dabi questioned as (y/n)’s best friend and coworker told her to go home after that incident. Dabi grabbed (y/n)’s hand, waving back at her coworker before the couple walked towards their apartment, (y/n) excited to dye Dabi’s hair.

Tags:

#bnha x poc!reader #requested #katsukisblackteddy #dabi x reader #hawks x reader #shinsou x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha x black!reader #ewww men are so trashy sometimes 🤢#pls stop fetishizing black women and girls #it’s not cute #bnha x reader

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lovely-necromancy · 3 years ago

Text

A Cure for Insomnia CH. 8

Mentions of SELF HARM. Please be aware before reading.

“Yeah, in the end Jenna Rosencali decided that she didn't want to invite Meghhan Levei to her birthday party. And that's what started the water balloon war at eight in the morning.” Little Jo said as she scrunched her curls trying to get them to dry somewhat uniformly.

The poor eleven year old had walked into the shop soaked down to the bone. Her cousin had rushed her straight into the break room to have her get dry and change clothes. Even running across the street to Dunkin' and get her favorite breakfast sandwich and donut. Then Jo had come out not even a minute after he left and proceeded to tell you what happened, knowing her cousin probably thought she'd been bullied.

But you were different, you didn't see her as a target at all. She likes to think you see her as a little sister, one who enjoys hanging out with you. As much as she likes to think that she understands you probably just see her as the boss' kid that you have to be nice to. You don't immediately jump to her aid when things look a certain way, like just right now. You waited to hear what she had to say rather than assuming someone was mean to her because she was different. Jo knows her family just wants to protect her but sometimes she just wants them to listen to her like you do.

“It's always Megans. Lemme guess name spelt weird.” like right now, you heard her.

“Yea she's got two 'h's in the middle. Meghhan.” she laughs as you roll your eyes. She tics and yanks on her hair as she's scrunching.

“Ouch” stupid tics.

“I've got some shea moisture in my locker in the break room, want me to grab it for you? It'd help with frizz.” another reason she likes you, it took a few days before you stopped checking on her tics, so long as she didn't have scissors.

Even her family haven't mastered that and they've been dealing with her Tourettes for six years.

“Please.”

She follows you to the back for the hair masque. Letting her take what she needed you place the jar back in your locker. Letting her know she's free to it in emergencies like this or rainy days. It's not like your locker was ever locked with just you and Nate being here. And you're pretty sure Nate dipped into this emergency hair saver as well. You didn't have an extreme need for it here it was just a habit you've kept from living in muggy humidity most your life.

“How's your week been?” Jo asked as she finally settled her hair how she liked it, with help from the masque.

She startles at the frustrated noise you make as you both leave the break room.

“Bad?” she questions.

“Sort of...there's...this..it's...”

Shit, you hadn't thought about your response. With all the stress this week you just reacted naturally to the question. Who can blame you, what with your stalker being on your mind all week, minimal amount of sleep, plus the weird interaction you'd had with Brian at the start of it. Then yesterday you topped off your stress with a healthy portion of more frustration driving up to the lodge after work to see if Barclay would like some help with cooking or even shopping for the picnic. Stubborn man sent you off with a hearty laugh after getting you opinion on the vegetarian/vegan main course, eggplant teriyaki or tofu and pineapple chipotle skewers.

“Oooooooh a boy.~” she might not be your actual sister...but you're starting to understand the Cain Instinct.

“Half right I guess.” Jo starts bouncing waiting to hear more, she's probably expecting some juicy relationship drama. Sucks for her that you are probably the world's most boring twenty-four year old, and you're content with that.

“Barclay's just frustrating sometimes.”

“Wait! You and Barcl-”

“Nope.” you interrupt, “I asked him if he needed help with any cooking for the picnic and he brushed me off.” You know he didn't mean anything by it and from what everyone said he could more than handle cooking for the amount of people just fine on his own. You'd just thought it'd be a nice gesture to offer, though you did hope he'd accept. He'd been pretty quick to turn you down, had you been any one else you may have even been insulted by the speed of the rejection.

“That's what's bothering you?” Jo's face held a very confused expression on it. It was understandable since not a lot actually bothered you, especially something as small as this. However, it's not like you could tell an eleven year old 'Yea I'm kinda being stalked right now and this week has me looking at every shadow and movement differently but fortunately or...unfortunately no one seems to notice and just brush it off as my hallucinations.'

Yup, totally not the thing you confide to an eleven year old about. Especially now that you have your plan all figured out. You've planned to let the stalker continue stalking you, picking up clues where ever they may leave them. They're bound to slip up at least once after a month of following you through your routines. Should be able to find evidence to have Big Jo help you in no time.

“Well no...I've just had a lot on my mind...”

“We can talk about it.” kid's got a kind heart, but this isn't her problem and you won't put it on her.

“Nah, it's fine.”

There's a pause as silence settles over the shop front. Jeez how long does it take to get an order from Dunkin'? Jo is staring at you as if she can see every part of your being. Breaking open your soul so all your secrets are laid out on display for her. You really don't like it, it feels like being under the microscope and it's making your skin get that familiar itch under it.

“Stop staring.” thankfully she does as you ask.

“...you said it's fine...are you going to be ok though?” Damn Montessori schools, actually allowing children to pick up on emotions and meanings behind linguistics.

You have to pause when you go to respond with the polite 'Yea I'll be good'...because you hadn't given it any real thought. You've made up this best case scenario plan. A plan that requires time and a lot of it. But you never gave thought to the fact that you might not have much time at all. What if the situation was more dire than you thought...what if this wasn't simply a stalker but a serial killer and you happen to fit his MO. A cult who was looking for the perfect sacrifice for their god. And while those thoughts could also be far fetched so is the scenario that you've built up for this past week.

Even if this was a simple stalking case, who's to say it wouldn't escalate? You have an old steel baseball bat in the hall closet and you could use it in case things got dicey. But that would require it being on your person a lot more than it actually is. Maybe you could make it look like you took up going to batting cages...are there even any batting cages in Kepler?

'Fucking focus...stop the rambling. Am I going to be ok?' you think to yourself despite the roaring chaos of your mind. Even with all the possibilities being thrown around you don't have an answer. Maybe that's really the answer after all if you can't get even one 'yes' from any of the possibilities...maybe you wouldn't be ok after all. Maybe you weren't ok.

“I don't want to talk anymore.” It's said so plainly, in such a dull monotone that it throws Jo off.

Jo's not quite used to this but she understands from the two times she's seen it that sometimes you just shut down under pressure like this. This topic, whatever it is, must really bother you. She wishes there was something she could do to make you feel better, but you can be really volatile in this state. Easily going from shutdown mode to meltdown at the simplest action.

With a jolt joined by a 'yip-yup' she remembers something that might put you in a better mood. And if it doesn't she still needs to give it to you so you have it. Rushing off to the back as fast as her legs will take her, having the agility only years of dance can provide.

Nate comes back into the shop as she disappears to the back.

“Did you know the Dunkin' across the street does parties?” What? To the man's credit he had no reaction to your blank stare and lack of response. He clocked the eye contact aversion right away.

You've gone into shutdown mode. Sometimes you just go quiet and that's fine, you're like a robot in this state and if he sets you up with a task that should take all day you have it finished in a few hours.

Once when he asked you just said you needed to not talk at time and that the tasks were good ways to process thoughts. Nate was reasonably creeped out by this but you aren't hurting anyone so c'est la vie.

“Nate?” Jo's calls out from down the hall.

“Yea, I'm back. Brought food.” he set the bag on the counter and handed you the shitty hash rounds you like for some reason.

'It's only cuz they're bad, if they were good they wouldn't be worth eating.' you think as you pop one into your mouth.

Jo comes twirling back into the room. In a broad sweep of motion kicks her foot off the floor to do one final dramatic twirl that ends in a bow with the same leg pointed toward the ceiling. All to present to you and Nate two tickets. Tickets to what?

“Another dance rehearsal?”

“Nope actual thing this time.” she supplies passing you each a ticket.

It's such a formal looking ticket for a recital that only goes up to age twelve max. Most dancers will still be in elementary school. But they want you to treat this like the Russian Ballet. Oh it even says it's a black tie event, completely different from the rehearsals you've been too.

You aren't sure if you have anything black tie status. You'll have to make a trip further out of your normal bounds and go thrifting for an outfit. Luckily it won't be happening for another month, that gives you plenty of time to try finding something in your size that you also like. It also gets you out of Kepler and away from your stalker for a few hours. Hopefully. But there's a chance your stalker will follow you on your outings away from Kepler so you'd need to keep an eye out for familiar faces on the trip.

“YN...will you come?” Jo's looking up at you with her big puppy eyes. Unfair, even if you wanted to decline she pulled puppy eyes. What heartless monster would refuse puppy eyes.

You give a slow nod along with a smile that doesn't reach your cheeks let alone your eyes. And while Jo's a little disappointed with the lack of enthusiasm she's still excited for you to come to her recital. Nate nudges her into her personal reading nook making up a lie that you hadn't finished your task sheet today so he'd watch over her while you finished working. You'd only had vacuuming and organizing the shelves that got mussed up the previous day, needless to say you were done nearly as soon as you started. When he came back to you he had a whole stack of papers for books that would need to be input into the system. You got to spend the rest of the day on the dinosaur computer in the backroom.

The quiet was nice.

After you'd gotten off work you still weren't out of your funk. Frustrated with the idea of going home and not actually being alone with a stalker prowling around. You decided to go to the one place that can calm even your worst of moods. The stream.

There's a reason why you've never been able to do longer than a thirty minute hike through the Monongahela and that's the stream. Every time you've said you'd go further into the forest you're always drawn back into that spot along the bank right under the red spruce. It has the best smell of all the trees, you think.

Just thinking about it has you having a better outlook on the day. You hardly spare the RV a glance as you go along your usual route.

You've said it once you'll say it again for emphasis. You could walk the same path every time you came through and always find something different. Like that cool rock right there. Picking it up to inspect it closer you note the color is a deep dark brown that it almost looks black even obsidian, it reminds you of something but you can't quite place it. It's very smooth and oddly enough fits perfectly in your hand given it's larger size.

You think you'll keep it, this is a good rock. Idly rubbing the smooth surface of the stone as you trek through your trail, you can feel the tension start to ease off of you. You found a very nice worry stone, it works amazingly well. Hopefully no one lost it and it is just a naturally occurring stone that you happened on by chance. As much as you like it you'd hate to think of the chance of someone loosing something they need.

All thoughts cease once you hear the babble of the stream. As if on auto pilot you move with a fluidity through the brush and low hanging tree branches to your spot. Right under the spruce. Just as you did the last week and every other trip before you remove your shoes and socks placing them further behind you, so you can dip your feet into the cool stream. It's very refreshing on this hot summer's day.

Lying down with your feet still in the stream you close your eyes and just loose yourself to nature. All your cares and worries getting washed away by the steady moving stream. It's strange to be here without the buzzing in the back of your head. Oh great speak of the devil and he shall appear. It's fine, after all you're used to this, it's easy to ignore.

However, what isn't easy to ignore is the snapping of a branch, from in front of you just across the stream, how cliche. Cliches aside the sound rockets you back into a sitting position as you look for the source. And you find it...find him standing just on the other side of the stream emerging from the brush on that side. Toby. And he's mask less, not a weird choice considering he probably wouldn't have run into anyone had you not decided to come out for a hike.

Great you can feel your chances at friendship slipping through your grasp just like the water slips down the bend. He's gonna think you're weird when you don't respond to him verbally. Or worse he'll think you were rude for not wanting to talk to him and then never want to talk to you again in retaliation. Whatever relaxation had once been over you quickly dissipates and you are left anxious and with a tickle at the base of your skull.

Toby hasn't said anything yet. Not even a raised hand in a half wave. You also don't see Connor anywhere. Is Toby okay right now? Fuck even with that kind of thought you can't manage to move your lips let alone actually utter a sound, even ones that wouldn't ever be counted as words by anyone who was currently living. So you take the first move, literally.

Raising the hand without the stone in a mock form of a greeting. Toby doesn't seem to quite register it or you but he copies the movement. Oh he must be dissociating either that or in a catatonic state similar to the one you'd been in last weekend. That's probably how he knew he just needed to sit you down and keep and eye on you. You could do that for him...if that's what he needed.

You wave your hand beckoning Toby to come over to your side of the stream. Toby tilts his head to the side before his arms jolt up, going across his body. You assume it was a tic because he didn't keep the pose long. Tilting your head back at him, as if to say 'You coming over?', you pat the spot next to you.

Seems he registered that because he backed up a few steps before taking a running leap to cross the stream. He lands with more grace than you'd given the lanky guy credit for, normally someone with such long limbs would be a lot more clumsy. Not to mention that was a pretty wide jump, and Toby only has a few inches on you, you could probably barely cover the width of the stream. But he not only cleared it but he gave himself a good six inches of coverage away from the edge. You just hope he didn't roll or over exert anything by doing that. With his insensitivity to pain he wouldn't feel it and if he wasn't here mentally right now it's likely he wouldn't even remember he made a jump like that in the first place.

When he just stands in place staring at you, you get a bit uneasy. What's up with everyone staring at you today? You get really uncomfortable with people's stares normally, and now you're overstimulated and stressed it's not a great combination. But you can rationalize Toby is having a moment of his own. And since he helped you the best that he could you'll do the same for him, pushing aside your own issues for the moment. After all what are friends for.

He's standing within arms reach. You don't even have to get up as you gently grab his hand and give a few light tugs. Trying your best to get across that he should sit down with you. This would probably be a lot easier if you could speak right now. Did he speak to you when you were like this?

Toby thankfully gets the message and drops into a criss-cross position next to you. You start to retract your hand, now that the need for contact is over, when Toby's rough hand closes around it suddenly. Looking to Toby he's just staring straight ahead and not at you. His eyes aren't frantic or moving in any way, like yours sometimes do when you're following a hallucination. Physical closeness must help him through this kind of thing.

As gross as the feeling normally would be for you it isn't so bad right now. It seems Toby's CIPA also affects his body's temperature and his ability to sweat. Where there's usually the feeling of burning and clammy moisture coming off of another person, Toby is just tepid and dry. If anything it feels as if you're being held by a leather baseball glove.

Toby's hands are very rough, especially his palms, maybe you should let him burrow some of the goat milk lotion Dia gave you a few weeks ago. It smells pretty good and it only takes a little bit to soften your skin back up. But as you look closer at his hands you can see the spots roughest are around his nail beds. Someone has a biting problem, maybe he needs an oral stim toy. That would keep his flesh out of his mouth, and stop him from injuring himself...hopefully. There's still a chance he'd bite through his tongue without realizing, honestly you're a little surprised that hasn't happened yet.

You had completely forgotten about the stone in your hand until you went to grab at Toby's hand that still held yours in a firm grip. Seeing the dark brown rock again you remembered what it reminded you of, Toby's eyes. They were the same shade as the rock, that's funny...anecdotally at least. This rock helped you maybe it would help calm him down some. Worth a shot.

Since your hand closest to him is preoccupied you have to reach across his body to nudge the rock to his hand. He spares it a single glance before covering it with his other hand. Mission partially accomplished you guess. Now you're just sitting here, with Toby catatonic, by the edge of the water bank. Pulling your feet from the stream you mirror Toby's pose, you'll likely be here a while.

While normally you'd love to just loose your self to the sounds surrounding the stream, in the presence of another person you're too jittery to enjoy that. If only you had something to fidget with... You wonder what Toby's reaction would be if you just... Toby turns his head to watch you when he feels a gentle smaller hand on his own. Dark eyes watching intensely as you pull his hand into your lap. Turning it over so his palm is facing up, before you start tracing patterns into his palm lines and flexing his fingers individually. He watches for a moment before turning back to his original point.

Playing with his hand you noticed a few more things about Toby. From his chipped black nail polish, a look you personally think not enough guys go for even though it makes them look more attractive and approachable. To the single string paracord medical bracelet he's wearing, metal tag simply stating 'TOURETTE'S SYNDROME'. And a little further down you see scars, a few are crescent shapes easily identified as Toby's own nails. But most are straight lines, even a few jagged cuts, that run up and along his forearm.

'Tobais...what on Earth happened to you?' just as the thought rings through your mind you feel a sudden weight on your shoulder.

Toby is resting on your shoulder with his eyes close. You can tell he's just resting them by the lack of movement behind the eyelids. With his head being on your shoulder you can smell him, not in a creepy way but he's just so close that his scent waifs your way. He smells like fresh dirt...it isn't a bad smell. It reminds you of gardening but on an overcast day. It hadn't rained today so how does he smell like it?

Moving your attention back to his hands, and away from how nice Toby smells, you catch sight of the scars again and bite your lip. Not wanting to dwell on the scars and their implications any longer. You curl and uncurl his fingers and start a rhythmic motion of curling them individually.

'You poor sweet boy.' is the only thought you can focus on. Even though the scars may be old and those wounds long healed. Toby at one point made them and it's very apparent that he is still not in the best way mentally. Once the two of you are friends, you'll do your best to be there for him. Like you are right now...you really hope it helps.

Toby didn't make even the slightest movement until the sky had begun to bleed its deep oranges across the horizon. He pulls his hand out of your grasp. And when you try to retrieve it to keep up you activity he softly pushes your hands back to you. Guess he's done for now.

With as late as it is, you'd like to go home. And Toby seems more aware of the things going on. But it isn't until you hear a call for him behind you two and he reacts looking in the direction of the call, that you decide he's safe enough for you to leave here.

Without much hesitancy you push off of the ground and stand. Toby isn't looking at you. Taking that as a cue you head back towards the entrance of the forest. Before you leave the clearing however, you look back to Toby and notice a dark colored stone resting nicely in his palm as he idly brushes a finger across it's surface.

Yea he's going to be fine.

#ticci tobyx reader #ticcitoby #ticci toby #timothy wright #timothy wright x brian thomas #timothy wright x reader #masky x reader #masky #hoodie #brian thomas #brian thomas x reader #creepypasta fanfic #self harm mentioned

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smilexcaptainx · 5 years ago

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Locked In | Ransom Drysdale

Wanna be part of my Imagines Tag List?

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Requested: Anonymous

Request: My 2020 just got better seeing that you write for Ransom Drysdale now! May I have an imagine with Ransom where the reader pranks him to prove a point by ghosting him. She attends Harlan’s birthday party a couple days later. Her original plan was to drop off a present and a treat and leave because she wanted to avoid Ransom. She gets side tracked and Ransom gets to her and locks himself and the reader in a room and won’t let her leave until he gets an explanation. The rest is up to you. Thank you

A/N: My 2020 just got better from this request. Thank you! I love you and I agree with your statement of Ransom being a sexy beast. I hope you enjoy!

