#because two jessica drews would be silly

[uncharted-constellations]

If 616 marvel canon were to bring back Ultimate Jessica Drew (Peter Parker’s female clone from 1610) how do you think they should do it? Because Jess herself was assumedly wiped out during the incursion, and while its possible she escaped doing spider-verse shenanigans or came back when that universe rebooted, theres been no indication of her existence in like 8 years outside of ATSV concept art.

Option 1 is that she’s just been traveling the spider-verse, and upon finding her reality rebooted tracks down Miles. Problem with this one is that Miles doesn’t seem to Remember that he’s from another dimension for the most part other than a few flashbacks, but that could be a fun arc on its own, considering they haven’t really brought it up much yet and that could be a way to continue it. Might be a bit bogged down for newer readers who haven’t read ultimate verse however, but you get to keep character development this way.

Option 2 is getting cloned anew, potentially by Doc Ock experimenting with creating another superior body for himself so you can keep that original origin. This gives her a more clean background that doesn’t require reading back into ultimates and you could maybe play around with her having some of Docs memories. Unsure of if she would have any of Peter’s memories or not, or exactly how much she’d have. Obviously Ben and Kaine only currently have limited memories up to Peter’s early college years but Doc had access to many more of his memories.

Option 3 which is more of a nod to, but have her instead be a female clone of Miles, either made by the Assessor like his other clones or by Roxxon after one of their many scuffles with the Champions. It would be more of reference to the old character and her mentor-mentee relationship with miles, but you could flip it around a bit and have it be something new. They could also take some design aspects of the currently popular ATSV Jess, like the bike, the jacket, the glasses. (It sounds weird but they did retcon in the SLJ Nick Fury by making him the old Nick Fury’s secret son so like, i could see them doing it)

[greg-montgomery]

energetic!reader going on long rants while grumpy old man aaron just sits and listens with a small smile. he lowkey loves being able to be silent for long bits of time.

-🍒

“Mmm…you smell so heavenly,” you murmured against Aaron’s neck, curled up nicely on the couch, right by his side. His hair was still wet from the shower he had taken and you felt little drops of water falling on your cheek.

Your fingers pushed back his hair and ended up scratching his temples, causing him to close his eyes in bliss. “That’s nice,” he said.

You’d keep going forever if it meant Aaron would be happy.

“I missed you today,” you pouted. “I wish you had the same days off as me.”

“Me too, sweetheart.” He kissed the side of your head and spoke again. “Tell me about your day.”

‘Tell me about your day.’ That was a sentence you heard from your boyfriend almost daily, whether he was right next to you like he was at that moment, or in a hotel room away from you and whispering on his phone.

You suspected it was therapeutic for him, to listen to you talk about silly things and forget about his work problems, even for a moment or two.

“Well, first of all I went on this long walk in the morning, after you left,” you said, continuing to play with his hair. “And I tried those new headphones you got me!” You shifted from your comfortable position and sat on your knees in excitement. “They’re perfect.”

He smiled softly, and reached out for your face. His thumb stroked your cheek, gently, for a few seconds and then his hand was back on his lap.

“And then, on my way home, I went to this little coffee shop that I showed you last week I wanted to try. And the barista drew a little heart on my cup, how cute is that?”

Aaron chuckled, softly. “Very cute, honey.”

“Then I made lunch and watched TV for like two hours,” you laughed. “I liked being lazy.”

“You deserve it,” he answered.

“But then I got all motivated!”

“Oh?” he raised his eyebrow.

“Yeah! I cleaned out our closet. All your ties are organized by color now, so it’s easier for you to choose one every morning! Same with your suits and shirts."

"That's very thoughtful, baby."

"I stole some of your old sweatshirts, I hope you don't mind," you said acting guilty with your palm covering your mouth.

"I don't," he smiled.

"Then Jessica called and we facetimed for about an hour. Jack is so excited to come home tomorrow. He said he has some new projects to show us! Something, about Spider-man, apparently. I know, shocking," you said, laughing at your own joke.

Aaron joined you with a more quiet laughter, but genuine anyway.

“What else?" you paused, thinking. "Oh! Earlier in the evening I started reading this story.”

“What is it about?” he asked, always happy to hear about your interests. You adored him for it.

“It’s about this girl…she’s dating a really sweet guy, but then she falls for his older brother. It’s like a love triangle.”

“With two brothers?” he asked, intrigued.

“I know. But the older one is hot, so I kind of don’t blame her,” you giggled.

“Hmm…” he said.

“It’s only because he reminds me of you” you said, and pressed little kisses against his jaw.

He grinned and his hands went to your sides, bringing you to his lap and soon you were straddling him.

“Come here,” he whispered and you leaned in giving him a sweet kiss on the lips.

“How do you do it?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“Make my world so beautiful.”

You got flustered at his words and hid your face in the crook of his neck. “I love you, Aaron. I’m happy to have you back home.”

“I’m happy to have you here waiting for me, my love.”

[desb3ar]

You’re Not Helping

Summary: Being funny at the wrong time.

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara and Co. x Spidervariant!Reader

A/N: PLATONIC READER!! You’re pretty much the life of the party <3. This is gonna be stupidly goofy because im in that mood LMFAO. This is veeeeeery low effort because it was a simple idea

——————

There had always been a dangerous flaw that seems to be unchecked. A problematic talent that will always leave your fellow colleagues in harms way with the commotion you’d cause with the insufferable antics you presented on the table. The thing that always happens during any mission, especially when things are quiet and dull. It was your way of keeping the energy and spirits high. What am I trying to say?

You are funny as FUCK.

You always had your way of making quips, like any other spider-being could, but something about your comedy always left people with hurting abs from the constant barrage of funny jokes you’d gunned them down with. It was a relentless attack, friendly fire if you will, because it always ended up with someone laughing too loud and compromising their position. As self-sabotaging as that may be, you wouldn’t do what you did if you couldn’t handle what came next.

Often times, you’ve received heavy critiques from the society’s leader, Miguel O’Hara, for putting people in danger because of your lack of professionalism. Jessica Drew would back him up, sometimes. However, she had never been happier when you joined, your jokes being a highlight of her day. You remembered when Jess and you were supposed to be doing a stakeout, scoping out for an anomaly. You had the villain’s file on hand and started to make the most ab shredding roasts that had Jess shed a tear.

“Lookin’ like a whole bottle of what the fuck.” You’d say.

Jess cuts you a lot of slack because of your high skill in the spider-arts. She takes great pleasure in being paired with you on missions because she always knew it was gonna be a successful and absolutely hilarious one.

You loved working with Jess too, because you yourself are a fan of her sense of humor. You hoped you’d be able to work with her more and more because of the amazing chemistry you two had.

Another person you love to hang out with was Peter B. You and him had busted each other’s guts before when you ate lunch together. Spoke about silly stories that had your food run cold from how engaged you two were. Which was absolutely crazy since Peter chows down given the chance.

Today is different. You were on a mission with Miguel. Before you both went to the dimension where the anomaly was located, he made it abundantly clear he didn’t want the jokes and quips today.

“This is a serious matter and I don’t want you to twist it around to be some joke.” He lectured.

You gave him a thumbs up and complied. However, like the snake you are, fingers had been crossed.

The two of you were in the middle of searching for the anomaly, staking out to be sure that nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Miguel had told Lyla to scan the area, in which she did. She wouldn’t come back till it was done, which was odd for her. It never takes her long to do scans with how technically advanced she is.

So now, you and Miguel are practically playing hide and seek to dig up anything about where the anomaly could be. This dimension was a strange one, it was filled with tunnels… Very echoey… Not good. You two were spilt up to cover more ground, but no luck.

“Damn.” You whined, arms crossed as you kicked a rock. “Where the fffu-. Bro oughta be a D1 camouflager. Where’s Lyla?”

“Dunno’. It doesn’t take Lyla this long to make a scan.” He grumbled with slight annoyance. “Gotta run another test…”

The two of you continued to look endlessly for the villain, but as expected, yet again, no luck. This was frustrating Miguel, everything he planned didn’t fall into line like it was supposed to and he hated that.

It was then that the two of you decided to regroup. Reunited, you took five and leaned against the wall.

“I’m getting the suspicion that the signal is messing with Lyla’s functions… How though…” Miguel muttered to himself trying to figure the dilemma out.

Then, in the silence, you blew a raspberry. The noise bounced off the walls.

This earned you a peeved look from Miguel.

“What?” You asked innocently, holding back a grin.

Miguel somehow managed to roll his eyes despite his mask being up, and turned away from you.

Your comedic side began to surface… This mission is just too stale.

“… Hey.” You spoke up, grabbing his attention with him slightly turning his head to you. “… Knock, knock.”

“Don’t.”

“C’mon… Knock knock…” You pressed. Miguel sighed.

“…. Who’s there.”

“To.”

“… To who.“

“No,” You snickered, “to whom.”

Miguel had the most disappointed head shake known to man when you were trying not to laugh. You gain composure, only by the slightest.

“Okay that was wack- Uh- Oo Oo- What do you-”

“No no- No more.” He said in a hushed yet loud tone.

“What do you call a spider with 10 eyes?” You asked blatantly.

“What-” He said annoyed.

“A spi-i-i-i-i-i-der.”

Okay, that was good.

Miguel sighed heavily… He sounds like he’s smiling, but you didn’t wanna believe it. “Alright alright.”

“One more one more.” You said quickly as you thought up another one. “What… Do you call two Mexicans that play basketball?”

Oh BROTHER.

“… WhAt…” Miguel had to look away.

“Juan on Juan.”

Miguel had to take a deeeeep breath with that one.

“… Okay.” There was a hint of laughter. “You done?”

“How does the moon cut his hair? Eclipse it!” You couldn’t help but laugh. Miguel snickered slightly…

“I… Stop stop we-“ He takes another deep breath, not wanting to laugh. “We need to focus and figure out-“

“Aye aye- I asked how much a roof cost… He said it was on the house-”

“(Y/N). Shut UP.” Miguel was trying to be serious but you were weakening his ability to keep composure, so he demanded with a slight laugh. “We can’t- We gotta mission and you’re-”

“Why was Mrs. Clause unsatisfied with Santa Clause? Because he only comes once a year.”

Miguel nearly lost it, he quietly shouted. “YOU’RE NOT HELPING.”

“ONE MORE… PROMISE….”

“Fine go go go.”

“How do you get a Mexican uncle’s attention?”

Miguel has a feeling he knows where this is going… “How?”

“Tapatio on the shoulder.”

Got him.

He nearly yelled before he covered his mouth. He gave you a playful punch on the arm and it caused the both of you to laugh together.

Hearing him laugh was something you’ve never thought you needed. He had the most goofy laugh you heard, he even snorted, which caused an echo in the tunnels.

“I can’t take you no where.” Miguel said as he was trying to calm down.

It was then Lyla FINALLY comes back with a scan. However, she was holding her oversized phone. She had recorded the whole exchange. You and Miguel looked at her with shocked faces.

“Saving that for memories.” Lyla said as she did just that.

“Lyla? Where have you been? What took you so long?” Miguel said with a clear smile on his face because he hasn’t winded down yet.

“It didn’t take me long to do the scan, I was just wanting to see if they could get you to crack.”

“… LYLA-“

“You got a cute snort too, like a lil piglet-“

“LY-“

“Also the guy is headed this way.” Lyla explained, pointing down the tunnel, causing the both of you to get yourselves together so you can take the anomaly down.

———————

an extension of the goofy head cannons? yes.

[muchymozzarella]

People have this image of Miguel as a Rizz Machine of a Latino white man when it's the opposite. My dude has no rizz, is miserable most of the time, and has load of unhealed trauma with no friend and catholic guilt. If you had to sum it up, you'd say that he is a loser with achy skin. But we love this pathetic, edgy man 🥲🥺 and actually want him to be happy for once in his life and go to therapy.

Anyways, I read that you've written a fic about him and I know from what I've read on your blog that it is going to be good material so, please where can I read it?

Exactly!!!!! Remove his rage and he's stressed, sad, empathetic, kind of a loser but hot so we love him (and he's a good leader that people respect)

My fic is Gato on AO3.

It's not for everyone because it's (aged up) Miles/Miguel and with Bottom Miguel so if that's not for you you can avoid it, but it's like 80% fluffy Miguel recovery fic and silly shenanigans (Deadpool shows up to sow chaos, everyone gossips about Miguel smiling, everyone hiding behind Miles when Miguel is mad, there's a sugar daddy chapter in there somewhere) so have at it if you want it~

Here's an excerpt if the summary doesn't catch you:

He feared mockery when he actually sought help for it, finding himself on Ezekiel Sims' couch, speaking to the somewhat caustic but ultimately kind and wise man they'd all dubbed the "Spider-Therapist." Ezekiel listened to him and his endless frustrations, cut to his guilt and, instead of telling him it wasn't his fault (something Miguel had long gotten tired of hearing), asked him a question that would stay with Miguel for a long time.  "What does that help?" He'd asked.  Of his guilt - what does it help? And he'd answered - it made him work harder to save others.  Then of his perpetual tiredness - what does that help? When he said he was the only one, Ezekiel scoffed and said he wasn't stupid - he knew who Jessica Drew was, and wasn't this whole operation so Miguel wouldn't have to do it alone anymore? What would it help if Miguel ran himself ragged, killed himself because he couldn't act like an adult for two seconds and get some rest? Ezekiel just as often referred people to colleagues he had when his methods weren't a good fit, but he was exactly what Miguel needed - especially when he told Miguel to plan for a future outside of his work. So Miguel did just that. And the idea of a child grew more and more in his mind until he couldn't escape it anymore. Holding Mayday's hand as she walked the walls around him and demanded his attention. Gently rocking Gerry to sleep when Jess needed to give orders on a mission.  It was something he wanted. A future. A life. "Don't think in terms of deserve, Miguel. You think deserving anything matters? You think you deserve what happened to you? You think you deserve a kid? Nobody cares what you deserve. But can you do it? And can you do it well?" Ezekiel had said. "And if the answer is no, then why the fuck are you running the Spider Society?" "Running a multiversal operation and caring for a child are two very different things, Ezekiel." "Sure they are. So ask Jessica Drew how she does it." 

So yah! I totally get if people don't wanna read it but I got some good reviews so :P

[dangerously-human]

💧, 🌩️, 🌧️ :) feel free to ignore any you don't have any more answers for, hehe

Oh, bestie, I have SO much to say about my WIPs, not even close to a worry about not enough answers to go around. I'm currently in a stage of trying to convince myself not to add more to the pile, lol, maybe try to finish at least one before taking on any more. Although... No, nope, shouldn't, shan't!

💧Share something romantic/hot from your WIP, or just something sweet if it's gen.

From an early chapter of the conversations with Jessica fic:

“You don’t really mind, do you? Oh, why do I even - who do I think I am, Marissa Fittes?” He ran an anxious hand through his hair, then frowned; he’d have to rearrange it before they left. Ideally before Lucy got back from her shopping. Funny, wasn’t it, how often they saw each other in pajamas and bedhead, yet it suddenly seemed like the most important thing in the world for him to look his best before she got home. At the thought of his fingers brushing hers as he handed her the necklace, his heart skipped a beat. It was a feeling alarmingly similar to the sensation when he’d missed a step sprinting into a drippy basement on a case last week, tumbling down the bottom third of the staircase with rapier in hand, somehow landing wrong end up with Lucy scarcely managing to suppress a giggle as she helped him up. Her hand had been sort of dry and warm then, scraped and calloused, and he imagined it would probably be the same tonight, with the silver chain links pooling in her palm.

