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implexedactions · 4 years ago

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My Little Ember - Enji Todoroki

Platonic!Yandere!Enji Todoroki

A/N: Okay, I’m late. I missed a lot of due dates. This isn’t even beta read. I’m sorry. I am so sorry. But here it is anyway!

This is Yandere content, and as such, one should be cautious of viewing this if you have certain triggers.

“Wake up, my little ember~ Did you have a good rest?”

You blink your eyes open and look around. You are in “your” bedroom, a cruelly comforting place. A room in Enji’s giant mansion, covered in pastels and various kid-friendly entertainment. The nicest cage money could buy.

Enji’s hand rests on your shoulder. A warm presence on this otherwise cold day. Your eyes flicker up at the cyan ones looking compassionately down.

“Uhh, yeah, it was fine, Enji…”

Enji sighs and rubs his hand against your shoulder.

“I told you, kid, call me dad.”

��But-”

Enji raises a warm finger to your lips.

“Come now, enough of that. I’ve let you sleep in long enough; it is already 7:30 am. I have been cooking breakfast in the kitchen for you.”

You look away dejectedly.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Hush, you need your breakfast if you want to grow big and strong like your old man!”

He promptly lifts you out of bed with just one arm, shoving you over his shoulder. You don’t fight back, instead just lying there, looking at the upside-down room.

Humming a tune, he carries you out of your bedroom, and into the empty mansion that you both share—pristine white walls and furniture, broken up with the odd child-proofed edge or photo-frame.

He abducted you four months ago and ever since seemed to be treating you as his child. Everyone who saw Endeavor knew he probably didn’t have a stellar home life, but this was absurd.

He walks down the stairs to the first floor, walking through a massive living room.

“Enj-uhhh, dad?”

Enji hummed with delight as he kept walking, you swaying up and down on his shoulder, getting slightly dizzy.

“Yes, my little ember?”

“Do you think I-uhh, we, could go outside today?”

Enji stops in his tracks, his grip on you tightening and warming. Not noticeably, but enough.

“...Ember, I am not too sure if that is a wise decision.”

Of course. It hadn’t worked the other 50 times you asked, why would it work now?! Why was it so hard for you to find ANY time away his watchful eye.

“What a fucking surprise…”

“Hey!”

He pulls your now shaking form off his shoulder. One hand around your waist, one around your head as he brings you in front of him, hovering off the floor. His eyes are thin, a scowl on his face. You feel his hot breath coming from his nostrils. You have never been more scared in your life of this man.

“Do not use that foul language, Y/N Todoroki. I will not tolerate it. Do not make me discipline you.”

“I-uhhh, sorry…” you stammer out, avoiding his gaze.

His hand moves your head and forces your eyes to meet his disappointed ones.

“I have raised you better than that, haven’t I? Apologise properly.”

“Uhhh,,,Sorry, Father, that I, behaved inappropriately…” you say, staring into eyes that only villains are privy to.

His face warms and he pulls you in for a hug.

“Apology accepted!”

He places you down on the floor, but keeps your hand in a vice-like grip.

“Now! We can’t leave those pancakes waiting, can we?”

Enji pulls you along, almost causing you to fall over a few times to keep up with his faster gait. He walks into the kitchen,and the smell of pancakes fill the air. He places you down on a seat, grabbing a plate and putting some pancakes on it, before serving it to you. You detectedly pick at the pancakes, staring out the window. It’s an overcast and cloudy day, might rain later. Enji seemingly notices this.

“Feeling melancholy, oh sorry, I meant, are you feeling sad??” He pries, softly bumping you with his elbow to get you to pay attention to him.

“You kidna-” You got to interject, but get interrupted.

“I have something that might cheer you up! Look at this, my little ember!”

Enji reaches over to grab the wet batter, he pours a bit into one of his cupped hands, and after putting down the container, presses his other hand over it. After a few seconds, he pulls apart his hand to reveal a potato-shaped pancake with imprints of his hands on it, perfectly cooked.

You fail to look impressed, to which Enji sighs.

“You will find it more interesting when you have your own quirk, I bet!”

“...You realise I’m quirkless right?” You’ve been quirkless forever, you weren’t thrilled about it, but you made do, or you did, before this deranged hero kidnapped you.

“Do not worry, my sweet little cinder. You are just a late bloomer. Your powers will come in soon, I guarantee it! You are a todoroki! It is in your very nature!”

“But I-”

“You might even get a fire quirk like your old man! Imagine how much I could impart to you! Are you not excited?!”

“No, not rea-”

“You will go to UA of course, but that might be putting the cart before the horse, champ. We should think about primary school before that...”

Wait, what? Ignoring the fact that he’s trying to enrol you in primary school, this would mean you’d get out of the house, and presumably, to a teacher, who’d figure out you’re not a kid, and are in fact, being held against your will.

“I’d love to go to school Dad!” you cry enthuasatically, desperate to get out of the house.

“Ha! You’re certainly eager!” He saddles up beside you and pulls you into his side, tussling your hair.

“Although...School seems a bit dangerous, looking at UA and what happened with sho- maybe instead, we could try a different approach, my little ember.”

“But I’d really like to meet oth-” You need to force this issue, you can’t let him shut this issue down like this. This is your one chance to get outside the house.

“Hmmm! How about instead, you use packet learning for general education, and well, we will cross the hero bridge when we get to it. Heh, maybe I could teach you about being a hero and intern you myself if you try to get your hero license! Would that not be fun, your old man teaching you how to be a hero?”

He presses you into his side more, face pushed against his pecs, preventing you from speaking. It’s meant as a sort of hug, it mainly just hurts quite a bit.

“Just know I love you no matter what the outcome is, okay? Powers or no powers. Hero or no hero. You’ll always be my little ember!”

Despite your flails and protests, Enji carries you to the couch, sitting you down next to the TV. The sun has risen fully, becoming mid-morning.

“Alright, kiddo. Want to watch some cartoons? How about that backyard science one? We could try to replicate, er, repeat, the experiment later?”

“Could I-er, we, watch that detective movie? I saw an ad for it, it looked interesting?” The issue is gone now, he will only deflect any questions, you’ve tried MANY times to get that to work. Might as well get SOME enjoyment out of this day.

“Hmpfh, you saw an advertisment for that movie? I need to monitor what you watch more often, that is much too dark for a young mind like you! Let me put on that science show…”

Enji goes to grab the remote, but you slap it out of his hand.

“Stop this! Stop pretending that I’m your child! Stop trying to coddle me!“

Enji goes to touch your shoulder, concern plastered over his face, hiding something sinister.

“Don’t fucking touch me you creep! Everyone knows you fucked up your first chance at a good family life, and this isn’t a fucking do over, you abusive, coddling, tormentor!”

Enji sighs.

“And I was having such a nice morning too.”

Enji’s face grows dark as he stands up from the couch, before turning around and bending down to your level. Fast hands pinning your shoulders to your side, keeping you in place as an intimidating and vilanous look takes over his face.

“I will give you 5 seconds to apologise, and just maybe, I, your FATHER, can find it in my heart to lessen the SEVERE punishment you are getting, kid.”

“1”

“I’m sorry! Please! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!”

Enji’s face contorts into a smug smirk as confusion takes over yours.

“2”

“W-What? But-I’m sorry! Please listen to me!”

You thrash useleslly against the hands holding you in place, desperate to try and escape his gaze. Reduced to a whimpering and crying mess as you think of the ‘discipline’ your father will inflict.

“3”

“Please! I said I’m sorry! What more do you want from me?!”

You’re on the edge of hyper ventilating as Enji stares you down. His hands are warming up, grip tightening, only causing your thrashing to become even stronger. Your attempts to break free don’t even budge him an inch.

“4...Do not make me count to 5...”

“Please! Enj-Father! I’m sorry! I’ll do whatever you want! I’ll eat those pancakes! I’ll play along! Please, don’t hurt me!”

Enji’s smug smile and piercing eyes will haunt your dreams.

“...5. I thought I had raised you better than that, my little cinder. Oh well, time to-”

Lightning and thunder interrupts the countdown, an ear-splitting crack emanating from outside the sealed house. Enji jumps to cover you, as you yelp, the already anxiety inducing conversation ruining your nerves so much a lightning strike scares you. Immediately, Enji’s menacing demeanor melted away.

“Oh, I thought it was a villi- nevermind.”

Enji looks down at you. Your form is shaking, tears spilling out of your eyes. Looking both catatonic and extremely wound up, as you fail to comprehend your surroundings, simply mumbling to yourself about punishment and forgiveness.

“S-Sorry. Forgive. Forgive m-me.I-I-”

“Do you see, my little ember? The threat of punishment WAS the punishment.

His hands pulled you into his broad chest, shushing you and rubbing warming hands up and down your back. You keep on crying, your turbulent emotions entirely out of control, not knowing how to react. You feel like your sanity is so fragile, anything will break it. You simply focus on a spot upon the wall, and nothing else.

“It is okay, ember. It is just thunder. I will protect you.”

“...not scared of thunder...” you mumble. He chooses to cocoon you further with his massive body, noticeably warming himself up to protect you from the potential cold.

“You do not need to lie, little one. I am not expecting you to be perfect, okay?”

He pauses, mulling over his next words.

“I am only expecting perfection from me.”

#implexedactions #enji todoroki #yandere #yandere bnha #bnha #boku no hero academia #reader insert #platonic yandere #Long Fic #ImplexedWriting

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solangelover · 4 years ago

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AUctober: Day 8 - Long Distance

For @solangeloweek AUctober!

Read on AO3 or FF.Net

A/N: Nico’s an anxious mess (and yes, this is based on real life :P ) TW for anxious thoughts and actions? Not a panic attack, but just reading this might get your heart racing if you’re like me (~_~ ; )

Will was going on about his week, as per usual in their weekly phone calls. With him interning at a hospital in the city and Nico still living countryside with his dad, they had set up a system of generally daily texts and a long phone call on the weekend. It was not as hard as people made long distance sound, at least to Nico.

But there was also the fact that he had no idea what he was doing in the relationship. So, who’s to say?

Will just finished telling a story about a very stubborn patient he had to deal with this week, and Nico laughed along at every ridiculous point. He liked listening to Will. It was easy and pleasant, no matter what he was talking about.

Then, of course, Will asked about Nico‘s day and his week. But he had been living his normal life, with his part-time job on-campus and his college classes. He didn’t feel like there was much to say about his week, and he said as much.

“Are you sure there was nothing interesting that you did this week?” Will asked.

“Yeah, it was pretty much the same as always,” Nico replied.

Well, Nico thought, I did have dinner with a few random classmates. But it seemed like this conversation was winding down and he knew that Will had some other things to do, so he wanted to respect his time.

“Did you hang out with people? Go out to dinner? Anything different like that?”

Nico’s eyes widened slightly, and he looked to the side nervously. “Uh... well, yeah I did.”

Nico watched as Will pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply. “This is what I’m talking about Nico!” he exclaimed. “This is something! You know you have to try a little to have a conversation.”

He just sat there, like an idiot. Nico was stuck. He thought the conversation was going to end! It didn’t seem important!