Warning(s): Language

Word Count: 1.5K

masterlist

“You’ve got to be shittin’ me,” ransom exclaimed loudly. “she still isn’t responding back to me. It’s been three days!‌”

“Maybe she finally saw through your bullshit,”‌ meg called out, putting down a pile of plates on the nicely set up table. “I mean, it took a while but I’m glad that she eventually figured out the asshole that you are.”

“Oh Meg,” ransom chuckled in amusement. “you’re such a bitch.”

Megan threw the blue eyed man the bird, only to retrieve the same gesture right back at her from him in mockery. Megan scoffed and stormed off into the next room over. Ransom remained in his seat and turned back to his phone to scroll through the text messages he has been sending you. Ransom was continuously shaking his head as his ocean blue eyes snaked their way down the texts.

Not one response. Nothing. Not even a read. It drove Ransom absolutely insane. Ransom has been texting you, but no response. He has been calling you, but you never picked up. He even went over to your house, but never had the door opened to him. It was as if you had totally and completely disappeared out of his life, and he wasn’t ready for that to happen.

“I believe (Y/N) is coming to my birthday party tonight,” spoke his grandfather who came entering the room. “you are talking about (Y/N)‌ (Y/L/N), correct?”

“When is he not?” the ignorant teenage girl asked, strutting her way back into the room. “Ransom is utterly obsessed with that woman. Poor (Y/N).”

Ransom ignored Megan’s remark and turned to face Harlan. “Yes. I’m talking about (Y/N). You said she’s coming tonight to your birthday party? Are you sure?”

Harlan nodded, which was all Ransom needed to interpret a plan that included the help from his grandfather.

—

Ransom was the only thing on your mind as you pulled up to the mansion. Your gift and batch up cookies were sitting in the back of your car and ready to be taken inside. The only thing that you weren’t ready for was taking the risk of bumping into Ransom. Earlier this week, he claimed that the silent treatment wasn’t effective, and you knew you already proved him wrong after the first day, but you decided to keep the prank going. It was entertaining.

You slammed the car door shut with your gift and batch of brownies in your arms. The dogs happily greeted you as you made your way to the front door.

—

Ransom snapped his eyes at the front door as he heard the familiar knocking pattern, the one that was done only by you. Ransom wanted to race to open the door, but was beat by Megan instead. He grumbled bitterly and carried on in the room where everyone was chatting with each other. His ocean blue eyes lit up as he saw the love of his life enter into the house. He noticed the gift in your arms and he knew where the gifts were supposed to go.

Ransom brushed off his stylish, brown coat and confidently began to approach your way. Ransom saw you glance at him, which meant you saw him coming, but your next action wasn’t what he was expecting. You sped off the complete opposite direction. He couldn’t believe it. You were avoiding him. He bit down on his bottom lip, not aware of what he could have done to cause this.

Ransom decided to ignore it and stomped his way to his grandfather. He gave him the code tap on his shoulders to indicate to put the plan into action.

—

You secretly peeked around the corner to see what your boyfriend was doing. Fortunately, he was going upstairs, which meant that the main floor was free from him. You couldn’t help but giggle. The prank was going smoother than his lips. You left the kitchen and placed the gifts and treats down in their rightful places. Once everything was done with, you went up to Harlan to wish him happy birthday.

“Happy birthday Harlan!”‌ you cheered happily, giving him a tight hug from behind. “Eighty five already huh?”

Harlan laughed at your comment and told you how happy he was to see you. He pulled out a random letter out of his jacket and placed it on the table in front of him. He raised it front of his eyes and squinted at them.

“Now, let’s see here,” he sighed, bringing the letter closer. He grunted in frustration before looking up at you. “sweetheart, would you mind going upstairs to my room and retrieving my glasses? I can’t read worth a damn without those glasses.”

“I um, I can read it for—”

“Ransom isn’t in my room, (Y/N),” harlan interrupted, making your cheeks heat up from embarrassment. “you’re safe sweetheart.”

You trusted Harlan’s words and nodded in agreement. You leave him and walk up the creaky old stairs. You never knew why they never fixed the creakiness of the stairs, it really bothered you. You walked up the stairs to Harlan’s closed door room. You opened the wooden door and entered the room. You walked straight ahead and turned to his drawers that held his glasses.

A sudden door slam alarmed you and you whipped around, only to see the person you wished not to see tonight. Ransom. He had a smug look on his face, but overall, he didn’t look amused. Ransom turned around, and a few clicks later, the door was locked. He twisted back around and held the key up, soon tucking it away into his coat.

“I’ve got you locked in now (Y/N),” ransom claimed. “I have one question for you, sweetheart. Why did you ghost me?” ransom asked, now slowly approaching you. “If you tell me, I’ll let you out, but if not, it’s going to be a long night.”

His eyes glistened with anger, but you knew he wasn’t. You knew for a fact he was soft for you. He always was. You kept your mouth closed and slowly backed away from him as he was coming closer. You couldn’t break. Ransom raised his eyebrows and clenched his jaw in response.

“Hello? (Y/N)?” ransom called out, waving his hand at you. “Am I all of a sudden the ghost now? Why the hell aren’t you responding.” You remained silent, angering him even further. “Stop with the bullshit (Y/N). TALK TO ME!”

You were inches away from the wall, but was instantly pinned against it by Ransom. His hands were pressed against your shoulders.‌ You could tell he didn’t want you to leave. You avoided his gaze as you felt his breath against your skin. In the process of Ransom trying to break you, you sneakily slipped out the little note out of your pocket and slid it into his coat pocket, switching it out with his key.

“(Y/N), why the hell did you ghost me?”‌ he asked again. “Nobody ghosts me.”

A small smirk appeared across your lips and you rose your eyes up to meet with his.

“There’s always a first for everything.”

Ransom’s face scrunched up in confusion and breathed out a, “What?”‌ before you gripped onto his arms and broke free from him. You took his arms and forcefully pulled them behind his back. You leaned in close to his ear.

“Point proven.”

Ransom was still confused, but next thing you did was shove him to the ground. He inhaled sharply as his body hit the ground. You jumped over him and raced toward the door, immediately shoving the key into the door. Your heart was racing as you heard Ransom continuously scream your name, demanding you to stop. You ripped the door open and flew down the stairs, surprised that Ransom didn’t catch you.

You dashed out of the house and to your car, laughing to yourself. You did it!‌ You were able to prove a point to Ransom, and it was one hell of a ride.

—

Ransom scrambled up to his feet, already pissed off that he wasn’t able to catch you. He ran down the stairs, and seeing that everybody was looking outside the open front door, he knew that you had already escaped. Ransom yelled in anger and slammed the front door in defeat, frightening everyone in the room.

“I can’t believe all you shithead’s let (Y/N)‌ get away like that!”‌ he shouted at everyone. “This family is a—”

His hand fell upon a paper in his pocket. His eyes glanced down at he pulled it out almost instantly. He aggressively unfolded the paper and his temper began to die down as he read the letter. It was you taunting to Ransom about the prank and how your point was proven. It made your “point proven” sentence make sense to him. When he finished the letter, he lifted up his eyes to see the room full of his family staring intensely at him. He chuckled softly and tucked the letter back into his pocket.

“Okay, I may have overreacted a little bit.” he admitted. Nobody reacted and just kept staring. “Um, who wants cake?”

The End

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Tag List:

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@whenpugzfly , @mo320 , @hauntedhoagiesoulkid , @babydazz , @cporter003 , @let-the-music-take-c0ntrol , @trashparker , @catislittlecorner , @cruciomondani394 , @me-lis , @sincerelyfan , @taman-a , @iwastornsincethestart , @jillanaholland , @swagbearfreakmoney , @aavocadocloud , @missmulti , @bellagrayson-wayne , @mschrisaholic

#imagine #imagines #knives out #chris evans #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale imagine #my writing

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gaiapaia · 4 years ago

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Kermit and Friends: Calamari Christmas

“I am an admirer of Elisa’s. Elisa has even worked for me. And the fact is that she is talented.” - Howard Stern.

After an introduction featuring endorsements from some of the biggest names in show business such as Howard Stern, Jimmy Kimmel, Natalie Maines, Ryan Phillippe, etc... Kermit and Friends went on to have one of its most star-studded shows yet!

Elisa kicked things off by sharing some wisdom from an online Kabballah course she’s taking, saying she was instructed to pray before ‘everything.’ One of the things she prayed about was for Barry Boss to ease up on the constant calling and messages. God answered her prayers and Barry left Elisa one last message saying he was not going to contact her again until he’s released from the insane asylum. I very much look forward to seeing Barry Boss on Kermit and Friends when he’s back in the real World.

To update last week’s show, we found out that Brandon did have a nice birthday after all. Elisa baked him a cake and got him, according to Brandon, the “best gift ever” with a very thoughtful ‘I sell houses to give my dog a better life’ t-shirt. Those two have a beautiful friendship.

The first big special guest this week is Hollywood movie producer Andre Relis. Andre has produced nearly 50 feature films, including Arkansas (2019) and Outlaws and Angels (2016). Those are the two movies I’ve seen from his credits. Arkansas was pretty good, but as a big Chad Michael Murray fan, I was disappointed in the violence and vileness of Outlaws and Angels. Nobody wants to see CMM star in a movie like that!

Sorry, back to Kermit and Friends. Elisa interviewed Andre for almost 45 minutes, covering his career as a movie producer and also his upbringing. He shared stories about on-set fights he had with actors such as Sam Worthington, expressed his best and worst film production experiences, offered insight about what it’s like to be born into a cult, gave his thoughts on the #MeToo movement, and answered great questions from Kermitarians such as Brandon, Laurie, DJ Smooth, Kevin, Brian from Louisiana, Sugar, Darron, etc.

My favorite part of the interview was the #MeToo discussion. Andre shared a story about Steven Seagal’s inappropriate behavior on the set of a movie called The Perfect Weapon. The #MeToo talk though led to Elisa admitting that she’s used certain guys before for both entertainment and personal purposes, just as women have been used by men in the film industry. Elisa’s example was her time dating Gonzo during the original Kermit and Friends run. I understand Elisa’s point but Gonzo used her too. They used each other. That’s usually the case in situations like that.

Andre talked about his upcoming film The Last Son starring Machine Gun Kelly, which actually led to Elisa proving that her taste in women is almost as bad as her taste in men. Elisa fawned over MGK’s current girlfriend Megan Fox, putting her on a pedestal as the most beautiful woman in the World. Ha! Here’s a quick list of public figures that are easily more beautiful than Megan Fox: Elisa Jordana, Jessica Alba, Victoria Justice, Minka Kelly, and so on!

Before getting to the next superstar guest, Elisa read some fanmail from an ex die-hard fan projecting their own insecurities onto Elisa. It was very funny she read it in the manner she did. I love how Elisa enjoys sharing the vitriol she receives constantly from delusional, jealous, hate-filled maniacs.

Social media sensation Billy the Fridge was Elisa’s next big guest. Billy became infamous during his time on Battlecam, and used that little recognition to further his career with music, Youtube videos, and a podcast called Drunken Peasants, which Elisa will be interviewed on Christmas Eve.

Elisa started the interview by reading, unbeknownst to her, a very inaccurate biography of Billy the Fridge. After Billy corrected Elisa on the misrepresentation that website had of him, they went on to discuss trolls, his beefs with different Youtube personalities, and of course his podcast.

Following the interview, Elisa set up a date between Brandon the Neighbor and Kermit’s old friend, Supertramp. This is Supertramp’s first time being on Kermit and Friends since late 2015 or early 2016. It was great seeing him again and I can’t think of a more perfect way for him to come back than a virtual date with Elisa’s stunning neighbor!

Unfortunately, the date didn’t go so well. Brandon was apprehensive due to the distance between them (Brandon is in Los Angeles, while Supertramp lives in Minnesota), and they were both a bit shy and awkward. It was still a fun segment but hopefully phone numbers can be exchanged and they can at least get to know each other a little better. I’m sure they would make great friends.

After the date, Elisa read a poem about Alexander Octopus Cortez that somehow was just as good, if not better, than the song she wrote for him a couple of weeks back. I shouldn’t be surprised at this point when Elisa’s creativity floors me, but I did not expect the poem to be that awesome, hilarious, and confident. I LOVED it!

Gonzo then called in and asked Elisa about her situation with Stuttering John Melendez. This past weekend, Elisa made a tweet showing that she was blocked by Stuttering John, formally of The Howard Stern Show and a guy who made a few appearances on the original Kermit and Friends. Elisa suggested she was blocked by Stuttering John because she didn’t want to go hiking with him after he repeatedly asked her for months, while John hysterically made a video suggesting the real reason he blocked Elisa was because she told him to “repent.” He didn’t say what led her to telling him to repent, which I found suspicious. John mentioned Elisa hating porn in the video... why would he bring that up? Just speculation on my part, but I think John sent a pornographic picture of himself to Elisa without her consent, and when she responded with “REPENT!” he blocked her. Again, just speculating despite how perfectly logical it is!

The show concluded with an awesome live performance of Santa Claus is Coming to Town by the wonderful John Bolton. It was a great way to end this special Christmas edition of Kermit and Friends. I sincerely hope everyone reading this is having the happiest of holidays and I can’t wait to review what will surely be another amazing episode of Kermit and Friends next week :)

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deanandcastrash · 5 years ago

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Absolutely nothing was fair about Castiel Novak.

He was extremely smart, and he had powerful confidence. He was talented yet humble, mature yet nice, and handsome yet well mannered.

He had stunning bright blue eyes and the most beautiful smile.

Yet, the most unfair part of it all was how severely he made Dean fall for him.

It wasn’t fair that Castiel sat next to him in Spanish, how he flashed his perfect smile, how it made Dean’s heart skip a beat in his chest.

It wasn’t fair how Dean didn’t know how to do the work and how Castiel did, willing to help, sliding his chair closer.

It wasn’t fair when they became friends and exchanged numbers and Castiel began texting Dean on the regular, and it most certainly wasn’t fair how happy it made Dean everytime his phone went off and he saw Castiel’s name.

It wasn’t fair how Dean realized he had a crush on him after giggiling like a girl at one of those stupid texts.

They got closer as time went by.

Castiel begged for Dean to turn his read receipts on - he wanted to see when Dean was ignoring him. And of course, Dean refused - until Castiel turned his off to irritate him, and then he caved.

That was when Castiel began to become obsessive over Dean responding to his messages.

That was when Dean began to think that maybe Cas liked him more than a friend.

One day, towards the end of the school year, when their friendship was still relatively new, Dean accidentally opened a message from Castiel right before he had to turn in his phone before an exam.

He left him on read for hours, and the entire exam it was all he could think about. As soon as the test was over he rushed to his next class, powering his phone back on.

It was a class he had with Castiel - he would just tell him what happened.

When Dean walked in, Cas shouted at him playfully from across the room.

“You are a horrible friend, Dean Winchester! You left me on read for three hours!”

Castiel was so predictable. It made Dean smile.

“I was taking an exam!” Dean pleaded, walking to where Cas stood.

The class was all over the room; card games were being played and loud chatter filled the air. The teacher sat at her desk with ear buds popped in.

It was the end of the year.

“Inexcusable,” Cas said, meeting Dean at the middle of the room.

“I didn’t have time to respond!”

“Three hours is plenty of time!” Cas said, taking another step towards him. He had his eyebrows raised and his lips pursed in an extremely sassy expression, but all Dean could think about was how awfully close that they were standing.

So, he took a step back.

“I was taking an exam!”

“You had enough time,” Cas said, stepping closer again.

They were standing so close Dean was afraid that he could hear his rapid heartbeat in his chest.

Making eye contact with Cas was something Dean always struggled with. He was afraid that if he looked into his eyes that he would see everything - he would figure him all out. But right now, Dean couldn’t look away.

His blue eyes were captivating - he was locked in some kind of transe.

“No,” Dean mumbled, backing away clumsily.

Cas cooly shoved his hands into his pockets, raising his shoulders into a shrug and grinning slyly‍, like he knew what he was doing, and it lit a fire inside Dean.

“Yes,” he said softly with a step.

“No.”

Step back.

“Yes.”

Step forward.

Dean was a mess. He couldn’t think clearly. He was staring at Cas like he was a miracle or something, and he was making eye contact. He was making eye contact! Cas would see - he would see right through him like fucking glass - what is he doing?

And everything ran through him in a quick wave of panic and fear of being figured out when he realized how lock lust he was, and so he pushed around Castiel with a final “No.” He could feel his cheeks flushing red with embarrassment.

He kept his head the complete other direction in an attempt to keep himself from making eye contact and falling into the trap again.

“No, no it wasn’t enough time ‘cause I was in an exam,” Dean spout at a rapid speed. “But I’ll respond now, I’ll respond now, okay?” And he pulled his phone out of his pocket and he tried to will his blush to fade and his heart to slow down a bit.

Dean thought maybe Castiel liked him the way he liked him.

So he made the decision to let his crush continue to develop.

They went to the movies. It was Castiel’s idea. They saw some no name movie.

Castiel paid for his ticket before Dean could even refuse.

They were the only ones in the theater - sat in the back row and Castiel made funny comments the entire time that made Dean’s stomach hurt from laughing by the time the credits started rolling.

They went to the mall. Shopping around all day, walking around talking. It was nice. Dean got Cas back from the movies - he paid for his lunch.

The topic of girls only came up once.

Castiel said he had a crush on some girl - her name was Megan. Dean had seen her around - she was a pretty girl.

But he didn’t see Cas trying to make an effort to talk to her at all. He seemed more worried about whether Dean was responding to his messages than he was about even attempting to get her number.

So Dean didn’t really worry about it too much.

All he could think about was when they were together - after the newness of the crush had worn off, what was left underneath was this beautiful friendship.

He could trust Cas, he could actually talk to him.

But he wasn’t just a friend, not when they joked around the way they did. Not when they looked at each other the way they did.

And Dean kept comparing himself to Castiel’s other friends, trying to see how exactly he acted around them, if maybe he just treated everyone like he was flirting with them.

But Cas didn’t.

He didn’t have a single friend he was even remotely tied to like he was tied to Dean.

And God, was Dean so tied to Cas.

Dean would do anything Castiel asked him to do, and he did.

What was beautiful was when Cas started to become more serious. When instead of stealing and hiding his possessions to mess around with him, he started bringing them to him if he left them behind on accident. He started asking Dean to do actual tasks for him.

Something about doing it for Cas made whatever chore he was doing so much more enjoyable, or rewarding.

For a while Dean was okay with their dynamic being like that - where they flirted around and texted and facetimed all night.

Whenever shit got serious, though, Cas shut down. He got mad at Dean.

And then Dean started remembering how unfair everything was.

The newest addition to it all though hurt like hell.

It was the most unfair how Castiel was straight.

Dean had dreams where Castiel came out to him. They didn’t even kiss.

They just looked at each other and for the first time Dean could look into Castiel’s eyes without being afraid that he would see something and reject him.

Dean lived for those dreams.

He stared to let himself down slowly.