🌩️ Share something funny/cracky from your WIP.

I was going to save this bit from the Locklyle library fic, because it's the best bit and I wanted that to be a surprise for when I posted it or something, but I keep cackling about this one every time I read it and I think everyone else deserves to get some out-of-context joy from this too:

“Lockwood,” I interrupted, feeling distinctly as though something in the vicinity of my lungs was about to explode.

“Yes?”

“Don’t you think you’ve skipped over something?”

His eyebrows drew together in confusion. I couldn’t find the words, so I sort of thrust my notably empty left hand in the air and wiggled it around helplessly.

“Oh.” He gestured at the sapphire necklace around my throat. “I did mention the undying devotion bit, didn’t I?”

🌧️Share something angsty from your WIP.

More from the conversations with Jessica fic (which I swear is about equally as sweet and silly as it is tug-at-the-heartstrings!):

“Contrary to popular opinion, I do know what I’m doing sometimes. She can’t keep this up, these friendly chats with ghosts! It puts us all in jeopardy, Lucy most of all. You should have seen her last night, halfway to ghost-lock, utterly defenseless. She was just standing there, too far gone to even fight back…” A shudder gripped him. “She thinks it’s harmless, just testing the limits of her Talent, but, Jessica, the ghost nearly made it to her before I did. I couldn’t even save her; if it weren’t for Holly, she’d have fallen for sure. I can’t let her risk it again. Because I—” Lockwood clamped his mouth shut. There was a truth itching to get out that wasn’t fully formed yet, and he felt suddenly uneasy about what the others might overhear, even if they were two floors down readying themselves for the evening’s outing to the Chelsea containment zone.

[chericarlisle]

You asked for Carlisle Cullen requests and I am here to deliver❤️ can I ask for a fic where the reader finally confesses to Carlisle they are in love with him? Preferably fluffy with some kisses 😌, I would also prefer the reader not be a doctor or nurse if possible! Thank you so much!

𝐌𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐞 || 𝐜.𝐜

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: carlisle cullen x human reader

(𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2k

𝐚/𝐧: i hope you enjoy this! i tried to think of a way to get the two to meet, but have it still correlate! so the reader will be Alice’s friend :) thank you for requesting <3 please know that the reader is NOT a minor!!!

For the years that you had attended Forks High, you had grown close to a certain Cullen daughter, Alice. Her personality was that of a pink rose and its symbolism. She was more than one could want in a best friend, and between her amazing advice or sense of fashion, there was never a dull moment. 

Unlike a majority of the students, Alice was genuine and welcoming, causing the two of you to grow close as friends. It made you feel like high school wasn’t so bad after all.

As you talked more and more with Alice, you often wondered why the rest of her family was so reserved. They rarely interacted with any one else who didn’t share the last name ‘Cullen’. Alice, though, was the exception, having branched out to you.

 It seemed that being friends with Alice was something that was a package deal because on occasion, she’d bring along her boyfriend Jasper. You didn’t question their family dynamic as Alice had already explained in simplest terms who they were. It was a much better definition than what Jessica had told you and the rest at that table on the first day. Looking back, it was more petty gossip than it was useful information.

For the first summer, you didn’t see much of Alice and rather texted her much more. You’d invite her over, but it appeared that they were on a long family vacation that summer. It was then that you truly realized that you knew nothing about Alice, let alone the Cullens, aside from what you had been told at school. 

There was something that constantly affected Alice’s decision making, along with her siblings, but you didn’t yet know that factor, and you wouldn’t for a while. Instead, you let your mind consume the harsh option that Alice wasn’t exactly the person you thought she was. Maybe she really was just like the rest of the Forks High students. 

Fortunately, your fears were consoled that next school year.

After much consideration, Alice eventually invited you over to her house where you officially met the rest of the Cullens. Edward, Emmett, Rosalie, and Jasper acted so much differently than they did at school in the way that they even acted at all. Normally, they would just go through the school day rarely interacting with any one or anything else but themselves. It made you curious as to why they weren’t like this at school. They seemed to be such lovely people so why would they be so monotonous for eight grueling hours of the day. 

You were able to see where they got those characterful values from. Well, more so who.

Dr. Carlisle Cullen, their adoptive father who looked too young to be a father at all and was so perfect that he must’ve been a hallucination. 

Since that moment three years ago, you’d gone over almost every other weekend to do whatever extravagant thing Alice had planned for you. She hadn’t had a real friend in so long that she wanted to make up for all the missed time. 

Over the course of time, the man, who you knew only as Dr. Cullen, had caught your eye. His compassionate mannerism and old fashioned style was something that just seemed to make you fall head over heels. At the mere sight of Dr. Cullen, the heat of your cheeks would make itself known and you wanted nothing more than to slap some sense into yourself. Whenever he spoke, you shamefully latched onto every word, his voice ever so comforting. The small smile resting on his lips whenever he spoke to you added even more charm and there was no hope left for you. This man made you swoon and you were so embarrassed over the fact that he was the adoptive father of your best friend. 

High school graduation arrived in no time and along with it a huge family secret. A family secret that wasn’t yours, but once again, relating to the Cullens. 

The family revealed it at a dinner, which was a rare occasion, considering that you hadn’t ever really seen them eat. You came over to their house like any other visit, except this time, the inviting smell of a freshly cooked dinner greeted you at the door. 

The lovely dinner and charming smiles were all just the calm before the storm. Playful conversation ceased and suddenly Carlisle was speaking on behalf of everyone at the table. In a matter of seconds, it went from ‘casual family dinner' to ‘game show questionnaire' that was borderline an interrogation with the lack of feedback you were receiving. None of the Cullens, not even Alice, would confirm or deny any inquiries that left your mouth, leaving you to your own judgment. It was almost like your speculation was crucial to ending the slew of questions. 

Eventually, you drew up the conclusion that they were vampires. You said this with such lighthearted intent that you were waiting for the big joke until you scanned the tables and saw their emotionless expressions.

All that you could really remember was falling from your dinner chair with Carlisle, who was sitting right beside you, catching your fall before you became close friends with the hardwood floor. 

Needless to say, it took a moment to process this information, but you still continued on with Alice and her family. They were still the same Cullens you had known since the beginning and a small sliver of their real life wasn’t going to change who they were to you.

A couple of months later, you were spending the night with Alice for the weekend. She wanted to go visit Seattle for the day and do some holiday shopping. You readily agreed, remembering that you had to get some gifts for your own family. Shopping with Alice was always an experience, but an entertaining time nonetheless.

You had gotten there Friday night as both you and Alice planned to leave the next morning. There was no point in leaving now as the stores had been closed for at least a couple of hours. 

Walking in the living room, you saw Emmett and Rosalie thoroughly invested in a comedy on tv. You had invited Rosalie to go shopping, but long hours with Alice in a store was not an activity for the less patient and she knew this. Edward was apparently missing from the scene, but Jasper, who was standing afar, greeted you and said that he was out with Bella. Jasper had finally loosened up around you, and after the family’s confession, you understood why he looked so uncomfortable all the time. The willpower these people had astonished you. 

Alice had disappeared after letting you in and it wasn’t until she returned with Dr. Cullen in tow, that you truly noticed she was gone. You bashfully greeted the doctor to which he returned with his signature smile that could make you melt. 

“I know this is bad timing, (y/n),” Alice walked to stand beside you, “But I have to go hunt, as do my siblings. You’ll stay here with Carlisle. He doesn’t need to go with us right now and we can't leave you alone.” By the end, the petite vampire was smirking and you jokingly scowled at her little plan. She knew of your silly crush on Carlisle and would relentlessly tease you about it, as a best friend would. 

Before you could even answer, Emmett, Rosalie, Jasper, and Alice were out of the room without so much as a peep. You shook your head at Alice’s sneakiness, forgetting for a second that a certain someone was left with you.

“How about I make you some dinner, (y/n)?” 

The way he said your name was something you could never handle. It just rolled off his tongue like any other word would, but with the hint of his accent, it sounded so lovely.

“I don’t mean to be a nuisance. Dr. Cullen.” 

Already flustered with the whole situation, the last thing you wanted was to bother Dr. Cullen any more than you thought you’d already done. 

As if he could read minds, the blonde stopped in his tracks to face you. “Please, call me Carlisle and you are never an inconvenience, (y/n). Besides, I’ve already hunted so I’m more than happy to be here with you.” 

Carlisle, being kind as usual, shouldn’t have said such words because your brain was currently going into a frenzy as his thoughtfulness. If it was possible, your heart must’ve been beating faster than what would be considered healthy for someone actively working out. 

You weren’t able to find the words, but instead able to offer what you hoped was an endearing grin.

In the kitchen, Carlisle searched the desolate fridge in hopes of finding some food. The kitchen and its appliances were more of decor than they ever were useful. 

After a minute or two, Carlisle closed the freezer door of the fridge, a pack of steak in his hand. 

“It seems steak will have to do tonight.” 

You shot him a pleased look. “You can’t go wrong with steak.” Famous last words.

While you insisted on cooking your own food, Carlisle returned the same persistence and eventually you gave in. 

The two of you carried on a conversation while he cooked. Talking with him seemed so natural that for a moment, you weren’t nervous about talking to this man.

Carlisle plated the steak and brought it before you, an excited look painted on your face. He sat down beside you and eagerly waited to see how the steak turned out. At first, you felt a bit bad that he wasn’t going to eat anything, especially after all the trouble he had gone through.

“Carlisle, are you sure you’re fine? It just feels so wrong eating in front of you like this!” 

He chuckled, quickly placing his hand on your own to reassure you. “I’m fine, truly. I just hope it’s edible.” 

You grabbed the steak knife, jokingly rolling your eyes at his statement. Upon cutting into the steak, an unpleasant rush of cow blood came out revealing that the steak was far from even being rare. 

Immediately your plate was being scooped up and brought to the kitchen counter where you joined Carlisle. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, it’s been some time since I’ve cooked anything and it seems that I haven’t caught up with modern cooking principles.” Carlisle looked a bit sheepish at the moment and you couldn’t help the giggle that slipped from your lips. You weren't sure if it was the unintentional term of endearment or his adorable attempt at cooking. Either way, Carlisle was relieved to see that you weren’t upset, but rather enjoying this moment. 

You stepped up beside Carlisle at the stovetop, shoulders touching as you reached across for the seasonings. “Here, we should probably season the steak a bit and clean off the pan.” 

As you continued to do your own thing and guide Carlisle in cooking, he carefully took each word of your advice.

“See, you did everything right, Carlisle. It was just the heat and time that threw off the doneness of the steak, a bit.” Your words ended with a small twinkle as you turned to face the man who’d been so intently watching. He seemed to be so entranced at the moment… and by you. 

It was like time was frozen and everything moved in slow motion, something you’d only see in a cheesy movie scene, except you were living it. Suddenly, life sped up and Carlisle’s cold hand was cupping your face and bringing you in for a kiss. You were happy that this was how you’d “confess” your love to Carlisle because words weren’t exactly your strong spot given the circumstances.

You two stayed lip locked for the longest moment in time, just pure bliss. It seemed like the kiss would never end until the smell of burnt oil hit your nose. Carlisle could feel you smiling against his lips and you began to peep out a small laugh. 

“I think we overcooked this one a little too much.”

a/n: i’m sorry if this is cringe-worthy, i wrote this at 12:30 am. i swear it will get better lol i just need to stop writing at ungodly hours of the night--

[fimawari]

Thoughts on the comic and Skully's Identity. [Slight Spoiler Warning? Not really any plot spoilers just details and characters.]

So a lot of people accept that Jay is probably Skully, either surviving or something else. However there's also speculation that it could be Alex, Jessica, or even Seth Wilson, a few thinking about Tim. (Though I would rule him out as the artist drew what he looked like in the Comic on another post) So I raked out every detail I can. Of course it can all just be a stylistic choice but whatever - make of it what you will.

It could just be some new random asshole, but It's a given they know Jessica, so it is very likely to be Jay. He presumed she was gone, unless he watched the last Entry. That would also explain "It's you" sort of "oh shit" moment. Jay was also set on looking for Jessica, so if he did survive, you could assume that would still be one of his motives. Tim wouldn't likely have that "it's you" moment because he knows Jessica is alive. Alex might have that reaction though. I believe he presumed that she was gone.

It also takes two things from Brian and Tim. The hoodie and the plastic mask. So this person has likely seen both of them and came to imitate their appearance.

Coat Buttons

The Jacket appears to have snap on metal buttons. It's typical for this style of jacket (similar to a utility jacket, which would be useful and warm to run all over the goddamn woods at night) to have the buttons placed on top of the left side for a men's jacket. (Of course it could just be any person in a men's styled jacket, but still.)

I picked this out because it's paid attention to very carefully as a detail. Of course that's good for continuity, but I know for filming Marble Hornets they were very careful with detail and hinting at things.

2. Height

They're only seen crouching up to a door with Jessica on the other side, but if they both stood straight, they'd come to be about the same height, which was true for Jay and Jessica in the series.

3. You are broken but you CAN be fixed

This is what the masked figure says to Jessica. Similar to ToTheArks video saying Alex was broken, but couldn't be fixed. That might line up with Jay's motives because he continued to think he could solve the situation. It could be argued he also believed Alex could be saved from the Operator. It it were Alex, it could be his own changed perspective in whatever "form" this is now. That would be quite interesting to see why he would go from wanting to destroy the tapes to actively giving someone the tapes.

4. Not a point but something I noticed.

On the Rosswood bulletin, there is a blurry poster that looks like it could be a "Missing" sign. Who for - I don't know, but it does kind of appear they have glasses, so it could be Alex? This could also just be meaningless background illustration.

In the same frame, Adam also talks about people getting lost in the woods and says, "The Majority of them were recovered safely but," and he stops. That's a pretty cliffhanger "but" there Adam.

Closer inspection of the Rosswood Map shows Rosswood Rd, mentioned in the series, and was supposed to be the road off the usual parking lot they stopped in when meeting up, and an X location to hard to read atm, but it is off the beaten path.

5. In a silly doodle drawing in the comic files, I did notice this poster with a skull on it. It may just be nothing but could also be implying that whoever is in the skull mask died and came back.

Also I appreciate that the soda is Conk.

6. It's Fall about 10 years later after the first incidents in Rosswood began, in the timeline 2019 ish, but that is apparent from the trees outside and the time the comic was created at.

7. Jessica has a "Sarah" in her phone. Could he literally the millions of Sarah's but I'll point it out anyway. But more interesting barely covered is Tim's contact.

8. I was thinking about why their seems to be Blue Lenses in Skully's mask, they're even visible from a distance. Now this is really digging at the bottom of barrel but when Jessica grabs the pipe to defend herself, it's highlighted by red for emphasis. Red and Blue have often been a scheme for duelity and such.

This repeats again in the second title page:

A lot could be discerned from it. Maybe she is Skully, like a second half of her, as one of her nightmares is fighting against herself. May also not mean that and be another symbol of duelity, red vs blue.