Nico voiced his thoughts to Will, who only squinted in apparent annoyance. “If you had your way, you’d never tell me anything about your life.”

“That’s not—“ true, he wanted to say, but it was probably a little true. He didn’t usually just offer up information about his day-to-day life. It just wasn’t normal for him.

“Oh my gosh, Nico,” Will laughed, but he was a little irritated too. Nico could tell.

There was a pause, which Nico assumes he was expected to fill with details about his dinner. But, again, it was just dinner and nothing crazy happened. And if he said too much, wouldn’t it just prove him to be a liar for saying he had nothing to say? Or is he overthinking this? Or under thinking? “Um, yeah, had dinner with a different group of people from class. That’s it, nothing interesting.” He shrugged, barely making eye contact with Will.

“Okay,” is all Will said.

Nico gulped. He really needed to end this conversation. “Okay, sooo I gotta go call Hazel, I told her I would.”

“Okay then,” Will furrowed his eyebrows, but Nico couldn’t really decipher his expression (not that he was really looking at Will). “See you later.”

“Bye.”

Nico quickly hung up and threw his phone onto his bed. He then launched himself up from where he had been sitting and began aggressively passing his room.

WHAT THE HECK JUST HAPPENED.

Oh, schist. He’s horrible. He’s the worst boyfriend ever. What, was he waiting to end the conversation? With his boyfriend? Why??? Why should he be nervous just talking with Will, so much that he anticipated ending the conversation? Nico knew he did that with other people because he always got really nervous about awkward pauses and all that. But this was Will.

Admittedly, their relationship was relatively new, and they were taking it really slow, probably for Nico‘s sake. Which, was that also bad??

At this rate, Nico was going to wear a trench into his floor with his pacing. He also realized that he was muttering all of his nervous thoughts to himself. If anyone could hear him, they would think he’s crazy. Maybe he was. His social anxiety was absolutely skyrocketing, and he felt like he was going to explode.

After some indeterminate amount of time (the panic really muddled Nico’s sense of time), his phone started ringing, making him nearly jump out of his skin. He glanced at where it laid on his bed. Will’s face filled the screen, and Nico could feel his heart beating a mile a minute.

What the heck? Why is he calling again? We just hung up?? I said I was going to call Hazel. Should I answer it? Should I let it go?

Nico was now very outwardly panicking, hands gripping his hair as he basically sprint-paced around his bed whilst staring at his buzzing phone. He had mostly decided not to answer to keep the continuity of his lie (though he should probably call Hazel, both to catch up and because he was freaking out), but any second-thoughts were washed away when the ringing stopped on its own. He was either barely breathing or nearly hyper-ventilating at this point, but it was hard to tell as Nico fell into a crouch on the ground with a groan.

He has no idea why Will was calling, but he just knew it had to be about how their phone call ended. What else would it be? And what might he say about it? Nico’s mind was buzzing with questions that he had zero answers to.

Ding!

His phone went off, Nico snapping to attention immediately. He scrambled over to his bed, practically throwing himself at his phone. It lit up as he tilted it toward himself: “New Voicemail.” Oh gods, Will left a voicemail.

After a few more minutes of panicking, Nico decided he should just listen to it. It’s not like Will would know when he listened to it, so if he didn’t respond right away, it was not a big deal. And then maybe he will actually call Hazel after. He probably should, for his own health.

Nico’s thumb hovered over the play button for the voicemail, trembling with fear, anxiety, anticipation, dread, everything he could feel at the moment (except probably anything good, like excitement or happiness).

He tapped the screen.

*static* “Hey, Nico. It’s Will. I know you’re probably talking to Hazel right now, so I didn’t expect you to pick up. I just wanted to say, well, a few things. I’m sorry if I came off badly in the call. You seemed a bit nervous at the end, and thinking back, it’s probably because I commented about telling me things, right? If it’s not, then you can ignore this.” *nervous laughter* “I’m sorry for saying you wouldn’t tell me things about your life. I guess I was a bit frustrated since I feel like I’m always talking, and I don’t hear as much from you in return. But it was rude of me to say that, so I’m really sorry. I know this is new for you, and you’re getting used to, everything really, and I don’t want to push you. I promise I know you’re trying and I like you as you are. I was being selfish in that moment. So, I’m really sorry if I made you nervous or stressed or anything like that! Text me later when you get this so I know we’re okay. Um, okay, bye, Neeks!”

The line clicked off and the messaged ended. And Nico sat there, gaping at his phone and hugging his pillow, which he must have grabbed in his stress but didn’t even realize it. He… didn’t know what to think. It’s like getting emotional whiplash. A minute ago, he thought he was a horrible boyfriend, and that Will was mad at him. Now, he discovered Will actually felt bad about what he said and wanted to know if Nico was okay. It was overloading the tiny emotional center in Nico’s brain.

He was overthinking, like always. He recognized that, which is major improvement for him given his track record of panicking and running away from problems that apparently only existed in his own mind. He plopped down right next to his bed, closed his eyes, and took several deep breaths. As much as possible, he forced himself not to think of anything, blocking out all distractions, just like Will taught him to.

After a few minutes, his hands stopped shaking and his heart stopped trying to rattle itself out of his chest. Nico slowly opened his eyes, feeling noticeably calmer, though his swirling, anxious thoughts were beginning to creep back in. He reached back for his phone, staring at his screen for a second before playing the message again. And again, and again, until he could finally process all the words and understand how he felt about it.

Will wasn’t mad—that’s good. He was, in fact, apologetic, which Nico didn’t want, but it was also nice to hear that Will recognized how his own words could have been (and were slightly) hurtful. Will wanted to know not just that Nico was okay, but that they were okay. So he was concerned about their relationship, which, so was Nico, so it made sense.

Okay, this was good. Nico understood what Will wanted to convey in the message. It sounded like Nico was freaking out for nothing, which always sucks to find out, but he would rather worry over nothing than there be an actual problem.

Now to respond.

Well, enough time had passed where it would be feasible that he finished his call with Hazel. He’ll actually call her tomorrow, but for now, he could at least text Will.

Before he could dither over his words too much, Nico decided to go for a simple, straightforward message: Thanks for your message. We’re okay.

He knew Will would want more, and he deserved to know at least what Nico was thinking (overthinking) about. But this was enough for the moment. Nico knew Will would understand, would be understanding of Nico’s laconic reply, and would let him sort out his thoughts before answering more fully.

Nico was really, really, really lucky to have someone like Will.

Ding!

He glanced down to read Will’s reply: Okay good. Talk more later!

Acknowledgement and a casual goodbye. Yeah, he understood.

A/N: I had this drafted for a while, but I didn’t have an actual ending planned (if you can’t tell) and it kind of got away from me, so sorry if this isn’t what you want to read for AUctober! But it’s like writing therapy for me, and I’m happy not to see it in my WIPs anymore lol

#auctober #long distance #solangelo #will solace #nico di angelo #social anxiety #relationship anxiety #But Will understands #Nico is trying #solangelo fanfiction #solangelo fanfic #solangelo au #au #auctober 2020 #my auctober #my writing #my fic #my au #fic

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randomfandomfamily · 5 years ago

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uhhhmhmjlots of angst one shots lately i see,,,you should write something fluffy w/ gary, avocato, & little cato,,.., you can never go wrong with those 3 interacting in a cute/happy way right?

---

You know what? You right. Have some fluff.

Avocato hadn’t seen much of the arcade, but when he heard Quinn and Gary shouting from that general direction, he figured it was worth investigating.

Though when he found Quinn and Gary, he was confused. They were peering into vents and calling out Little Cato’s name. “What’s going on here?”

Quinn looked at Gary. “You wanna explain? Or should I?”

Gary took a deep breath. “Don’t be mad-”

“Already off to a bad start,” Quinn commented.

“Okay, I didn’t know a root beer float was going to give him a friggin’ sugar high, Quinn,” Gary said, “I just thought ‘Hey! Little Cato’s never heard of a root beer float before, maybe he should try one.’”

“He didn’t have a root beer float, Gary,” Quinn shot back. “He had five of them because somebody left him alone at the soda parlor!”

Avocato looked at Gary in confusion. “What the hell is a root beer float?”

“Is this seriously just an Earth thing? There is a soda parlor on this alien ship, and you’re telling me no one has had a float ever?!”

“It’s ice cream and soda,” Quinn answered for him. “Basically just caffeine and sugar.”

“But root beer doesn’t have caffeine in it,” Avocato interrupted.

“So you’ve heard of root beer, but not a root beer float,” Gary muttered, “That makes perfect sense

Quinn and Avocato ignored Gary. “Usually it doesn’t,” Quinn said, “But turns out the ship is stocked with a Earthen root beer called Barq’s, which does.”

Avocato shot Gary a look. Gary shrugged sheepishly in response. “I didn’t know it’d affect him this bad, otherwise I wouldn’t have given it to him.”

“Great,” Avocato said, “How long has it been since you’ve seen him last?”

“Fifteen minutes?”

Avocato bit back a frustrated growl. He loved Gary, lovable idiot that he was, but he was about two seconds from punching his co-parent in the face. “Alright, let’s just find him before-”

“GARY!!”

The three adults turned to see Ash and Fox running towards them. “Ash? Fox? What’s wrong, are you okay?” Gary asked.

Ash’s eye was wide with panic. “I think something’s wrong with Little Cato.”

Fox nodded. “Yeah, I don’t know what happened to him, but he’s tearin’ through the ship like a madman!”

“He knocked HUE over just a few minutes ago,” Ash said, “And Sheryl, too.”

Gary fought back a laugh. “Wait, seriously? He knocked over my mom?”

“Gary,” Quinn said firmly.

He shook his head. “Right, right, right. Focused, I’m focused.” He looked back to Fox and Ash. “Do you know where he went?”

‘I do.’

“AVA?” Avocato was still unused to her voice. And HUE with a body was weird too. “Where’d he go?”

‘He’s currently in the ventilation system,’ she replied, ‘But he’s heading for the bridge as we speak.’

Avocato was going to kill Gary. “Let’s go before he gets into the control room.”

‘You won’t beat him there,’ AVA said helpfully.

Fox and Ash backed away. “Y’all have fun with that,” Fox said, “We’re staying far away from that little hell cat.”

“Yeah,” Ash agreed, “I’m gonna stay here and play games.” Avocato wasn’t too reassured by that, but he figured it couldn’t be all that bad. Right?

Quinn gave Gary a smug smile as they ran for the control room. “I told you to wait and ask Avocato but noooo, you just had to give the hyper kid caffeine, didn’t you?”

“Now is not the time, Quinn!” Gary said. “AVA! Is he in the control room?”

‘Yes,’ AVA replied, ‘Though I would advise against entering the bridge at this time.’

Avocato halted outside the door to the bridge. “Why?”

‘Little Cato appears to be trying to take over the ship.’

“That means we should most definitely be in there!” Gary exclaimed. “Open the door!” Not needing a second prodding, Avocato opened the door and ran in, his gaze darting around to find his kid. “Avocato, look out!”

He barely had time to register Gary’s warning before something dropped onto his back. “INTRUDERS!!”

“Little Cato?!” Avocato reached back and pulled the kid off his shirt. “What are you doing?”