He started to try and accept that they would only be friends.

Then Cas had a bad week.

Dean knew about Castiel’s depression. They talked about it a few times - he had taken it out on Dean before. He got angry when he got low. Dean just didn’t understand why he got angry with him.

One week, Castiel went radio silent.

For an entire week Dean barely heard a word from him, and it was pissing him off.

How come when Dean left him on read for an hour it was a problem, but Cas could be silent for a week?

On day eight, Dean couldn’t take it anymore.

It was the first football game of the new season. Dean found Cas at halftime. Why was he even at the game without Dean?

“My little brother, Gabe, he wanted to come and I just decided to stay,” Cas explained as they walked towards concessions.

Dena nodded silently at his feet for a second or two, and then a rush of anger flushed through him. He looked up at Cas next to him.

Cas was already watching.

“Why are you ignoring me?”

“I really need to answer that question?”

“Yeah, yeah, you do. Cause I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong here, so please tell me what’s going on,” Dean said angrily.

“I’m mad at you.” Cas said bitterly.

Dean sighed dramatically. “You’re always mad at me-“

“No, hear me out, okay? You leave me on read all the time. I’m always the one to text you first, I’m always the one making plans. I’m mad about it - like how you don’t care. It took you a fucking week to ask me to my face what was wrong.”

Dean slowed his walking to a stop, his eyebrows scrunched in a confused expression.

“I don’t always respond to you because I know you want me to. I don’t want to give you want, Castiel, I never want to give you what you want. Where’s the fun in giving you what you want?” Dean said, and he had to bite his tongue to keep himself from saying more.

Castiel’s entire expression went blank at that. He stared blankly at Dean for a few moments, and then he chuckled to himself quietly.

“You never give me what I want - that’s the fucking problem,” Castiel said, and he turned on his heels and took long strides into the crowd the opposite direction.

Dean was a bit flustered at whatever that was supposed to mean. His heart was beating in his chest a million miles an hour, and he finally urged his legs to move to follow him.

Dean pushed through the crowd, trailing after Cas all the way back to the gate, calling his name.

Cas walked through the gate, abandoning the game completely, walking at a fast pace into the parking lot.

Dean began to run behind him, and he caught Cas just as he dug his keys out of his pocket next to his car.

“Cas,” Dean breathed, grabbing his arm. “Cas, tell me what the fuck is going on right now.”

Cas was looking down at his hands, fiddling with his keys. His hands were shaking badly and he took a deep breath that was shaky too.

When he looked up at Dean, his blue eyes held the saddest expression that he’d ever seen.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed.

“For what?”

“For taking all my anger out on you.” He wiped his nose. “You’re just the only person I can blame.”

“Fucking blame me. I don’t care. I’ll take it. I’ll take all the blame, just text me back every once in a while. Just get better, okay?”

Castiel grinned, shaking his head. “That’s a sweet sentiment Dean, but I’m afraid that this is a problem that won’t go away if we continue to be friends.”

“Are you breaking up with me?” Dean joked, and then Castiel’s entire expression changed sour and he stomped his foot hard against the pavement.

“That’s the fucking thing, Dean! We aren’t dating!” He roared.

And Dean wasn't thinking clearly - his heart was still racing inside his chest and he was still looking into those blue eyes, so he said, “Do you want to?”

But before the dread of the question could even set in, Castiel had already answered him, angrily, even, stomping his foot again.

“Yes!” He exclaimed.

A million emotions flooded Dean’s viens at once. His body went into complete shock. He wasn’t even breathing.

“Yes! I want to date you, I fucking want to date you and you aren’t even into guys let alone me-“

“Hang on, wait,” Dean said, trying to gain his composure, trying to make sense of what was happening.

“Actually, I like girls and guys, so that’s one thing you’ve said that’s incorrect.”

Castiel just stared at him, those blue eyes flashing.

“Actually, I don’t even like girls or boys. Not right now at least,” Dean said, knowing what he was about to do, his pulse in his throat.

“What?” Cas asked, blinking.

“Yeah, right now I just kinda like boy.”

And then he took a step closer. Finally allowed himself to close the distance, he took a breath from Cas’s air.

And then he kissed him.

Those dreams Dean had been having had nothing on this.

Every ounce of tension or guilt or overwhelming sadness Dean had built up inside melted out of him. All of his worries left his shoulders. For the first time in months he felt light.

Castiel had him tied around his finger - his hands in his hair, on his hips, trailing up his chest, dragging him closer.

It was divine.

In that moment Dean realized he was right.

Absolutely nothing was fair about Castiel Novak.

#destiel #destiel fic #destiel fanfiction #fanfiction #dean and cas #deancas #dean and cas trash #mine

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tumblngdice · 5 years ago

Text

USA's mastery of fine details helped them beat talented England

Hope Solo, Wed 3 Jul 2019 16.35 BST

The difference between victory and defeat can be razor thin. It was the Americans who made the most of their resources in the semi-final.

The game between the United States and England took women’s football to another level. It had everything you could want in a semi-final: two VAR decisions; great goals by Ellen White (OK, with one pulled back for offside); a penalty; a penalty save; surprise line-up changes; a tactical battle between the two managers, and, unfortunately for England, heartbroken fans.

This World Cup was a turning point for the women’s game in England.

The team have won a lot of respect around the world for their talent and the way they play. Since 2015 they have addressed some of the issues that have held them back for so long. The next goal if they want to really succeed is to work on the fine details that make the difference between winning and losing at the highest level.All three goals (four, if you include the one called offside) in the game came from horrible defending. I said from the beginning of the tournament that this was not going to be a competition with fantastic defending and that’s what we got in the semi-final. England – as well as the US – obviously need to tidy up their backline but, importantly, I really want to see England convert their penalties.

Nikita Parris missed two spot-kicks during this tournament. Ellen White – who is their main goalscorer – doesn’t feel comfortable taking them. So it was up to the captain, Steph Houghton, a defender and not a specialist penalty taker, to do the right thing and step up to take the crucial kick against the US. That took courage but Steph didn’t look confident before she took the kick even if Phil Neville said after the game that England had practised hundreds of penalties.

Watching from the other side of the pitch, I knew from the way she lined up in front of the ball that she was going to go to the goalkeeper’s right. That’s what goalkeepers are taught to see. Top penalty takers are also taught how to disguise which direction they will shoot.

It’s these details that make the difference.

To compound things, Steph also mishit the kick. There was no pace on the ball and it was not placed in the corner, making it easy for a well-trained goalkeeper to save.

In my experience with the US team, we worked on penalties a year out from any tournament. Every day after practice we would all take a penalty – and that included us goalkeepers. Players get more comfortable and more confident over time. The coaches keep records about how players responded to penalty kicks and what they did in training. Those little details are what England seemed to neglect and can be the difference at the highest level.

Alyssa Naeher had a great save in the first-half to confirm that no one is going to score against an American goalkeeper from outside the box. American goalkeepers are well trained and historically very strong, an area in which England have struggled down the years. It has been great to see Alyssa gain more confidence as the tournament has gone on.

Starting Christen Press was a great decision from Jill Ellis. Christen can run up and down the sideline forever: she’s fit, she’s fast, and she scores goals. She should have played more minutes across the whole tournament by now, though.

It’s been strange to see Carli Lloyd, who came into the England game as a late substitute, go from being the US team’s goalscorer to being the closer in tight games. That shows how much attention is being paid to game management by the US, and how much Carli’s calming presence, ability to hold the ball and intelligence is needed when the game gets hectic and stressful.

That said, people have told me they want to see the US keep possession and go for another goal to close out a game. Instead, the tactic seems to be conservative: put five defenders at the back and head for the corner flag with the ball and wind down the clock. I understand why that can be a good idea but the message I get is that people would love to see the US play football for 90 minutes. We have quality players who can play with style and lock down the game in a less conservative way.

Rose Lavelle has really made a name for herself in France. So many people are asking me to tell them all I know about her and I was sorry to see her leave the field injured. She will have just as big a mental challenge as physical to be ready for the final. If she gets fit in time she might still question her body and if she misses the final it will be heartbreaking for her – and fans.

That’s why some US players will now be happy there are a few days break until the final. Crystal Dunn and Tobin Heath can run and run but Megan Rapinoe will benefit from some extra time out. Megan should look at missing the semi-final as a positive step towards having an amazing game in the final. Hopefully on Sunday, just like in 2015, the US team can take women’s football to an even higher level.

Hope Solo -- ‘USA's mastery of fine details...

#women's world cup '19 #match report #uswnt #england wnt #hope solo #penalty kick

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toshootforthestars · 4 years ago

Link

Yes!

Via Tom Ley, posted 10 Sept 2020:

This site exists because of the events of Oct. 29, 2019, when we all still worked at Deadspin.

That was the day that Barry Petchesky, who had been a writer and editor at the site for over 10 years, and was at that point the site’s acting editor-in-chief, was fired. He was marched back to his desk by G/O Media CFO Tom Callahan, who made Petchesky hand over his keycard and collect his things while I and a handful of my colleagues demanded to know why he had just been fired. We’d all sprung up from our chairs and started barking half-formed questions, to which Callahan responded by pointing at one of our computers and sneering, "Just look at the home page.”

At that moment, Deadspin’s home page featured stories about wedding dresses, three good dogs I recently met, a pumpkin thief—and no stories about sports. This was purposeful, the staff’s response to a memo sent by the company’s executive editor a day earlier that forbade us from covering topics not related directly to sports. Jim Spanfeller, who had been installed by the private equity firm Great Hill Partners as CEO of our company all of seven months before, responded to this act of insubordination by calling Petchesky into his office, firing him, and then telling him to “get the fuck out.”

I spent the rest of that day and most of the next huddled in an empty corner office with my colleagues 27 floors above the 45th and Broadway intersection of Times Square. The conversations we had in that room eventually led to all of us making the decision to quit in solidarity with Petchesky.

At this point the staff was used to navigating various workplace crises. We’d had similar meetings before, following resignations, sales of the company, layoffs, collective-bargaining sessions, and even a bankruptcy. We used to joke about how no new Deadspin employee ever made it through their first few months at the site without some kind of company-wide crisis.

This meeting felt different, though. Through all the other troubles we had been able to determine that no matter what was crumbling around us, Deadspin was still ours, and the ability to go to work every day and make the website we loved was worth holding onto for as long as possible. But suddenly we were confronted with a vision of Deadspin’s future—one without Petchesky and without the editorial freedom our site depended on—that we simply couldn’t accept.

One colleague, vaguely recalling all the other existential threats we’d survived through the years, summed up our situation neatly, saying through his tears, “They got us this time.”

Within 48 hours the entire remaining staff of Deadspin, 20 people, had resigned. Now, 10 months later, we are ready to start something new.

That’s the story of how we arrived at this point, but if you want to truly understand why we are doing this, you need to widen the scope a little bit. The full story is about more than just an irascible staff of writers reacting flippantly to a memo they didn’t like. It’s a story about what will and won’t be tolerated, both by those with the power to shape the present and future of the media industry, and by those who bear the consequences of how that power is wielded.

The version of Deadspin we walked away from was an immensely popular one. Every day, millions of people visited our site—by the end, a good month saw us bringing in around 20 million unique visitors—to see what we had to show them. You could log on in the morning to read analysis of a hockey game, come back a few hours later to a perfectly crafted headline about Lions fans copulating in a parking lot, and then return in the evening to find out that Manti Te’o’s dead girlfriend was a hoax, or why Greg Hardy was arrested, or what kind of person NBA All-Star Kevin Johnson really is.

Every day offered Deadspin an opportunity—to joke, to argue, to critique, and to uncover. The tenacity with which we seized that opportunity is what electrified the site.

Deadspin didn’t acquire all those readers by accident, and the skills its writers and editors needed to run the site every day didn’t spring from nothing. The site grew and became a better version of itself every day because of how seriously those who were entrusted with it guarded and improved upon the folkways and traditions that had been handed down by previous iterations.

Will Leitch launched the site in 2005, and from the very start gifted Deadspin with a clarity of purpose that persisted right up until our departure. The site’s motto from its 2005 launch until our last day: “Sports news without access, favor, or discretion.” In one of his first posts Leitch explained, “There’s a whole side of sports that, because of either corporate obligations or just plain laziness, never makes it into the public consciousness. We specialize in that side.”

After Leitch came A.J. Daulerio, who understood that the more Deadspin burrowed itself into the negative space created by traditional sports media institutions, the more vital the site became. Deadspin looked at ESPN and newspapers and other legacy publications the way raiding Vikings must have looked at the shores of Britain, dedicating an entire section to exposing workplace harassment at ESPN, revealing sports media stars like Jay Mariotti and Sean Salisbury as frauds and hacks, and routinely securing stories in ways that would make a journalism professor faint.

Those infamous pictures of Brett Favre? Exchanged for a paper bag stuffed with cash.

Tommy Craggs succeeded Daulerio, and during his tenure Deadspin’s already venomous bite was imbued with a political sensibility. The scope and ambition of the site also began to expand during Craggs’s tenure, and eventually the site that had started with a staff of one accumulated a stable of editors and writers, reporters with dedicated beats, as well as the budget and appetite needed to publish the sort of reported scoops and features that rivaled anything you’d expect to find in a prestigious newspaper or magazine. The site also established culture and lifestyle sections, which brought Deadspin’s voice and point of view to bear on all manner of topics, like Gamergate and Wile E. Coyote.

A funny thing started happening around this time: The site that had stood itself up by throwing bombs at various institutions was becoming something of an institution itself. This transformation continued under the stewardship of subsequent editors Tim Marchman and Megan Greenwell, both of whom worked to diversify the staff, further expand Deadspin’s coverage areas, and continue landing the sort of big, industry-leading stories that made the site an indispensable daily read.

After a while it was no longer accurate to describe Deadspin as just a sports site (though the vast majority of its coverage remained sports-related) or as a place to find rude headlines about sports columnists. What Deadspin became, what it was on the day its entire staff resigned, was a full-bodied publication. It married muckraking with a 27-word blog post headlined Tony Dungy Doesn’t Think Michael Vick Is Being Haunted By Dog Ghosts.

To an uncommon extent, readers wanted to know what Deadspin had to say. When other people in the industry would hear about how much of our traffic came directly through the homepage (as opposed to social media or search), they would stare in disbelief. Whenever someone left the site to go work at another outlet, they would invariably send a grim dispatch about how much they missed Deadspin’s built-in audience.

What was apparent to those of us who had spent years reading and creating Deadspin was that the site wasn’t defined by what it covered, but by its sensibility.

People liked reading a site that refused to condescend or patronize, that was comfortable telling ugly truths about sports and the world at large, that was rude, that was mean (usually in ways that were more illuminating than gratuitous), and that was whimsical in ways that were never insufferable. Readers didn’t come to Deadspin every day just to get their sports news or find out who won last night. They came because they liked reading Deadspin.

Where did it all go wrong, then?

There are perhaps too many points on the timeline to discuss. Maybe it was when infamous venture capitalist and Donald Trump confidant Peter Thiel, angered over sister site Gawker’s antagonistic coverage of him, secretly funded a lawsuit against Gawker Media from ex-wrestler Hulk Hogan and structured it to cause maximum damage to the company. (A loss at trial in Florida state court in March 2016 resulted in a $140 million judgment and Gawker Media’s bankruptcy.) Maybe it was when debt-laden broadcaster Univision bought the company at auction that August and then spent the next few years failing to figure out exactly what it wanted to do with us. (To wit, Univision seemed to be under the impression that Gawker Media’s sites would somehow be able to create television shows that would prop up their failing cable channel, Fusion.)

Even if the dominoes started falling years ago, I never felt the end was in sight until Great Hill purchased the company in April of 2019. They got to work quickly, changing our name to G/O Media, and installing Spanfeller, a veteran of Forbes.com and content mills like The Daily Meal, as CEO. During his introductory meeting with the whole staff, he revealed that though he’d spent his career on the business side of digital media, his true ambition was to publish the next great American novel.

Spanfeller moved through the office like a blunt object, always more interested in how to further monetize the G/O Media sites than in the sites themselves. In an early meeting Spanfeller had with the editorial staff, he told us that his plan was to more than double G/O Media’s annual revenue within a year.

He went about executing his plan by firing the company’s top two editorial leaders, wiping out the investigations desk, and installing a coterie of former colleagues in high-level positions across the company. As Spanfeller molded the company to fit his vision, we at Deadspin found ourselves in a heated confrontation with him.

[…]

Soon it became clear that his plan for juicing G/O Media’s revenue involved turning Deadspin into the kind of site it was never supposed to be. He liked to talk about the site’s position in the “sports category,” kvetching about how poorly our revenue and traffic numbers stacked up against those of ESPN.com and SB Nation.

It didn’t seem to matter to him that sports fans would visit ESPN.com and Deadspin for entirely different reasons, or that every site ahead of us in the “sports category” had exponentially larger staffs, or that some of those same sites relied on hundreds of underpaid and unpaid bloggers to hit their traffic numbers, or that Deadspin was one of the few sites that earned its traffic without resorting to SEO plays designed to capture clicks from people searching things like “Mayweather vs. McGregor livestream.”

None of that seemed to matter to Spanfeller, because he didn’t see Deadspin the way its staff and its readers saw it. To him it was just a valuable brand name within the sports category, and with that brand name came unlimited potential for growth and profit.

[…]

Lately I’ve been thinking of Deadspin as a strange machine. For more than a decade, the people charged with the maintenance of that machine were allowed to tinker with it according to their whims and idiosyncratic tastes. The result of all that tinkering was a machine which, for all its apparent wonkiness, worked brilliantly.

The problem with a machine like that is that it’s difficult for anyone who didn’t build it, or doesn’t respect those who did, to understand exactly how or why it works. When Deadspin’s staffers and readers looked at the machine, they saw a wonderful and whirring contraption, but all Spanfeller and Great Hill saw was an odd collection of valves and pistons. They saw parts, but not the whole.

Spanfeller’s disdain for his own newsroom, the “stick to sports” memo, Petchesky being fired, and the cascade of oppressive ads—they were all signaling the same thing: Spanfeller and Great Hill weren’t really interested in preserving what we had spent the last decade building. Maybe a few components would remain to keep up appearances, but Deadspin’s demolition was coming, and we couldn’t stop it. What we could do was refuse to participate in its destruction.

What happened at Deadspin, what’s still happening at G/O Media, isn’t unique. It’s just a particular version of the same slow-motion, industry-wide disaster that’s been unfolding for years.

[emphasis mine]

Everything’s fucked now.

Newspapers have been destroyed by raiding private equity firms, alt-weeklies and blogs are financially unsustainable relics, and Google and Facebook have spent the last decade or so hollowing out the digital ad market. What survives among all this wreckage are websites and publications that are mostly bad. There’s plenty to read, the trouble is that so much of it is undergirded by a growing disregard (and in some cases even disdain) for the people doing the actual reading.