I don't think the blue is styling choice because you can quite clearly see eyes in Masky's drawing. I believe there is definitely something covering their eyes - like lenses. Their "fashion choices" are also leaning towards the expensive side I noticed. Unless they just stole it went to a goodwill and got lucky. A utility jacket like that would cost somewhere beyond a $100 unless you're lucky. I'd pay to see a cryptid running around in Gucci in butt-fuck-nowhere Alabama in the middle of the night. Or who knows maybe Alex got some prescription lenses put in that shit.

9. Do I even have to explain the symbolism of a Jay.

10. I can say with good certainty this probably symbolises Jessica's memory of Alex.

11. Some damning evidence, whoever is in the mask has access to the original entry files, not just downloaded YouTube stuff. Jay, Tim, Totheark would likely have access to that. Alex was pretty dead-set on having all the traces deleted, I'd doubt he'd have them all uploaded to a computer.

12. No idea what this might represent besides some metaphor for life being a merry go round, but in the postcard Skully is chilling on a horse lmao. "Stuck in a loop of unhappiness." Ring a bell?

13. Can't attach another photo but the abandoned house Jessica goes to has "Bones" written on it, much like the Hospital did. In the original series they said that graffiti was just there, so maybe they decided to work with it? Who knows maybe it's some kind of new group? Maybe ToTheArk vs "Bones?" You CAN'T be fixed vs You CAN be fixed.

14. I also can't speculate what it exactly means, but it's obvious Skully can talk, not seen previously with the others. Whether out of an inability or just not wanting to. Could be argued it's a person behind the mask by choice, not volition. We also don't really know if Brian chose his path or became that. But he became a masked cryptid after supposedly "dying". We also never see people "die" just assume they have died or are dead and they disappear. Tim implies that it's just feeding off them, physically or mentally. They always die off camera or get fucked off somewhere by the egg head. They appear dead afterwords, with Jay and Brian, but still missing. All of their bodies were taken by the monster and are god knows where in some seperate dimension. This is borderline r/im14andthisisdeep but what is "death" in this series. Does it mean gone permanently or just "gone" ... For an unknown amount of time. People die, but do they stay that way? Or do they die ... In one sense, but not the other, Losing something of themselves from before, and becoming something new. That would awfully explain Brian's behavior after Alex "killed" him. It's also implied there are others apart of ToTheArk that were never shown in the series, suspected to be other members of the original cast who maybe had "died" and come back as someone else. Something broken.

Tim seems to be an outlier. It's presumed he has avoided death, and essentially kept his mentality. But still slips into another form out of his control, usually in response to the monster or the hooded man being near and stealing his pills and shit. Is he between death? Is that why doucheslender follows him? "The one that got away." Istg I don't take drugs.

That was Michael from Vsauce thank you for coming to my Ted talk.

[s13e06]

Different Worlds Pt 3

Draco Malfoy / Female Reader

Harry Potter AU / Non-Magical

Warnings: none I think? Let me know 

Words: 2.7K

Part 1, Part 2

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Chapter 3 After the odd encounter with Draco in the library, you had trouble getting him off your mind. You’d think about him during the oddest times of the day. Finding yourself wondering about what he was up to and what exactly he had been thinking while he stared at you before. Was it some kind of game to him? Was it a threat? Could he maybe be interested in you? Way too many questions and what-ifs buzzed in your head. A part of you found it a little ridiculous how easily you were letting this guy invade your mind. Perhaps you were just romanticizing the whole situation? From an outsider’s perspective the whole thing probably just looked like two people weirdly staring at each other in silence before one of them walked away. Yes, the more you thought about it the more you realized that you were being quite silly. Acting like some love-struck teenager. The kind that would go home and write her crush’s name all over her notebook. You would not let yourself get to that point. Especially not over a man you had been specifically warned about by your closest friend. You hoped that at the very least you had enough sense to heed her warning. So, you decided to forget about him. Throw him from your mind and shake off whatever feelings lingered from the library incident. You owed it to Daphne and to yourself not to go gaga over some guy you barely knew. To your surprise you were quite successful with pushing him from your thoughts, easily going back to your daily routine with no interruption. Your midterms went by without a hitch. All that studying really paid off as got your grades back.  You and Daphne celebrated the victory over lunch, excitedly gushing about how things were going so well for the both of you. Your school life was looking up, Daphne was having success in her personal relationships, and you were just happy to be making something of yourself. The sense of achievement was euphoric in its own way. A smile never leaving your face the whole day and as you looked around campus you could see the slightest hint of spring approaching. You had never been happier. - “What do you mean you can’t have coffee after class today?” You asked Daphne curiously. She almost never canceled on your little afternoon hangouts. “Well… things have been going well with Jessica and I figured you wouldn’t mind if I canceled on you… just this once! I promise I won’t make a habit of it or anything! Don’t be mad!” She pleaded to you with puppy dog eyes. There was no way you could be upset with her over something like this. Everyone deserved the chance to build their romantic life. You weren’t the type to stand in the way of that just because you had none. Plus you had met Jessica once before and she seemed as nice as they came. Quite beautiful too. You were sure Daphne was proud of that although she’d never brag about it. “Of course I’m not mad,” you smiled at her. “You deserve to have some fun! Don’t let my single ass slow you down” you laughed while nudging her shoulder. “Thank you” she grinned. “Have fun tonight” you smirked at her, adding a suggestive wink just to tease. She only blushed at your comment before laughing some more and running off, bidding you one last thank you as she left. You were glad she had someone worth running off to like that.  Smiling to yourself over the whole thing you began to walk off campus slightly. Maybe a change of scenery would be nice? You were sure there was a nice café somewhere along the road that could offer you some quiet time alone. Walking down the street you couldn’t help but admiring the buildings around you. They were old looking and came in various shades of brown. But something about the atmosphere was so calming. Even though you had been living in London for a few months now you still spent most of your time on campus. It was nice there of course but you enjoyed moments like this where you could simply walk around and take in all the things that lie before you. Coming to a stop on a corner you looked to the right to see a little café peeking out ever so slightly from the various buildings. It looked small and inviting, and as you venture closer you could smell the strong aroma of various coffees and teas being brewed. It was perfect. As you made your way into the shop, pushing past a small green door, a little bell announced your arrival. The layout inside the shop was just as you imagined. Dim lighting, various chairs, and couches spread out, small circular and square tables propped throughout, and a large chalkboard displayed in the back listing the various drinks offered. You went to the little counter and greeted the woman behind it with a polite hello. She smiled at you warmly while you ordered your drink; opting for a nice herbal tea. You went to find an empty chair in the corner where you could think peacefully, feeling absolutely delighted to find an empty stool and round table near the back. As you set your tea down and settled into your seat you couldn’t help but bask in the peaceful ambiance. Life was going good for you. What could really stop it now… The sound of a little bell broke you out of your thoughts as your eyes drifted over to the entrance door. Someone had just come into the quiet shop as well and to your utter astonishment, it was none other than Draco Malfoy. You gaped at him from your little corner in disbelief. Just when you had felt so relaxed and peaceful the one person who was guaranteed to set you on edge literally walks through the door. The good thing was that he hadn’t seemed to notice you yet. You took a mental note at how much he stood out inside the quaint establishment. His perfect posture, neatly styled hair, and rather expensive looking clothing was rather eye-catching in contrast to the dimly lit café. His back was to you at the moment while he spoke to the worker. You noticed how even though she smiled warmly to you, she was glowing at the sight of him. Staring into his eyes and laughing a little too loudly at whatever he was saying. It was quite a curious sight indeed. Busy studying the interaction between the two, you realized immediately when he had turned around, now facing you. For a moment his eyes scanned over the room lazily; most likely in search of a seat. But then they stopped on you. He seemed just as shocked to see you there as you had been to see him moments ago. However, he quickly drew a blank face and began to saunter over towards you. Your pulse quickened as you watched him draw near, totally unsure of what to do in this situation. All you could do was gulp nervously as he came to a stop in front of you. “Hello again” he greeted you with a friendly smile. “H-hello,” you said, regretting you’d ever come into this café, to begin with. “Fancy seeing you here. Do you mind if I join you?” He asked while gesturing to the empty stool across from you. You timidly nodded your head no as you muttered a quiet “sure, go ahead” to him, completely frazzled by the situation. He sat down with a content kind of sigh as he set his drink down in front of yours; the dark black liquid of his drink standing out against the light color of your own. “So, I take it Daphne didn’t waste any time in slandering my name, did she?” he asked with an oddly amused smirk. “What exactly makes you think that?” you asked, hoping to defend Daphne in a way. “I came to the conclusion on my own after seeing you two in the library before. You glanced at her with a look of dread after I walked in. I take it you didn’t want her to know I was there?” he inquired. “You’ve caught me” you admitted with a sheepish grin, not wanting him to feel angry with you but also wishing for this interrogation to end. “I suppose I won’t ask you what she told you. I figure the truth to be worse than my assumptions” he said while slowly glancing from your face down to your thumb; which had been nervously tapping against the table this whole time. “I’m sure you had your own reasons for doing things…” you spoke in an effort to provide him reassurance. He seemed surprised by your response, one eyebrow raising slightly in surprise. He smiled then as he brought a hand up to rest under his chin. “Thank you for providing me with the benefit of the doubt” he chuckled. “Anytime” you muttered while shifting your gaze away from his smiling face. A moment of silence occurred as you took a few small sips of your tea, loving the way the warm liquid soothed your throat; calming you ever so slightly. “Tell me, Y/N what brings you to London?” he asked, breaking the silence. You blinked at him slowly setting down your cup and peering into his grey eyes. “Well… after I graduated high school I spent two years working and traveling the world.  I found that seeing new things and meeting new people was what I loved more than anything.” You told him as a smile eased onto your face. “Then I figured that if I was going to go college I might as well do it abroad.” He nodded at your words seemingly interested in what you were saying. “What made you decide to go to university?” he asked. “Mostly it was what my parents wanted for me. They were afraid I’d have no real future without any further education” you admitted to him; leaving out the part where you were offered a full-ride scholarship, somehow feeling embarrassed at the thought of him knowing that much. He seemed to be thinking for a moment as his eyes peered down into his cup. You wondered if maybe you had told him too much and he was starting to feel awkward… As if your mind wasn’t reeling enough he slowly looked up to meet your eyes and opened his mouth as if to say something. But quickly closed it as if changing his mind. You shifted your eyes away from his face quickly feeling a little uncomfortable at the silence. Breaking the silence, you heard him hum lightly in response as he nodded his head. “Well, all things considered, I hope you’re feeling as though coming here to study was a good decision?” he asked you softly after a few seconds of contemplation. Relief washed over you at the sound of his words. His voice was smooth and attractive. It reassured you for reasons you couldn’t quite comprehend. You smiled at him timidly. “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier”’ you said with a content little hum. At that moment it was like time stood at a still. You looked into his eyes wondering what it was about him that was so inviting and in turn, he looked in yours. But his expression was almost unreadable. The conversation went from a little touchy and personal to simply easy going and friendly. You began to tell him about some of the things you’d noticed while in London. What the people did differently, what you thought of the food, and how you were enjoying the university lifestyle. He listened to you intently, smiling at your words and laughing lightly ever now and then. You found that you quite liked the sound of it… his laughter. It was easy to talk to him. He was kind, polite, and the more you spoke to him the lighter you felt. You knew what this feeling was. You didn’t fall for people easily but when you did it tends to be intense and distracting; wasting no time in completely taking over your mind. Maybe you should have been a little worried at this realization but when you looked at him across from you, smiling at you like you were the most interesting person he’d ever met, you found that you didn’t care. After all, it couldn’t hurt to harbor just a little crush on him… could it? Completely lost in the conversation you neglected to glance at your watch even once. But to your luck, Draco seemed to remember such detail as he glanced at his own and furrowed his brow. He gave a kind of defeated sigh before giving you a sorry smile. “I hate to end this lovely conversation but it’s already a quarter past 2 and I-“ but before he could finish your body immediately shot upright from your relaxed position; startling him a little as his words broke off. “It’s already that late?” you asked frantically while getting up from your stool, quickly collecting yourself. He watched with wide eyes as you stumble around in front of him, preparing to leave, sending him a quick explanation of being late for your next class as you rushed towards the door. You shot out a little yell of sorry as you stumbled back onto the street. You began to quickly walk down the street in the direction of your school, mind racing with regret. How could you have let yourself completely lose track of time like that? It was very unlike you. You frowned a little at the internal realization of why you had been so distracted. “Hey! W-wait!” you heard a yell come from behind you as you turned to see Draco jogging up to you. You stopped briefly, heart racing, you looked at him expectantly. “You left before I could ask you” he laughed while running a hand through his hair in efforts to smooth it a little. “Ask me what?” you questioned anxiously. Partially due to the fact that you were running late but mostly because at hearing his words your mind began to swim with thoughts of what he could mean by that. “Will you meet me later?” he asked you with a smile. The same smile you had seen throughout your time in the café. A wonderful eruption of butterflies burst in your stomach as you felt the heat rise to your face. “O-of course” you responded, visibly nervous now. He smirked a little at your obvious shift in behavior before he spoke again. “Brilliant, Meet me back here at 8?” he asked gesturing down towards the café you’d both just left. You smiled timidly before nodding your head a little. “Yeah, I’ll be there,” you told him as you glanced ahead again. The worry of being late to class slowly fading as you took in this moment. “See you then,” he said to you while putting a hand into his pant pocket as the other rubbed the back of his neck a little. Your heart fluttered again at the sight before you turned on your heel and began to race off towards campus. You waved by to him as you left, promising to see him later and without looking back. By the time you made it to class, you noticed that you were about 20 minutes late. You sheepishly grinned at your professor (who couldn’t be bothered to question you) as you scurried to take a seat in the back of the class. As you settled into your seat a feeling of elation washed over you. Your mind was replaying every second of being with Draco in the café and the more you thought about it the more you couldn’t help the smile from breaking out onto your face. 8 pm was all you repeated to yourself as you watched the professor ramble on and quickly scribble some things on the chalkboard. The classroom around you carried on as normal but your mind was stuck in an abyss. One that you didn’t particularly care to pull yourself from…

---

Author’s Note: Ok so it took me a minute to write this one because I’ve been pretty busy lately. I apologize that this is a pretty uneventful chapter but I promise the next part is when it really starts to pick up. I kind of just needed to establish this one to get the ball rolling haha.

-

Tag List: @clockworkherondale @kaibie @accio-rogers

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, PIKA! You’ve been accepted for the role of PORTIA with a faceclaim change to JESSICA VU. Admin Rosey: Be still my heart, for it has been captured ruthlessly and quite brutally by your interpretation of my darling, my sweet Pandora. “ …there’s a hubris to pandora that intrigues me. everybody sees life through a window, and pandora is no exception. she prides herself on her pragmatism and her ability to cut through the whimsical bullshit that others fancy. and maybe that helps her see the world more clearly.” It was in the beginning of your application that I noticed you captured the cruz of her character and for that, I thank you. I can’t wait to see our machina on the dash!  Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

Out of Character

Alias | pika

Age | mythic. timeless. 18+ lol

Preferred Pronouns | she/her/hers or they/them/theirs, i’m not picky!

Activity Level | hoo man i try my best but i’m a full-time student with a bunch of stuff on my plate. I’m really good about tracking the dash on mobile, and i promise to be on to write every other day unless i let you know otherwise!!

Timezone | pst/gmt-8

Current/Past RP Accounts | jake. hugo. mallory.