Eyes shining with glee, Little Cato said, “I’m takin’ over the ship! This is my ship now!” He managed to wriggle out of Avocato’s grasp. “This is my ship, and y’all are intruding!”

Gary crossed his arms. “I don’t think so, mister. I’m the captain around here.”

Little Cato climbed onto the captain’s seat and put his hands on his hips. “I, Little Cato, declare this ship mine! Forfeit the ship to me, for I am the superior captain!”

“You can’t do that!” Gary protested.

Quinn interjected, “Sure he can. Provided the grounds on which he claims to be a better captain are supported.”

Avocato turned to her incredulously. “You’re encouraging this?”

She shrugged. “I’m curious.”

“I know how to pilot the ship.” Little Cato spun the chair in circles. “Oh, and I know how to fix it, too! And I have the most experience out of everyone here.”

Quinn frowned. “I’ll grant you the first two, but not that last one, I’m pretty sure you’re the youngest one here.”

Little Cato stopped spinning in the chair. “First of all, how dare you.” He pointed at Quinn disapprovingly. “And second of all, respect your elders! I am seventy-four years old, and I will kick your butt!”

Avocato rolled his eyes at his sons caffeine-induced antics. “Okay, now you’re just being ridi-”

“No, he’s actually right about that one,” Gary interjected. “Long story. Explain later, grab kid now.”

“Ooooooh, I like this game!” Little hopped out of the chair and braced himself to run. “You shall not defeat the captain!”

Gary cracked his knuckles. “Oh ho, you wanna bet?”

Quinn looked at Gary apprehensively. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Something my old man used to do with me whenever I had energy to burn,” Gary said, “Wrestling match.”

Avocato put a hand on Gary’s shoulder. “Nope. Bad idea. Gary, as your friend and the co-parent with the most experience: do not.”

“Too late! We’re doing it!” Gary and Little Cato ran at each other, Little Cato launching himself into Gary’s chest.

The kid was light enough that Gary barely stumbled, the real problem was when Little Cato scrambled over his shoulder, grabbed his arm and pulled it back. It wasn’t enough to really hurt, but it was enough that Gary could no longer use it.

Gary tried to pull Little Cato off like Avocato had, but it was considerably harder with his arm wrenched behind him. “Hey! Get off me!”

Little Cato cackled and jumped off, still holding Gary’s arm. With a small Ventrexian attached to the end of his arm, Gary was off balance and fell easily, landing hard on his rear.

“Ow! You little-” Gary stood and started aggressively taking off his jacket. “Alright, let’s go for real!” But as soon as his jacket was about halfway off, the idiot managed to get himself stuck somehow.

Avocato crossed his arms. “This’ll end bad.” He glanced at Quinn. “Should we stop him?”

“Nah. I’m interested to see where this goes.”

And where it went was Little Cato grabbing the ends of Gary’s half empty sleeves, still flapping in the air from where Gary had partially shrugged it off, and tying them into a knot. “Oh what the-? What is this?!” Gary struggled with his tied sleeves. “Explain to me how I’m supposed to get this off!”

“You don’t!” Little Cato giggled.

Quinn sighed. “Okay, now we intervene.” She gently nudged Little Cato to the side and untied Gary’s sleeves. “How about we find a different way to burn Little Cato’s energy.”

Gary readjusted his jacket and harrumphed. “Alright, like what? He’s about to vibrate through the wall!”

“I can see into another dimension,” Little Cato said to Avocato while Quinn and Gary bickered.

Avocato patted his head, hoping Quinn would come up with something to wear out this kid. “No, you can’t.”

“I can see it,” Little Cato whispered, “The floating roots of beer have shown me worlds beyond worlds.”

There was no response to that other than, “No.” Nothing had prepared him for this part of parenting. There wasn’t a book on ‘How To Deal With Your Kid on a Caffeine High’.

Little Cato bounced on heels. “I’ve never felt so alive.”

“You’ve got too much pent up energy,” Avocato said, “Why don’t we go for a walk or-”

His son suddenly waved his arms in the air frantically. “Oh! Oh! Pent up energy! Need to release!” He pointed up at the ceiling and shouted. “AVA!”

‘Yes?’

“The captain demands Loggins!”

Gary pumped both fists into the air, startling Quinn. “Oh, hell yeah, Spider-Cat! Let’s get some tunes up in here!”

“What’s a Loggins?” Avocato asked.

“Gary does he mean Kenny Loggins?” Quinn said in disbelief.

“What’s a Kenny Loggins?!” Avocato was growing more confused with each passing second.

“LoggiiiiaaaaaaAAAAAHAHAHA!!” Little Cato broke into excited laughter as music started blaring over the ship’s sound system.

Avocato stared as Gary and Little Cato started dancing in a weirdly synchronized way. “What is happening?”

Quinn sighed. “It’s an old song from Earth called Footloose. It’s stupidly catchy and it will be in your head all day.”

“Dance with me!” Gary took Quinn by the hand and swung her around.

Little Cato followed suit by grabbing his hand. “Dad, dance with us!”

“I don’t-”

“Obey your captain!” Little Cato demanded. “Dance with us!”

Avocato couldn’t help the laugh that slipped through. He still didn’t dance, but he watched Little Cato, Quinn, and Gary dance around the control room. At one point, Avocato even found himself humming along.

Quinn was right. This song really was stupidly catchy. He didn’t even notice that it was playing on loop until the fourth time through, that’s how catchy is was.

After fifth playthrough was over, Little Cato clapped his hands. “Yes! Aw, that was awesome!”

“Sounds like you’re starting to come down a little.” Avocato noticed.

“A little bit.” Little Cato rubbed his eyes. “Man, that wore me out. How’d that wear me out so bad?”

Quinn patted his head. “You’re about to crash.”

“Crash?” Little Cato asked. “I don’t wanna crash.”

Gary laughed. “She means you’re about to be real tired.”

“Oh… yeah, that sounds about right.” Little Cato rubbed his eyes again. “Note to self: limit the caffeine and sugar.”

Avocato put a hand on Little Cato’s shoulder. “Wanna go lay down?”

Little Cato nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“Good.” Avocato ushered him out of the room. “Because I’m gonna punch Gary in the face now.”

His son paused outside the control room. “Wha-”

“Nothing, go lay down.” Avocato closed the door and turned to Gary.

Gary shrank away. “Are you gonna punch me now?”

“No,” Avocato admitted, “But the next time you wanna give our kid something full of sugar, either moderate him or come ask me first.”

Sighing in relief, Gary said, “Deal.”

Quinn smiled and rolled her eyes. “Told you so, you moron.”

“Hey!”

#final space #gary goodspeed #avocato #little cato #quinn ergon #random disaster writes

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valkirsif · 6 years ago

Text

Unthinkable CH26/???

Tom Hiddleston x reader

Word 3500

Warning Smut

Y/N opened eyes feeling the smell of coffee Thomas was already standing, smiled turning to look at what time it was almost 8 o'clock, she had not heard the alarm clock rose put on her robe and went down following the smell of breakfast, home was a silent sign that Luke had not yet arrived, found Tom cooking, came back to mind the first time she happened to be at Rice's house, smiled as came up to him and placed herself on toes to rub nose on his neck,

"Morning Darling" he said turning to kiss her, "A second and breakfast is ready, sit down," smiled as handed her the coffee cup,

"Morning honey and thanks for the coffee" the woman replied settling down, put eggs and salmon in front of her and sat down next, "I will never get used to this kind of breakfast" she laughed, sinking fork in the fish,

"It will be a long day you need energy," the man replied, "I still don't understand how you get to lunch time only with coffee and croissants,"

"Simple in Italy, you eat a mid-morning snack, which is why the breakfast is rather light," Y/N said, "I apologize but the broccoli just can't wake up," finished eating and went to get ready. she would clotes wear in the room before going to the shower,

"Chris and Elsa are still sleeping?" asked, taking out towels and a bathrobe, no answer turned to see where the man was, she didn't have time to ask any more questions, found herself with a hand over mouth and Tom pushing her into the shower while took off her robe with his free hand,

"Shh silence, Kitty, we don't want to wake up the guests," whispered, freeing her, the woman felt the cold tiles on her back and purred, the man kissed her passionately, leaning on her, slipping his hands on her back, opening the water and hot jet hit them, brought Y/N's legs around his hips, smiled and entered making her moan, the woman clung to his shoulders felt the strong muscles moving fluidly over her, Tom's hands gripping her ass as fucked with force and without delicacy, urgently as if they hadn't seen each other for days,

"Thomas .. I love you" mewed as felt orgasm grow, the man slowed down to look at her, enjoying her pussy that imprisoned him and squeezed in the impetus, kissed her and started digging into her again, played with her ass making arch,

"You're so exciting Kitty" snorted, biting her collarbone, the woman was choking back the groans leaning against the neck of the man who squeezed and enjoyed planting nails on her ass,

"I love you Darling" he said kissing her after a few minutes, "We have to get ready"

Y/N laughed anchored to his hips, showered and dressed, it was almost 9am

"How am I?" she asked nervously, now that they were about to leave the anxiety was starting to rise, kept looking at herself in the mirror, she had chosen a simple lilac blouse and a pair of jeans, loved that violet tone made her feel beautiful, Tom approached watching her,

"Mmm" he groaned seriously, "I wouldn't know love ..",

the woman stared at him in panic she had chosen wrongly?

"Would you rather wear a dress?" she asked,

"..something lacks.." Tom smiled pulling a pendant with a sunflower out of his pocket and putting it around her neck, "Now you're perfect" he smiled caressing her, the woman turned and twisted fingers to those of the man,

"..you impossible man.." she laughed, loosening the tension, "It's beautiful", the bell rang, the couple got out and welcomed Luke.

"Good morning" greeted the omnipresent pr of Tom "If you are ready the car will wait",

"Do you have everything Darling?" Tom asked putting keys in his pocket and leaving a note for Chris,

"Excuse me," she replied, taking the bag, put the phone in silent before looking at the messages, his family was more excited than she was for her. 'interview,

¥ Nervous Poppy Day? ¥

¥ Not to get anxious but we're all waiting ¥,

knowing that they too would listen to her stirred the most, Phil's message made her laugh heartily,

¥ There is a car ready if you need ¥,

she had no doubt that in case he would have been the driver of the escape, was about to respond when Tom took her hand,

"We're almost there" he smiled as intertwined her fingers, the car stopped and heard the cries of the fans Y/N realized that he was hyper ventilating Tom squeezed her hand,

"Darling a little breath," he said kissing her, the woman smiled at him and followed getting out of the car, the crowd behind the hurdles was excited and happy, the man unsheathed his killer smile and headed for the fans, dragging the woman he was searching for to be as smiling as possible despite the anxiety, the man left her hand to take pictures and sign autographs a secretary followed them to put away the gifts of the fans, it was a good feeling to see him in his smiling and cheerful element moved from one group and the other, ten minutes later Luke approached to warn that it was time to enter,

"A second ..", he replied as walked towards a little girl dressed as Loki,

"I'll walk you inside and get him back," said Luke in a resigned tone, accompanying her inside, the radio staff was waiting for them, the man said goodbye introduced Y/N and went out again to retrieve Tom,

"Pleasure darling accommodated I fear it will take a moment longer" the DJ laughed shaking her hand, "Can I get you something to carry in the meantime?",

"A coffee if it's not too much trouble" she replied clumsily, was so nervous she didn't know how to sit or what to say so just smiled, thanked the secretary and felt calmer, having something in hand distracted her, the coffee was undrinkable for her canons but finished it anyway,

"You seem nervous," the engineer said with a smile, "You have no reason you're among friends here,"

"Is it so obvious? Sorry it's all new to me" she laughed, "I'm more nervous because I don't speak English well rather than for the interview itself",

"Tom's office warned us, relax there is a translator in case you need it," the engineer replied, motioning for a woman to come closer, "She is Francesca," said, introducing her,

"Pleasure and thanks for your assistance" being able to speak her language calmed her, while they waited for Tom the sound engineers put the earpiece on and did the sound check,

"Here is the idol of the crowds" laughed the dj going to meet the man, "Now that you've done the full of screams can we start?"