What readers are being served when a sports blog leverages its technological innovations in order to create a legion of untrained and unpaid writers? Who benefits when a media company cripples its own user experience and launches a campaign to drive away some of its best writers and editors? Whose interests are being served when a magazine masthead is gutted and replaced by a loose collection of amateurish contractors? Who ultimately wins when publications start acting less like purpose-driven institutions and more like profit drivers, primarily tasked with achieving exponential scale at any cost? What material good is produced when private equity goons go on cashing their checks while simultaneously slashing payroll throughout their newsrooms?

Things have gotten so bad that even publications that get away with defining themselves as anti-establishment are in fact servile to authority in all forms, and exist for the sole purpose of turning their readers into a captive source of profit extraction.

The truth is that nobody who matters—the readers—ever asked for any of this shit. Every bad decision that has diminished media—every pivot to video, every injection of venture capital funds, every round of layoffs, every outright destruction of a publication—was only deemed necessary by the constraints of capitalism and dull minds.

This is an industry being run by people who, having been betrayed by the promise of exponential scale and IPOs, now see cheapening and eventually destroying their own products as the only way to escape with whatever money there is left to grab.

The ability of Defector to escape these constraints will depend not only on the quality of our work, but on our ability to avoid feebly chasing dollars through a collapsing digital ad economy. We want the freedom to provide you with a site, custom-built by our partners at Alley Interactive, that isn’t clogged with pop-up ads, banner ads, video ads, and chum boxes full of spammy headlines explaining how That One Girl From Full House Looks Like A Damn Snack Now.

Me:

Nothing lasts forever, not even tumblr, and probably not even Defector. I gave ‘em a lousy $8 this month. Hopefully I can continue to do so.

Defector’s prospects are grim, not at least because of ALL THE OTHER sporps blergs out there plus the Second Great Depression now underway. How will it end? Sued into oblivion like gawker was? Unable to find enough subscribers or advertisers to fund operations? No search traffic from google? Buried by the algorithm on facebook? The worrying starts IF defector is viable (ie: people have money to give) and churns out not just great stories and thinkpieces but also good #content to goose the Google and Facebook algorithms. Who knows where things will be in a year.

Here’s the thing IMO: The business elite, the billionaire class, social conservatives from every income bracket, GOP acolytes, and our reviled gatekeepers at facebook & google, all are in unison on the notion that what’s posted online must be controlled.

What’s posted online should never impinge upon their collective dominance. Authority, especially THEIR authority, must never be questioned. Even one’s inclination to question authority must be countered by intimidation and fear. We, you and I, can have some left-ish “capitulzm sux” schtick, as a treat, but any and all critical writings on the powers that be and the way things work, anything that raises deeply pertinent and uncomfortable questions on the people who have accumulated outsize power and control over the course of our lives, that must be clamped down upon post-haste.

Peter Thiel and crew successfully went after gawker’s survival, and its select shitty posts from shitty people were a conveniently compelling argument that the website needed to go (not just the shitty people). Later revelations made the case that much more was at play, somewhat vindicating the suspicions of Gawker’s good writers.

As Gawker has noted over the past decade:

[Thiel’s] vaunted hedge fund Clarium Capital was an abject failure, losing more than 90% of its $7 billion in assets, a decline that Valleywag assiduously chronicled.

He is an arch libertarian who believes that central mechanisms of contemporary society—including representative democracy, universal suffrage, and formalized education—are either outdated or incompatible with human freedom.

He is a loud proponent of “seasteading,” the movement to establish sovereign communities on permanent ocean vessels for the purpose of developing legal systems unencumbered by taxes or any other kind of traditional government policies.

He believes death itself can and should be cheated, and even intends to be cryogenically frozen after he passes away, in hopes that science will one day be capable of reviving him. He literally wants to live forever.

He has backed efforts to question the legitimacy of climate change science as well as political groups opposed to immigration—even though the industry that minted him as a billionaire is heavily dependent on immigrant labor.

Gizmodo’s recent coverage of Facebook, in which Thiel was an early investor and on which he has a board seat, launched a congressional investigation into the company’s news curation practices, and inspired a national conversation about the vast amount of power the company wields—with no transparency and minimal accountability—over who reads what.

These stories, which are only a small sample of those Gawker has published about Peter Thiel, largely concern his professional life: Business ventures, political positions, and public statements. But as he noted to the Times, it was concern for his “friends” that Gawker had covered that motivated his secret legal assault: “One of my friends convinced me that if I didn’t do something, nobody would.”

Hm.

The news business is indeed in dire straits right now. As noted above in the defector blerg post, it’s definitely true that:

“Every bad decision that has diminished media—every pivot to video, every injection of venture capital funds, every round of layoffs, every outright destruction of a publication—was only deemed necessary by the constraints of capitalism and dull minds. This is an industry being run by people who, having been betrayed by the promise of exponential scale and IPOs, now see cheapening and eventually destroying their own products as the only way to escape with whatever money there is left to grab.”

I contend that THIS IS THE PLAN. No news, after all, is good news. Money of course is made, “profit extraction” and/or “value extraction” happens, but these companies are one part cynical profiteers but also one part ideologues: an informed electorate is BAD. Fuck this, the public doesn’t need to know jack shit about anything.

Via The New Republic, posted Oct 2019:

This is not to further pan for lamentations over the demise of a website. Splinter and its parent company was already something of a distressed asset—its status as such, in fact, likely played no small role in attracting the attention of Great Hill in the first place. But the wider world of mass media is filled with other such distressed assets, from the websites spawned in the heyday of venture capital media mavens, to long-standing local and regional newspapers, straining to balance their journalistic mission with an ever decreasing supply of capital.

It feels increasingly like the terms of journalism—which kinds of outlets get to do it, who gets paid enough to live doing it, which communities get coverage—are set by the rich.

The best case scenario is that journalists become part of a billionaire’s patronage network.

When Splinter shuttered, former Gawker writer Brendan O’Connor wrote that “the workplace under capitalism is a dictatorship, and the dictatorship of private equity is an especially arbitrary one.” It’s a shame that journalism—something with such obvious broad societal value, and that should be wholly antagonistic to the rich and powerful—should be mostly done for private profit, with all the compromises that come with that. But the sad fact of journalism’s dependence on profit-making becomes far more grotesque and dangerous when the profiteers in question are financial sector wheeler-dealers.

This particular flavor of profiteers seek a higher yield, faster, with no regard for the long-term sustainability of the business.

Alden Global Capital, which owns Digital First Media (DFM) and its publications like The Denver Post, drained hundreds of millions of dollars from DFM for their own gain. It can be confounding to contemplate: How can a hedge fund profit from destroying the value of what it just bought? Remarkably, they can.

As The American Prospect explainedin detail last year, private equity can make big bucks off destroying local papers if it “strips staffing and siphons off cash flow.” Papers continue to make money off local advertisers who still value them, even as the quality of the journalism collapses; cutting costs by laying off staff or centralizing production can speed it up. Essentially, the long-term consequences to profits don’t catch up fast enough to prevent the hedge fund owners from stripping the assets, who then flip the carcass.

That’s how you end up with instances in which Alden executives “rewarded themselves with tens of millions of dollars’ worth of prime real estate in Florida and the Hamptons for their personal enjoyment.”

The “War on Journalism” isn’t a myth, it’s a bone fide pursuit. There has never been a “liberal media” and the corporations that own news organizations very much prefer it stay that way. Facebook and google siphoning away ad dollars helps immensely to this end.

Take Advance Publications and the Newhouse family!

Via the CJR, posted Dec 2013:

Often represented to employees as an extraordinary worker benefit, The Pledge, in fact, had its roots in the antipathy of the late Advance founder S.I. “Sam” Newhouse, Sr. toward organized labor.

“I refuse to stand by passively and allow any union to ‘bust’ me,” he wrote in A Memo to My Children, a thin, self-published memoir that is apparently the only personally penned record of his life and career.

After acrimonious and sometimes violent contract negotiations and strikes at Advance-owned newspapers in New York, Oregon, Missouri, and Ohio in the 1930s through the mid-1960s, Sam Newhouse, apparently in consultation with his son, Donald, is believed to have crafted the Pledge. (The Newhouses have declined to talk to reporters and authors about the Pledge, including me when I was researching my recently released book about the “digital first” changes at the Times-Picayune and other Advance newspapers.)

Over the years, the Pledge became “so well-known throughout the newspaper industry that it was almost considered legendary,” according to a 2009 lawsuit by former Mobile, AL, Press-Register Publisher Howard Bronson, who sued after he was dismissed from his $745,000-a-year post at the Advance paper while The Pledge was still in force. (The suit was settled for an undisclosed amount in April 2011.)

When originally instituted in the mid-1960s, The Pledge explicitly promised employees that they would not lose their jobs “because of technological changes or economic conditions so long as the newspaper continues to publish and [employees] are willing to retrain for another job, if necessary.”

It was modified in 2008 to cover only permanent, non-union employees of Advance’s daily newspapers “published in newsprint form.” The addition of this fine print set the stage for the arrival of the digital initiative, which began in 2009 at the Newhouse-owned Ann Arbor News in Michigan. Layoffs were now technically permissible under the still-in-force Pledge because that newspaper went from daily to twice-weekly. And in July 2009, 214 jobs were eliminated at the Ann Arbor News.

Advance rescinded The Pledge altogether in February 2010, when the newspaper industry was deep into its long and ugly nosedive.

“We felt that it was the right thing to communicate to people that we could no longer afford not having the flexibility to do something if the revenue challenges continue,” Steven Newhouse told The New York Times in August 2009. “I think the policy was meant for a time when the newspaper business had ups and downs, but was relatively stable. It was not meant for a time when our newspapers, like others, are struggling to survive.”

…

Deadspin, amongst its furious shitposting, and kinda like gawker (when it wasn’t fucking shitty), spoke truth to power.

There is a concerted effort to end that, online and elsewhere.

There’s a concerted effort to control what’s posted online and what information can be freely accessed.

(my bad and shitty theory: The overarching, unifying reasons are power, control & domination. Conservatives want far-left views that threaten them to be vanquished, businesses want preferential treatment to do whatever the fuck they want, the billionaire class want their wealth protected from the guillotines of the working class, the GOP wants political power in perpetuity, Facebook & Google are run by rapacious ghouls and ideologues. ALL OF THEM want control over what becomes public information and #content just for their individual safety from the rebellious unwashed masses, as recent advances in AI will mean a lot less people employed anywhere, and that + climate change = guillotines for the rich.)

TL;DR: Corporate media sucks. Check out Defector.

#long post #scroll alert #news #defector #sporps #journalismism #us press corps #news media #the media #corporate media #gawker is dead #long live gawker #deadspin #g/o media #gawker media #the news business #the way things work

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930club · 4 years ago

Audio

ALBUM REVIEW: It Was Good Until it Wasn’t - Kehlani

It Was Good Until It Wasn’t debuted as #2 on the Billboard 200, making it Kehlani’s biggest debut to date. The Grammy award-winning, Oakland, CA native Kehlani, released her second full-length studio album on May 8th and continues to explore her feelings about good and bad relationships with past partners.

Kehlani makes music to help you cry about or get over your ex. It Was Good Until It Wasn’t has cosigns from R&B superstars like Jhené Aiko, Masego, Ty Dolla $ign, and Tory Lanez. Her sophomore album feels like a diary of regrettable situations, miscommunications, and recalling formative moments of love. Right before releasing the album, Kehlani and her ex, YG, released “Konclusions” on Valentine’s day, which comments on their media-dominated relationship. Kehlani sings “When I say I love you (Love you) / That means I love you / No matter what conclusion we come to / I’m the one you run to / And I always come through / Nothing I won't do.” It Was Good Until It Wasn’t is filled with similar anecdotes of love, but always with a twist.

The album opens with “Toxic,” a tribute to confusing love for lust. Ty Dolla $ign assists with the pre-chorus and plays into being a destructive ex as Kehlani belts “Don Julio made me a fool for you.” This song sets the mood for the album, backed by a slowed-down sensual beat and expressing her need for physical connection but recognizing harmful tendencies with that partner. On “Can I,” she pleads with a lover to see them and Tory Lanez responds “Shawty, you know you can always stop by / You top five and no, you're not five / And not four, three, or two, but one, girl.” On the other hand, “Bad News” touches on Kehlani’s deep connection for a partner through reminding them “Don't wanna get no call with no bad news / I know all the stories from your tattoos / And all I want you to know / Is I'm here, if no one else, I'm here.”

My favorite track off It Was Good Until It Wasn’t is “Hate The Club,” an anthem for folks going out in hopes of seeing an ex. Kehlani belts “But I came 'cause I knew you'd show up / Maybe if I drank enough / I'll make my way over to ya.” The song is full of raw emotion, hope, and smooth saxophone solos. Kehlani creates strong imagery of a packed club, drinking, while her eyes only wander to one person.

Kehlani has two “skits” that function as interludes, one featuring Megan Thee Stallion and the other featuring her best friends from the San Francisco Bay Area. “Real Hot Girl Skit” is 16 seconds and Thee Stallion brags about how she’s got men tied around her finger and exudes sex-positivity. While on the other hand, “Belong To The Streets Skit” is a complaint about how a girl is constantly jumping around from partner to partner and posting on social media about it. Both of the interludes add to Kehlani’s mixed emotions about self-confidence and sacrifices.

It’s important to note how Kehlani touches on her bisexuality throughout the album. Like on “Serial Lover,” she questions her ability to commit, but always trying to come from a place of love as she sings “I got girls I wanna give my last name,” and on “Water,” she discusses her connection to astrology and another lover by stating “He said, "I wanna undress you, I wanna impress you, but I ain’t gon’ press you.” Kehlani’s always transparent about her sexuality and makes it a point to sing about every aspect of it. She recalls her connections constantly, reflecting on the positive and the negative moments.

Kehlani isn’t afraid to talk about her pain on an intimate level, opening up in the booth about her questionable behaviors in relationships. The last track on It Was Good Until It Wasn’t features Kehlani’s extremely close friend, Lexii Alijai, who passed away days before the album was released. This song touches on self-love and growth and Alijai raps “If you want something, you gotta go after it / And that's gon' make you the baddest bitch 'cause ain't nobody hand you shit / Can't nobody hold me back no more, huh.” This track helped end the album on a positive note, reminding us that loving for others starts with yourself. Kehlani’s albums grow with her as if the listener is being taken on a rollercoaster of her personal experiences in love and loss. Kehlani has been dominating the charts for a long time through creating relatable and honest R&B and fans cling to her down-to-earth social media presence.

- Elly Murray Mendelson

#kehlani #it was good until it wasn't #album review #elly murray mendelson

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yeaaabudddy · 5 years ago

Text

A Little Crossover (3/4)

Ship: Peter Parker x Batsis!Reader (Y/N)

Characters: Peter Parker (Spider-Man), Reader (S/H/N), Bruce Wayne (Batman), Dick Grayson (Nightwing), Jason Todd (Red Hood), Tim Drake (Red Robin), and Damian Wayne (Robin)

Type: slight angst, fluff

Requested: Yes, by @wolfiemichele and @comicsgirlimagines

Words: 5 638

Notes: I wrote... too much. Don’t think too much about the timeline lmao it might not completely match homecoming.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Peter lived his life as a student. He went to all his classes, not skipping any no matter what he saw on the streets. Peter had stopped messaging and calling you because you were related to his superhero side.

It wasn’t true because he had seen you without your costume more than he saw you in it but he knew that if he talked to you, you would manage to bring up Spider-Man and he didn’t want to hear it. He was scared.

Ned supported him through it, advising him to at least message you to let you know but Peter knew that if he gave in once, he would go all in because he missed you.

You did call him and message asking if he’s alright. You lived in a different city so you were scared as you couldn’t even see him, couldn’t confirm if he was even alive.

You wanted to make your way down to Queens just to check up on him but you knew that none of your family would let you.

You managed to find Ned’s profile listed in Peter’s friends list on Facebook. You were nervous about messaging him as he was Peter’s friend but you were desperate to see if he was okay especially since the last time you saw him, he was so distressed and was crying.

You ended up messaging him, asking if he was alright because he came to you crying and you haven’t heard from him. Ned responded back saying that he was alright, doing okay and that you should just give him some time.

You respected the decision, knowing that Peter was still not okay and it hurt that he cut you out completely from his life, seeing how easy it was for Peter to just stop.

After a little over a month of not hearing from him, you gave up on him reaching back out to you. You saw from his social medias on him and Ned hanging out, him being happy and you thought maybe the hero life wasn’t for him.

It made you sad that he thought of you as only his superhero friend and not an actual friend but you decided not to dwell on that.

You realized how much time you had now that you don’t talk to Peter as often and instead you put your effort into your patrolling or trying to find happiness in your friends from school.

You frowned sometimes when you looked at your phone seeing all the unanswered texts from Peter but you decided not to let it get the best of you.

Peter was having fun so how could you be the downer in his new life. You didn’t know if Peter would come back to being Spider-Man and even though you wanted to wait for him, you know you shouldn’t wait for a boy who cut you out of his life with no hesitation.

You didn’t have the heart to delete your conversations or anything still hoping that Peter will text you even though you knew it wouldn’t happen.

You moved on then, went on with your life and the experience with Peter made you realize that friends could be a great thing to have in your life. You decided to spend more time with friends in your classes and became closer to them.

You hoped that you could stop thinking about Peter after the amount of time has passed. One of your closest friends you had made, Megan, had noticed you frown at your phone early on in your friendship.

You finally were able to confide into someone about the situation of Peter (not fully because of your secret identities). She told you that it’s okay to still have some feelings for him as you were talking with each other for a while and were really close.

There wasn’t really any closure between you two it was just an abrupt ending and your feelings that you felt towards him didn’t fully develop because he was gone before you could even think about it.

You pushed it to the back of your mind though, not wanting to care anymore.

“Y/N!” Megan called out to you, taking your hand to drag you to the lunch room.

“What’s going on?” You asked confused at the ruckus going on around you, everyone cheering and standing up and no teacher was stopping it.

“People are getting asked to homecoming.” Your eyes widen in surprise at the fact that the dance was coming around the corner.

“Why are they making a huge a deal for homecoming, shouldn’t they wait for prom?” You questioned but Megan just rolled her eyes at the question.

“You always try and downplay these things. Come on, have fun! It’s cute, romantic!” Your friend squealed at the aspect of getting asked out like that but it just made you cringe a bit.

Public proposals are just asking for disasters. You would hate if someone asked you like that because you felt like you would have to say yes.

“I don’t find it that romantic…” You mumbled under your breath and Megan glared at you, hearing your statement.

“Shush, I’m trying to watch.” You stretch your neck to see what was going on and saw a homemade poster covered in colour and glitter held by a young boy, asking the girl in front of him to homecoming.