In Character

Character | PORTIA, or pandora linh phan, with a fc change to jessica vu! (you might need to age her down a year bc jessica is only 19 but idk if it’s super feasible for someone that young to be a captain?? oof idk ur call adminnies!! or if it comes to it i’m ok with using jolie LOL i just prefer jessica.)

What drew you to this character? |

listen, i fucking love portia. the paradoxical free spirit who binds herself to the most minutiae of the rules? someone who simultaneously adheres to and flouts convention? a lawyer who uses her words for mercy? BADASS.

and then. AND THEN. you all reimagined her to be even more badass, which is certainly impressive. pandora isn’t a direction i would have imagined portia to be taken in. this is not a woman who would manipulate the law as an agent of mercy (though i imagine she certainly could, if she so chose to). no, this is a portia who has chosen to use her keen intellect in pursuit of the truth above all else, a product of the machinations imposed on her throughout her entire life. as an heiress, there have been strings cast upon her since birth. she has simply grabbed them to take control of whatever facets of her destiny she could.

but to return to the question, i think what really drew me in to pandora’s character was the lingering paradoxes you teased in her skeleton. for all she appears to be an unstoppable, calculating machine of a woman, a part of her still fears the inexplicable. though she might seem callous toward even her family, she wants to use her influence to help others—i imagine that in a world where she was not sent to the mob, she would have ended up a major humanitarian. i think it’s easy to be misled by pandora, to see only her calculating exterior and not dig into her underlying belief systems. she may be sharp enough to see and understand things about the world that the rest of us may not pick up on, but that ability has almost certainly strongly shaped her own views. the possibility of exploring the inner workings of someone so complex is something that makes me giddy on its own, and that’s before you even factor in the possibility of character development, because…

…there’s a hubris to pandora that intrigues me. everybody sees life through a window, and pandora is no exception. she prides herself on her pragmatism and her ability to cut through the whimsical bullshit that others fancy. and maybe that helps her see the world more clearly. but i think it gives her a very deliberate blind spot when it comes to her own weaknesses and the strength of mankind; she can predict what man’s folly will lead to, but i don’t think she’s had enough experience with positive relationships to understand the strength of human bonds. so there’s a lot to explore there, as well! and all of that’s before you start talking about her role within the mob and its interplay with her pre-existing heuristic reasoning omg. this is a girl that was forced into a war and turned it into a game. there are just a lot of layers to explore within pandora, is what i’m trying to say, and conflict between the various aspects of self that make up her identity.

ALSO HAVE I MENTIONED I LUV BADASS LADIEZ BC WOWOW I RLY DO UNF

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

foul is fair and fair is foul:

to build off of what i introduced in the previous section, i think that a major underlying theme within pandora’s character is the notion of control. she is so used to having it—over others, but most importantly over herself—and fears losing it so much that i would love to see it wrested from her. pandora considers herself above verona’s war, in a way; as a captain, she doesn’t touch blood, and as a phan, she knows (or assumes, at the very least) that she has a way out. she is inherently analytical and never impulsive. but this is a game where logic fails in the face of the whims of faux gods, of ambrosia and warfare and the hands of witches. pandora’s been lucky so far in how the world has kept to its unspoken rules, but silly girl. the very otherness that separates her from verona’s darkness may very well doom her to it. let her see she that the best-laid plans have nothing against the hand of god. let her see that she cannot play a game where the rules are a sham.

the quality of mercy is not strain’d…:

pandora is a young captain, especially for only having been a montague for three years. surely, there are mixed feelings about that within the montague ranks. i think her relationship with castora is notable because of how unexpected it was for her to pick up castora as a mentee and how pandora herself wanted someone to show her the ropes. she clearly has ambition and intelligence, but she isn’t necessarily agreeable, nor particularly concerned about crossing the line into insensitivity. what i’m trying to say is that in the mob it takes a certain willingness for action to rise as quickly as pandora has, particularly as someone who isn’t part of one of the traditional mob families. despite what some of the rumors say, it is certainly not because of her wealth or her engagement, what has she done to position herself so valuably in so little time? who has she made enemies of? allied with?

and more importantly, what consequences will these actions have now, particularly during the unrest?

…it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven:

because of how quickly pandora has made herself indispensable to the montagues, i feel like it’s easy to overstate her loyalty to her fiance’s family. but loyalty isn’t necessarily something logical, and pandora’s first loyalty is to her logic. i don’t think it’s impossible for a party to shift her loyalties, whether it be to the capulets, to the montagues, or to finding peace another way. she may have her mind set on serving the montagues but her eyes are not closed to the complex reality of the situation she’s in. perhaps a compelling argument could shift her view.

oh romeo, oh romeo:

pandora’s relationship with roman is something i’d like to explore bc i’m a slut for romantic-coded plots because love seems antithetical to everything pandora values. there’s no logic to love, no real value that seems to be had from it. furthermore, it requires a relinquishing of control, and that more than anything is enough for it to be completely unattractive to pandora. she certainly respects, and to a certain extent cares for roman, but it is duty that binds them.

so i say, let her fall. it’ll be against her better judgement, certainly, and maybe it’ll end well, or maybe it’ll end with disaster. maybe she’ll finally learn to trust roman, and maybe that will lead to something more. perhaps she’ll fall for someone else, a rival, maybe, and their story will end in tragedy. either way, there is something to be said about how love can derail the best-laid plans.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | lol sure i guess as long as there’s some kind of like plot sense to be made yknow

In Depth

In-Character Interview:

The girl they send to interview Pandora-—and make no mistake, it is unmistakably a girl—looks like she could be Pandora’s age. Her blouse is crisply ironed, but the collar is slightly crooked. Her pen is cheap, and so are her shoes. Her earnestness is palpable. She is pretty, but she wears her youth in her face. Perhaps a person in the habit of indulging whimsy could have pictured the two women as roommates, recent graduates worried about internships and graduate school applications. Pandora, however, is not one of those people.

Their passing similarities are increasingly eclipsed by their differences the longer the women sit, the still-nameless girl fumbling with her notes, Pandora perfectly still. It’s easy for Pandora to mask her annoyance with indifference, less so for her to silence the disdain on her tongue. But she does, sympathizes with the girl, even. She does not belong here, that much is clear. Perhaps this is how Athena felt when she was challenged by Arachne.  

Eventually, the girl finds her footing. “What is your favorite place in Verona?” she asks.

There’s a moment that, on anyone else, would have been considered hesitation. On Pandora, it reads like anticipation, like the world is taking a moment to prepare itself for the words she is to say. “Would it be surprising for me to say Verona’s library? It contains a rather incredible collection of historical Roman documents.” It’s not a lie, not really. The library fascinates her, but not for the stories it holds in its walls. Rather, it’s the stories that unfold in its shadowy corners that draw her interest. If the girl isn’t a total fool, she can figure out the rest.

And apparently she does, or she is at least willing to take the answer at its face, because she presses on. “What does your typical day look like?” she asks.

“If you’re looking for a jetsetting life of glamour, I’m afraid you must go elsewhere.” Pandora feigns a sigh, twirling a lock of hair around a finger. “I wake up early, drink tea—I’ve recently given up coffee, you know—and meditate. If I have business for the wedding, I’ll tend to that; if not, I’ll study.”

There’s a look in her conversation partner’s eyes that seems akin to doubt. Ha. Certainly a recent graduate, then. Pandora smiles benevolently, but her eyes are cutting. The girl has shown weakness. “You seem surprised,” she says lightly. “I know it’s been going around that I’m taking a year off of schooling for the wedding, but you don’t think I’d be content as a trophy wife, would you?” Her parents had, and look where that had gotten all of them. She doesn’t sneer, but it’s a close thing.

The girl can’t meet her eyes, so Pandora continues. “Anyhow. I’ll usually spend the afternoon attending to family business, either my own or the Montague’s.” And wasn’t that the truth. “I try to meet with my fiance in the evenings. And at night?” She tilts her head coquettishly, but on Pandora, the action reads almost predatory, the gaze of a panther deliberating a strike. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”  

“And what of Montague’s more…nefarious business dealings? Do you have any comment on those?”

Huh. Perhaps the girl has more backbone than Pandora credited her with. A single, impeccably groomed brow rises.

“I do not.”

The girl swallows, then continues. “Okay, um…well…What has been your biggest mistake thus far?”

Pandora laughs, and the sound is beautiful but out of place, uncannily youthful from a creature that seems to transcend conventional labels. It’s easy to forget that Pandora is young, barely out of girlhood herself, worlds apart as she is from her interviewer.

“Darling,” she says, “I don’t make mistakes.”

She knows what they say about her, how they call her bella macchina, how they quaver before her ruthless pragmatism. Was it so bad to lean into the reputation? There were worse things to be associated with. And looking at her, content in her realm, a spider in the orb of her nest, it is so, so easy to believe. It is easy to forget that it is not her dominion, that Verona is not her land and the Montague-Capulet fight is not her fight, in the strictest sense. But nobody is as acutely aware of the reality of her situation as Pandora is. She is but a tool.

And thus, her mistakes are not her mistakes. It’s logical, really.

She has shaken her interviewer. That much is certain. But Pandora must give the girl credit, because she pushes on. “What has been the most difficult task asked of you?”

Pandora could recite a litany, if she so wanted to: becoming a Montague, being the Phan her parents intended, swallowing her knives instead of spitting them, unlocking the gilded cage her birth placed her in.

“Taking a break from school.” She sighs, and this time there’s a sort of truth to her wistfulness. It isn’t that she dislikes taking a more prominent role within the Montague family—to the contrary, it has been one of the most exciting experiences she has been able to apply herself to. There’s something about the unpredictability of mob life that challenges Pandora in a way that few other things have been able to. Though she likes the satisfaction of conclusions predicted, of victory strategized four steps in advance, there’s something exhilarating in being kept on her toes. However, she has a raw love for learning—for bettering her understanding—that is unique from her love for the game. There’s a comfortable reliability to the rules in academia, a safe expectation of how things are to react. And recently,  she sometimes misses the reliability of writ law, despite the new opportunities Alvise’s death has unlocked.

Perhaps it would be more apt to say that coming to Verona has been akin to opening Pandora’s Box. What a joke.

The interviewer pushes Pandora out of her thoughts. She has been saying something that Pandora could probably recite later, but didn’t particularly care enough to consider. Eventually, she reaches another question. Her last, if Pandora remembered correctly. And Pandora always remembers correctly. “What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?”

Pandora averts her eyes; she is not so proud to pretend that she is a good enough actress to hide the hunger in her eyes. “I don’t understand it.”

It’s not a lie. War, as a general concept, is inherently paradoxical—and that fascinates Pandora. The way that man has tried to civilize it, put rules to it, when it is ultimately a series of acts that defy basic human ethics, the one set of laws all decent men ought to follow. The attempts to moralize it. The strategy involved, the balancing act between victory and order and understanding. Understanding the philosophical notions of war is one of the few universal perplexities that Pandora itches to scratch, a puzzle that she can’t immediately solve.

Of course, in the meantime, there’s always the art of war to busy herself with. That, on the other hand, comes naturally to Pandora, almost frighteningly so.

She finally meets the girl’s eyes. “You can understand my concern, of course, especially for my fiance.” She clutches her hand in a gesture that could be mistaken as one of disquiet. “Dearest Roman…as long as this rages on, there’s a target on his back,” she says entreatingly.

Of course, she neglects to mention that there is a matching mark on her own.

Extras

a playlist:

control - halsey // runnin’ (interlude) // kehlani // pride - kendrick lamar // oh no! - marina and the diamonds // biking - frank ocean // woman (oh mama) - joy williams // talking to myself - gallant // never catch me - flying lotus feat. kendrick lamar // bite - troye sivan // power - kanye west // keep ya head up (jhene aiko cover) - tupac

hcs & misc. bits

Pandora graduated summa cum laude from her undergraduate program, where she studied economics and public policy. Technically, she’s a law school student—as her day job, if you will—but since Alvise’s death, she’s taken a break to focus on her work as a captain (or, depending on who’s asking, to focus on her engagement).

Pandora is fascinated by the Witches. They fall under the category of things she cannot explain, and that simultaneously frightens and attracts her. She spends a fair amount of time at the Museum, as a result.

Pandora is notoriously dismissive of things she finds wasteful, but she’s actually very into fashion and art.

Pandora is pretty skilled with languages. She’s fluent in Italian, English, and Vietnamese. She’s passably conversational in German and Mandarin, and can speak enough Japanese to conduct business.

Pandora doesn’t touch drugs or alcohol if she can avoid it. She’ll partake in wine socially, but otherwise avoids mind-altering substances. After all, her mind is her greatest asset. What is she without it?

mbti: istj-t

enneagram: type 6

likes: documentaries, oolong tea, louboutins. being right. victory, as a general concept. puzzles, especially crosswords. granita.

dislikes: people who chew loudly. empty rooms. foolishness. coffee. being called dora.

aesthetic: the click of heels on a polished marble floor. the smell of lavender at night. the rush of air that leaves your lungs when you exhale. a piece of ice melting on your tongue. the pre-dawn hour, when the world is a breath from still and light barely dusts the sky. falling, falling, falling down a rabbit hole. the knowledge of victory. gold on steel. the refraction of light through a shattered glass.

[sillesworldofwriting]

Favour - Chapter 4  (The End)

Title: Favour

Chapter No./One-Shot/ Drabble: Chapter 4

Words: 1337

AO3

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Notes/Warnings: Stanford!Sam, Jessica and Sam broke up, angst

Author’s Note: Hey guys. Sorry, I’m 2 days late with this post but real life shit hit the fan but here it is! This was my first ever series here on Tumblr and I’m kind of sad to see it go but I just don’t have any inspiration for it anymore. I think this is a good ending though. Have fun reading! Thanks to @tngrayson for beta reading!

Catch up here!

Masterlist

Only two weeks left until the wedding and you still haven’t come to a decision about Sam’s proposal. You were still shocked that he even wants you to date. A tiny part of your conscious thinks that it was all just a dream. Another part believes that he is just doing it out of pity because of the wedding. But you knew that Sam was not like that.

You friendship didn’t suffer even though you expected it to. Sam treated you the same as before, maybe just with a little bit more affection. He certainly was quicker to hug you or give you a kiss on the cheek. You felt guilty about the fact that you haven’t answered him yet. But you just couldn't. Not yet.

You were currently in your kitchen, making Bolognese for yourself and Sam. You wanted to watch a movie together and you promised him you’d make dinner. Another thing that hadn’t changed. You still saw each other regularly, if not more than ever before.

Your phone vibrated and you took it out of your pocket.

From: Sam

To: Y/N

Wrapping up the last lecture for the day. Be there in 30!

From: Y/N

To: Sam

Bolognese will be ready to be served ;)

From: Sam

To: Y/N

That’s my girl :)))

Smiling you put your phone on the counter and stirred the sauce a bit. You needed to prepare the pasta next but you still had a few minutes left.

You phone vibrated again, this time lighting up with an incoming call from your mother. Frowning, you answered it.

“Mum? What’s up? You never call at this time. Aren’t you at work?”

You heard a laugh at the other end.

“No, sweetheart. I’ve got the day off to prepare the house for you and your boyfriend.”

You sighed. “The wedding is still two weeks away.”

“You know I like to be prepared. The next weeks will be stressful enough since I’m helping with the preparations.”

“I know, I know.” You didn’t know what else to say.