"Certainly," Tom laughed in return, hugging the man, "Did you treat my queen well while I was out?" he went to the stool next to that of Y/N,

"They were very kind Thomas," the woman replied, reaching out to kiss him, the engineers fixed the microphone and headphones and gave the director time to start broadcasting.

"Well woke up London, here is Jason Finch who brought you a special guest!!" the man gestured to Tom who took the floor,

"Thanks Jason and good morning to all" he smiled

"I believe that presentations are not needed, but in case you listened only now Tom Hiddleston is with us this morning," began Jason cheerfully, "Friend, I have to tell, you left a trail of broken hearts after the official announcement of the engagement."

"I am as surprised as you, I went on vacation to relax" he laughed reaching for Y/N, "I didn't think I would meet such a special and unique woman",

"She must be really special for having conquered Asgard's most beloved super villain," said Jason, laughing in turn, "But we hear from you how you did it, ready to answer your curiosity, there is Y/N directly from Italy", anxiety was at most the woman lacked air, took a deep breath

"Hi Jason and good morning to all, sorry for my bad English" she began fearfully, Tom squeezed her hand,

"So many questions have arrived, the most obvious is how did you meet?"

"In the classic way, a mutual friend invited me to spend a couple of weeks with him, in theory we should have been alone, then he calls me one evening saying he would come with a friend," replied Y/N smiling.

"How was the meeting with Tom, I guess I was nervous"

"I didn't know who the friend was and I have to admit that it was one of the most embarrassing moments of my life," she laughed,

"Were you embarrassed? But if you completely ignored me!" Tom laughed jokingly, "Our friend told me that she was a fan and I was prepared for that kind of welcome, instead nothing threw herself at him snubbing me"

"Why did you feel embarrassed? We are curious!"

"Thomas is right as soon as I saw my friend I didn't understand anything anymore, I hadn't seen him for months so the guest took second place" the woman laughed, "Until cleared his throat i recognized him in a second, I tried to stay calm but my brain had pulled the plug, the embarrassment was due to my clothing” she blushed at that memory,

"You were lovely," said Tom, smiling at her,

"You find me lovely even disheveled when you wake up" replied Y/N looking at him, "Well I hoped to be able to keep the humiliation private.. strangely my friend was early.. when he arrived I was still wearing my old pajamas with penguins and I was adjusting my hair so I had cellophane on my head” she concluded blushing, Jason burst out laughing

"I imagine the scene, so girls now you know, the secret to winning over someone is being yourself" he said, "I'm curious, how did you imagine the meeting with him?"

"More or less like all the fans" she replied, "In my case I imagined a party with a princess-style dress on a moonlit terrace, in short, the extreme romantic" she laughed, "Instead I was in pajamas with purple hair under the plastic and he seemed destroyed by the journey, reality is much more fun than romantic fantasies" shook her head,

"It was love at first sight then" Jason asked, the couple looked at each other,

"I wouldn't say" replied Tom "I was not in the right spirit to start a new relationship, I just needed a place to relax and concentrate on work and when our friend invited me I immediately accepted, he lives in a very isolated area perfect for stay away from everything and I have to admit that when he told me about Y/N I was a little nervous but I changed my mind in a day" he laughed,"She treated me like a friend right away making me feel at home" he concluded

"Y/N instead tell us how it was for you" Jason urged,

"Obviously I was fascinated by him, I'd be lying if I said the opposite, but I thought that it didn't make sense to freak out for someone I didn't know in the end, what we see on social media and at the cinema doesn't always reflect reality, so I behaved like with a person I just met" the less fearful woman began, "To find out that it is exactly how we all see it, the first morning I was preparing breakfast Thomas came up behind me and we started dancing, and this is just one of the many things that make it irresistible, have been the best holidays of my life” she laughed cheerfully,

"Friends listeners, let's take a short break and come back with the hottest details," said Jason, starting the music. "Fanny would bring some water please," the man in the intercom asked,

"The switchboard is saturated, I pass the question sheet with J," said the engineer, Jason raised his thumb,

"Thank you dear," said, taking the list that Fanny passed to him after placing the bottles on the table, "Wow they are unleashed, they ask for everything .." he laughed, scrolling through the questions, "..I will avoid those pushes, Y/N do you feel like answering more personal questions? Most want to know about your first kiss and similar things," the woman looked at Tom, she didn't want to expose too much but understood curiosity,

"If we don't go on too personal it's okay, Thomas what do you say" she asked the man, knew how much cared about his privacy,

"The charity evening was beautiful I gladly share those memories," he replied, moving to kiss her,

"Great, 2 minutes and we are live again" Jason started, "And here we are again, during the break other questions have arrived, I apologize to the most curious but this is a morning broadcast and some questions cannot be asked.. if you understand what I mean" he laughed slyly,"Let's go back to our happy couple, when you went from friends to something more? So we want to know about the first kiss, strange and embarrassing like the first meeting?!" asked, Tom took the first word,

"I would say unexpected, we were at the charity dinner that UNICEF organizes every year in Paris, I extended the invitation to our friend and Y/N, we had dinner and we threw ourselves into the dances, she was so beautiful that when a stranger showed an interest in bothering me, selfishly I wanted it all for myself, I asked if she wanted to go away and I took her to my favorite place in the city.." he paused,

"Did you follow him without asking questions?" Jason intervened,

"Honestly the only thing I wanted at that point was to take off my shoes.." the woman replied laughing, "..you have no idea what it means to be on the 12th heel all evening, I was in pieces, Thomas promised me I could do without the shoes and I followed him, when we got out of the car I have to admit that I thought I was dreaming.. there was everything, the moon, an arch of wisteria and the city lit up as a background, I was going to make a joke when he took my face in his hands and kissed me.. " concluded with a sigh,

"..I think I never apologized for doing it without asking permission, but you were irresistible .." the man said, shaking her hand,

"The extreme romantic always works" laughed Jason, "Since that night have you become the couple you are now?",

"I would not say, it may seem absurd but we both experienced it as the classic holiday story, fun but without commitment" replied Tom,

"So, when the holidays are over, did you just say goodbye?" he asked falsely, "Are you all on your toes when you realized that it wasn't a summer story?"

"As far as I'm concerned, I understood how I felt when I saw some twitter photos of him with a brunette, it was a cold shower.." Y/N said,

"Wait a minute.. which brunette Tom?" Jason inserted,

"Sammy, my oldest and dearest friend, we were shopping for her wedding but obviously it became my new flame right away," the man laughed,

"A few days later I was invited to the set and when I saw it again I didn't know how to behave in order not to betray myself" the woman resumed, "Fortunately there was Evans, otherwise I admit that I would have gone mad" laughed, "The next day I was about to leave when I was taken prisoner by Loki.."

"Taken prisoner, I only invited you to stay, when I saw her I decided to tell everything, I came forward the evening after dinner but it seemed that she didn't try the same things so I stepped aside and let her leave the day after",

"Then other friends arrived to finish the holiday together and I tried to distract myself, on the last night we went to a masquerade party at Disney for the inauguration of the marvel area, I didn't expect Evans to be there, he gave me having said that Tom was looking for me when I returned to the room, I called him.."

"Excuse you and Evans?"

"He is an exceptional man and a very good friend, we should probably thank him if we are together" laughed Y/N,

"Definitely yes, when she left we found ourselves at lunch and the conversation came out and he told me how she felt," said Tom, "When she called me, I managed to convince her to see us one last time before her departure, I am not luckily closed eyes, Sammy was in town and joined me to give me a hand” he laughed,

"When the door opened for me, the blood in my veins was frozen. I felt so stupid, I confess I was going to leave, luckily I didn't, once Sammy left we talked," said Y/N with a smile , "I have to tell you Thomas really knows how to woo a woman"

“According to story" came about under Jason, "We had guessed from the choice of the scenography for the first kiss, now we want to know everything"

"I am an old man, for me it was important that she felt comfortable, I prepared a speech that I could not make, I was too nervous and I missed the words" he laughed, "I had brought the his favorite flowers and when she was distracted to look at them I took the opportunity to pull out the ring and get down on my knees and as far as it sounds absurd she told me yes" he laughed,

"If it seemed absurd to you try to think what could have been for me," replied Y/N, "in less than an hour I had gone from being broken to being told that he loved me, made close my eyes and brought me to another room and when I opened them again it felt like being in a greenhouse, sunflowers and roses in every corner, impossible not to feel loved and cuddled in such a scenario, I admit that I was distracted” she laughed,

"I guess our listeners are sighing at this point, as far as I'm concerned they are overdosed by romance and, incidentally, friend these things really raise the bar of women's expectations very much," Jason laughed, "How can we mere mortals to woo a companion with a simple bouquet of flowers? "

"I think everyone should start again to appreciate romance and courtship even if it seems old-fashioned, with the technology and haste that is around today we have lost the taste for certain things," Tom said seriously, "I like it see how Y/N smiles when I bring her flowers or make breakfast", the woman smiled at him more and more she understood his gentleman's side and appreciated every nuance,

"For me it was strange the first few times, if you're not used to it all this romance is deadly, but it's so easy to get used to it" sighed smiling Y/N, the conversation turned to Tom's work and his projects, the interview ended after a couple of hours,

"Thanks guys it was a real pleasure, Y/N it was fun to be able to torture you live" laughed hugging her, the couple greeted the staff and left, Tom stopped a few minutes with the most hardened fans they had waited for during the live broadcast before following Luke and get in the car.

"Did it go well according to you?" asked Y/N, "I was so nervous", the man stroked her face smiling,

"You have been perfect darling, your English is improving visibly and surely everyone will have noticed how sweet you are" he said kissing her, "We spend a second in the agency and then we reach Sammy and David for lunch if it's okay for you", the woman nodded cheerfully, liked Sammy's company and was curious to meet the groom, arrived at the agency a secretary brought him the mail,

"Miss these are the passport forms, you have to sign them right away so we take them to the embassy to proceed" she said to Y/N who looked at her confused, she hadn't thought that without a passport she couldn't leave for America,

"Here and thanks in the excitement of the move I hadn't thought of the documents" she replied, giving her back the signed documents, she noticed Tom's serious expression while was talking to the press officer and came up thinking that the interview had gone worse than he thought,

"Everything okay Thomas?" She asked thoughtfully, the press clerk smiled at her and went back to his office, it seemed strange to her,

"Nothing important" he smiled changing expression, "We can go" said greeting his staff and taking her by the hand, the journey to the restaurant was strange, the man kept smiling and talking cheerful but something was wrong, as if the atmosphere was tense.