She looked in happiness at the scene in front of her, nodding her head and going to hug him. It was cute, you’ll admit. Still unnecessary.

People clapped around at the success and you joined in, not wanting to be a total downer but immediately made your way to an empty table. You take off your backpack just wanting to eat after wasting 10 minutes of your lunch in the mess of school dances.

Megan and some of your other friends joined after a bit with their own food, chatting with each other. You overhear some of their conversations as you eat, most of them having to do with homecoming.

“If someone asks you, do you think you’ll say yes?” Megan turned to you, talking to you separately. You look at her as you try to finish chewing your sandwich.

“Depends on the person.” You shrug, not really wanting to think about it. You didn’t really want to go to homecoming, it wasn’t really like you to go to a dance and it’s been a while since you went.

You don’t know if it’s your thing, all the music and dancing and maybe if you had someone to go with you would change your mind but it seems like a pretty boring concept.

“I hope for our sake, someone does.” You just roll your eyes, Megan has asked you so many times to just tag along, If you don’t get asked and she doesn't either, to just go with her because she wants you there.

“Are you still waiting for Conner to ask you?” You smirk at her blushing state. Her and Conner have been in a grey area for a while as they both care for each other but aren’t admitting it to the other that they like them.

You just wanted to push them into a room and get them to confess because it was so obvious but you’ll let them figure it out themselves.

By the end of the day you managed to hear and witness more people asking others to homecoming and you don’t know if you’re jealous or not. You never really thought about it, so preoccupied with other things that when you got asked when you were at your locker.

Jack, a guy from your physics class had strolled up to you while you put any books you don’t need to take home, back into your locker.

“Hey, Y/N.” He smiled at you, his smile bright and kind.

“Hey, Jack. What’s up?” You casually ask him, confused as to why he was talking to you. You’ve seen him a couple of times around school and obviously in class but you guys haven’t talked more than needed for projects and homework.

“Well, homecoming is soon and I was thinking… maybe you’ll go with me?” He was nervous and it showed on his face and you almost took pity on him for that. You turned to look at him, closing your locker.

“Uh... “ You thought about it for a second and before you could even think about it, you saw Megan in the corner of your eye pointing at Jack and glaring at you, knowing that she was yelling at you to accept his offer.

“That sounds fun!” You smile at him, his face breaking out into a smile at your acceptance. You felt bad you took long to answer as he was starting to become anxious in his place.

“I’ll see you tomorrow in class then! I got the tickets, so don’t worry about that!” You smile at his enthusiasm, it reminding you of someone else…

“‘I’ll see you.” Jack nods at you and leaves you to yourself and Megan comes over to you.

“Damn you got asked before us all!” She pouted, you didn’t even want to go that bad and you were asked right away. “I shouldn’t be surprised cause... Well, you’re you. Now that you got a guy, you’re going to come to my house to get ready!”

You just realized how much work this was actually going to be.

Time passed fast with you (and no, there was still no response from Peter). The dance was tonight and everyone was feeling the atmosphere for the special day. Some girls were skipping the school day to spend it together, getting ready.

Otherwise, it was a normal day for you but you know that Megan would be expecting you over at her house right after school.

When you told your family that you’ll be a bit late to your assigned patrol because of the dance, they teased you endlessly at the aspect of you going to the event.

“Didn't think you were that type of girl.” Damian had offhandedly said, making you realize that maybe you should start doing more stuff like this just to see if you’ll like it.

They also asked if you had a date of course but you didn’t let up the poor boy’s name. You wanted this to be as normal as possible and you don't need your siblings stalking you because you’re going to a dance with a boy.

“Y/N the dress I picked out for you is so pretty! Don’t worry about the colour, I made sure that it wouldn’t be too bright.” You smiled in appreciation, you didn't know much about how to shop for dresses, the thought stressing you out so you asked Megan for a favour. She texted you a few options that you approved of and chose from them.

“Thanks, Megan.” This all felt so normal for you that it was crazy. Maybe Peter was right that you should enjoy being a teenager but you would never give up your night life of saving people no matter what.

Megan’s mom picked you and your friends up after school, taking you guys to her house. The excited chattering going around you in the car, the radio was turned up to a pop song and everything was too normal for you that it felt weird.

Something just felt off and maybe it’s because you’re not on edge about every single thing right now which is out of character for you.

It is a school dance so what if something happens during it? Your thoughts were running wild with ideas like that because no good moments for heroes were always good. You knew that you weren’t going to be destined with happy moments when you became a hero and so this is just out of your league.

You were getting ready, looking at all your friends being carefree while living in Gotham. They got each other ready and were just laughing saying their hopes for the night.

Conner did end up asking Megan to homecoming so she was shining the brightest of them all.

She took out your royal blue dress that she picked out for you, making you change and get your makeup done. You were all ready.

Since your school had uniforms, these were the only times you got to wear nice clothes to school.

You met up with Jack who was standing in his suit in front of the building with two tickets. You were glad that you knew Jack was nice enough to not leave you hanging, you would be totally bummed if he stood you up (you did buy a ticket just in case).

“You look really pretty.” The boy looked at you with wide eyes. It was no secret that you were pretty but he hadn’t seen you outside of uniform in person.

“Thanks, you look really good too!” He held out his hand to get you to link your arms with him, entering the gym together. Things were looking pretty good at the dance.

You were actually feeling happy as your friends hung close and you even met with some of Jack’s close friends. It was a fun night together, you weren’t with him the whole time, joining your friends in a group dance but you felt like a regular teen.

The worry in your heart didn’t cease but it did calm down a bit at the aspect that maybe today would be nice.

You sat on a chair at the tables off the side of the gym, exhausted by the amount of energy everyone else has. Jack joined you shortly after noticing you, leaving his friends to talk to you.

“Hope you had fun today, I know we don’t know each other that well… but It was nice to get to know you.” You just felt glad that Jack didn’t turn out to be a hidden asshole, you’ve dealt with enough stupid boys for a lifetime.

“Thanks, I’m just glad you weren’t like half the guys in our grade.” Jack just laughed at your ‘compliment’. He can’t believe that you actually agreed to go out with him especially with how you never took notice of him unless you were partnered up by the teacher.

Both of your thoughts were cut off when your phone buzzed. You look towards the table where you rested it against. The screen brightening up to reveal a name you don’t know if you’re happy to see.

The words flashing “PETER P.” across the screen. You stared at your phone in shock not knowing if what you were seeing was real. He ignores you for around a month and a half and then suddenly calls you when you’re actually happy.

Jack notices you pause and that you made no effort to answer your phone.

“Are you okay?” He takes a glance at your phone noticing the name on your screen, not knowing a Peter P in this school. He knew none of your brothers also had the name Peter so he wasn’t sure who it was.

“Yeah, no problem.” You flipped your phone over to hide the name from your sight. You know that ignoring him might be a bad idea but how could he just ruin this moment for you. You were in no mood to get back to the dance and you didn’t want to go home this early.

“Boy troubles?” Jack questioned, his face showing curiosity on your reaction to getting the phone call.

“Something like that, I guess.” You confirmed his suspicion. Your mood had physically dropped and he could tell that you wouldn’t want to dance anymore so he decided maybe you needed some help.

“If you want some boy advice who better to ask than a boy.” He motioned to himself and laid back a bit in his chair. You turned to him as you realized he asked for you to confide in him and you were tempted to.

Here you are trusting another boy but you have an urge to actually get his advice. It was something about how he gave you a great night in a while and that he felt genuine.

You sighed as you gave up and he also realized, straightening himself up.

“Alright, you asked.” Your phone had rung one more time after the initial call and then stopped, not attempting again and your heart was very heavy as you knew that you could’ve heard Peter’s voice for the first time in almost 2 months. You also knew that if you fought with him on the phone then your night would be completely ruined.

“Why are guys so…”

“Dumb? Oblivious?” He offered as he noticed you struggling with your emotions.

“Frustrating!”

“Ah!” He clapped his hand in realization. “How could I miss that one. You do seem very frustrated with him, would you mind telling me what he did?”

“Ghosted me for almost two months and then called me when I’m finally having a good time.” You grumbled loud enough for him to hear it still feeling pathetic for caring.

“Wow.” His eyes widened in response to what you told him. His eyes mouth going dry at what to say to you.

“Yeah, I know. I’m pathetic. He didn’t care to message me for two months and here I am, still caring.” You rest your head on your hand, leaning against the table in shame.

“No, we’re all human. We can’t really control our emotions, you’re not pathetic. Whoever that dude is, is really stupid for ghosting you.” He tried to comfort you but you still weren’t feeling it.

“Okay, I’m going to tell you something. Guys… we don’t know what we’re doing sometimes. We can be idiots but that doesn’t give us an excuse to get away with everything because you don’t deserve to be ignored like that.” You look at him as he ranted out what he thought.

“Maybe… you should call him and hear him out. Decide after you speak to him if you want to cut him off or keep him, get some closure for yourself if anything.”

You nodded at him, feeling like that was probably the best option for you.

“Yeah, I should do that… maybe tomorrow. I don’t want to ruin today with all that.” You smile at him and he smiles back in appreciation.

“You wanna dance then, end the night happy?” He got up and offered you his hand. You took it and he pulled you to the dance floor, allowing you another moment of happiness before you leave and go back home to get yourself ready for patrol.

You just got into your room, your body full of sweat from being around so many people in a confined space. You hope your patrol will go well because you wanted just this one day.

Your dress still intact but your heels were thrown off across your room. You heard a noise in your room and at first you thought it was just an accident with the creaky floorboards but it happened again and with more pressure.

You look toward your closed window, making your way to it and opening the curtains for inspection. As soon as the drapes pulled back, you saw someone you didn’t think you’d see for a while.

The homemade Spider-Man suit was still on his body like the last time you saw him. You gape in surprise at the appearance of Peter without his mask, bloodied up and looking at you, pleading.

You quickly open the window, letting him before you could even think about it. His state stressed you out as he looked like he took a tough beating.

“Peter? Oh my gosh, what happened?” You helped him inside as he struggled. You held his body up as he fell against yours.

“I got him.” He mumbled as his eyes closed a bit, you put him on your bed, he naturally laid down in exhaustion. You went and got a first aid kit you had in your bathroom and came back to see him mumbling to himself.

“Peter, sit up.” You helped him get up and sit up on your bed so you could tend to his wounds.

“I got the bird guy, h-he was going to steal Mr. Stark’s stuff and I stopped him.” He told you as you cleaned his wounds, him wincing in response but still talking.

“D-do you think he’ll be proud of me?” Peter asked you as you put some bandaids over smaller wounds and wrapped up his bigger ones.

You gave Peter a soft smile in reassurance knowing that he was too tired to really understand what he’s doing.

“Yeah, Peter. I think he will.” You laid him down on your bed as you realized he was falling asleep. You heavily sigh as you look at him about to sleep trying to search him for his phone, hoping that he had it hidden somewhere but got no luck.

“By the way, you look really pretty.” He told you before completely passing out. You look at him and don’t know how to feel but you decide to swallow it all, making sure to tell Ned yourself that he was okay and alive before leaving the room and going to sleep next door.

Peter woke up to see a young boy staring at him, he sat up and looked around realizing he was in your room, remembering that he came last night after fighting Liz’s dad.

“Who are you?” The boy’s voice brought Peter’s attention back to him and then he realized this was probably your younger brother, Damian.

“U-um, I’m Peter. I-i’m friends with your sister.” Peter was nervous as he knew how protective your brothers were over you and how Damian felt a bit rough on the outside but according to you, he just needed love.

“You don’t go to her school though.” He pointed out, calling Peter out.

“Uh, j-just her friend from… uh-.” Peter was cut off by the door to your room opening and he prayed it was you.

His prayers went answered as your face popped in through the door and you rolled your eyes as you saw Damian.

“Damian, it’s okay. I know him.” Damian just nodded and prepared to leave before you stopped him again. “Also, don’t tell the rest. Please.” You pout at him, trying to persuade him.

Damian just looks blankly at you but you knew he gave in. “It’s none of my business.” Damian left and you smiled, thankful.

You turned back to Peter who was now sitting up in your bed, your smile dropping slightly off your face but still there. Peter’s heart dropped as you held up a facade around him, not showing how you were feeling.

He knew he was an ass by not talking to you for months and he doesn’t even know why he decided to come over to your house last night instead of going to Ned or going home.

“I’m sorry,” Peter said to you to break the silence in the room that felt too heavy being that it was you two.

“How are your injuries?” You ask, ignoring his apology for now because you don’t know what you’re feeling. You knew you were sad but seeing him made you feel a bit angry and you don’t know why.

“T-they’re fine.” Peter frowns at the fact you ignored his apology but he knew he couldn’t leave your place without at least trying to patch things up between you two. You went to look at his bandaged wounds, unraveling some of the gauze to replace it or if the wound was fully healed, to take it off. “Look Y/N I-.”

“Peter.” You cut him off, wrapping up a deeper wound on his arm. Peter sat quietly waiting for you to talk, not wanting to make you mad. “I don’t know what you want me to say, that it’s okay?” You fussed over his injuries a bit more, putting more force as you wrapped up other parts of his arms.

“I just want to apologize.” Peter grit his teeth as you repatched up the old wounds with no mercy. His body did still feels sore from the amount of times he got hurt yesterday but he didn’t bother commenting on it.

“No explanation?” You huffed out, annoyed at how he wasn’t giving you anything else.

“I mean… I needed a break.” You turn to glare at him, looking him wanting to yell at him.

“That’s not what I’m talking about. The month and a half where you just ignored me, didn't even tell me that you were okay. You just left crying and then I didn’t hear from you again.” You keep your voice calm but you can feel your anger catch up to you.

“I had to ask Ned if you were okay because you wouldn’t answer me.” You calm yourself down as you knew you were getting visibly upset.

“You don’t owe me anything, I know. It’s just… I thought we were more than that.” You confess to him, looking away to put back all your first aid supplies. He grabbed your arm stopping you from getting up.

“We were- are!” Peter knew that his excuse of ignoring you is stupid but he didn’t want to lose you completely.

“Yeah, sure.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. Peter’s hand still had a tough grip on your arm, keeping you in place no matter how much you tried to wiggle out.

“No, I swear! I-I...” Peter stumbled over his words not really knowing what to say to get you to not kick him out. Peter sighed, realizing he needed to tell you.

“The reason why I ghosted you was because I was scared…” You look at him confused as to why he would be scared of you. “I was scared because I knew that if I talked to you I would give into trying to be Spider-Man again and I wasn’t ready for that.”

“Peter, you know I wouldn’t force you to do anything. Yeah, I didn’t completely agree with you giving up Spider-Man but I told you it was okay to take a break.”

“I know and I’m sorry it’s just I feel like you wouldn’t like me if I wasn’t Spider-Man, if I didn’t have the other side of me that we always talked about.” You realized that he was just scared that you wouldn’t like him just being Peter.

“Peter… you know that I don’t think that at all. When I talk to you, I want to talk to Peter, not Spider-Man. Yeah, he’s cool but he’s not all there is to you. You have a lot more going for you than Spider-Man.” You reassure him, his hand had let go of your arm by now and you got up to put your kit away before sitting next to Peter.

“It’s just that you’re so cool and pretty and I feel like I wasn’t enough for you.” He looked at his hands, shy at his confession. His hands tapping against his knees slightly annoying you.

“I would never think you were not enough if you weren’t Spider-Man.” You let him know what he wanted to hear without walking around it. Peter knew that Liz liked him for who he was because she didn't know about Spider-Man but you were a different story.

You were someone who could do no wrong and is someone just out of his league. He couldn’t even compare to you. You were pretty, smart, funny, and you save so many people a day. Since he gave up being Spider-Man, he thought that he would give you up to because what else would you find interesting in him?

But here you were, telling him that Peter Parker was enough for you.

“Really?”

“I swear.” You put your hand on top of his that was still tapping against his knees. You wanted Peter to completely understand you this time.

He looked at you, taken aback by the feeling of your hand against his. He started feeling nervous under your gaze. His eyes looking all over your face, lingering at your lips for a half a second longer and you caught it.

“Y/N, I-” Peter’s mouth went dry at the aspect of saying something to you about how he felt even though you just became friends again but he didn't want to waste this chance.

You cut him off by bringing your face closer to his, your hand going to hold his face.

“Is this okay?” You ask, hoping that he knew what you were alluding to. Peter looked frozen in his spot, his eyes dropping to your lips and back to your eyes frantically making you a bit nervous at the delay.

He just nods after a few seconds of you waiting and you connect your lips with his right away. Maybe it was the fact that it’s been so long since you saw Peter that your feelings for him felt clear after the tiny break. You realized that Peter wasn’t being a dick to be a dick it was just that he needed reassurance and didn’t mean to hurt you.

He was just figuring stuff out so you couldn’t be mad at him for trying to understand his life even if it did hurt you and you don’t like crawling back to people but you knew how sincere Peter is because he let you into his worries, telling you he was insecure of himself.

You can’t blame him for being a teenager, you were also guilty of not having everything figured out.

Peter immediately responded to your kiss, your hand caressed his face as your lips moved together and his hand made its way to your waist slightly rubbing it. His lips felt so soft and even though they were slightly bruised up and chapped, it just felt right. Your hand went up to his hair slightly to feel the soft curls in your hand.

You pull apart because you realized that you shouldn’t put too much pressure on his injury. Peter followed you as you pulled apart, wanting more but you knew that he might start bleeding again.

“Peter, your injury.” You managed to mumble out, pushing his chest slightly because you were getting tempted to continue as well.

Peter just pouted with slightly swollen lips but then came back to reality, realizing he was here in your room and not in Queens.

“Uh- I should probably text May.” Peter patted his suit to see where he put his phone but you shook year head.

“I texted Ned that you were here last night, I told him to tell your aunt about you not coming home.”

“Oh, thanks.” Peter smiled in relief at the fact he won’t get a lecture after getting home.

“I-i uh, I don’t want to leave this unspoken but- I, I really like you.” Peter managed to calm himself down enough to tell you, he knows that you just kissed him but the thought of you actually saying that you liked him felt unreal.

“Kind of figured with the kissing but… I like you too.” You felt shy as you confessed your feelings and Peter smiled brightly at you at the fact that you guys were not just friends anymore.

He didn’t think he would be able to tell you that he liked you, he thought you were on a different level than him. Hearing you say that you liked him made him feel so giddy. The time on your clock shines bright in the corner of his eye making him realize that he did have to get home (sadly).

“I have to-” Peter hesitantly said while pointing to your window, not wanting to leave you right after you both confessed to each other.

“I get it, just… make sure to actually text me this time.” You joked, really hoping that you will get a message after he leaves. Peter winced at the comment, looking guilty again.

“About that, I’m sorry.” You just laughed at him, he was such a cutie you don’t know how you were ever mad at him.

“It’s okay, Peter. I already forgave you! Don’t worry, I’ll talk to you later then.”