“Anyway. I made up your old room for you and… Sam, was his name, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, Sam.” You paused. Damn it, you didn’t think about the fact that you would need to share a bed with Sam. Of course your mother would assume that you would share, since she thought that he was your (almost) boyfriend and all. “Isn’t the bed a bit tiny?”

“Don’t be silly.” she chuckled. “I changed your old one for a Queen-size bed shortly after you moved out.”

“Oh… okay. That’s… that’s good then.” you said quietly. It still didn’t change the fact that you would be sleeping with him in the same bed.

“Do you knowwhen you will arrive yet?” you mother asked you. You could hear that she was cleaning something. The kitchen most likely.

“No, we haven’t discussed it yet. Maybe one day before the wedding. We’ll both be done with our classes for the weekend by then. I will let you know when we’ve decided.”

“Okay. Do you have your dress yet? And a suit for Sam?”

“Yes, Mum. I got my dress a month ago and we bought Sam’s suit two weeks ago. And of course we’re matching.” You knew that detail would be important to your mother. God knows why. She became such a woman since she stopped hunting.

“Good, good. I expected nothing less from my daughter,” she laughed which made you chuckle a bit.

You looked at the clock above the doorway to the kitchen. Only 15 minutes left till Sam would arrive.

“I have to go mum. Sam will be here for dinner and I still need to cook the pasta,” you explained.

“Have a nice evening then sweety. And see you in two weeks at the latest. Bye!”

“Bye Mum,” you ended the call. Shit, why didn’t you think about the fact that you would share a bed with Sam. You never had to before know. Cuddling on the couch was one thing, but sharing a bed? You needed to come to a decision before you were forced into an awkward situation. But first, the pasta.

Exactly 15 minutes later, Sam let himself in with the key you gave him after your first hunt together. “Honey, I’m home!”

“About time too!” you called back, smiling. He never failed to lift your mood which made you feel more guilty for not deciding what you want. You weren’t even sure why you just didn’t take him up on his offer of dating. What could go wrong? Besides your friendship going to shit, which you should not think about.

“What are you making?” asked Sam as he entered the kitchen.

“Bolognese,” you answered and stirred the sauce one last time. “You are right on time.”

“My favorite. You’re too good to me,” he exclaimed and gave you a kiss on the cheek. Again with the affection. Why were you hindering yourself? You had feelings for him after all. Feelings you had suppressed because he was with Jessica but that wasn’t the case anymore. And he wanted to be with you. He said so himself.

“Could you get us plates? The pasta is about done,” you asked, trying not to let your inner monologue show.

“Sure,” he responded, turning to the cupboard in question.

“Thanks.”

You both made quick work of loading your plates withfood.

“This smells really good,” Sam praised.

“And it tastes just as good,” you said, smirking as you made your way to the living room.You both took a seat on the sofa. The TV and DVD player already on. “I thought about Lord of the Rings? Haven’t seen it in a while.”

Sam nodded. “Sure. You know I love those movies,” he agreed and began to eat, as you started the DVD.

You were both silent and you concentrated on the food and the movie. This was one of your favourite things about being with Sam. There weren’t any awkward silences between you. You could just sit next to each other and say nothing for hours. Friendships like that didn’t develop often and you cherished every moment. Such a friendship was also a good basis for a romantic relationship. You should just go for it.

Sam finished his food before you and took his plate back into the kitchen. Your eyes followed him the whole time. Yes, you should just go for it. This was Sam after all. Kind and sweet Sam who knew more about the lore and hunting then you did. Which made him even more attractive. You nodded to yourself as Sam came back from the kitchen to sit down next to you. You wanted to date him.

After you finished your food as well and took the plate back into the kitchen, you didn’t just sit down next to him like you always did. No, you pressed yourself against his side, laid an arm around his middle and your head on his chest. Sam didn’t say anything. He just relaxed and drew his arm around your shoulder to hold you close.

“I thought about your proposal from the other day,” you began.

“Oh?” he answered. “What about it.” He knew exactly which offer you meant.

“I have an answer for you.”

“I’m curious now.” You could hear the smile in his voice. He already suspected what your answer would be.

Instead of giving him a verbal answer you raised your head and looked into his eyes. You could see a spark him them which made them even more beautiful. Slowly, you pressed your lips to his in a chaste kiss.

“Does this satisfy your curiosity?” you asked, smirking.

He smiled. “Yeah… yeah it does.” Cupping the back of your head he drew you into another kiss. You sighed and let him guide you. It felt so good to finally do this with him. You knew that you made the right decision. There was nothing to regret.

The End

Forever taggys: @emptywithout @roxyspearing

Favour taggys: @jadepc

If you want to be tagged in future stories shot me an ask!

[forkanna]

[AO3 LINK] [EF LINK]

NOTE:  Told you I was going to keep this moving! We should also have another fic going soon on this account again - though I'm going to try to hold off on beginning that one until more of Coven is complete (so I don't wind up in the situation I had with Bind Us/Precious Little Knives lol). Enjoy!

A brief discussion followed as they retreated from the Upperuplands, winging their way further East to Pumperdink. Glinda had requested that be their next stop, and Elphaba was too worried about keeping her eyes peeled for the local law enforcement to worry overly about why. At least it was unlikely that the formerly royal armies could have swept that far north, if indeed they were still being pursued.

"Of course we are," she told Glinda impatiently as they drifted over the tops of the trees of the Great Gillikin Forest. "Didn't you hear the way those guards were shouting at us? And I have his Grimmerie!"

Redoubling her grip around Elphaba's waist, she said reasonably, "But it was such a little mistake, wasn't it? Taking the book. Why, the library at Shiz doesn't call out the army for an overdue fine!"

"You've seen what this book can do. Flying brooms and trunks and monkeys, and that's from a single spell! What do you think we can accomplish when we start learning about the others?"

"The others? You mean… you mean you intend to continue sorcerism?! Oh, that seems- I mean, with Morrible and the Wizard, and now we're- do we really want to dig ourselves any deeper? The teensy bit we've learned so far is already turning us into wanted criminals!"

"You have a better plan?" No answer. "I thought not."

"Fine, I don't, but that doesn't mean we should be stealing any more spellwork from His Wizlyness! If we give the book back now, with only the one spell used… maybe he won't mind at all! What's one flying broom between friends, right?"

Elphaba sighed as they wove between two taller treetops. "I doubt it will be that easy. But… perhaps we should ask for word at our next stop. See what the situation is in the Emerald City, if the search has reached this far North. Or if he's called it off; we could get lucky."

"Agreed. And I'll handle that job, since you… well, you're…"

"An artichoke."

"More noticeable," Glinda finished lamely. It earned her a rueful chuckle.

"Where is this we're heading, anyway?"

"My granny's house. She's not as rules-oriented as my parents, and might have some idea where we can go if the Wizard can't be reasoned with. Which I still think he can, once everything's a little calmer!"

Her response was scarcely a whisper. "Let's hope you're right — on all counts."

                                                     ~ o ~

Granny Upland lived in a small domicile on the outskirts of the nicer side of Pumperdink — which is to say, it was still grander than Elphaba's childhood home in the governor's estate in Nest Hardings. Such a disparity between Gillikin and Munchkinland was well-known, but only hearing Glinda's descriptions of "quaint little bungalow" and "cozy Pumperdink" really drove it home. The hour was quite late, so they felt guilty ringing the bell to fetch anyone, but it was either that or sleep on her doorstep.

"Yes?" asked the Quadling servant whose round face was sandwiched by the door and its frame. Elphaba blinked and drew back in surprise, having at least expected a Gillikinese person to answer.

"Pardon the late hour and our intrusionary ringing," Glinda said with a curtsy. "But is the mistress of the house still up to receiving guests? I'm her granddaughter, Glinda — or Galinda, as she might remember me."

Elphaba's face fell into her palm.

"She is, but only just. One moment, please." The door closed, leaving them on the stoop as the sounds of footsteps receded. Within another five minutes, the servant returned and showed them in.

"Galinda, my dear, precious child!" the wizened old woman cried as she hobbled in on a cane, reaching out with the free hand to first grasp her forearm, and then draw her in for three-quarters of a hug. "Ohhh, I did wonder if I'd get to see you before your second year at that infernal university began! You're looking well, quite well!"

"Good eve, Granny! It has been ever so long, hasn't it? Oh, and this is my travelling companion, Elphaba!"

"Saint Aelphaba?" the woman gasped, obviously teasing. "Why, as I live and breathe; we've been blessed with a visit of a divinitous nature!"

Laughing, she turned to pull Elphaba closer, the latter hitching a pained, polite smile into place. Glinda already knew by now that she found being compared to the holy figure from Oz's history books beyond grating; anyone would, especially given the legend of Aelphaba disappearing nude into a waterfall. She could hardly blame her for wanting to distance herself from any kind of story that would encourage boys to ask her to shuck her clothing anytime it's raining. Not that it had stopped Glinda herself from making a remark or two when they were newly acquainted; she felt a little guilty about that now, but youth and idiocy often went hand in hand.

"Silly Granny. No, no, she's the daughter of the Eminent Thropp, the Munchkinland governor! Isn't that nifty?"

"Indeed, indeed. By the look of her, I'd have guessed she's from the Emerald City!" Chuckling at her own joke, Glinda merely grimacing and Elphaba too used to such remarks to react, she motioned for them to join her on the sofa. "Come, sit, sit. Have some Quox nuts - roasted just to the right darkness, very good for you."

"I'm allergic, Granny," Glinda told her patiently. "You knew that."

"Stuff and nonsense! Try a few, these are really quite good!" Glinda mimed reaching toward the bowl as the old woman turned toward Elphaba, pulling back her hand with no nuts in it once the attention was no longer on herself. "And you, Miss Aelphaba — how did you come to companionably travel with my little apple-cheeked granddaughter? And why are you wearing her hat?"

"Her hat?!"

The conversation meandered around from there, and they never did broach the subject of the Wizard and stolen spellbooks. This wasn't helped along by the fact that Granny was getting a little hard of hearing in her old age, and occasionally had to ask for clarification on several points. The effort of explaining fleeing the Wizard's palace in fear of their lives would be made that much harder.

At last, they retired for the evening. Nestled in one of the guest rooms that had two beds, they weren't awake for much longer. Already, Glinda felt odd with Elphie so far away; it had only been a couple of nights bunking together, but she had found it comforting to have her friend so closeby, within reach of her hand should she suffer a nightmare. She hadn't enjoyed that type of reassurance since she was a little girl.

"Can't believe you pawned off your dear, sweet grandmother's hat on me just because you didn't like it."

"Shhh, Elphie! I did like it, but didn't think it suited me. But seeing it on you, I genuinely think it works quite well." At least that last part was the full truth; she might feel guilty about deceiving Elphaba before, but the end result was that she now had a hat that looked as if it had been fashioned specifically for her head. All's well that ends well, as they said. Whoever 'they' were.

"Fine, fine. But don't think I'm…" A yawn interrupted the rest of her words. Smiling to herself, Glinda decided to interrupt that train of thought.

"Don't worry about it. Let's get some rest. Then tomorrow…"

"Tomorrow, we'll figure out our lives," Elphaba promised her. "Whether I should go on alone, and you stay here, or… something else."

Glinda smiled across at the other bed's occupant. "A girl could start to think she's not wanted with talk like that." But before Elphaba could reply, she yawned and snuggled into the pillow. "Goodnight, Elphie."

Harrumphing, she returned, "Goodnight, Glindie."

"Watch it, Fabala."

                                                    ~ o ~

A week passed with little change. Though Granny played a wonderful host, she was useless at actually focusing on any deeper, darker subjects. Any time Glinda began to ask for help, or Elphaba attempted to confess her sins for a third time, she would change the subject. Whether this was by design or by chance was unclear.

Glinda did steal into the main square of town the fourth day, asking around the local watering hole. With a scarf on her head, she looked like any other Northerner, and gave her name as Gayelette — earning her some titters at the odd-sounding moniker. No one had heard any juicy gossip from Emerald City in a good, long while. She caught snippets of older bits and commented on them as if they were news to her, but otherwise came up dry. That was a positive thing, after all; the longer it took for news of their exploits to spread, the less frantically they would have to relocate.

Between chats, she also managed to pick up another dress or two that would fit Elphaba's taller frame. This involved a lot of over-describing to the clothiers, but in the end, she got the job done. She was tempted to pick up more travelling supplies, and did get herself a lovely pink cloak for those breezy flights high in the sky, but otherwise abstained. They should discuss what they might need together before she burned through their meager coin and had to pawn more valuables.

"Listen to this," Elphaba said from her perch on the bed, fingertips holding the pages of the Grimmerie open. "My Ancient Lurlinic is as rusty as can be, the characters are so hard to read… but I think it says, 'To turn a frog into cheese.' What possible use could this be?!"

"Don't look at me, Elphie; you know I can't read that gobbledygook."

Sighing, she nodded as she flipped through more pages. "I could probably teach you if I wasn't awful at it myself. Still… maybe if I spend enough time with this thing, I'll sharpen my skills. Learn to read Lurline's old scribbly mess as easily as Standardised Gillikinese."

"Maybe so — except I thought we would be returning that when we could," she reminded her pointedly.

"Right. Right, yes, we are." Nodding resolutely, she shut the book and set it aside. "It's just all so fascinating; not so much that I want to learn the spells, just that I want to know what spells there are to be learned. Does that make any sense at all?"

"It does; you have a thirst for knowledge. Always did at Shiz, too! I think that's commendable and worthy of respectfulness."

"Why do you always make up words that sound like other words, but longer?"

Blinking, Glinda looked down at the hole in Elphaba's cloak she had been patching and tried not to let herself blush. "W-well, I… it's fashionable. Don't they sound nicer when they're longer like that?"

"No, they sound longer." When Glinda only pouted a little more, she stood and brushed her knees off, then strode across to the window. "But what do I know?"

"You know Lurlinic, for one." Her patchwork could wait; there was no hurry. Crossing the little room, she stood by Elphaba. "Have… you thought about what you're going to write to the Wizard?"

"I have."

"And?"

Her fingernails dug at a small knothole on the windowsill. "And I still have no idea. Well, that isn't accurate; I have many ideas. All bad."

"Aww… here, why don't we get started? There's a stack of papers on the writing desk, and I'm sure it won't take us more than a few tries digging in before we strike emerald." Before Elphaba could protest, she took her by the elbow and turned her so that they were facing each other. "I'll take dictation; I may only know one language, but my penmanship is exquisitous."

That time, Elphaba only smirked at her odd little phrasing. "Alright, then. Suppose we might as well give it the old Shiz try." Once Glinda was seated at the writing desk and had unstoppered the inkwell, she asked, "Ready?"

"Hold on, let me test the nib." She scratched out a couple of words on a spare scrap of paper that had likely been torn in half to dash off a quick note. Satisfied, she redipped her quill. "Okay, let's have it!"

"Okay. Hmm… here. 'Dearest Wizard'- no, wait, forget that. He's not dear to me, he scarcely knows who I am!"

Glinda frowned up at her. "You're so nervous and I haven't even written anything!"

"You know how much I used to respect him! Even if… well, everything's gone wrong by now. But that's- okay, focus. I need to focus." She began to pace as she thought, and then suddenly began, "'Dear Wizard. I am deeply regretful that I… absconded with your Grimmerie.' Does 'absconded' sound okay?"