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gaiatheorist · 7 years ago

Text

Careful what you wish for.

Earlier in the year, I was unreasonably excited that more than one hedgehog was visiting my garden to noisily snuffle and snaffle up the food scraps that I’m still throwing out. “If there’s ‘one of each’, I might have BABY hedgehogs!”

Maybe I should have ‘wished for’ the winning lottery numbers, and bought a ticket instead? There’s currently a small hedgehog in my house, I think I last heard it mooching and snuffling down the side of my desk. I’m not ‘allowed’ to keep it, I jokingly messaged my son to ask if I could, and he responded “Mum, I’m not your Mum, don’t ask me that!”, we’re as bad as each other.

I’d used up all of my fully-functional hours of screen-time typing up my ‘impact statement’ for my PIP tribunal. (The advocate said he would do it ‘for’ me, but I don’t trust him as far as I could throw him, I have reported his conduct to my MP’s secretary, if he’s reneging on actions promised to me, he’s probably doing it to more-vulnerable people as well. I have food in my cupboards, and, through a bit of wrangling with one of my utility providers, I’m able to leave the electric heater on a low setting, some people won’t have had the luxury of being able to pre-plan their poverty-response.) It was a bit difficult to suppress my irritation with him, I was part-way through composing the email to the MP’s team when he emailed me the form he should have sent in September, the one I’ve been chasing in earnest for a week now. I responded that I was in the middle of something, but would print and post the form as soon as I’d completed the task I was on. *Ping* Not two minutes after he’d sent the email I’d already replied to, a text-message “Check your email, please.” *Suppressed scream, check YOUR email, I’ve already replied.*

I’d done my mandatory work-search on the horrible ‘Universal JobMatch’ website, because I’m paranoid that if the computer systems check, and I haven’t logged on there, I’ll be sanctioned. There were a couple of semi-suitable jobs, but I didn’t apply for them, because they were both expired. One of them expired in May, and I had a very tinfoil-hat moment about that being a test, to see if I was actually looking at the adverts, so I noted in my ‘activity history’ that I’d viewed the vacancies, and that they were expired. I’d missed a call from the lettings agents while I was in the bath, and called them back. “The landlord wants to send someone to fix your heating Friday or Saturday, can you be in?”

“I have an appointment at 10am on Friday, I can be back here for 11? Saturday’s better, I’m free all day.” (She’d said Friday OR Saturday, but the first plumber said it was a two-day job...)

“Oh, I’ll have to speak to he landlord, then, I’ll phone you back when I have.” She didn’t phone back, and there’s every chance I’m going to end up having to cancel my counselling appointment on Friday morning, because I NEED the heating working.

Between emailing my MP’s office, NOT snapping at the dodgy advocate, and typing up the long and laborious table of everything that’s wrong with me, I’d gone out to the back doorstep for a cigarette. (Yes, I know, Mums, no more tobacco once I’ve finished this pouch.) There it was, about half-past-noon, a little hedgehog ran past my doorstep, and then stopped, trembling and hyper-ventilating on my back lawn. Hedgehogs are nocturnal, and I knew I’d seen something online about what to do with daylight-hedgehogs. I couldn’t remember if there was some illness or something making them behave abnormally, so the FIRST thing my brain decided was that it was almost certainly a zombie-hedgehog. (Which reminds me, I still haven’t watched yesterday’s The Walking Dead.) That’s what my brain does, it thinks up the most ludicrous and least likely scenario first, and then works backwards, not always logically, how I manage to get my trousers on the right way around in the morning is a minor miracle.

I messaged Creepy Carpet Tile Man “Oi, Terry Nutkins, there’s a hedgehog in my garden in daylight, do I move it, or leave it?” The original ‘move it’ idea had been to shift it under the bushes where the other hedgehogs bugger off to at dawn, and hope it found its way ‘home’. (Mad image of hedgehog-Mum shouting at Kevin the teenager-hedgehog for staying out all day...) My cognition was already slipping at that point, I’d had a run of really poor sleep, with the additional stress of the PIP-thing, and the unreliable advocate. What I should have done is Google-searched (other search engines are available) for the daylight-hedgehog article. Instead, I’d messaged a wildlife buff, and now I’m worrying I might have upset him, because he’s missing the ends of some of his fingers, and the ‘Nutkins’ reference might have made him think I was mocking his infirmity. Welcome to my head.

Creepy Carpet Tile Man didn’t respond until early evening, and I didn’t fancy the conscience-grief of just leaving the hedgehog there, and finding it toes-up, or disembowelled by a cat the next day. I put a towel down inside a box, and chucked some pate in. (I might have brain damage, but I’m not daft enough to give a hedgehog bread and milk.) I picked the hedgehog up, brought it into the house, and put it in the box. It didn’t ball-up, or try to escape, the un-hedgehog behaviour was concerning, I fully expected to be putting a cold hedgehog in my general waste bin, but I couldn’t not-try. (Yes, it probably does have fleas, and yes, it does have ticks, I can see them.) Back to the laptop, to continue with the impact statement, because the advocate has absolutely no idea what he’s dealing with, and keeps telling me I have a ‘really strong case’, when he knows diddly-squat about me. Thinking on, I’d better read back through the whole thing, I clearly wasn’t firing on all cylinders, because I was messing about with a hedgehog.

The hedgehog warmed up a bit, and ate some of the pate, then it warmed up a bit more, and started exploring the box. I didn’t get my hopes up too high, and I’ve given myself a stonking upset stomach by eating the crust from a chicken pasty, to give the hoglet the meat. (No lactose, I checked.) I also gave it some kebab meat I’d found in the back of the freezer, and a saucer of chicken stew, with a banana, it went mad for the kebab meat and chicken, but doesn’t seem interested in the banana.

I messaged my son a series of photos of the hoglet, unfortunately, he was in lectures, so couldn’t immediately respond to his probably-insane mother to ask her what on earth she thought she was going to do with a hedgehog. (He did say it’s not up to him whether I keep it... I’m not keeping it, it’s a wild animal, it’s not a pet.) Creepy Carpet Tile Man replied that I should give the hedgehog dog-food, and not let it out until it weighed 500g. I pointed out that, not having a dog, I had no dog-food, but that the little beast was very active, and chowing down on the ‘clean’ (ish) meat I’d been able to find.

I spent a few hours yesterday evening watching the adorable little creature scamper around my living room. At one point it climbed into a shelving unit that I’ve now blocked off, so it doesn’t try to eat my Yankee Candles. It’s obviously quite a young one, because it was biting my toes. Bear with me, I’m not suggesting that adult hedgehogs would be repelled by my hooves, it was the soft-mouthed ‘play’ bite that young animals do to attract the attention of their parents or litter-mates, the grab-and-tug. Hedgehog, I’ve brought you indoors, and given you food, shelter, and warmth, but if you think I’m going to hand-feed you, because you’re impossibly cute, you’re wrong, there’s food over there, you can smell it, go and forage.

I woke up at 4am, reasonably optimistic that the hedgehog would still be alive, and it was. I could hear it scuttling about behind the sofa before it poked its cute snout out, and snaffled some more kebab-meat. It really is adorable, but I’m not getting attached to it. I’m limiting my ‘interaction’ with it, I’m not talking to it, or handling it any more than I absolutely have to, because it needs to know that humans aren’t all trustworthy. It mustn’t ‘get used to’ my voice, or to being handled, and there were a couple of ‘Aw!’ moments this morning, when I saw it ‘behaving like a hedgehog.’ (Yes, it was a tad frustrating trying catch a prickly thing with claws and teeth before it ran off under a cupboard, but running and hiding is how hedgehogs survive.) I put it to ‘bed’ a couple of hours ago, after noticing it had curled up in a ball in front of the heater, tired-toddler style. I’ll buy some cat-food today, and probably phone a rescue centre tomorrow, I have lots of horrible paperwork I need to do while my eyes are still functional, it’s OK in a box covered in a towel for now.

So, I sort-of wished for a baby hedgehog, and now there’s one in a box in my living room. What I’m concentrating on now is ‘wishing’ that I can articulate my disabilities, and the impacts they have on me well enough to show the PIP tribunal panel that I really am struggling, and need help. That’s a pricklier issue than the one asleep in that box over there.

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kpopgurl91 · 7 years ago

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Little Red Ch2

Everything was going perfect. Kris had everything a guy could ask for. Love, respect and family. Things could not have been going better. That's what he thought at least. Until his mate surprised him. She was pregnant. Kris couldn't help but let a few tears escape. He was over joyed to be having another child. Kris rarely left her side after that and sent the others to do jobs he didn't need to be there for. Anytime he had to leave her he whined like a child and kissed her stomach goodbye.

"Boys look after your mom while I'm away!" Kris ordered.

"Of course Bà." Luhan assured him. Kris left begrudgingly.

"Alright Jason what is so important you had to drag me all the way out here?" Kris asked once he reached the meeting place. The other Alpha looked shaken.

"I need to warn you. There's an Alpha out there who's unlike any other." He spoke shakily. Kris couldn't help but snort.

"You sound like a corny movie. There is no Alpha that I have not been able to defeat. Including yourself in case you don't remember." Kris replied cockily.

"I remember." He replied bitterly. It was still a blow to his ego. He shook his head trying to stay focused.

"This alpha is different."

"Different how?"

"Different like he's cursed or dark magic. Just something I don't know!" Jason shook his head.

"Tell me what happened." Kris spoke leading Jason to sit down.

"He just appeared one day. Challenged me. Of course I didn't back down." Jason stared into space not really focusing on anything. "It was like he knew all of my moves before I did. He kicked my ass. He said I wasn't the one he was looking for. So he left. I thought that was it." Jason laughed without humor as he wrung his hands together.

"He came back a few days later and just had this aura about him. The kind that makes a grown man tuck his tail between his legs and run. I hate to admit this but I nearly did just that! Me an Alpha!" His laugh was more on hysteria than anything. Kris watched silently arms crossed in front of him.

"He just walked through the village like 'no big deal'. The next day half of my pack was sick. It was like we had a plague. Except it was only select members. Some of the elders and some of the pups. Dead within twenty-four hours. He told me it was punishment for loosing. That I was responsible." He ran through his hair. Kris continued to remain silent. This all sounded too ludicrous.

"We were alone and he showed me. He showed me his real face." Jason nearly began to hyper ventilate. "It's nothing you can imagine. I don't even know how to describe it." It took Jason a few moments to gather himself.

"He said your next. Your family is the one he's been looking for."

Kris froze for a moment his family?! What did his fam-

"He's already there and your a distraction." Kris spoke through gritted teeth. Jason began to cower as Kris's Alpha side was coming out.

"PATHETIC!" Kris growled punching Jason. The impact causing him to fly a few feet back. Kris ignored him and began to run. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. He made it back in record time. The compound was awfully silent and Kris did not like that one bit. There was a man in black robe standing before his house. His second in command and a few others where standing outside the door. This was not good.