“Do you think I should change?” Peter looked down at his outfit and you laughed at the suit. Peter smiling at the sound of hearing your laugh so full after so long of missing you.

“Yeah, I think you should. I have some of Tim’s sweats, he never knows they’re missing. You can wear that and this sweater.” You pulled out some clothes from your closet. You did tend to take some of your brother’s old clothing as they were pretty comfy and nice to sleep in.

Peter thanked you and just put the clothing on top of what he was wearing, you ordered a cab for him to take making sure to slip some money into the pocket of his sweats so he doesn’t worry about the cost.

“I ordered a cab for you so you better take it, it’d be too obvious if your swing around in that. Money’s in your right pocket.” Before Peter could decline, you pushed him towards your window and he started making his way out. His face showing he wasn’t happy about you paying for him but you didn't care.

“I swear I’ll text you as soon as I’m home.” Peter reassured you, making sure you knew he wasn’t going to leave you like that again.

“I can’t wait.” You both smile at each other. Peter climbed down and sneakily exited the manor area.

You can’t believe the past few hours of your life actually happened… You and Peter kissed.

So I do have another part for this, if you guys want it just let me know!

#peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker imagines #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #spiderman imagine #spiderman x reader #spider-man imagines #spider-man x reader #spiderman fluff #dick grayson imagine #jason todd imagine #tim drake imagine #damian wayne imagine #batsis #basis reader #tom holland imagines

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winchesterprincessbride · 6 years ago

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The Parent Trap-Part 4

Part 1 My Master List

Pairing: Sam X past reader, Sam X Ruby (currently)

A/N: Did you like the movie “The Parent Trap” as a kid? It is one of my favorite movies! I decided to write my own version, with a Supernatural twist, of course!

Summary: Mary Winchester and Annie Campbell meet at summer camp, and they quickly realize they look too much alike for it to be a coincidence. They are twins! Their parents, Sam Winchester and Y/N Campbell divorced 12 years before, each taking custody of one girl. Now Sam lives in California and Y/N in New York. The girls hatch a plan to bring their parents back together, but will Sam’s new fiancee ruin their plans? Mary

“Are you sure you can do this?” Mary asked doubtfully as Annie pulled a pair of scissors from her suitcase.

“Piece of cake!” Annie replied confidently. “Just have a little faith, okay?” Looking at herself critically in the mirror, she began to snip away at Mary’s long hair.

Mary shut her eyes tightly and prayed she wouldn’t end up bald. Her Dad loved her hair, and when she finally did go home she knew he was going to have a fit. Sorry, Daddy, she thought to herself as her head felt lighter and lighter.

“There!” Annie said with a flourish. “Open your eyes, for Pete’s sake!”

When Mary looked at her reflection in the mirror, her mouth dropped open in surprise. “Oh my gosh! I look just like…”

“Me!” Her twin finished. “I know, right?” She leaned her head in next to Mary’s. “They will never be able to tell us apart now.”

Annie

“Where do I go to school?” Annie asked after thinking for a moment.

“Washington Junior High,” Mary answered promptly, responding with a question of her own. “What does Uncle Dean call his car?”

Annie paused. “His Baby?” She asked tentatively.

“Are you asking me or telling me?” Mary questioned.

Biting back the bitchy remark she really wanted to say, Annie replied, “Telling you, oh great and mighty quiz mistress.”

Mary sighed and crossed her arms, looking so much like their mom when she was mad it was comical. “This is serious! We don’t have to just look like each other. We have to be each other for this to work. You get that, right?”

“Yeah, I get it! I know what’s at stake here!” Annie grumbled. So what are my neighbors' names?”

“The Espositos on the right, Mrs. Dunner on the left, and the Jacobson's across the hall!” Mary grinned triumphantly. “What’s my best friend’s name?”

“Abby. No, wait! Ashley? Aubrey?” Annie had never been good at memorizing things.

“NO! It’s Ivy! How’s it going to look when I come home from camp and I don’t know my best friends name? You have to get this stuff or you aren’t going to last a day!” Mary ran her hands through her now-short hair in frustration.

“Look, I’m trying! I don’t have a photographic memory like you! I’m doing the best I can, so stop yelling at me!” Annie demanded as she jumped off her bunk and began to pace.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Mary asked quietly. “We go home tomorrow. It’s not too late to back out. We can think of something else.”

“No way. We are doing this. Now shut up and ask me another question.” Annie said determinedly.

“Did you really need all this stuff?” Annie hissed as she tried to maneuver Mary’s bags out the door.

As the twins exited their cabin and headed to say goodbye to their friends, they ran into Mrs. Rinaldi. “Well, girls. I hope you enjoyed camp. I’m glad you were able to work out your differences. I like your hair, Mary.”

“Thanks. Camp was fun.” Annie responded. Mary just nodded in agreement, and Mrs. Rinaldi moved on.

Annie had an earlier flight than Mary, so she was in the first van to the airport. They started to load up, and she turned to her sister. “Well, this is it, I guess.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Mary echoed and launched herself into Annie’s arms. “I’m so happy we found each other.” She whispered in her sister’s ear, hugging her tightly.

Annie returned the hug. “Me too. You have my number. Text me with updates. Operation Double Trouble starts now.” She said with a grin.

Mary

Mary watched Annie’s van pull away, and felt a strange emptiness, like part of her, was missing. She had never felt this way before. Since she had some time to kill, she decided to go and talk to some of Annie’s bunkmates from Evergreen Cabin. She wanted to see if her “Annie” could fool them and if she needed to tweak it at all.

Mary spent the next two hours talking to Annie’s friends and they had no idea whatsoever that she wasn’t Annie. This is going to be so easy. She thought smugly. When it was time, she loaded her stuff into the van, said goodbye to her “friends”, and was soon on her way to the airport.

The flight from Michigan to La Guardia was boring, but Mary just couldn’t let herself relax. At the end of this, she was going to get to meet her mother…..finally! But as far as she was concerned, it had only been two weeks since she’d last seen her.

As the plane taxied to the gate, she began to panic. She pulled out her phone, and there was a text from Annie, code-named “Amanda” in case anyone saw her phone. But she was supposed to delete the texts as soon as she read them, just to be safe.

It said simply, You got this! She grinned as she deleted the text. “Darn right, I do.” She told herself.

Mary would have recognized you anywhere. You were standing at the edge of the crowd of people, and your face broke out in an excited grin as soon as you saw her. You ran forward, enveloping her into a hug, and Mary held tightly for a moment, reveling in your embrace. You smelled like honeysuckle.

“I sure missed you, Annie! I know it’s only been two weeks, but I swear you got taller! How is that even possible? So, did you have fun?”

“Yeah, I did, but I’m really happy to be home with you,” Mary told her mother with a smile.

“How was the food? Still awful?” you asked, wrinkling your nose.

“You have no idea.”

“I made your favorite for dinner to welcome you home,” you told Mary as the two of you headed towards the baggage claim area.

“Beef stew, yay!” Mary said brightly, trying to summon up some enthusiasm. The fact that she had been a vegetarian for the past year was going to be a bit of a problem. Annie told her to just not eat the meat and if you asked to make up a story about one of your bunkmates being a vegan and really rubbing off on you.

Annie

I am Mary, I am Mary, I am Mary.

Annie kept telling herself this over and over during the flight from Michigan to San Diego. Her nerves were wound so tight she felt like she was going to explode. Something told her that Mary would need some encouragement, so she sent her a quick text using her “Amanda” alias. She got a smiley-face back in return. Mary was “Megan” in her phone to throw off suspicion.

In a few minutes, she would get off the plane as Mary Winchester, and “Operation Double Trouble” would be in motion. They hadn’t really discussed how long they were going to let this go before revealing their true identities, but they had the rest of the summer to figure that out.

Annie paused on the jetway and looked back at the plane. There was no turning back. She took a deep breath, threw her carryon over her shoulder, and marched out the door into the airport. There were a lot of people waiting, and she didn’t see anyone, so she stopped and scanned the crowd.

“Mary? Holy crap, what did you do to your hair?” A deep voice said behind Annie, and she whirled around. A tall man was standing behind her with a playful grin on his face.

“Hey, Uncle Dean! I cut it, do you like it?” Holy crap, Uncle Dean was hot! Mary didn’t say our uncle was practically a male model!

He pulled you into a hug. ‘I can actually see your face now, it looks good.”

“Where is Dad? Didn’t he come?” Annie tried to keep the disappointment from her voice.

“And miss his baby girl’s arrival? Are you kidding? He’s in the bathroom. He’s gonna be so mad that I got to see you first. So, did you like camp? Juliet has been pouting since you left.”

Juliet….Juliet….Oh yeah, the dog. “I can’t wait to see my baby, I’ve missed her so much!” Annie tried her best to sound convincing. In fact, she was a little nervous about meeting the dog. Mary had assured her Juliet was a big teddy bear, but big dogs made her nervous.

“Mary, baby, you’re home!” An even taller man came sprinting up to her and Dean, and Annie’s mouth dropped slightly. None of her friends' dads looked like him. Whoa!

“Hi, Daddy!” She said in her best Mary-ish voice and he enveloped her in a hug. He was huge.

“You cut your hair, I see.” He said, fingering the short strands.

“Yep, my bunkmate Amanda cut it. I really like it this way.” Annie said defiantly, waiting to see how he would respond.

“Well, if you like it, then I do too,” Sam told her. “Let’s go get your bags and head home.”

They headed out to the parking garage, both of them peppering her with questions about camp. They stopped at a gorgeous black classic car, and Annie ran her hand over its shiny bumper. She was a total gear-head. Her neighbor Mr. Esposito worked in a garage, and sometimes she and her friend Carlos, his son, would go visit him at the shop when he was working late to bring him dinner.

She looked up, and Uncle Dean was giving her an odd look. “Don’t tell me you missed my Baby while you were gone?” He said with a smirk.

“I missed everything, Uncle Dean! Even you!”

The drive home was breathtaking. The city soon gave way to rolling hills, beaches and ocean. California was breathtaking. Uncle Dean was really funny and made Annie laugh.

“So what did you do while I was gone, Dad? Anything exciting?” Annie asked Sam.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. “Actually, honey, I wanted to talk to you about that,” Sam told Annie. “I’ve been seeing someone, and I spent some time with her while you were gone. I’d like you to meet her. She’s going to join us for dinner tonight.”

She looked at him in horror. “Seeing her? Like a girlfriend?”

Before Sam could answer, his phone rang. It was his office calling, and he started talking in legal-ese and Annie tuned out. Unzipping her backpack, she slid her hands inside and grabbed her phone. She quickly sent Mary a text.

Dad has been “seeing someone”. She is coming to dinner tonight. I will call to discuss. 1 a.m. NY time. set your alarm!

Part 5

@ladylaylo @elfinmox @missihart23 @jordanjaspergreen-griffin-blake @kendall-michele @mlovesstories @sophster1881 @youngestxhearts @klanceiscannon14 @missbell97 @waterfeenix137 @itsmariwithani @supernatural-harrypotter7 @starstruckzonkoperatorbat @oddone92-blog @priya212 @menewyn @whereismykrustykrab @katy80us @skybinx-blog @percywinchester27 @a-sea-of-fandoms @dorky-and-i-know-it@tokyoghoulyz @pinknerdpanda @atc74 @jayankles @notnaturalanahi @moonlitskinwalker @we-are-band-sexuals @winchestergirl-love @gecko9596 @ronnie248-blog @essie1876 @bohowitch @just-another-busy-fangirl @jotink78 @captainradicalpassion @keelzy2 @disneymarina @kittenofdoomage @mrswhozeewhatsis @oriona75 @frankiea1998 @akshi8278 stylinson531 @valynsia @dr-dean @imweirdandobsessed @growningupgeek @luciisthebest @laurenisnot @canadianjelly @muliermalefici @brewsthespirit-blog @ilsawasanacrobat @nanie5 @weasleywinchester @samisimportant-blog @fatalcrossbow @letmusicguideu @faegal04 @feelmyroarrrr @kay18115@milkymilky-cocopuff @mikimausiii @the-greatest-temptation @superpanicromancesummer @wh1sp3r1ng-impala-deactivated20 @emoryhemsworth @squirrel-moose-winchester @jennifromtheblock1013 @spnbaby-67 @mogaruke @sweetmisseddreams2002 @redheadbedhead2002 @negan–is–god @spnwoman @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @maximumkillshot @sweetpeamoose @mrs-meghan-winchester @woodworthti666 @herbologystudent252 @sandlee44 @andkatiethings @wildefire @thoughtfullyfurryangel @apeshit7x @klanceiscannon14 @curly-haired-disaster @becca-ca @deliciouslydisturbed365 @fandomismyspiritanimal @healojane@thewinchesterchronicles

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sebeth · 6 years ago

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Young Justice: Denial, Cold Case, Hot Case

Episode 7: “Denial”

July 27th: Kent Nelson enters the parlor of Madame Xanadu. Madame offers to make contact with Kent’s deceased wife, Inza, if “fate be so kind”.

Kent responds: “But he so rarely is.”

Kent laughs at Xanadu’s attempt to contact his wife: “That was supposed to be my wife? Heck, my little spitfire would have kicked my can for throwing away good money on you.”

Kent criticizes Madame Xanadu for her fakery: “A shame, too. You have the perfect aura for the work.”

An interesting choice on the writers’ parts to make Madame Xanadu a charlatan. She would be tied with Dream Girl as the most famous pre-cog in the DC Universe. They did allow themselves room to re-introduce her as a genuine pre-cog with the “you have the perfect aura for the work” comment.

Kent is kidnapped from the parlor.

We return to the comic book series for the 9th and 10th issue, “Cold Case” and “Hot Case”, a spotlight on the origin of Captain Atom.

August 13:

School is in session for the team as Captain Atom gives a lecture on subterfuge and infiltration. Kaldur is the only member actively taking notes. Robin’s rolling his eyes, Superboy’s yawning and stretching, Wally’s stuffing his face, and the girls are polite in their expressions of boredom.

The team’s reactions ring true. Conner and Wally are self-aware enough to realize subterfuge will never be one of their strengths. Dick’s heard the same lecture a million times from the Batman. Kaldur is serious and a former military man – he knows the value of training and intel. M’gann is most likely thinking to herself “telepathing, shape-shifting, can turn invisible Martian here – we wrote the book on subterfuge”, and Artemis is wondering why she signed up for the team if it involves more schoolwork.

Captain Atom, a man encased in shiny metal, may seem like an odd choice for a lecture on subterfuge and infiltration, until you realize his pre-hero background in military intelligence.

Atom stops his lecture: “This is boring, isn’t it?”

Megan attempts to reassure the Captain but the always blunt Conner interrupts with “Yeah, boring”.

Captain Atom proposes a field exercise: “This is a cold case. Vietnam era. Captain Nathaniel Adams, United States Air Force. Convicted in 1968 of murdering Air Force General Clement Lemar. Adams died in prison. But I’ve received a reliable tip he was framed. Your assignment: investigate. Prove Adams’ innocence or reconfirm his guilt and report back to me.”

Conner interjects: “Really? You need super-powered operatives for this?”

Atom offers to resume the lecture but the team decides on the field exercise.

The team doesn’t realize it but Captain Atom has revealed his secret identity and part of his origin story. Nathaniel Adam was part of a secret experiment that transformed him into Captain Atom and catapulted him decades into the future. The frame-up/died in prison was used as a way to explain Nathanial’s presumed death.

DC Comics purchased several comic book publishers during the 1970s and 1980s. The most famous companies were Fawcett, Charlatan, and Quality. The purchases caused DC cast of characters to rapidly expand. Notable characters from the purchases included the Captain Marvel Family, Plastic Man, Blue Beetle, the Blackhawks, the Question, and many others.

DC assigned the various companies’ characters their own earths in the multiverse: Earth-F, etc. Their villains, supporting characters, and continuing adventures each happened on their own earth. The new to the DC Universe characters would occasionally interact with the mainstream DC earth.

DC decided the DC multiverse had become too complex by the mid-1980s. I’m not sure why as I was between 6 to 8 years old during this time and I had no trouble following along with the various worlds. Sorry, reboots make me bitter. We lose more than we gain in every time. Any characters created in the reboots – Tim, Conner, Bart, Kyle – could have still been created without half-assed reboots.

Back on point, DC created the “Crisis On Infinite Earths”. Despite my dislike of reboots, “Crisis” is an excellent story and a must read for any DC fan. Great writing, gorgeous art, and fabulous character moments.

Post-Crisis, there was only one earth. Captain Atom was re-launched into his own solo title. He had notable romances with Nightshade and Plastique. Atom’s main foe was Major Force whose later actions would later name the “Women in Refrigerators” trope. Captain Atom also served as the long-suffering leader of Justice League Europe. Atom was the inspiration for the “Doctor Manhattan” character in the Watchmen

Atom’s downfall would be known as “Armageddon”. He was intended to be the villain behind it. The plot reveal was leaked and the writers hastily changed the villain’s identity to Hawk (Hank Hall) – which made less sense than the choice of Captain Atom.

I dislike “hero goes bad” or “villain goes good” stories. They are rarely done well. In hero cases, the writers go to extremes – downfall of Hal Jordan, anyone? In villain cases, the bad guy has become popular, so the writers change him into a good guy and ignore the atrocities they’ve committed – I’m looking at you, Harley Quinn. Particularly the Harley in the Injustice universe.

Captain Atom never recovered from the “Armageddon” debacle. He would make sporadic appearances but nothing too memorable until the “Captain Atom: Armageddon” mini-series that led to the decimation of the Wildstorm universe.

A disguised Megan enters the Pentagon to interview General Wade Eiling, the judge at Nathanial’s court martial. Wade sums up Adams as a “malcontent” who blamed his “victim Lemar for a Viet Cong ambush” and Adams “was caught in the act by an M.P. Sergeant Polk”. Eiling, a Colonel at the time, found Adams guilty and sentenced him to life in prison. Adams “took his own life before a year was out”.

Robin easedrops from the ceiling.

Wally and Conner pose as journalism students in order to interview a Lieutenant Yarrow at a casino in Las Vegas. Conner clearly doesn’t care about subterfuge – at all – as he is still wearing the Superboy shirt. Wally is in his civilian attire.

The dealer reminds the boys “no one under twenty-one” is allowed in the casino. Conner questions if “under 21” counts “in weeks or months”.

Wally’s excited by the “$4.95 all-you-can-eat buffet”: “My kind of town!” Buffets are a true blessing for speedsters, their metabolisms, and their budgets. Not so much for the owners of said buffets.

Lt. Yarrow was Adams’ defense council: “His friend too. Served together in ‘Nam. The only survivors of Hill 409.”