"Divine, Elphie. Keep going, this is all fine so far."

"Good. 'With your Grimmerie. It was never my intention to do so, especially because I did not know it existed before that day. However, the consequences of the spell you bade me read were not… were not…' Um… I didn't know what it was going to do…"

"Readily apparent?"

"'Readily apparent to me until they had already been read. Seeing the monkeys in such pain from the spell I read for you frightened me, and I panicked. I hope you can understand how I reacted. Therefore… it is with great regret that I apologise, and offer to return your Grimmerie to you, intact.' How is that?"

Glinda read it back to her, and Elphaba nodded along, still pacing. Then she asked, "Were you going to mention him letting us go?"

"Right, yes — that's what's next! Okay. '...to you, intact. In exchange for this, I wish you to grant Glinda Upland a full pardon, for she was an innocent bystander in all of this. As for myself, I will accept whatever punishment you deem appropriate.'"

"Wait, Elphie," Glinda said, just having finished writing down the last word. "What do you mean? Couldn't you ask for a pardon for yourself, too?"

Sighing, she turned weary eyes toward her friend. "It's asking too much. Look how far we ran off with the book! You really think he's going to just shrug and say 'oh well', especially now that we know how powerful it is?"

"Well… no, but it doesn't hurt to ask!" Dipping the quill again, she added on her own, "'But I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive and forget.' There, that way you're only asking, and not making it a condition of the Grimmerie's surrender."

"That's good, that's good," Elphaba confirmed as she hunched over the back of the chair, gazing down at the sheet. "And it looks clean and neat so far. Well done."

"Thank you," she whispered with a tiny smile. "Might not have many talents to my name, but penmanship is one of them. Okay, what else?"

"That's it. I don't want to beleaguer the point and take up too much of his time. Sign it 'Sincerely and ashamedly,' and my name."

"You sign your name," she asked once she had put down the rest, holding out the quill. After a brief moment of indecision, she did, with a flourish and some slight blotting that made the final letters look a bit spidery. Then she handed back the quill and reached to pick up the page. "W-wait, don't you want to use pounce first, so it doesn't smudge?!"

"O-oh, I… you're right, how stupid of me. What is wrong with my brain today?"

Smiling up at her as she reached for the pounce pot, she whispered, "You're fine. Just… nervous. I understand." She sprinkled the fine powder on the page, soaking up the extra ink. Then she turned toward the window, picking it up by the edges. "Can you…?"

"Yes, of course." Elphaba gently eased the window open, and Glinda blew the dust out into the late evening. Once the window was shut and they were back by the desk, Elphaba read over their work. "I hate it. However, I honestly don't think I could make a better job of it if I tried again, so we might as well leave it this way."

"Fine by me. Just hope it does the job that it should do."

Then they sealed it inside an envelope, took a deep breath, and turned in for the evening.

                                                    ~ o ~

Another day passed much the same. Still they got nowhere with Granny conversationally, and still they had no clear idea of where to go, what to do. Elphaba wasted great gobs of time leafing through the Grimmerie, but it was more to keep from pacing or talking to herself than out of a desire to plumb the depths of its material. Glinda tried to take up most of her time mending clothes or chattering, which she could tell was beginning to get on her companion's nerves, but she had no better notion of what to do with herself. All her life, people had been shunting her in one direction or another; the few independent thoughts she had summoned were all very closely related to ones others had stated at one point or another. Life with Elphaba was highly challenging in ways she never could have predicted.

The next afternoon, Glinda was on her way back from the market with a few minor odds and ends when she stopped in at the Bittuvalai Inn again. She asked the same old questions, expecting nothing more than the same old answers.

She was sorely mistaken.

"You aren't a 'Gayelette' at all!" one of the men accused once he'd clapped eyes on her. "You're a Galinda!"

"That's Glinda, please!" she snapped — before she could stop herself. Covering her mouth with her hand, she hurriedly added, "And I don't know what you mean!"

"Knew it!" he said, nodding over his shoulders. "Ain't any girls 'round this pathetic town as lovely as her, she had to be from somewhere's else!"

Smiling in spite of herself, Glinda tittered, "Oh, you do go on, sir!" Then she noticed the patrons were closing her off from the door, attempting to corral her into the corner. "W-wait, you don't go on… I m-mean, you should let me go, please!"

A squat, middle-aged woman demanded, "Or what? You'll curse us?"

"Curse you? Please, how would I even know how to do such a thing?! I am but a poor student from Shiz University; I barely know how to put one wand in front of the other!"

"WITCH!" a mousy-looking man somehow managed to shout at the top of his lungs, bringing around the few other patrons who had been ignorant of the scene.

"Who, where?!" she squeaked innocently.

"You won't get away from here so easily, witch!" the woman went on as the dozens of pairs of eyes fixated on her, seeming to drill right through her body. An urge to poke them welled up within herself. "We'll turn you in, we will, and our names will be praised by His Wizliness!"

"Perhaps there'll be a reward!"

The moment the first man said that, there were many murmurs of assent. That did not tip things in her favour at all. Glinda's blue eyes swept up and down the scrubby wooden tables and chairs, to the well-polished bartop and the bartender crouched behind it. She could only hope he wasn't going for some sort of weapon he kept just in case of similar disturbances. Ordinarily, she would have been glad of the protection… but not when she wasn't the one being protected.

"Please, look at yourselves!" she urged as she pressed back against the wall, palms finding its surface as her cloth sack swung from her elbow. "I h-haven't cursed you for threatening me already, so how could I be a witch? Y-you're being silly, all of you!"

"Silly and rich, soon enough!" said the mousy man.

There was nothing else to be done; she had to think of some way to trick them out of attacking. Glinda reached into her bag and pulled out a beetroot. "Do you see this?!" she screeched, causing them all to hesitate. "One false move, and I'm warning you… I'll do to you what I did to him!"

A collective gasp went up. That was enough; she had thrown the shadow of doubt across their zealousness. Tossing the beet into the air, she dashed for the door, only barely glimpsing that several of them dove to catch what they presumed was a transmogrified person. One man had to be elbowed out of the way, but he was surprised enough that she could manage it and make good her escape.

How much longer will they stare at it, waiting to see if it speaks? she couldn't help thinking to herself as she dashed up the lane toward her Granny's house. The situation didn't merit such japes, but she felt she had to take the amusement where she could find it.

Once bursting through the door, she saw Granny perched on the sofa with a cup of tea in her hand, and Elphaba poring over the book. They both started, a few drops of tea falling to the rug from the cup.

"They're coming!"

Immediately, Elphaba shot to standing. "How many?"

"From the look of it, the entire village!" Glinda panted as she leaned against the door. "Oh… oh, we have to fly! I don't want us to still be here when they catch up, and ruin my Granny's lovely Quadling rugs trying to catch us!"

"What's all this about?" Granny asked in mild confusion, squinting as they began to head for the staircase. "Who's coming?!"

There wasn't time to explain to the poor old thing. The minute they reached the bedroom, they began to cram everything into the trunk as quickly as was possible; Grimmerie, new purchases, even one of the pillows from the bed wound up padding the inside. Of course, the flying spell was still in action upon the trunk, as a spell cannot be undone once it's been said, so they tied it to the back of the broom as efficiently as they could without muddling the process and prepared to leave.

"Really, this is a most unceremonical exit you're making!" Granny pouted as they began to approach the front door.

"I am sorry, Gran!" Glinda bade her, wringing the old woman's hands. "I've been trying to find a way to explain, but I… oh, it's really just so horribliffic, I don't want you to think any less of me! Of us!"

"We can't endanger your safety because of my mistake," Elphaba cut off further protests. "We'll just… well, I don't know where we'll go now that we've run out of relatives. But we'll figure something out."

Granny tutted her disapproval, but still patted Glinda's elbow. "You do as you must, dearie. Just take a few Quox nuts for the road!"

"Gran, you know I'm allerg-"

"We have to go now!" Elphaba hissed, gesturing to the windows. Indeed, there were mobs already gathering outside, stirred up by the ones from the tavern. They weren't knocking on the front door quite yet, but it wouldn't be long.

"Why does it feel like we're always rushing off somewhere?" Glinda sighed, embracing her grandmother. "We'll be back, though, you'll see!"

"Very well! Safe trip, don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

As they stepped outside, they did notice a few eyes turn in their direction, but they were already mounting the broom and readying to take off, not wasting a moment. By the time anyone had roused themselves enough to dash in their direction, it was too late; they were airborne.

However, the moment they were skimming past the upper-story windows of the homes, they began to feel sharp pains inflicted upon their legs and hips. Glinda glanced down and let out an exasperated squeak.

"What is it?" Elphaba asked through clenched teeth. "I'm concentrating on flying!"

"They're throwing rocks! Oh, of all the uncouthful, ridiculous- how can they be so rude?!" As they passed a particularly thick knot of Gillikin citizenry, she shouted down, "WHAT CHILDREN!"

"WITCH!" was all she heard in return, and had to flinch back to avoid a sound clouting of her nose with what seemed to be half a brick.

"Forget them," Elphaba snapped over her shoulder as they began to rise high enough that it would no longer be a problem. "They've made up their minds."

One last sound of a rock smacking against their trunk reached them before Pumperdink was behind them, the shouts fading in their wake. Alas, Elphaba was right about one thing: they were out of family members to beg for sanctuary. Where in Oz would they go now?

                                                    To Be Continued…

[spence66]

PLL END GAME -THEORY 1 - SPENCER AND THE TWIN

      As we all know Spencer was ‘part’ adopted, as her birth mother is Mary Drake. It wasn’t really adoption as she stayed with her biological father and his wife. If you think abot this like.. Mary was locked down in Radley, and Peter was rich guy living in this amazing house with his wife and daughter. Why you need judge Khan to do some paper work for the Hastings then? It was logical that this baby will stay with biological father if he want to keep her, right? So Why Khan was included here? Only possible explain for this is there was more than one baby born that night. So Mary had twins then. So, if everything Mary told us is true(remember she never said that spencer was the only one, she just admited that Cece was her child and Spencer was her child too. ). In my opinion Spencer twin is a Boy and that was Charles. (I’m not buying this Charles becoming Cece thing). At first I was thinking that Judge Khan took the boy himself, but.. well.. Noel is dead now. Then I was thinking that Caleb is like the best for this role, but after he hooked up with Spencer that was just way too far. Toby- same reasons here. Lucas? No way, at least I don’t think so even when he is suspicious as hell. Andrew? He was adopted right? Andrew Drake make here perfect A.D. but.. that would be just silly, in my opinion. We got all these clues that Spencer have a twin, right? It’s almost obvious. But remember when we all were in place when we were thinking that Alison have a twin? Courtney in the picture was so sure for us. But all clues for that was just clues for ‘some twin’ being in a show. We have learned that Mary and Jessica were twins, so then we assumed that Spencer is the one with a twin too. But what if all clues we have are pointing towards spencer for the same reason like they did it in ali case? What if.. just listen to me, what if.. Cece was the one with a twin? For her deeply loved twin BROTHER she took all the blame. A.D. become A.D. after Charlotte death, so it’s her twin who is messing with liars just now.

·         Cece was pretending that she was a boy and that Jessica was her mother. As we find out Mary was her real mother, and she did have at least two babies.

·         Then we have this story of bethany young. Whis is so freaking irrelevant!! Bethany Young was there, in the hospital while Cece and her brother were there together. Only because their father was unknown so they stayed with mentally unstable mother. Remember Cece story about Marion? And how kid’s age was little bit.. weird? It’s because it Was CHARLOTTE AND CHARLES on this roof top, and one of tchem pushed Marion. And Bethany was there. Cece was already out of Radley. And I’m pretty sure that her brother was too. I think that both of them got adopted but to both different families. Remember Bethanys drawings? Of a boy took away by a monster from a little girl? Bethany drew what she saw. She saw Marion death, she saw somebody taking this boy away, what she saw – Charles was taken away from Radley while Cece had to stay, before she got adopted. It makes me think that Bethany herself was. Well, something between imagination for Cece, or irrelevant friend of her in Radley. But she saw what twins have done, and thats why Cece (alone or with her brother) planned to kill her. (we all know the story). Cece and Charles hated Jessica, because Jessica took away charles, she was in chargé in Radley, and she decided that he will be adopted with judge Khan. Remember this letter spencer got lately? It was odd for me that there was no name, it was ‘for her child’, and she wrote about how Hastings and Jessica are horrible people.

·         You will ask who is the brother? There’s only two explanations for this.

·         As Cece tried to be really close to DiLaurentis famiy, as she become friends with Ali, and she started dating her cousin..(which is a little bit less horrible than dating her brother), Charles tried too. My bet is on somebody who tried to be close to Jason and Alison too. So? Was is Darren? We all thought he was the one made Alison ‘almost pregnant’ in her teens, so.. no, yuck! He is dead anyway, so crossed. Wren? Well, she told Em that she know a doctor. Was it Wren? Possible, possible.. But wren is kind of irrelevant lately, even when he is suspicious and there’s a lot of clues (like with everybody actually). Any other ideas? Who else was ‘dating’ ali? Is here since episode one? Was even cought on being weird liar who was spying on our girls?

·         Yeah.. ezrA fitzgeralD.

·         Ezra is Charles. We even saw connections between Cece and Ezra. I can’t forget this moment of Cece at the airport with black hair (wig).

·        

·        

·         S.

[theconservativebrief]

In early July, a video game writer named Jessica Price embarked on a lengthy Twitter thread about the storytelling differences between games meant to be played as single-player experiences and games meant to be played by lots and lots of people at once, like Guild Wars 2, the massively multiplayer online role-playing game Price was a writer for.

Price’s thread received a perhaps too-haughty response from gaming YouTuber Deroir, who disagreed with some of what Price had to say. Price — who is, after all, a woman on the internet and thus is subject to a stunning amount of social media pushback and condescension — put Deroir on blast, first tweeting: “Today in being a female game dev: ‘Allow me–a person who does not work with you–explain to you how you do your job,’” and later following up with: “like, the next rando asshat who attempts to explain the concept of branching dialogue to me–as if, you know, having worked in game narrative for a fucking DECADE, I have never heard of it–is getting instablocked. PSA.”

The Guild Wars 2 community erupted in outrage at Price, who had either stuck up for herself against the endless onslaught of needling criticism that comes with being a woman online or had abused a position of authority to call a popular member of the gaming community an asshat by implication. (Price’s tweet didn’t directly call Deroir an asshat, but it was hard to miss her meaning.)

A few days later, ArenaNet, the company that makes Guild Wars 2, fired Price and her co-worker Peter Fries, who had defended Price in several Twitter threads. Price told Polygon that she was not given a chance to explain herself, or to apologize. She was simply fired, as was Fries.

The broad outlines of the controversy drew comparisons to Gamergate, the controversial movement that began in 2014 and involved a bunch of gamer and alt-right trolls using the cover of concern for ethics in video gaming as an excuse to harass women in the industry and to claim that calls for better representation and diversity within gaming were destroying video games.

Was Price’s firing a result of Gamergate’s actions? Not directly, no. Deroir was not a Gamergate adherent, and he wasn’t agitating for Price to be removed. Plus, plenty of people who found Price to be in the wrong weren’t Gamergaters.