"Who are you?!" Kris growled. His wolf was itching to tear this man to pieces.

"I go by many names but most call me Èmó" He spoke. His voice sending chills down Kris's spine. He didn't let it show.

"I hear you've been looking for me." Kris spoke.

"I have." The man smiled. "I came to challenge you."

"Accepted!" Kris spoke without thinking. He was too wound up to think straight.

The man held a hand up. "Be warned. If you defeat me there is a price you must pay."

All he received was a snarl.

"Very well. Let's begin." the man began to shift. He transformed into a large black wolf. Kris was quick to transform letting out a snarl. They circled one another before attacking. The fight was the longest one yet. The sun had long since set and Kris was exhausted. The other man didn't seem to tire. With the last of his strength Kris attacked the other. After receiving a few bites he felt the other fall limp. Knowing he had won he allowed his body to get out.

'Remember there is a price you will pay.' The voice spoke causing Kris to Jerk awake. Sweat covered his body as he struggled to get the blanket off of him. His limbs felt heavy. He raised a heavy arm to rub the sleep out of his eyes. Squinting at the bright light. It took him a moment to figure out what exactly had happened. He had fought and won? Ugh he couldn't remember. He allowed his wolf to take over. A soft knock sounded before the door opened. Instantly he relaxed and smiled. His mate came in carrying a tray. She set the tray down before grabbing a pillow. It looked like she was just fluffing it before she began to attack Kris with it.

"What the hell!?!" He tried to grab it.

"You terrible man! Do you know how worried I was!?! You've been asleep for nearly an entire week! Don't. Ever. Do. That. Again!"

Kris grabbed her pulling into his arms.

"I'm sorry." He replied kissing her. "But the dangers over and everyones safe now." He held her close. The mans voice was nagging at him but it had to of just been a nightmare. Right? A few months later and his daughter was born. His first daughter. She came early and Kris could not of been happier. Everyone was excited. A few months later his daughter transformed of the first time. She had just learned to crawl when it happened. The pack was having a party so everyone was distracted. No one noticed the newest member of the pack crawling into the forest. A high ear piercing squeal had literally everyone running to the forest. By then it was too late.

"I told you there was a price for defeating me. Any woman born in your family will be hunted once they transform. That is the price for killing my mother. She was pregnant at the time. It was supposed to be a little girl." Kris was too in shock to respond. His mate was in hysteria along with his sons. The man disappeared once more.

At his wife insistence they tried again. It worked and she was pregnant once more. This time Kris literally never left her side and doubled security. The man in the black cloak never appeared again but Kris wasn't taking any chances. He was excited and worried about his future child. By the time child birth came around Kris's mate health was failing.

"Her name in Mi-Nah." His wife told him weakly. Kris didn't have a chance to respond as it was time for his wife to give birth. Moments later a scream filled the air.

"It's a girl." The nurse informed him holding her out to Kris. Numbly he took the child in his arms.

"We're loosing her!" Another nurse called. Everything became chaotic in that moment. Kris wanted to loose it but the child in his arms seemed to keep his wolf in check. Kris was ushered out by a nurse and he could only stand there numbly. Looking down at his daughter tears began to fall. He already knew she was going to look just like her mother.

"I'm sorry Alpha." The doctor frowned. "We couldn't save her."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

4 years later

A squeal of delight and laughter filled the air pulling Kris from his thoughts. His daughter was playing with Luhan and Tao. The boys took to looking after right away. They all had, had sleepless nights and stayed up when she was sick to watch over her. Kris vowed that night he would never allow his daughter to transform.

"Mi-Nah!" Kris called with a smile.

"DADDY!" She squealed happily. "Save me! Save me!" She laughed holding her arms up. Tao was pretending to be a monster. Kris smiled and swooped down to pick her up.