Yarrow continues “Nate worked Air Force Intelligence. He suspected a weapons smuggling ring and confided as much to General Lemar. Lemar claimed to have heard rumors too. Ordered Nate to take a squad to Hill 409. It was an ambush. Nate saved my life. The rest of Nate’s men weren’t so lucky. Nate became convinced Lemar was part of the smuggling ring and had sent us into the ambush. I tried to talk him out of it but Nate insisted on confronting Lemar only to black out moments later. Later, Nate would insist he had been drugged. And I believed him. Cuz there’s no way the Nathianel Adams I knew would murder a man in cold blood!”

“I took on Nate’s defense but the prosecutor Lieutenant Kevin Blankly proved Nate’s service knife was the murder weapon. And the medical examiner, Major Shirley Mason testified there were no drugs in Nate’s system. So the judge found Nate guilty and sentenced him to life in prison. And that’s where Nate died. But get this…that judge, Colonel Wade Eiling, he married Nate’s widow and raised Nate’s two kids as his own!”

Wade Eiling would be a thorn in Nathaniel’s side throughout the Captain Atom series. Wade didn’t transform into a full-fledged villain until the Morrison Era JLA where he merged with the Shaggy Man and ran amuck as the “General”.

Robin decides the next step is to interview Shirley Mason. Dick and Megan arrive at the Arlington home of Mason only to discover her corpse.

Dick notes: “She’s got something in her hand. I don’t want to disturb the crime scene, but we need to see what it is.”

Trained protégé of Batman speaking!

Megan levitates the corpse so Robin can view the picture in Mason’s hand. The photo is a group shot of military personnel.

Kaldur and Artemis meet with Nathaniel’s children in Honolulu.

Peggy firmly believes in her father’s innocence, as did her mother, but Randy does not: “Wade Eiling is our father. He raised us. Adams gave up any parental rights the day he betrayed our country and murdered his superior officer.”

It should be noted Randy has joined a military branch – possibly the Air Force.

Peggy was born after her father’s death so she must have learned her firm belief in her father’s innocence from her mother.

Angela Adams, Nathaniel’s wife, firmly believed in Nathaniel’s innocence but went on to marry the man that sentenced him to prison? Weird.

Artemis doesn’t empathize with Peggy’s belief in her father: “Biology hardly guarantees parental skills or even basic honesty.”

Kaldur tells Artemis of his parents: “My mother, Sha’lain’a, is a native of the Atlantean city-state of Shayeris. Her skin is nearly as golden as her hair and her gills are quite large and gorgeous. My father, Calvin Durham, is a surface-worlder like you, genetically altered by Black Manta to infiltrate Atlantis as a water-breather.”

“Your dad works for Black Manta?”

“He did. But his love for my mother caused him to switch sides.”

Kaldur doesn’t realize it but there are a few important details he hasn’t been told about his parents’ romance.

If you only watched the cartoon and never read the comic books, you missed the foreshadowing that justified Kaldur’s villainous role in season two.

Dick, Megan, Wally, and Conner are in Annapolis.

Dick has identified the people in the photo.

Megan has a question: “I know my grasp of Earth history is largely based on Earth sitcoms but why would a North Vietnamese General be in a 1968 photograph with U.S. personnel?”

Someone needs to hand Megan some history books!

The group is outside General Tang’s mansion. Conner realizes another man is in the mansion and he is carrying a sword.

Conner and Wally are ready to rush in but Dick holds the duo back: “This is a covert op. We keep to the shadows. We don’t take the offensive. Like in Captain Atom’s lecture.”

Wally is shocked that Dick was actually listening to the lecture.

An invisible Megan enters the home.

Trang converses with the man: “I know why you are here. I still have my sources. I know about Mason, and I know your work. But I am disappointed, Rako. I have protected you since you were a child. Have you no loyalty?”

Rako goes for the kill but is stopped by Megan.

Conner storms in and is shocked when Rako’s sword cuts him: “I’m…I’m bleeding?”

The group battle Rako but are unable to prevent Trang’s murder. Rako escapes in the confusion.

August 14, Metropolis: The reunited team meet in a Metropolis diner.

Superboy is still shocked over his wound but insists “It’s a scratch. I’m fine. Move on.”

Facial recognition software has identified the individuals in the photograph:

1) Lt. Kevin Blankly, USAF

2) Lt. Henry Yarrow, USAF

3) Alec Rois, CIA

4) General Clement Lemar, USAF

5) Major Shirley Mason, USAF

6) General Duk Trang, NVA

7) Sgt. Ends Polk, USAF

8) Unknown child

The group theorizes the “unknown child” is Rako and that’s he been sent to tie up the “loose ends” in the Adams case.

Kaldur divides the team in half – Dick, Conner, and Wally will head to Las Vegas to protect Yarrow while the rest remain in Metropolis to investigate Polk.

The trio arrive in Las Vegas only to witness Yarrow’s house explode. Yarrow was killed in the explosion. The boys identify Yarrow by a tattoo on his arm.

The team reunites in St. George to confront the trio behind the recent deaths: Rois, Rako, and a not dead Henry Yarrow. The team quickly captures the trio. Yarrow dies – for real this time – in the fight.

The team returns to Mount Justice to report their findings: The accusations and resulting frame-up of Admas was to cover a weapons smuggling ring. Wade Eiling was the only one involved in the trial who wasn’t a member of the smuggling ring.

Kaldur and Artemis fly to Honolulu to inform the Adams kids of their father’s innocence.

Nathan and Wade mend fences over their preconceived notions of the other’s guilt. Wade informs Nathan: “Let me reintroduce you to your kids”.

The issue ends with Rois and Rako escaping from prison and meeting up with Wade. Turns out, Wade was in charge of the entire smuggling ring. He wasn’t in the picture because he took the picture!

Wade: “Captain Atom is my new best friend. Which should serve us well in the days ahead.”

An intriguing plotline that never received any follow up.

We return to “Denial”:

August 19th: The team participates in combat training. More to the point, Kaldur and a shirtless Conner spar. Artemis tries to persuade M’gann to ask Kaldur out. Good Luck, Artemis, Megan has her obsession locked in and she is not veering from the course.

Megan attempts to veer Artemis towards Wally: “You’re so full of passion, and he’s so full of..”

Artemis interjects with “It?”

I enjoy the competition between the girls over Conner and mostly for the fact that the ladies don’t let it interfere with their friendship.

Why is Conner shirtless? Is he showing off for the ladies? Kaldur kept his shirt on!

Poor Dick, as the youngest, is left out of the hormone competition. Don’t worry, Dick, you will grow up to become DC’s premier knockout.

Conner wins the round: “Black Canary taught me that.” Conner must be taking his training seriously as Kaldur would be one of the more experienced members in hand-to-hand combat due to his Atlantean military background.

Red Tornado enters. Wally wants a mission assignment. He mentions that Robin and Batman are in Gotham City doing the “Dynamic Duo thing”.

We’ll put “Denial” on pause as the next two issues of the Young Justice comic start at this point.

Up next: Batman, Robin, Ras’s al Ghul, Clayface and the most multi-faceted portrayal of Talia ever!

#Young Justice #Captain Atom #Kent Nelson #Doctor Fate #Madame Xanadu #Kaldur #Artemis Crock #Conner Kent #Dick Grayson #Wally West #Miss Martian #Wade Eiling #Kid Flash #Superboy #Robin #Aqualad #Artemis

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twohearts-hs · 7 years ago

Text

‘An Office Affair’ - CEO! Harry Series

Words: 2,232

Pairing: Harry Styles & (Y/N) (Y/L/N)

CEO Harry Series - please request part 2, plus ideas.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Styles Incorporated founded only thirty years has taken over the market. It was never big at first, just simply a company, but ever since he took over; the company has changed.

Harry had the same routine every day. The flat that he owned was always spick and span, everything had an order. He knew where everything was in the modern building. One ruffle, the person was out. That is one of the reasons he never had a girlfriend or a friend in general for long. In his mind, they messed up everything.

He woke up, the alarm blaring at him. If he were honest, he did love his job. He loved the feeling of being high up, with people being scared or admiring him. He liked the flirty assistants that tried to bed with him, but he never budged; just flirted back. Seeing the disappointment on their faces falling when he declines their offer for drinks or coffee.

He loves his assistant, Dorothy. A lady in her thirties who as like him, couldn't keep a partner. She had a boyfriend, lost him because he thought she was clingy, and she cried about him all the time or talked about the good memories. Her cheery voice was the only thing that made a smile come on his face. Her chirpy voice and red hair.

Harry had the same routine, getting up, heading to the bathroom, having a shower, and getting changed. He had different suits for different days, but the stress that comes with picking a tie or watch. The drawer that has little boxes, more every piece of merchandise. He loves his life.

The night before was stressful for her. The idea of starting a new job at one of the biggest firms in London, made her stomach turn. (Y/N) was never one in her university days to drink, party or do drugs. Her friends were, but look where they turned out to be. When telling them, yes they were proud, but they were sort of jealous as well. Since then, she hasn’t heard from them.

Yet, the idea of working there was nerve-wracking. She wasn’t at any small time company, she was taken into one of the biggest. In her mind, it was one of the scariest things to ever become, but the proudest. She reminded herself over and over again, that the reason she was here, was because she worked for it. She placed effort, and stress towards it, and she got a part of her dream.

The morning was worse on her mind. She had no idea who she was going to work with, she doesn’t even know what her boss looks like. Of course, she tried googling, but only a short Wikipedia message about the company itself came up; telling her the history and profits.

(Y/N) pulled herself out of her house in the nick of time. The stress overwhelmed the fear, making herself lost in her thoughts; creating her to be late. She didn’t even process what she would do if she were in this position. The fear took over, the worrying topped that. The only thoughts being the simple, ‘would they like me?’, or ‘what if I muck up?’. But, being late; she had no backup plan.

The building was huge when it came to an eye with her. It was your typical skyscraper with windows. (Y/N) noticed the people walking in and out; coming and going. She didn’t mind that. But, she had to go in quick or else she would be passed late.

The building was new from the looking around. The walls were tiled with white quartz and paintings hung around her. A Few awards were there, but most of it was bare. She noticed the reception in the centre back. The place was bare, just the blonde sitting there on a computer. No security guard or elevator noise was present. It was like she was in a white room, she was in a white room with a young blonde.

“Um, excuse me,” she began, seeing the lady still seeking interest on whatever was on her computer screen, “I’m here as the new intern” the blonde; beautiful at most still didn’t move. She did simple actions, that (Y/N) caught on, rolling her eyes and taking the attention off her screen, for once.

“Name.” it wasn’t a question, it was more of a statement. The voice that came out of her was monotone with a hint of annoyance. The non-existent confidence was beginning to shallow, creating a withering feeling inside. Her hands started to tremble, her lip moved gently. She knew she couldn’t be nervous now, she was so close.

“Uh, (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” she began in a hesitate voice, “here is my papers.” she fumbled for them in her bag, looking for the registration and emails she has gotten from the company.

The lady took them, snatching them and giving her a glare. What was her problem? The blonde which she read was Katie on the name tag on her chest, turned her chair and grabbed a file from behind her. She placed the file in front of (Y/N), pushing it gently towards her.

“Level twentyone. You’ll meet your boss there, at least one of them.” she nodded, mumbling a ‘thank you’ to the blonde with the cakey foundation, yet it still looked beautiful on her. She glared back and looked at her screen, acting as though (Y/N) was never there.

She walked to her left, heading to the elevator with the golden framing, pressing the up button. (Y/N) racked her mind for her first boss’ name, remembering it was Dorothy, Dorothy Laten. The door of the machinery opened with a slight, ‘ding’; it made her push herself in the enclosing area.

The doors closed on her, creating herself to jump a bit. The nerves acting up. Her finger came in contact with the button, pushing the number ‘21’. It pushed up, creating her to jolt forward; she knew she wasn’t steady on her feet. The anxiety was rushing through her bloodstream, creating her to constantly think of the worse.

The metal doors opened, her eyes instantly taking into view the glass doors in front of her. She noticed the busy workers, walking about, and another pretty young receptionist, brunette this time, sitting close to the doors.

She fumbled for her ID that came with the whole ‘welcome’ package. The doors needed it in order to open; sliding the card in the swipe spot, them opening with a clicking noise.

“Hi, um, I’m the new intern of Dorothy.” she noticed her voice still hesitating.

“(Y/N) right?” the brunette said, smiling up at her. She was kinder. The name she had was Megan, written on her tag.

“Uh, yes,” she told her, a smile beginning to appear on her face.

“Great! Welcome, I just called her, so have a sit there,” she told her, pointing to the chair closest to the desk.

(Y/N) was about to sit down, when a redhead appeared from the corner, “(Y/N), lovely! I’m Dorothy; I am going to be your boss, lucky you!” she was certainly upbeat, her plump body matching her personality of dyed red hair, the chirpy voice and minimal eyeliner. She looked as though she was in her mid-thirties. (Y/N) began following her through the maze of offices.

“So, I think there was a mix-up, sweetie.” Dorothy began, turning towards her, and smiling but still walking, as if that is possible, “First off, we do the ranking by floors, and we are on the same floor as Mr Styles, himself. So, you’re lucky. Second, you’re my assistant, not an intern, and I am the big boss’ assistant. He’ll be here in about an hour so you can meet him.” she just kept nodding to her, taking in all the information.

“You aren’t a talkative one, are you?” she turned around once again, almost bumping into (Y/N); herself stepping back.

“I think it is just the nerves,” she told her, in a small voice.

“Of course it is, but don’t worry love, you’ll feel like home in no time.”

They arrived at her office, (Y/N) sitting across from the redhead; bringing out a notebook to begin what her courses and obligations are. The office around her was the same as others, except they weren’t in a booth. The office had glass door entrance with spruce wooden walls. The desk was on the opposite side as the doors, with the giant window on the left of the desk. It was a beautiful small office. It looked bigger from the outside, yet it is not.

“Like I said, Mr Styles is not in office yet, so I’m just going to run through somethings with you.” she blocked out most of what she said, head and mind thinking of who Mr Styles is. Is he an older man, with greying hair and a fallen smile? It was said that he took over the company, not so long ago. Could he be in his mid-thirties, craving his life to start over again? With the fact of a boring wife, and bratty children. She wouldn’t know, she was simply just an assistant’s assistant.

“(Y/N) did you get that, love? Perfect, I’ll be back in a bit, need to grab something from the printer.” (Y/N) nodded, still silent.

The paper in front of her was blank, and her nervousness has come down into a low place now. Dorothy was correct after awhile you will feel better.

The door opened, creating her to turn her head to the glass doors. A man came in, talking half way through the frame to someone. She barely can make out who it was, but with the short curly hair, and low male voice, she could work out that it was a man. He turned around, closing the door, and his smile turned into a smirk. The posture he had was little from professional, his hands were in contact with the pockets of his suit, and his hair was pushed back a bit. He was at least in his mid-twenties.

“Oh, hi,” he said, she shook her head, grabbing pieces of information that she has so far to respond.

“Hi, um, Dorothy will be back in a bit, and Mr Styles is not here in the office at the moment.” he nodded, coming closer to her.

“Ok, that’s ok. Um. and you are?” he was closer to her now, a half a metre away from her.

She was nervous. Her hands began to tremble and her leg began to bounce up and down. He was beautiful; only if she admitted to it.

“Oh, sorry, I’m (Y/N). New intern, I mean assistant’s assistant,” he chuckled, she looked down, shook her head, “sorry, it is my first day here, and I have no idea what my position is. My boss is confusing me with the title.” he nodded, placing his hand on the desk, getting closer to the second.

“Ha, I get you. I’m Harry.” he stated, she shook his hand, and nodded, “So have you met the big boss yet?” she kept shaking her head, a blush creeping on her face.

“No. Is he scary or strict?” he laughed a bit.

“Some says he is, some don’t. I don’t think he is.” a smile came on her features. In her whole honest opinion, she was happy talking to him. He felt the same to her.

“Good, cause I don’t want some grumpy old boss.”

“Who’s saying he is old?” he told her, standing up, she felt embarrassed.

“I reckoned that he is old. Oh, god now that is embarrassing.” he winked at her.

“Don’t worry, love.” her eyes widen, shook filled the embarrassment. The door opened and closed, once again, yet a clicking of heels was heard than silent feet.

“Oi, Harry! Stop messing with our new intern.” Harry’s head turned to Dorothy a wide smile that showed his teeth came upon his gorgeous features. She was clueless, but the smile took her away from those thoughts.

“(Y/N), lovely, this is Harry Styles. I think you two met.” the shook was now taken back with embarrassment. Her mouth came open, slightly and she was stunned.

“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry, Mr Styles for the swearing and everything in general. I had no idea it was you. I feel so bad, and embarrassed, and unworthy. I, I, I - I insulted you. I’m so sorry.” way to go (Y/N) ruining your career and having not even been there for an hour. He simply chuckled.

“There are a few rules for you, lovely (Y/N). One, call me Harry; people who are close to me call me Harry, and two, don’t you worry, everyone makes mistakes. See you around, love.” his hand came in contact with her cheek, a stun expression written across her features. Was he flirting? No, this is her boss, he’ll play games, but if she reenacts it, it could cost her her job.

#harry #harry edward styles #Harry Styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagines #harry styles smut #harry styles preferences #harry styles concepts #one direction #one direction oneshot #one direction imagines #one direction smut #one direction preferences #one direction concepts #1d #1direction #1d imagine #1d preferences

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largebeeffriedrice · 6 years ago

Text

Choose Your Deity Carefully - Chapter 2

Also on AO3 if that floats your goat more.

Chapter 2: Terms and Conditions

There's a 90's country song that goes something like, '...before I know it Saturdays gone, but it's Sunday now and you can bet that I'm alright.'

Indeed, the Sunday following my run in with Loki was quite uneventful. Which was marvelous for me.

I'd stayed in my apartment and nothing bad happened to me. My cable didn't cut out, all the neighbors were surprisingly quiet, and someone even ordered a pizza that I got because somehow the driver had the wrong address but also somehow had an extra pizza.

That last one I was very suspicious about and wondered if my potential new deity had anything to do with it. If he had then I was pretty prepared to accept becoming a worshipper. My only problem was that I was still a skeptic and wanted proof that this act was tied to him.

Especially since he didn't seem like the type to do good will favors or at least not without some fanfare. Even if it was just to convince me to convert.

But by Monday, I was back to dragging my feet and attempting to not cry at every misfortune that befell me.

The bakery I went to every Monday was closed due to a handful of health code violations, my bus drove right by my stop, and the sole to one of my flats suddenly started tearing away. Forcing me to walk to work with my stomach growling and my foot aching from the continuous slap of my sole smacking into my heel with every step.

I tried to reason that this is just stuff that happens to people.

Especially stuff that happens to me. But it was just getting more and more unusual how much happened in one day. Even one week. Hell, I'd go so far as to even say a month!

But I'd be damned if it didn't make me more tempted to take up Loki's offer.

The temptation rose when Megan from accounting visited me on the third floor to ask me again how to spell my name and, "Oh, weird. I'm not even showing you on the payroll now."