But the answer to that question also has to be yes, because of how thoroughly the matter was discussed in Gamergate’s favored corners of the internet, which mostly jumped to Deroir’s defense, and because of how completely Gamergate changed the way games are talked about online and how women in the industry have to think about what might happen to them, something Price touches on in her Polygon interview.

In the years since 2014, Gamergate has metastasized and evolved into what feels like the entire alt-right movement, to the degree that many of the names boosted by the hyped-up controversy, names like Milo Yiannopoulos and Mike Cernovich, saw their stars only rise when they became central to online communities that backed the presidential candidacy of one Donald Trump. Gamergate went from a fringe movement that struck most people who heard about it as a weirdo curiosity to something that took over the country, as Vox’s Ezra Klein predicted it would with eerie accuracy in late 2014.

Gamergate didn’t manage to completely eliminate more diverse storytelling in games, as at least one silly controversy from this year would indicate, but it did slightly paralyze the video game industry. And that paralysis has begun to spread to other spheres of our culture.

Members of the movement have developed a tactic that they have deployed again and again to drive dissension in assorted online communities, using a mix of asymmetric warfare (in which they stage lots and lots of small strikes at giant corporations that don’t quite know what to do in response), the general lack of accountability applied to the movement’s various decentralized figures, and a tendency to turn progressive concerns inside out, in a weird attempt to reach parity. Gamergate didn’t really have anything to do with Price’s firing directly, but it also did, because Gamergate is now everywhere and everything.

The movement arguably elected a president. And just this past week, in a much higher-profile case than the firing of Jessica Price, it got director James Gunn fired from Marvel’s Guardians of the Galaxy franchise.

James Gunn attends the premiere of Ant-Man and the Wasp. Alberto E. Rodriguez/Getty Images for Disney

Perhaps the above mention of “Mike Cernovich” has already pinged some part of your brain that remembers keywords from the news and headlines of the past few days; it was Cernovich who helped engineer a push to have Gunn fired from the third Guardians of the Galaxy film, by dredging up and encouraging his followers to circulate several of Gunn’s old tweets. Many of the tweets contain jokes about topics like rape and pedophilia.

Gunn’s roots are in over-the-top shlock cinema (he began his career at the famed low-budget genre movie company Troma, and his first credit is for writing Tromeo and Juliet). He directed the first two Guardians movies to general acclaim, and both his overall positivity and his general disdain for Trump have earned him more than a few left-leaning fans on social media platforms.

But that same disdain for Trump — and, of all things, the widespread pushback against a tweet in which filmmaker Mark Duplass praised conservative writer Ben Shapiro, which inspired Gunn to chime in on the fray — made Gunn a target for folks like Cernovich.

To be clear, Gunn’s past jokes are awful. They have surfaced before — most notably in 2012, when Gunn was hired to helm the first Guardians film. A blog post he had written in 2011 about which comic book characters fans would most like to have sex with drew ire from numerous left-leaning critics and social media personalities. Gunn ultimately apologized for his comments, and vowed to do better.

Later, in 2017, he told BuzzFeed that in the early days of his tenure at Marvel, he’d abandoned the persona that aimed to be a provocateur and adopted the persona that evolved into his current Twitter self. As described by BuzzFeed’s Adam B. Vary:

“I protect myself by writing scenes where people shoot people in the face,” Gunn said, chuckling. “And if I have to think around shooting someone in the face, it’s harder, but I think it’s more rewarding for me.” He cleared his throat. “I felt like Guardians forced me into a much deeper way of thinking about, you know, my relationship to people, I suppose. I was a very nasty guy on Twitter. It was a lot fucking edgy, in-your-face, dirty stuff. I suddenly was working for Marvel and Disney, and that didn’t seem like something I could do anymore. I thought that that would be a hindrance on my life. But the truth was it was a big, huge opening for me. I realized, a lot of that stuff is a way that I push away people. When I was forced into being this” — he moved his hand over his chest — “I felt more fully myself.”

And what’s “this”?

”Sensitive, I guess?” he said. “Positive. I mean, I really do love people. And by not having jokes to make about whatever was that offensive topic of the week, that forced me into just being who I really was, which was a pretty positive person. It felt like a relief.”

Yet all those old tweets remained on Twitter. Considering both Gunn’s 2011 blog post and the way he talks about his old tweets, it seems hard to believe that neither Marvel Studios nor its parent company, Disney, knew of their existence.

But when Cernovich surfaced a whole bunch of them last week in a graphic designed to strip them of as much context as possible, more and more conservative and alt-right personalities started passing them around, and Disney’s Alan Horn finally announced on Friday that Gunn would no longer be working for the company. (Gunn, for his part, made one of the better, “Yeah, I fucked up!” statements in a decade that seems to provide a new one every other week.)

Then Cernovich and his friends turned their sights on other comedy figures with provocative jokes in their past, like Michael Ian Black, Patton Oswalt, and Dan Harmon. Few of these men suffered consequences as severe as Gunn did for past jokes. But all were hounded endlessly on social media. Harmon even left Twitter.

I don’t particularly want to defend Gunn here. A lot of his old Twitter material is truly awful. It often takes the shape of a joke without actually being funny, which is deadly to anybody playing with comedic land mines like gags about child molestation and rape. Meanwhile, it’s also hard to believe that a white dude who directed two of the biggest movies of all time won’t get another chance in Hollywood, even if he has to step back and spend a year or two making indie movies.

But the way Gunn was fired sticks in my craw, just a little bit. It’s the biggest example yet of Gamergate and its ilk forcing a major public figure out of the job that made them a major public figure. By stripping events like this of their context, Cernovich and company might think they’re forcing the left to confront its own hypocrisies, or winning smaller battles in a larger culture war, or simply driving critics of the president off social media.

But make no mistake, they’re also destabilizing reality.

The cancellation of Roseanne in the wake of Roseanne Barr’s offensive tweet has been compared to Gunn’s firing. It shouldn’t be. ABC

The recent event that Gunn’s dismissal has drawn the most comparison to is ABC’s firing of Roseanne Barr from the now-canceled TV show that bore her name. (The series will live on as a spinoff titled The Conners, sans Barr.)

In that case, too, an awful tweet (in this case, a racist remark about former Obama staffer Valerie Jarrett) led to somebody who seemed protected by recent success being removed from the franchise that had yielded said success. And in that case, too, the person fired had worked for the Walt Disney Company, the biggest behemoth in the entertainment industry, one that’s about to swallow another behemoth like it’s a tiny little goldfish.

But pull back some of the layers and the two events couldn’t be more dissimilar. The most obvious difference is the timing. Gunn wrote his tweets in the late 2000s and early 2010s, before he was hired by Marvel and long before he became a critic of Trump. Barr’s tweet was published the morning she was fired.

This is not to say that Gunn’s tweets are excusable but, instead, to point to all the instances in which Barr posted horrible tweets shortly before ABC picked up a new season of Roseanne, only for Disney and ABC officials to laugh them off. If Disney meant to establish a precedent with what happened with Barr, it was essentially, “If you have skeletons in your closet, whatever. Just don’t add any new ones.” Gunn, if nothing else, had seemed scrupulous about the “not adding any new ones” part (that we know of so far, at least).

An even bigger difference between Gunn’s and Barr’s tweets concerns the context of the tweets and the intention behind them. Most of us might judge Gunn’s tweets as bad jokes, sure, but they’re mostly recognizable as jokes, and jokes in the style of 2000s Gen-X comedians trying like hell to provoke a reaction by being as “edgy” and offensive as possible.

What’s been interesting, too, is watching many of the comedians in question — including Gunn and Black but also folks like Sarah Silverman, Sacha Baron Cohen, and South Park creators Trey Parker and Matt Stone — try to figure out how to navigate an era when the ironic offensiveness they trafficked in has been co-opted by a movement that insists they always meant it, deep down. Most have become vocal Trump critics. But few have managed the transition very easily.

This is the danger in making jokes rooted in ironic offensiveness, even when you’re a master of the form (like Silverman is). At a certain point, somebody is always laughing right alongside you and taking from the joke the message that racism is okay if it’s funny, or that provoking a reaction from someone by joking about rape is funnier than the joke itself.

Ironic offensiveness is far too easy to twist into the idea that nothing is worth caring about, and that getting those who do care to lash out is the funniest thing possible. That idea is now the basis of an entire internet culture that kept splintering, with one of those splinters becoming dedicated to trolling above all else. It eventually got to a point where nobody was sure who was serious and who was joking, or if there was even a difference.

Start to unpack the comedy of the figures listed above, or of their modern comedic descendants and fellow travelers like the terrifically funny hosts of the leftist podcast Chapo Trap House, and you’ll find that somewhere, deep down, they care deeply. The ironic offensiveness and shocking humor is meant to spur a reaction that hopefully guides you to a similar sense of caring and sincerity. But that requires genuine engagement and thought, and it’s easy to opt out of genuine engagement and thought when you’re laughing, in favor of taking the joke at face value.

This, I think, is what happened to Barr, who went from being an incisive comedian to being a millionaire many times over to being someone who promoted some of the same conspiracy theory nonsense that Cernovich peddles. (It’s no mistake that many of the tweets Cernovich surfaced to try to tank Michael Ian Black’s career involved him simply talking about pizza — in the worldview of Cernovich and Barr, there is a massive left-wing conspiracy to engage in pedophilia and protect fellow pedophiles, often using “pizza” as a code word for child sex.) Gunn didn’t really believe what he was saying; Barr did.

But does that context matter? Or does the statement itself matter? The fact is, both Barr and Gunn said horrible things. If we draw hard moral lines in the sand, if we insist that certain things matter to us and are important to uphold as ethical guidelines, does it ever matter that somebody might genuinely move past something bad they did in the past, might become a better person? Or are we all, always, defined by our darkest, worst moments?

Gamergate briefly devoured the internet in 2014. But it never really went away. Shutterstock

A little over a week ago, the most popular Gamergate subreddit, Kotaku in Action, briefly went offline. The user who had created the subreddit in the first place, david-me, then posted to r/Drama (a subreddit dedicated to tracing internal Reddit action and excitement) saying that he had shut down KIA. Explaining his logic, he wrote, in part:

KiA is one of the many cancerous growths that have infiltrated reddit. The internet. The world. I did this. Now I am undoing it. This abomination should have always been aborted.

So in this moment with years of contemplation, I am Stopping it. I’m closing shop and I can’t allow anyone to exploit my handicap. I’ve watched and read every day. Every single day. The mods are good at what they do, but they are moderating over a sub that should not exist. The users have created content that should not be. Topics that do not require debate. And often times molded by outside forces.

We are better than this. I should have been better than this. Just look at the comment history of any users history. The hate is spread by very few, but very often. Overwhelmingly so.

Reddit and it’s Admins are Me. They are the stewards of hate and divisiveness and they let it go. They go so far as to even claim there is nothing they can do about it. Those with upvotes could have been stopped by others with equally powerful downvotes. Fallacy. 100 evil people with 100,000 upvotes can not be defeated by 100,000 with 100 downvotes.

Reddit stepped in. It restored Kotaku in Action, and by extension restored one of Gamergate’s most prominent platforms. The subreddit hadn’t directly violated Reddit’s hate speech rules, even if it was constantly dancing on the very edge of them. If Kotaku in Action is a cancer, as its founder alleges, then it is one that remains free to spread unchecked.

When I was covering the early days of Gamergate, I believed the core of its argument was, in essence, that caring is a waste of time — that wanting video games to have more diverse characters and the industry that makes them to have better representation across the board was a pointless exercise. Gamergate adherents seemed to believe the focus of the industry should be making better games, an argument that ignored that for many, having more diverse games was necessary for having better games.

I was wrong. The core argument of Gamergate, and of the alt-right more generally, has always been that caring is hypocritical. Deep down, both movements believe that everybody is racist and sexist and homophobic, that the left, especially, is simply trying to lord a moral superiority over everybody else when, in secret cabals, they kidnap babies and run child molestation rings out of the basements of pizza restaurants. This idea is referred to as “virtue signaling,” meaning that there is no such thing as real virtue, only a pretend virtue that people deploy to try to win points with mainstream society, when everybody would be better off dropping the pretense and letting their most offensive freak flags fly.

And it’s tricky to combat the idea of virtue signaling, because of course we all virtue-signal all the time. Parents virtue-signal to teach their children, and corporations virtue-signal to make their products seem more palatable to a rapidly diversifying America, and I virtue-signal every time I tweet something that says I’m supportive of, say, the Black Lives Matter movement without joining affiliated protests.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t want the broader goals of BLM to be realized immediately, or that corporations won’t take your money regardless of color or creed, or that parents shouldn’t teach their children not to resort to violence when others say or do something they don’t like.

Virtue signaling is still virtue, even if in your heart, you’re so angry or upset that you feel like punching someone. Cynicism about the motivations behind good acts doesn’t erase that the acts are good. We all do all sorts of things for a variety of complicated reasons. It doesn’t erase the fact that the net result of those actions ultimately has very little to do with our motivations.

The argument of Cernovich and his cronies is, ultimately, that none of us is actually good, that we are all venal and horrible, and that we live in a world where we should all, always, be pitted against each other, defined only by our worst selves. And because nobody is ever going to fire Cernovich for all the times he’s tweeted about rape, because he’s a self-made media personality, the war becomes ever more asymmetric. The only people who can hold Gamergate and its adherents accountable are members of the movement, who will occasionally toss someone out but almost always do so under the pretense of a game or, worse, a joke.

There are real people whose lives are ruined, each and every day, by Cernovich and his ilk, and our modern corporate media climate continues to have no idea what to do about it, because the battles are deliberately constructed to strip away context and to predetermine their outcomes from the first.

Twitter isn’t actually everywhere, but it feels like it can be everywhere. Andrew Burton/Getty

I began this article with the story of Jessica Price instead of the story of James Gunn for a reason. It’s entirely possible you haven’t heard of either, but if you’ve only heard of one, it’s almost certainly James Gunn. Yet the devastation to Price’s career will be much more substantial than whatever happens to Gunn, who will at least be collecting residuals from the Guardians movies for the rest of time.

Price’s situation is a valuable lesson in how so much of this works because the circumstances of her firing are muddier and harder to prosecute. Yes, the representative of a corporation that sells a service probably shouldn’t be calling her customers asshats. But any woman with a large enough social media profile knows just how quickly a seemingly innocuous, “Actually…” can turn into a massive dogpile of Twitter yahoos with nothing better to do. What happened to Price ostensibly has nothing to do with Gamergate. But its shadow lurks nonetheless, because it is now everywhere.

Could Price have handled things better? Probably. Should she have been fired for how she did handle them? I find that a lot harder to argue. It suggests that every employee of every organization with a vaguely public-facing persona has to be 100 percent perfect all of the time across all platforms, or else. And if you remove enough context from just about anything, you can make somebody look as bad as you want, unless they’re anodyne and milquetoast all of the time, which leads to sitting US senators suggesting that perhaps James Gunn should be investigated for pedophilia “if the tweets are true.”

The idea, I guess, is that we should all just turn off the internet and step away from social media when things get too hairy. But I would hope we all realize how impossible that is most of the time, and it’s in that imbalance that Cernovich and his pals forever create dissension and uncertainty.

I said above that what Cernovich wants to do is destabilize reality; that might seem like a big leap, but think about it. We’ve already gone from “these are bad jokes” to “if the tweets are true,” from carefully examining the thing in context to quickly glancing at the thing with as little context as possible, so that it looks as bad as it could possibly be. And when you’re fighting a culture war, and grasping for requital, I suppose that’s fair. Culture wars, too, have their victims.