"Your always safe in your daddy's arms." HE told her.

~~~~~~~~~~~

10 years later

"WE can't move!" A now 14 year old Mi-nah whined. "Aaron was just about to ask me out!" She gasped and covered her mouth. Her dad had no clue that Aaron Yang was interested in her.

"He what?!" Her father demanded. "What did I say about dating?!?"

"Not unless he passes all of your requirements." Mi-nah mumbled trying and failing not to roll her eyes. "But daddy," She whined stomping her foot a little. "That's like impossible! What your asking is like two guys instead of one! Not possible!"

"Which means you'll never date and daddy won't have to worry." Kris spoke smugly. Mi-Nah groaned. "Why do we have to move all the way to South Korea?!"

"An old friend needs help with his," Kris paused trying to find the right way to explain it without giving things away.

"Business." Luhan provided. He wasn't fond of moving either but understood keeping the secret.

"Business! Yes!" Kris spoke. Luhan rolled his eye and crossed his arms while Tao pouted from his seat.

"I don't want to go! I want to stay here! I don't even speak the language!"

"You'll have all summer to learn it." Kris held up a hand silencing the three kids. "No more arguments. My decision is final." Chapter 3

#exo #exotao #exokris #exo luhan #exosuho #exo lay #exo xiumin #exo fanfiction #fanfiction

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cryptodictation · 5 years ago

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The Masked Singer is boring to death in season 2

The Masked Singer is an absolute show phenomenon that started in South Korea in 2015 under the name King of Masked Singer. Since then, it has celebrated an incredible triumphal march with numerous offshoots around the world, including Australia, Italy and the United States.

In 2019 the format spilled over to us in Germany in prime time on ProSieben. The first season almost doubled the number of viewers in the course of the six episodes, a great success. The enthusiasm was great for me too, but now in the current second season I feel one thing above all: boredom. I'll explain why.

The Masked Singer, or: Who? I have to google!

ProSieben turned The Masked Singer into a spectacular live event with expensive costumes, a hyper-ventilating jury and a lot of fancy. At some point, that's no longer enough.

No, I'm not going to start with Tony Hawk in the current third season of the US version, disguised as Elephant The Cures Friday I'm in Love smashes, or Ryan Reynolds in South Korea as a surprise guest showed up while we have to settle for Rebecca Immanuel. That would be an unfair comparison.

Caroline Beil as a robot in The Masked Singer

In the first season we were still surprised with the great vocals of Max Mutzke or the mere participation of the actor Heinz Hoenig. The expectations were not quite as big as now for the second season. The show was well known and successful, now all the big stars have to do is crawl. ProSieben also promised this before the start of the season, so now it had to be delivered.

Franziska Knuppe, Angelo Kelly and the freshly exposed Caroline Beil are not exactly the kind of stars I had imagined. If, as in the case of Rebecca Immanuel, the jury has to hide a certain amount of perplexity, then this does not exactly speak for the selection.

Evidence, even more hair-raising than in Lost

Puzzles are fun, and not just since The Masked Singer. This element alone ensures the fascination of the format. Guessing from the singing voice who is hiding behind the costume also brings joy. After two episodes at the latest, the voices have actually been heard often enough, so the evidence has to help.

However, these are usually so hair-raising and nested that even the most stubborn clues from Lost seem like illuminating crowbars.

Angelo Kelly is the cockroach

Angelo Kelly's cockroach holds a cockroach version of in a clip Hape Kerkelings I'm off in the hand. In this book, Kerkeling describes the hike along the Jakobweg, which leads through Pamplona, among others. Angelo Kelly was born there. Phew, okay, all right.

In another clip, Franziska Knuppes Bat sits next to an image of King Friedrich II, who was difficult to recognize, and who lived in Potsdam's Sanssouci Palace at the time. Knuppe was not born in Potsdam, but grew up there. Oh come on!

The Masked Siiiiiiiiinger

Last but not least, the incredibly long runtime bothers me. While in the USA or Great Britain a sequence lasts around a crisp three-quarter hour to 90 minutes, it is at least two and a half hours for the German offshoot.

This is this German show disease, which unfortunately with Stefan Raabs XXL shows started and since then many Saturday evening shows have suffered. In case of Hit the raab it can be quite exciting if you keep on cheering with your opponents until late at night and finally a final game of skill decides everything. Also at Joko vs Klaas – The duel around the world or Kitchen Impossible, the long runtime works because the exciting players promise a lot of variety.

The Masked Singer, on the other hand, lacks this variety. Evidence, vocals, jury and again and again, for 2.5 hours. Unfortunately, this leads to the jury guessing and guessing and guessing for minutes due to the ample time available. Again and again new names are brought into play, again and again there is artificial doubt, because the time has to be filled.

The Masked Singer: Brave and connecting television

The Masked Singer is essentially a wonderful show that has finally managed to gather people together in front of the television. Be it on Twitter, using the app or in the living room at home, here you can puzzle and discuss together.

ProSieben also showed courage and started the show live, as the first country ever. Now it's time to stay brave. The format would benefit from a shorter runtime, a few fair puzzles and The Masked Singer is the show sensation she deserves to be. The promised high profile is still owed to us by the current second season.

Streaming tips for a good mood and distraction

In the good mood episode of our Moviepilot podcast Stream rush – also with Spotify – we give plenty of tips for distraction at Netflix, Disney +, Amazon & Co .:

Andrea, Esther and Jenny talk about which films and series on Netflix, Disney + & Co. they are taking in hand during this troubled time. Whether comedy or cartoon, fantasy or horror, here is the perfect distraction for everyone.

What do you say to the opinion? Do you agree or are you completely against it?

The post The Masked Singer is boring to death in season 2 appeared first on Cryptodictation.

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#Entertainment

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tortuga-aak · 7 years ago

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This might be our new favorite commuter backpack

The Insider Picks team writes about stuff we think you'll like. Business Insider has affiliate partnerships, so we get a share of the revenue from your purchase.

Incase Instagram

There’s a pretty good chance you’ve heard of Incase by now, but that’s probably more likely to be because of their laptop and phone cases than by way of any of their other products. Which, by the looks of it, could very well be changing in the near future.

The company recently released their newest take on the backpack with the ICON Lite, and sent a few to our team to test out.

Let me begin by saying that as a student with an hour-long commute to and from work, I’ve spent much of the last four years in a backpack, regardless of whether or not I wanted to. I need to carry my books, pens, and tech for class alongside my work materials, and maybe a pair of sneakers and some clothes to change into for the gym. When I leave my house in the morning, it’s likely to be for the full day.

The problem with many backpacks is that it’s seemingly impossible to combine functional spaciousness with a design that doesn’t undercut itself by being bulky. Wearing a backpack can already feel less sophisticated in professional settings, and a sophisticated design goes a long way with me and my efforts to convey a qualified persona.

So I was really pleasantly surprised by the ICON Lite. It was designed to communicate refined mobility, simplicity, and a weightless appearance.

The design is definitely minimal, but for my purposes, the less flashy the better. And though minimal, I can’t say that the simple design lacks any forethought, since one of my favorite features is a convenient built-in faux-fur padded MacBook sleeve, as well as a smaller faux-fur pocket for any smaller tech. There aren’t bells, whistles, or lone rhinestones, but the basics that you’re actually looking for have been thoughtfully perfected with sleek compression in mind.

The pack itself is compact and slender, but holds everything my (much bigger) model did before it. I was able to transfer the same 13-inch MacBook, 1-liter water bottle, change of clothes, notebooks, chargers, pens, and sneakers to the ICON Lite for a humorously minimized silhouette. I don’t feel the same pressure to immediately take it off when I’m commuting on public transportation, and I’ve been able to easily stuff it under my desk during class.

When I was using my other backpack, I often ended the day feeling sore and achy, but due to the well-placed padding on the ICON, I haven’t had any noticeable discomfort in the last two weeks.

The backpack is listed at $99.94, a comfortable price range in comparison with like products. And though it's not always the most exciting thing to drop $100 on, it will make small, hyper-useful improvements to your life as a student, commuter, or someone who just likes to ride their bike to work from the first day on.

I used to think I couldn’t have a backpack that was affordable, sleek, and spacious, and after using the ICON Lite for a few weeks, I’m a little concerned about all the other things I’m apparently wrong about. It’s compact, comfortable, and minimal.

So in terms of what most users are looking for, it's pretty much right on the money.

You can read what the rest of the Insider Picks team had to say about Incase's ICON Lite backpack below:

Incase Instagram

Breton Fischetti, senior director, commerce:

This is a great daily use backpack. It's a good size in that it would be easy to maneuver around in crowded areas or tuck under a table at a restaurant. It holds a surprising amount of stuff, and I like that several pockets are fleece-lined to prevent things from scratching if I put my keys and phone in the same pocket (which I do all the time).

The straps are comfortable, and there's just enough ventilation in the pads that touch my back to keep it from getting too hot. It definitely wins more points for function than design, but I like a backpack that looks minimal. The fewer people that notice that I'm wearing one, the better — and this blends in nicely.

Brandt Ranj, associate commerce editor:

I’ve always associated Incase with smartphone accessories, but I have to say they’ve actually made a very nice backpack.

It’s small enough to be commute-friendly, but large enough to hold more than just your daily essentials. I could easily fit a 13-inch laptop, water bottle, a couple of books, pens, cables, and headphones in the backpack with no problem.

My favorite part about this backpack, though, is how comfortable it is to wear; the shoulder straps have a nice layer of uniform padding, so you won’t ache after wearing it for an extended period of time. I'm also a fan of this backpack's laptop slot, which is lined with a velvety-soft material that'll keep your laptop free from scratching. That's a small touch, but it shows that Incase put some extra time into their design. If your current school or commuting pack is looking a little long in the tooth, I highly suggest giving Incase's serious consideration.

Incase Instagram

Tyler Lauletta, commerce reporter:

I’m a big believer in having a reliable backpack to get you to and from work — it’s an item worth investing in because, chances are, you’ll be trusting it to keep some of your most valuable possessions safe and secure. Incase's backpack is a fantastic commuter backpack, with its soft and secure laptop sleeve immediately grabbing my attention. Beyond that, it has plenty of space for your odds and ends, whether they be books, art supplies, or a spare change of clothes. While I will probably continue using my Aer backpack for travel and long weekends, Incase's is a great option if you’re looking for something sleek, simple, and secure.

Kelsey Mulvey, commerce reporter:

I've never been much of a backpack person, but toting around Incase's slim backpack has turned me into a believer. It's incredibly spacious, fitting my laptop, gym clothes, sneakers, and all my other daily essentials without it looking clunky. If you're a student or bring your computer to work each day, this pack also features a heavily padded laptop compartment. While I always carry my laptop in a case, this slot is so well-made I would feel safe slipping my bare computer inside it. Available in a bunch of great colors, it's is easy on the eyes, too.

If you want to try out Incase's ICON Lite backpack for yourself, you can find your own here.

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#Feedburner

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tribelamag-blog · 7 years ago

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Santa Barbara Does the TribeLA Musicians Acrostic Interview #Santa_Barbara_Band

New Post has been published on http://tribelamagazine.com/santabarbara-acrostic/

Santa Barbara Does the TribeLA Musicians Acrostic Interview

#tribelamagazine #santabarbaraband #losangelesband #allartallthetime

photo by Emery Becker

The band, not the city.

Natalie Durkin (TribeLA Magazine): Give your band a Tagline.

Cassie (Santa Barbara): The band (not the city)

Nick (Santa Barbara): Nobody said it would be easy, or fun, or even actually worth doing, but here we are

Geoff (Santa Barbara): “???”

ND: What got you started in music? What is the Reason you are where you are today?

Cassie: I moved to LA from New Zealand 3 years ago to be an actress. LOL. I’m so glad I’m not doing that anymore. I bought a guitar and started a band at the end of 2014. – I really regret not doing this sooner but [to be honest] I don’t think the music would’ve been as good. I’ve definitely found the right people and place to be doing this and I have found clarity and purpose that I’d never truly felt til now.

Nick: When I was 6 years old a local music teacher in Christchurch, New Zealand came to school and did one of those mass workshops where he was trying to create interest in his lessons. He played everything, pretty badly, but it still blew my mind. He played the theme from the Blues Brothers movie on piano and guitar i think but his pièce de résistance was his drum solo. He made this sound that resembled a herd of elephants and I was hooked. Got picked up from school by my mum and dad and told them (before I even had my seatbelt on) that I wanted drum lessons. I remember EVERYTHING about that moment down to the sun shining through the window onto my legs to my mother’s relatively disinterested “un huh, ok yeah, we’ll talk about it”.

Geoff: I am just compelled to do so.

ND: What effect (Influence) do you hope to have on us?

Cassie: I agree [with Nick, below], to move people. There are so many songs that have had a huge impact on my life and to write a piece of music that has the ability to resonate and affect someone emotionally would be so amazing.

Nick: Simply to make you feel something, something genuine and significant. What that is will vary from person to person, but the intention is always the same. Move people.

Geoff: That you become open, like a flower to the universe.

ND: What do you do when you’re stuck (Blocked)?

Cassie: Play with my dog.

Nick: Something else.

Geoff: Have a drink.

ND: What fires you up and gives you Energy?

Cassie: Playing with my dog.

Nick: Red Bull (necessary evil). Other than I’m a pretty chilled character. There’s never any need to get fired up before a gig, the desire to not suck is plenty of incentive for me.

Geoff: I wish I knew, it just happens randomly.

ND: Can you share a Little known fact with us?

Cassie: I’m a HUGE Best Coast fan and when I had just moved to Los Angeles I saw Bobb Bruno outside the Largo and I freak out. A friend that I was standing with knew him and they were talking and I was so star-struck that I blurted out “Oh my GOD! Do you KNOW HIM?!” It was so weird and awkward and I basically hyper-ventilated. I was so uncool and that was one of the most embarrassing moments ever…

Nick: I probably could but then that would contribute to it becoming slightly less ‘little known’. Nice try.

Geoff: There are points in the pacific ocean where if you went straight down through world and out the other side, you would still be in the pacific ocean.

ND: Where is your favorite place in Los Angeles? Where would you take visitors? If you could defend the city in one sentence to someone who doubts it, what would you say?

Cassie: Lotus Vegan in North Hollywood is my favorite restaurant and all-time happy place here in LA. I try and take everyone I know there when they come to visit.

Nick: I love the dive bars. I love that side of LA, the history of [low quality] bars and dirty neighbourhoods where interesting people developed their experiences and then turned them into something worthwhile. I also love the desert and the M.A.S.H filming site. Haha. Defend the city? LA doesn’t need me to do that, LA’s too busy thinking of itself to be bothered by what I or anyone else has to say anyway. It’s the ultimate ‘overheard in LA’ story.