It reached its climax when I went to go take my lunch and found that someone had eaten all of my food before putting my empty lunch sack back into the fridge with a note that said, 'Should have put your name on it.'

My full name was still visible on the wrinkled up bag.

After lunch, I had returned to my desk and started researching what I could about Loki and then, once I'd learned some mythology, started looking up what kind of offerings Norse Gods accepted.

I'd opened a couple different tabs from some sketchy looking websites but had to admit they seemed pretty detailed. Though some of the stuff went over my head--- was I supposed to actually find real dragon blood or just the incense?--- I felt confident that it would be easy to keep the trickster pleased with small tokens of worship. Who doesn't like alcohol and burying coins in exchange for good luck?

I was about to Google and see if there were particular prayers or something required of me when my computer screen suddenly went black.

I tapped, banged, and pleaded with the screen to come back on. I even unplugged and replugged in the tower to try and get the piece of shit working. But, inevitably, I had to accept defeat and call someone from IT to come look at it.

It was while I was waiting that everything fully cemented into my mind. Full acceptance of Loki's deal washed over me, as I realized that I was going to have to explain to some tech guy why I was looking up Norse mythology when I was supposed to actually be working.

Later that night, I set to work making a sort of altar spot for him in my living room. All of the blogs I'd seen had dedicated the color green to him so I went with it. I'd bought green candles, incenses, a tiny planting pot for whatever coins I found around the apartment, and a pretty fake plant.

The plant was really more for me but it seemed to fit on the crate I bought for all my worshipping needs so I left it there.

The faint aroma of burning meat started flooding my apartment as I lit the candle and incenses and carefully placed them away from the plastic leaves of my plastic hydrangea.

That was another thing I had ended up learning. Not from my computer but from the IT person sent to fix the damn thing. After she had tried to explain to me what was wrong with the computer, thankfully not a virus, she had then chatted me up on the content still sitting guiltily in my browser.

Apparently, she was a major history buff and had been more than pleased to tell me about how people would go so far as to burn meat as a form of sacrifice to the old gods. Something about how it symbolized their level of devotion since they were willing to give up valuable food to keep the deities happy.

It made sense after she explained it and I even agreed to talk to her more about it over lunch one day; partially because I wanted to know more and partially as a way to thank her for her willingness not to tell anyone that I hadn't been working.

Of course, I didn't really have money to go out and buy meat specifically for this so I had to accept the burning crisp death of a roast I'd planned to make for dinner that night. Maybe I'd ask for a favor that involved Megan from accounting since I felt like this was somewhat her fault.

But as the meat burned, the candles flickered, and the incense tickled my nose, I realized nothing was happening. I'd completely forgot to finish looking up what else I was supposed to do to actually summon Loki back to me. I should have asked the IT woman.

So, I did the only thing I had some knowledge of and kneeled beside the homemade shrine and bowed my head to pray.

"Loki. I don't even know what I'm supposed to say in a prayer. But I'd like to discuss the deal you offered me. Umm. Very interested. Thank you."

That was good. Right?

Still, nothing happened.

I stayed kneeling next to the altar for a few more moments before finally deciding to go check on the meat. The way my luck had been running I was risking sending my apartment up in a fiery blaze from my antics.

I rounded the corner into the kitchen and stopped dead in my tracks at the sight. My prayer had been answered.

Loki sat crossed legged on the island, staring worriedly at my oven, and mindlessly rubbing at his chin.

It is still not clear if he just happened to notice me standing there or if I had maybe made a gaspy noise, but his eyes suddenly flicked my way and he finally said, "Mortal, you know that you have a perfectly ruined piece of roast in here, right?"

'Yeah, it's a sacrifice or something for you."

The arched eyebrow look again, "How mundane and wasteful. We could have had that for dinner."

The annoyance that surged through my body helped me move into action and I stomped further into my kitchen to turn the oven off and 'save' the roast from it's burning coffin.

"Well, it's not like you told me how I was supposed to call upon you or anything."

He didn't respond as he continued eyeing the roast. Even as it sat burnt and black on the stovetop. I'd never been great at reading people but it almost seemed like he had a hungry gleam in his eyes.

It was enough of a glint that I decided to risk it and ask, "I can fix something to eat if that's really what you want?"

He licked his lips, slowly, before answering, "No. I don't have time for that now. We need to talk about you doing a better job as my acolyte."

How long had he been in here staring at the charred hunk of meat? I tried to think about how long I had been in the living room preparing but honestly couldn't remember.

"I haven't actually agreed to it yet."

"But you want to. I already know," his hands rolled around one another, causing a flash of green light to abrupt in the empty space between them. The light blindly filled the whole kitchen and then quickly faded to reveal a rolled up scroll.

As his right hand grabbed at the floating parchment paper, his shockingly green eyes finally looked away from the roast and pinned me with a fiendish smile.

Loki held the paper out to me and softly spoke, "This is the terms and conditions."

Hesitantly, I reached out and gingerly took the scroll from him. A thought flitted through my mind and briefly, I paused and wondered if I was technically accepting the offer just by taking the paper.

But curiosity was my worst enemy and I clutched the paper a little tighter and fully pulled it from his hand.

His mirthful expression only grew as he watched me unravel the scroll and scrupulously read over it.

"Wait. I thought I was the one asking you for favors?"

"I said that there would be times I would require acts from you. Those are just the ones that I know about ahead of time."

"You want me to help you gain how many new followers?! You are the same guy who attacked New York aren't you?"

This only earned me a quick scowl before the God of Mischief recovered and replied, "Yes, but look at the benefits."

"Literally the benefits of me helping you get that many worshippers are that you don't kill me. I could always refuse to not accept this deal and not die. Right?" I didn't wait for him to answer as something popped into my brain, "Why do you even need this?

What are you really getting out of 'helping' me?"

Loki tsked me and shook his head disdainfully as if I was stepping out of line by asking such a question. I gave him another second or two before it became obvious that he had no intention of clarifying anything.

I wish this had rattled me more than it did at that moment. But sadly I just accepted his silence and had gone back to reading over the terms and conditions. Letting myself get swept up into the whirlwind chaos of the God of Mischief.

"So, you don't have an actual church?"

"Ew, no."

"Where are people supposed to go to pray to you then?"

He childishly turned up his nose and crossed his arms, "Praying is terrible and I want no part of it. It's dull, unimaginative, and normal."

"How am I suppose to truly worship you then? How am I supposed to communicate with you when I can't find you?"

These were the right questions and his jade eyes fixed on me with a flare of excitement.

With a quick and loud snap of his fingers, a second scroll appeared in his left hand. He pointed at me with the rolled up paper and hissed, "Once you sign and agree to that paper, I will gladly hand over this list of everything you'll need to know for proper offerings and all the works. Plus, I'll go over how to send word to me."

My eyes narrowed and kept glancing back and forth between Loki's smug, long face and the scroll resting loosely in his hand.

Again, past me should have followed her gut on how shaken she'd felt at having heard that the actual required acts were being kept on a different paper for AFTER she sold her soul.

But whatever. I'm still here. For now.

"Are you actually going to kill me if I don't succeed with your side mission?"

'No. Too messy. I'm already in enough trouble. But I can make your life very miserable."

That obviously didn't sound promising but the allure of having a year of better luck somehow won out in my mind. If my death was messy then no way he would actually really commit to tormenting me forever. Right?

"Also, I don't have to have sex with you, right? If that's on that paper in your hands then I refuse."

An exasperated huff, "No. That's not on the paper."

"Okay then, God of Mischief and Chaos," I paused when he held a finger up as if to correct me, but he scrunched his nose up instead and motioned for me to continue, "Get me a pen and I'll agree to a year of being your lackey."

"Wonderful," another snap of his fingers and a pen apparated into my right hand, "this is going to be so much fun."

As I signed the document in my hand I noticed that a symbol had appeared in the section marked off for Loki to sign. It didn't surprise me that he'd use magic instead of his own hand but I couldn't make out what it was supposed to be.

"What is that symbol for?"

"It's my corresponding rune."

"Oh."

And just like that the ink of the paper glimmer and glowed in a golden aura before I had to slightly shake my head and blink rapidly. It looked as if there were double words on the paper and I couldn't figure out why my brain was hallucinating that.

Except my mind wasn't.

The doubled ink suddenly pulled itself together at the bottom of the paper and then slowly bled and trickled its way towards my left hand. I gasped and roughly started shaking my hand, trying to get it to let go of the scroll.

But my fingers held tight against my will and the wild shaking did nothing to deter the ink from continuing its path now towards the inside of my wrist. Once it had all gathered there the ink started to sizzle against my flesh and then evaporated completely by the time I could even release a pained howl.

Where the ink had just been there was now a seared version of "Loki's rune" resting on my pink and inflamed skin.

"What the hell!? I didn't agree to be branded!"

The God of Mischief laughed hardily at my indignation and even slapped his hand on his knee a few times.

The merriment ended just as suddenly as it had begun and in its place, an exhausted expression took over Loki's face. It was as if he'd aged a couple sleepless years in an instant. Dark circles rested below his eyes and some frown lines were a little more visible next to his mouth.

With a tired sigh, he held out the other scroll and murmured, "Hold on to both of those papers. They are going to be your best tools for the next year."

I'm not even sure what had happened to the pen--- and I never gave it any thought until just now--- but I reached out my right hand and tugged the paper quickly from him. Not wanting anymore more trickery tonight.

He simply arched another brow in amusement and then blinked out of existence.

Leaving me standing alone in my kitchen with a burnt roast and two old ass looking scrolls.

"Okay. So. That all happened," I muttered while making my way back towards the shrine in the living room, "Though I don't know what I'm going to do about work since I'm not allowed to have a tattoo."

With my own weary sigh, I blew out all the still burning candles and snuffed out what was left of the incense. Then I rolled the contract up and placed it neatly next to my new fake plant.

I'd intended to just leave the new scroll rolled up with the contract, and look at it tomorrow, but something tickled at that back of my head and wouldn't let up until I started to unfurl the parchment.

Sure enough, my hands began shaking and one of my eyes started to twitch rapidly.

"THIS PAPER IS BLANK, YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

I had failed to consider that Loki was not just the God of Mischief. Not just the God of Chaos.

But most importantly... he was the God of Lies.

#loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki fic #loki (marvel)#loki god of mischief #choose your deity carefully #chapter 2 #terms and conditions

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megcapulet · 6 years ago

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Out of the frying pan

Who: Megan Montague and Maria Romano

Notes: Towards the end of the Halloween party and the start of the fire.

@dommemaria @ozmontague

The night was growing late and while Megan was looking forward to getting home to Oz and memories of after the Valentine’s party danced in her head, she was also having a lot of fun at the party. A certain domme caught her eye, as she had done at various points across the evening and as the alcohol had begun to loosen her up Megan had led her gaze linger just a bit longer than it really should. Realising her glass was empty and that this would be her last glass of the evening Megan made her way to the bar, smoothing down the layers of her short dress as she waited to be served.

________________________________________

Of course Maria noticed the submissive. It took everything in her not to immediately make a beeline for Megan. Especially with that alluring costume with its perfectly short skirt. But instead, Maria held back, nursing her drink and flirting with any submissive that came in her vicinity. All while keeping a close eye on Megan, of course. So when she headed over to the bar for another drink, likely her last, Maria made her way over and leaned against the bar. “I love your costume. Where’s the wizard?” The domme asked, looking over at her with a smirk on her lips.

_________________________________

Megan giggled at the question as she reached for her glass, “The great and powerful Oz has wandered off down the yellow brick road and back to the Emerald Tower for the night.” Turning to take in the domme’s costume fully, not that she hadn’t admired it a number of times across the evening Megan found herself swallowing hard before she could speak again, “You look stunning this evening. You are a lot braver than I am.”

_________________________________

Maria’s grin grew wider with her words. How could it not when she had just found out the woman’s Dom was nowhere near the party anymore? As the submissive turned towards her, Maria stood up a little taller, her hand falling to her hip as she showed off her costume. “Thank you hermosa.” She responded, her voice a purr. “I have no doubt you could pull off a costume like this, Megan..” Maria allowed her eyes to drop down her figure before bringing them up to lock with her eyes again. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

_____________________________________

Megan found herself getting decidedly warmer as the domme looked her over so blatantly. She pulled herself up a little, posing more in her costume, her short skirt showing off her long, toned legs. “Thank you Miss, I’m not sure it would be appropriate though,” she added at the end and never quite sure what would be considered appropriate for Lady Montague. She had seen Lady Beatrice dressed up plenty of times but never at something like this. “Have you enjoyed your evening?” she asked, noting that there was only about half an hour until the party ended altogether.

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“Being appropriate is overrated..” Maria shot back with a smile, her gaze lingering on the woman’s lips a beat too long before moving up to meet her eyes once again. “It’s been enjoyable enough. I’ve loved all of the costumes. But it’s been a little...boring. Especially for me. I like to have more fun at parties like this.” She stepped closer to the woman, her voice lowering. “That’s why I came to talk to you.”

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Megan’s gaze lowered as her lips pursed a little, making them all the more prominent, the longer Maria spoke to her. “Did you not get to dance Miss?” she asked softly, her lips moving closer to the domme’s ear so she could hear her over the music. “Or were you just hoping for some scintillating conversation?”

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Maria stepped closer to the submissive as she spoke into her ear, her hands itching to reach out and touch her. “I haven’t gotten the chance yet, hermosa..” She responded before lightly taking her hand in her own. “I’d say we do some dancing right now but..I think I’d rather have some private time with you.” She pulled away from the woman, smiling and meeting her gaze in the hopes it would convince her to say yes. At the very least they could go somewhere easier to talk than the loud bar.

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Megan’s breath hitched in her chest. This woman had the most ridiculous effect on her and she hated how easily she seemed to cave but at the same time there was something about the domme that drew her in. Oz was in the bar as were any number of Montagues and Capulets. She wasn’t going to do anything she shouldn’t and nothing could happen to her, those two thoughts gave her the confidence to agree. Taking a few steps closer to the domme Megan followed her through the end of the bar and past the restrooms to the offices at the back. The air was cooler and though the music could still be heard it was a lot quieter than before. Wiping a hand over her face Megan sighed, “That’s a lot better.”

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Maria waited patiently for her answer, hoping her patience would pay off in the end. She didn’t want to spook the submissive by being too forward, especially in a public area like the bar. But then she began moving and Maria led the way out of the main room towards the back. As long as the music kept fading and they saw less and less people, Maria was pleased. Once they finally settled in an empty office, Maria turned to look at the woman with a smirk. “Much better. Now I can talk to you at a normal volume without worrying if you can hear me.” Taking one step closer, Maria lightly ran a hand up her arm. “And I can say whatever I want to you without worrying what anyone thinks.”

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With several drinks inside her to relax her she grinned at Maria’s words. “I’m starting to wonder what you want to say,” she laughed, her eyes watching the fingers brushing over the bare skin of her arm. “It is much nicer back here though for talking. I can’t believe how busy the bar is tonight. It’s as if everyone came to the party.” The alcohol made her very chatty and words just tumbled from her lips.

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The domme was hoping she’d say that. It was always more fun with pretty submissive’s took the bait. “Well I’d start with telling you how gorgeous you look in that costume. Maybe a comment about how deliciously short it is. Or about how I’m desperate to run my fingers over the edge of your top, tempting it to slip down out of the way.” The words fell effortlessly from her lips as she eyed the submissive, curious to see how she reacted to the words before her next move.

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Against her best intentions Megan found herself leaning in closer at the words. Her stomach began to flip and she found herself glancing down at her top and wondering just how it would feel to have the woman’s soft fingers against her skin rather than Oz’s. Oz…..Oz! The name pulled her back to her senses and she shook her head quickly, her cheeks flushing. “I’m claimed Miss, we can’t do this. I shouldn’t be here.” She turned away from Maria and walked to the back of the office hugging her arms to herself as she muttered, “I’m sorry, I need to get back to my dominant.” Before she could say anything else there was a loud bang and alarms started to screech all around them. “Oz?” was her first reaction as Megan turned and looked at Maria in horror. Realising quickly it wasn’t anything to do with her dominant she began to panic, “What is that?”

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Maria loved the way she leaned into the words, hoping she’d float right into her arms so the moment could escalate. But right at the moment Maria thought she had her hooked, the submissive became withdrawn, wrapping her arms across her body and moving away from her. A frown made it’s way onto her lips and she opened her mouth to respond when the loud alarms began to ring in the office and echo down the hallway. Hearing the fear in Megan’s voice, she immediately crossed the room to her and placed a comforting hand on her arm. “Stick close to me. We’re going to find out.” With her command, she pulled Megan along to the door, sneaking it open so she could peek down the hall, her eyes widening at the sight of the smoke.

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The alarms were blaring and Megan didn’t need her monitor to tell her that her heart beat was racing. The touch from Maria was comforting to a point but also made her regret her actions even more as she just wanted to be with Oz, he would take care of everything and protect her from any danger. Even the slight order from the domme was enough to give her a focus as she followed Maria but as soon as the door was opened the smoke began to fill the room. “Oh God!” she cried. “We need to get out now.” There was no denying the panic she felt seeing the smoke and she began to cough as it coated her mouth and nose. “Which way?” she screamed, disorientated through panic and everything looking different with the grey haze.

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When Megan cried out, Maria wrapped an arm around her shoulder, keeping her close. Especially since it was becoming apparent they were going to have to run for their lives. “Megan we need to get out of here. So you’re going to have to trust me.” She said, turning to the submissive and eyeing her with an intensity she’d never show before holding out a hand to her. “Don’t let go of my hand, alright? You can close your eyes if you need to..just don’t let go. I’m going to get us out.” She took Megan’s hand and hesitated only a moment before pressing out into the hallway and running towards the nearest exit, coughing and squinting her eyes in the hazy smoke but not faltering for a moment.

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Megan could feel her chest getting tighter and tighter almost to a point she hadn’t felt before. Her head told her it was panic and to relax but that was a lot easier to say than do. She was coughing harder as she tried to catch her breath but every breath was now filled with the scent of smoke and her mouth grew dry and claggy. Tears welled around her eyes as she reached for Maria’s hand with a slight nod. Following the domme’s lead she came out into the hallway but it was only getting harder to breath. She could only catch shallow pants and her whole body grew heavy and tired. Her grip on the domme’s hand slackened as she fell against a wall as she tried in vain to catch some air. “I can’t breath,” she choked out as tears fell hard now.

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Maria tried to help Megan much but the mixture of panic and smoke was too much and she collapsed to the ground. Angel, who had been helping get people out saw Maria trying to lift Megan to get her out of the building and rushed over. Picking her up he was able to get both Maria and Megan safely from the building where Megan was soon in the care of paramedics and reunited with Oz.

#ftf:maria #maria #into the frying pan #chatzy #chatzy:into the frying pan

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