But this still leaves us with a world where the terms of the game are set by a bunch of people who argue not in good faith, but in a way designed to force everybody into the same bad-faith basket. They are interested not in finding a deeper truth but in the easy cynicism of believing that everybody is as dark-hearted and frightened as them, that the world is a place that can never be made better, so why even try? Flood the zone with enough bad information and turn reality into enough of a game and you can make anything you want seem believable, until bad jokes become a dark harbinger of a horrific reality looming just over the horizon.

I’ve never believed that approach can win in the long run. I’ve always believed that in the end, some sort of truth will hold fast, and the fever will break. But sometimes, of late, I wonder if I’m wrong — and the only thing that stops me from convincing myself is the fear that accepting even guarded optimism as futile would only turn me into one of them, forever spiraling and never reaching bottom.

Original Source -> James Gunn’s firing shows we’re still living in the Gamergate era

via The Conservative Brief

[laurentuck]

Jessica Biel, Kerry Washington, Pink, and more celeb moms on post-baby body pressure

Jessica Biel spoke out about the pressure to drop post-baby weight at The MAKERS Conference. (Photo: Getty Images)

Until recently, Jessica Biel didn’t know a lot about reproductive health. “When I was thinking about starting a family — I mean, obviously I know how to do it — but I didn’t quite know how to do it,” the actress admitted on Tuesday during The 2018 MAKERS Conference.

But it’s what came after she gave birth to son Silas, now 2½, that was a “real shocker.”

“This idea of ‘I need to lose weight as fast as I possibly can and be skinny again and look fabulous again,’ and there’s so much pressure from outside and it’s kind of like this mom competition to see how fast you can be skinny and it’s actually the worst possible thing you can do to produce a future baby,” she said. 

However, Biel’s not the first celebrity to speak out about the pressure moms feel to drop their post-baby pounds. Keep reading for more from Pink, Anne Hathaway, Blake Lively, and other prominent parents. 

Pink

In a mirror selfie from the gym shortly after having her son Jameson, the singer shared on Instagram, “Would you believe I’m 160 pounds and 5’3″? By ‘regular standards’ that makes me obese. I know I’m not at my goal or anywhere near it after Baby 2 but dammit I don’t feel obese. The only thing I’m feeling is myself. Stay off that scale ladies!”

Zoe Saldana

“You have to remind yourself that everything takes time. I feel bad for those women who are desperate and want to bounce back three months after having a baby,” the actress said after having her twins. “It’s more like — ‘Breastfeed! Stay home! Sleep! Your kid is only 3 months old, what are you going to the gym for? Catch up on f—king reruns of some sort!’ I definitely took a break and trusted that my body was going to bounce back when it was ready. I never wanted to push myself.”

Kerry Washington

After the Scandal star’s manager made a comment about Washington returning to her pre-baby weight, she clapped back. “She meant it as a total compliment, but we had this great conversation where I was like, ‘You know what? I try really hard not to use that language, because it’s not about going backward in life,'” she told Self. “I’ve been really focused on not being ‘back’ to anything, but being the best version of myself right now.'” She added, “My body is the site of a miracle right now. I don’t want to be pre-miracle.”

Kim Kardashian

“After I had Saint, I decided to set goals for myself,” the reality star wrote on her blog. “I was motivated, but it was tough! It isn’t easy to just bounce back. I was so jealous of women who had these cute little baby bellies and would gain 25 pounds — and then, a few weeks after giving birth, somehow look exactly like they did before they were pregnant… That’s not me… As North gets older, she’ll start to be more aware of herself and her body. Her attitude toward her body is directly related to my own, so it’s my responsibility to make sure she understands that positive body image comes from having a healthy self-esteem. We all have our hang-ups and things we might want to change, but my curves make me who I am. So I embrace my body and the changes I’ve gone through. If anything, those changes remind me of what I’m able to create with my body: two little angels that I love beyond words.”

Keira Knightley

“I have to say, as a woman, you hate certain parts of your body. You go through those periods where you look in the mirror and you think, ‘Oh, if only I had different legs or arms or whatever,” Knightley told ELLE Magazine in September 2015. :You go through pregnancy and labor and then feeding the kid and you go, Wow, my body is totally amazing, and I’m never going to not like it again, because it did this, and this is fucking extraordinary.”

Anne Hathaway

“There is no shame in gaining weight during pregnancy (or ever),” Hathaway wrote on Instagram. “There is no shame if it takes longer than you think it will to lose the weight (if you want to lose it at all). There is no shame in finally breaking down and making your own jean shorts because last summer’s are just too dang short for this summer’s thighs. Bodies change. Bodies grow. Bodies shrink. It’s all love (don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.) Peace

Drew Barrymore

“After making two babies, holy cow, does your body do some crazy stuff! It’s hard to stay positive and love yourself,” Barrymore told Glamour in 2015. “You feel like a kangaroo with a giant pouch; everything’s saggy and weird. But you think about how beautiful it is that you’re able to make children. When I lose sight of that, I exercise, read Dr. Seuss’s Oh, the Places You’ll Go!, and spend time with my kids. Then I start to see things that are bigger than myself.

Blake Lively

“I’m still 15 pounds heavier so it’s nice that people think I lost my baby weight,” the Gossip Girl said in 2015, according to the BBC, after giving birth to her first daughter James. “I still haven’t lost a pretty good chunk of it, but it’s also the pressure—who cares? There’s pressure to lose it, or women are supposed to look like they did when they were 19 right after you give birth to your child, I think it’s silly.”

She also said in an interview with Yahoo Australia, “It’s so unfair though, because it’s so celebrated,” she said. “It’s like, this is what someone can look like after a baby. I think a woman’s body after having a baby is pretty amazing… You don’t need to be Victoria’s Secret-ready right away because you just did the most incredible miracle that life has to offer. I mean, you gave birth to a human being! So I would really like to see that celebrated.”

Eva Mendes

“I feel like we can be really hard on each other. That whole term ‘bounce back after pregnancy’? I don’t like that terminology,” Mendes said on the Wendy Williams Show in September 2015. “Look, if you get into the bikini two weeks after, good for you, but that wasn’t me. And that’s OK. I feel like we as women need to support each other more.”

Kristen Bell

When asked about the topic on The TODAY Show, Kristen Bell had the best response: “Who cares?” She continued, “I didn’t lose my baby weight for over a year. And when I look down, even now, at the extra skin on my belly, it’s a reminder that I’ve done something spectacular. It’s a reminder that I’m a superhero. And I’m proud of it.”

Hillary Duff

“So you feel the pressure because of what people write about you. Not that they’re personal attacks, but obviously, when you see “Hilary Debuts Post-Baby Body!” you want to tell people, ‘No, actually, I was just going out to get a coffee,'” she explained to Parents. “There are some women who look the same right after — I think they are freaks of nature! I don’t know how that happens. I’m not one of those people. It takes your body nine months to get there — really 10 months. So I’m trying to be patient but I’m working hard. And I think now more than ever, I appreciate my body and what it’s done for me.

Read more from Yahoo Lifestyle: 

The oldest National Park ranger in the U.S. is 96 — and she has the best nickname

Natalie Portman breastfed her daughter during a meeting and it was apparently ‘elegant’

Oscar nominee Emily V. Gordon was told by a photographer to ‘get sassy’ — then the best thing happened

Follow us on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter for nonstop inspiration delivered fresh to your feed, every day.

[alchemyst-studios]

Each paragraph 4 from The Twisted Ones

Yes, I went through and found them all. I have a PDF in my drive. Take with these as you will. Clearly, some paragraph 4′s aren’t anything, but y’know.

Under the cut because there’s a lot of chapters in this book. 

The ones I feel like actually matter are chapters four, nine, ten, and twelve.

Chapter One: The class tittered dutifully, then became quiet as the image of another multicolored design flashed onto the screen.

Chapter Two: “Chief Burke—Clay,” Charlie said. “How’s Carlton been?”

Chapter Three: Charlie shook her head like a dog shaking off a wet coat. She looked at the open drawer again, concentrating. I need to change. What is all this? The drawer was filled with brightly colored shirts, all unfamiliar. Charlie startled, a dim panic seizing her. What is all this? She picked up a T-shirt and dropped it again, then forced herself to take a deep breath. Jessica. They’re Jessica’s. She’d opened the wrong drawer.

Chapter Four: Where? said the first again. Charlie drew back. Something was wrong with the voice; it sounded strained.

Chapter Five: “Are you okay?” Arty whispered. She nodded, waving him off.

Chapter Six: “Can I help you?” she asked Charlie, taking a step back.

Chapter Seven: “Of course.” He patted his pocket.

Chapter Eight: “Are you sure?” John asked. Charlie waved her hand at him dismissively.

Chapter Nine: Charlie had a near-photographic memory, she’d realized last year. It was the reason she had such recall of even her early childhood. But she didn’t remember the wolf. That’s silly, she told herself. There’s plenty you don’t remember. And yet her memories of her father’s workshop were so strong: the smell, the heat. Her father bent over his workbench, and the place in the corner where she didn’t like to look. It was all so present within her, so immediate. Even the things she didn’t remember without prompting, like the old Fredbear’s Family Diner, had been instantly familiar as soon as she’d seen them. Yet these creatures had no foothold in her memory. She didn’t know them, but they clearly knew her.

Chapter Ten: She took the disc out of her pocket and looked at it. It was too dark to see any details, not that there was anything on it she hadn’t already memorized. A little light shone in from the moon outside, but the shadows in the corners were deep, like there was something hidden there eating up the light. She rubbed the side of the disc with her thumb, feeling the bumps of the letters. If she didn’t know they were there, they’d be scarcely noticeable.

Chapter Eleven: “I don’t know,” Clay said grimly. “But we know about how far they can get.” He drove wildly back down the hill and out to the main road, flipping on his police lights. They went less than a mile before he turned quickly onto a small, unpaved lane.

Chapter Twelve: Charlie had told Clay what she knew about the spring-lock suits. The animatronic parts were either recoiled, making room for a person inside to use it as a costume, or fully extended, so the mascot would work as a robot. But that was what Charlie knew from Fredbear’s Family Diner—this creature was different. She was inside a cavity made for a human being, but the suit was moving with complete autonomy. Its insides were full of metal architecture and wires, all except for the space that Charlie occupied.

Chapter Thirteen: “They look like corpses,” John said softly.

Chapter Fourteen: “Jessica, stop.” John closed the menu and put it down on the table. “Please. I can’t listen to this. We both saw it happen. We both know she couldn’t have ...” Jessica opened her mouth again, about to interrupt. “I said, stop. Don’t you think that I want to believe that she’s okay? I cared about her, too. I cared about her a lot. There is nothing I want more than for her to somehow have escaped. For her to drive up in that ancient car and get out all furious and say, ‘Hey, why’d you leave me behind?’ But we saw the blood:there was too much. I held her hand, and it didn’t feel like anything. As soon as I touched her, I just—Jessica, I knew. And you know it, too.”

[crunktrunk]

The Toddster in context?

One for 45.  You've probably heard this little statistical nugget before.  It's Todd Pletcher's record in the Kentucky Derby.  Year in and year out, Pletcher's record in the big one is a near constant source of material for turf writers looking to fill column inches.  Ed DeRosa looked at this in 2013 and concluded that Pletcher's record in the Derby is "better than most think".

I was recently drawn in to a paragraph in Jay Privman's latest Derby Watch sendup, "Pletcher knows how to play the game":

No one has played this part of the spring better than Pletcher. He has had 45 horses – the second-most all time – make it to the Derby. He owns just one Derby win, with Super Saver in 2010, but it can be argued that many of his Derby runners overachieved just to get there, that his shrewd management optimized their value. A perfect example would be Cowtown Cat, who knocked off both the Gotham Stakes and Illinois Derby in 2007.

Most of the takes on Pletcher's record in the Derby focus on his overall record in that one race or the quality of those runners in that race.  That's always seemed to me to be a bit silly.  It's just one race, over the context of hundreds of thousands of races.  Any random result could occur over the course of the 16 races Pletcher had at least one Derby entrant.  So a results driven analysis of his Derby record will always be limited in what it says.

But what drew me in to Privman's piece was the idea that Pletcher has "overachieved" on the Derby trail.  How does one define "overachieved"?  One of the few positives of twitter is that it's still a good breeding ground for exchanging casual ideas.  A tweet from Jessica Chapel of this Privman column and the subsequent discussion with Sid Fernando helped me flesh out a query that attempts to take a deeper look at Pletcher's three-year-old stock in relation to other barns, what Sid dubbed the "raw material" that Pletcher starts each Derby run with.

This is the result:

Let me explain how this result was crafted because it's imprecise and a bit arcane.  Through March 28th, Pletcher has started 145 distinct horses that are three year olds of 2017.  That's about a year of racing considering two year olds started racing around this time last year.  That is the most distinct horses started for a single trainer for this crop so far.  Steve Asmussen comes in at 141 followed by Mark Casse at 140 and then Chad Brown at 82.  

Of those 145 distinct horses, 34 were horses not acquired via auctions.  These are homebreds or horses acquired through other means opaque to the limits of the public data.  These are horse's like WinStar's Hedge Fund or Twin Creeks' Silver Mission.

The rest, 111 horses, were horses bought at sales either as weanlings, yearlings or two-year-olds.  These are horse's like Tapwrit, acquired for $1.2M as a yearling.  For the purposes of this query, a horse like Monaco, who was bought as a yearling for $150K and pinhooked as a two-year-old for $1.3M, only the most recent sale is counted.  For the purposes of a horse like Florida Derby entrant Always Dreaming, a $350K yearling purchase who started out with Dominick Schettino last summer and has wound up with Pletcher, the auction total is attributed to both trainers but the purses won is attributed to only those races with each trainer.

As you can see, Pletcher's starting "raw material", using auction prices as a proxy for quality is not only second to none but leaps and bounds above the nearest trainers.  But even this is not a complete picture and can be viewed in many different ways.  A horse like Arrogate would not be captured by this same query last year as he did not make his debut until after April 1.  Further, one could look at these results as a proxy for how well Pletcher gets his stock ready for the trail.  While his pipeline for quality is second to none, he’s still getting that quality to the track and performing well in time for the lead up to the Derby.

I ran the same query against three year olds for each year up to April 1st for each of the last 5 years and it’s no surprise that in each year going back to 2013, Pletcher has lead the way in this auction metric.  As Sid pointed out, it's essentially having consistent access to top round draft picks.  When totaling up the last five years, Pletcher has 672 distinct horses with a total auction value of $129.5M!  The second nearest trainer by total auction value is Bob Baffert with 298 distinct horses with a total auction value of $66M (and again, this query doesn’t capture a horse like Arrogate, who is outside the cutoff of the first quarter of the three year old season).  So while Baffert may be getting fewer total horses, the quality of those horses is slightly higher than Pletcher in aggregate at the per horse level when taking into account auction proxy.

Again, these numbers are imprecise and they really don’t take into account individual horses who overachieve or underachieve.  They are aggregate numbers intended to put each trainer’s individual Derby trail starting stock into context.  They are my way of throwing my hat in the ring of the annual Todd Pletcher Kentucky Derby performance think pieces.  Here’s the complete results of the query for this year’s crop three year olds.