Geoff: Happy Hour.

ND: Briefly chronicle your creative process. How do you like to Make art?

Cassie: I get really inspired by songs I hear… I kind of go in with the attitude of wanting to write a song “like that” and it usually ends up being a springboard into a melody or tune that is completely different. Lyrics are almost always fictional, I prefer not to pour my literal heart out. Though when I do… I might disguise it by singing about a “character” and their lives.

Nick: Set aside the time, turn away from all distractions and laugh for a while before starting. All art requires humour somewhere in the process, even if the result contains none. Do the hours until you want to stop and then do something else.

Geoff: Some idea from the ether. a desperate process to make it real. A finality, a mingling of success and despair.

ND: What is coming Up?

Cassie: We have an upcoming October Residency at Harvard and Stone. So excited for this. We have some amazing bands joining the line up and it’s at our absolute FAVORITE live music venue in LA. It’s gonna be awesome.

Nick: More playing, more video making, more writing and more living. Keep doing that until you cannot do any more. If that is my future, I will have lived well.

Geoff: More work

ND: Describe your Style – musically and otherwise.

Cassie: Super low-key and comfortable. I pretty much live in baggy t-shirts and docs. Musically, 50s doo-wop meets Nirvana meets Best Coast meets Rilo Kiley meets Iron and Wine meets Lucinda Williams.

Nick: I don’t have much personal style, I only know what I don’t like. Musically? Hopefully my own.

Geoff: Whatever comes… just not folk music alright.

ND: What is the best advice you’ve received and the best advice you can Impart on us?

Cassie: Don’t cry over someone who won’t cry over you.

Nick: It’s far better to have a dream than to achieve it. For both.

Geoff: Try to not care so much.

ND: Any Closing words?

Cassie: Thanks for reading this. Hakuna Matata.

Nick: Hope is all sustaining and achievement can both capsize your ambition and rob you of the most precious thing an artist can nurture; the all consuming desire for what is still possible.

Geoff: All organised religions are systems of control.

more Santa Barbara

Apple Music / Bandcamp / Facebook / Instagram / SoundCloud / Spotify / Twitter

#santa barbara band

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96thdayofrage · 7 years ago

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Red State, Blue State; Green State, Deep State

Given all the commotion over the past week or so, some of it right hereon CounterPunch, you’d think that “rogue” journalist Caitlin Johnstone was the reincarnation of Christopher Hitchens. Hitchens made his fateful pact with the neocons of the Bush administration. Johnstone is now offering a tentative hand of solidarity to white nationalists. Johnstone has her clique of admirers, but she’s not yet in Hitchens’ class, either as a writer or a professional heretic.

I suppose many of you are too young to remember the Iraq War, but let’s recall that back in those hazy days of yore the neocons packed cruise missiles in their pockets, while the white nationalists (those who weren’t moonlighting as members of your local police department) were goose-stepping around with flaming torches, when they could afford the matches. Hitchens, who retains a curious band of Lefty loyalists to this day, was invited to the Bush White House several times to help plot bombing targets in Iraq; Caitlin hasn’t helped burn down a single black church, as far as I’m aware.

On Thursday, we ran a long, hyper-ventilating piece by Patrick Walker that proved to be less a defense of Johnstone than a rather fusillade of inchoate invective about CounterPunch. Fine. We publish these types of rants by Walker and his tiny cohort of Bernie or Busters every few months just to air out the inbox and eradicate the black mold. He’s known in the office here as HR Huff-n-Puff. Amid the fumes of Walker’s torpid verbiage, he didn’t even have the courage to address the topic at hand: Johnstone’s call for the Left to find common ground with the Alt-Right-Delete. I can’t help thinking that Johnstone deserved a little better from her champion.

Let me start by confessing that I’m not a huge fan of Johnstone’s writing. In surveying her greatest hits over the last few months, I came away with the sense that Johnstone is basically riding a one-trope pony, with that trope being the malign nature of the Deep State. Who knew the CIA was so evil? (Of course, many big time columnists, David Brooks and Thomas Friedman, come to mind, have yet to master even a single trope worth reading, so Johnstone’s already far outpacing those tired geldings.) For the conspiratorial Left, the Deep Staters seem to have eclipsed the 9/11 Truthers as the heralds of a new political Theory-0f-Everything. This is a welcome shift of emphasis as far as I’m concerned. Who really needs to read yet another belabored story on the demolition of WTC 7?

For many decades now, the American Left, what there is of it, has been in search of a comforting explanation for its rapidly eroding fortunes. It seems inexplicable to many that the Left could have become so politically impotent in an era of permanent wars and raging inequality. Rather than engage in rigorous self-inspection of its leaders, strategies and tactics, the Left has tended to point to malevolent outside forces as the agents of its demise, from the CIA’s domestic black ops to the FBI’s COINTELPRO program. Of course, there are many blood trails left by both of these agencies across the American political landscape, from the infiltration of the anti-war movement and SDS to the assassinations of black radicals and the decimation of the American Indian Movement. The Feds didn’t even try very hard to wipe up the trace evidence of their complicity in these crimes of the state.

I first encountered the phrase “Deep State” in the writings of the Canadian Peter Dale Scott (a fellow Eng. Lit major), though the predicate of the theory far predates Scott’s relatively docile explorations of the dark forces manipulating the secret management of the Empire. The origin myth of leftwing Deep State theory is, of course, the assassination of JFK, an act of internal regime change by a CIA hit-team orchestrated by Allen Dulles in retaliation for the president’s alleged plan to break-up the agency and yank US troops out of Vietnam. From that moment on, according Deep State theorizers, the secret government was firmly in control and no political transgressions against its agenda would be tolerated. As an omnipotent force, the existence of a Deep State satisfies the Left’s desire to rationalize its own sense of perennial powerlessness.

Of course, I remain an unrepentant Magic Bullet man, fully persuaded that Lee Harvey Oswald, as an ardent devotee of the Cuban Revolution, had a more personal motive to kill the anti-communist Kennedy (the first neoliberal) than did fussy old Allen Dulles. With a couple miraculous shots from his Carcano Rifle, Oswald demonstrated that regime change could be a two-way street.

The far right has cultivated it’s own Deep State theory, which dates back at least to the paranoid fever-dreams of the John Birchers, who are now enjoying something of a resurgence. For reactionary nationalists, the Deep State is a globalist contagion that has infiltrated institutions as varied as the Commie-penetrated State Department, the “liberal” CIA, the Federal Reserve, the United Nations and, of course, the National Park Service. For the right, the control room of the Deep State is occupied by bankers (Rothschilds), internationalists (Soros), multi-culturalists (Cornel West) and tree huggers (Jane Goodall) intent on eradicating the white Protestant values that made the Republic what it was during it’s glorious apogee in the Andy Jackson administration.

It took the election of Trump to achieve the potential “intersectionality” of these two disparate branches of Deep State Theory. Here at last was a JFK-like figure of the nationalist right, a man who was ready to smash NATO to pieces, revoke global trade pacts, retreat from interventionist wars, make nice with the Russians and chase all the little Hitlers out of the CIA. Then it all began unravel under the weight of RussiaGate©, a faux-scandal concocted by the Deep State to serve as a slo-motion coup d’etat. The tragedy of Trump makes for compelling reading, including dozens of articles probing similar veins that have appeared here on CounterPunch.

This is a fertile time for political polemicists and Johnstone’s popularity on the left side of the spectrum confirms my long-held view that many web-based readers like to wake up in the morning by having their core beliefs reconfirmed with a single click of the mouse. They crave the same basic menu of stories each day, written by the same writers at increasingly higher decibel levels. We can see the evidence by looking at the Google analytics for stories on CounterPunch. The louder the volume, the higher the hits.

As a writer of polemics, you seek to provoke, irritate and push right to the edge (and sometimes off-the-cliff) of permissible discourse. I’ve never called for a politician to die before, as Johnstone did recently in her column on John McCain, but I’ve come close. Alex and I even predicted McCain’s imminent death from cancer in a column…9 years ago. (Almost all of our political predications proved wrong, including Alex’s initial assessment of Rick Perry in 2011 as being a man of “presidential material.”)

Still you have to write without fear or apologies. Not too long before Cockburn died, I asked him if he regretted anything he’d written (secretly hoping that he would retract his climate change denialism). “Regret? Jeffrey!! Never regret!!” He paused. “Well, I suppose if I hadn’t been over my deadline I might have rephrased that sentence about Afghanistan during the Soviet invasion. But once it’s out there you have to stand by it, man.” That sentence about Afghanistan was this one, “I yield to none in my sympathy to those prostrate beneath the Russian jackboot, but if ever a country deserved rape it’s Afghanistan.” The man had a way with words.

I even have a trace of sympathy for Johnstone’s call to engage with the far right on issues where there might exist a sliver of common ground on which we could stand and fight the same enemy. I’ve walked in those shoes and have been roundly condemned for such heresies. As Johnstone was coming under fire, I flashed back to a June morning in 1995.

The phone rang at 5 am. It was Cockburn, of course, an hour ahead of his normal call.

“Wake up, Jeffrey. You’ve been libeled!”

“I’ve been what?”

“It’s spelled: L-I-B-E-L-E-D…Libeled by some little punk at the New Yorker.”

“Which little punk? Not that Elizabeth Drew, I hope, she’s too boring to commit libel.”

“Perish the thought. A sniveling twit named Kelly. Michael Kelly.”

“What did he write?”

“Something about you consorting with terrorists, I think.”

“Have you read it?” Knowing Alex would rather get a root canal (his greatest phobia) than subscribe to the New Yorker.

“Are you kidding? Brother Andrew told me.” Andrew Cockburn would know. He reads everything. “He’ll fax to me. I’ll fax to you. Stand by your machine.”

That’s the way things worked in the days before Alex was enticed to abandon his Underwood for a Tangerine-Colored-Streamlined-Baby-i-Mac.

As I waited for Cockburn’s fax to rattle through the machine, I felt a little swell of excitement at making the hollowed pages of The New Yorker, like Steve Martin’s character in “The Jerk,” when he gets his hands on the new phonebook and finds his name in it.

My initial giddiness dissipated as the fax machine began to spit out Kelly’s eleven-page long hit piece titled “The Road to Paranoia,” which was itself a paranoid screed warning neoliberal America of the coming alliance between the radical left and the radical right. Buried in the avalanche of Kelly’s turgid prose, my cameo proved almost as fleeting as the appearance of poor Osric in “Hamlet.” I was accused of colluding with the enemy by giving a speech (later reproduced in the Earth First! Journal) at a gathering of the rightwing Wise Use Movement in Reno, where I viciously attacked the mainstream environmental movement for its political timidity. My crime, according to Kelly, was in promoting a seditious brand of “fusion politics.” If only it had taken root.

Over the ensuing years, similar slurs would come hurtling our way from other guardians of liberal respectability. During Clinton’s war on Serbia, Cockburn and I spoke at several rallies sponsored by the feisty libertarians at AntiWar.com, who were among the few courageous souls to oppose that ignoble enterprise. Even the freshly-elected socialist Bernie Sanders backed the bombing of the socialist city of Belgrade, a failure of nerve which prompted a few of his more honorable staffers to resign in protest. For this treachery, we were both denounced as genocide-denying tools of the isolationist menace.

When CounterPunch went online in 1999, we compounded our thought crimes by publishing some of the verboten voices of the anti-imperialist movement, from Ron Paul to “Werther,” Paul Craig Roberts to the civil libertarian James Bovard, whose appearances on our homepage elicited howls of outrage from the likes of Eric Alterman and Katha Pollitt. Naturally, we basked in the glow of their opprobrium.

Perhaps it’s just the writer in me, but from where I sit the real villain of this imbroglio isn’t the verbal provocateur Caitlin Johnstone, but David Cobb, the Debbie Wasserman-Schultz of the Green Party, who has been one of the most zealous promoters of Johnstone’s incendiary writings. What’s rich fodder for a political columnist can prove lethal for a political movement, especially a movement as bruised, battered and pale as the Greens. Can the Greens really afford to get any whiter than they already are?

Since his mysterious emergence as a leader of the Greens in 2004, Cobb has steadily squandered the political base that Ralph Nader helped build. Whether this was through incompetence or intent is unclear, but Cobb’s decision to make the Green Party a safe space for Democrats was a fatal miscalculation from which the party has never really recovered. The hapless John Kerry, running as a war-monger, lost to Bush in any event, so the compromises of 2004 proved fruitless, except, perhaps, to the progressive donor class, who could now feel as if they could ease their consciences by occasionally throwing some money at the Greens without risking any political blowback.

In 2016, however, the prospects for the Green Party suddenly seemed brighter than at anytime since 2000, largely because of the inspired choice of Ajamu Baraka as Jill Stein’s running mate. Despite the involvement of many veterans from Jesse Jackson’s “Rainbow Coalition” campaigns of the 1980s, the Green Party had never really gained traction with blacks and Hispanics. Baraka’s presence on the ticket offered a real promise of expanding the Green Party’s base for the first time since Nader’s run. This wasn’t so much because Baraka is black, but because he was able to articulate a theory of political engagement that spoke directly to the experience of black and brown Americans.

Then David Cobb was brought on as campaign manager and almost immediately the wheels began to fall off. By election day, the Green ticket, which only a few weeks earlier held such promise, now seemed like a stealth campaign. In an election featuring two of the most unpopular candidates in history, the Greens could only manage a microscopic 1.1 percent of the popular vote, 3 million fewer votes than the dysfunctional Libertarian duo of Gary Johnson and Bill Weld. Cobb’s response to this humiliation at the polls wasn’t to resign, but to almost immediately pursue, along with Jill Stein, recounts in Pennsylvania, Wisconsin and Michigan, recounts which could only serve to benefit Hillary Clinton. Millions of dollars poured in from frantic Democrats in a desperate, and doomed, attempt to overturn the results of the election. The motives behind this curious affair have never been clearly ascertained, but once again Cobb demonstrated to the progressive funding machine that the Green Party presented no real threat to the political hegemony of the Democrats.

Now, Cobb seems intent on promoting a green-brown alliance, along the lines sketched by Caitlin Johnstone, as a means of reanimating a political movement that he, more than any other single figure, has helped to emasculate from the inside-out. This is a quest for fools gold at best, something more sinister at worst.

Environmentalists have been down this road before and it didn’t end well. In the 1990s, the Sierra Club was infiltrated by a vicious band of Malthusians, who scapegoated immigrants as a primary cause of environmental degradation. This shameful episode debased the Sierra Club and elevated the profile of the xenophobes, giving them a legitimate national platform for the first time and a political foothold that eventually metastasized into the virulent forces fueling the Trump campaign.

At an operational level, white nationalists already dominate the political agenda of the Republican, Democratic and Libertarian parties. The Greens invite them under the frayed flaps of their tent at their own peril.

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