#social media to him is like... he writes some things on his comm and sends it off into the void

[asketho]

yes but also nothing you’d want to know about

run while you still can mr slab

-🌻

Are you talking about the Ethogirls? Bdubs says that there's some things on "slabtwt" that would scare me too.

[obsessiveloveistheonlylove]

Hey, I've read your last yandere Bruce, neglected fam reader and it gave me an idea. What if instead of the reader wasting all that money or luxury, she saved most of it in a closed account and when Bruce bought the apartment she made him sign it in her name as a plan to when the right time comes or if she needs to, she will sell the apartment and use all the money she saved to leave to start over in another country. Imagine Bruce finding out when she reaches the point where she put her apartment for sale, or better, actually selling it to a friend or someone they know and actually leaving.

Yan!batfam with neglected!sister reader leaving the state/country

Anon your mind is fucking golden! I also thought of the reader having the apartment signed in her name just because Bruce wanted her to feel comfortable but I love the layers this adds.

Hopefully these couple of hcs are good enough while I work on pt 2. Also if anyone else has any questions about any other scenarios or certain characters feel free to send them in I'll try to respond whenever I have time and I write for any gender reader.

Word count ; 1073

Unedited

___

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ bruce is not happy with this turn of events at all. He wasn't expecting nor did he sense that this was going to happen, you didn't post about it or even reference moving on any of your social media apps which he lovingly stalks watches over to make sure you are content with your life and also because he likes seeing you happy and enjoying all the things he got you. And it hurts him a little that you didn't even say something to him … he knows you don't owe him that, not when your relationship is still in a fragile state but he's trying.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ he only figures out after someone in the fam(most likely dick) broke in dropped by your apartment and likely scared one of your friends shitless.. obviously both parties are shocked but your friend more so as they don't know who the hell just broke into their house, dick is shocked when this random person claims that he's trespassing in their home. After that awkward situation dick immediately reports back to Bruce about this over the comms and with some digging from Tim they're able to find out that you had sold the house and the exact date that you had, approximately a month ago. That sends off alarm bells for the entire batfam, where are you now?! It takes an hour or so of searching to find out exactly where you moved and when they do they can't decide what to do with the information.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚Alfred is the voice of reason in this family, he discourages the batboys from immediately doing everything in their power to bring you home, he advocated for you to live wherever you choose and says that it's your life and that the family cannot choose for you. Alfred loves you dearly you are basically his child he views you the way he views Bruce. He may be a yandere but he's a selfless one he truly only has your best interest in mind. His words are like a slap of reality for some of the Batfam mainly Tim, Steph and Jason all three of then become a lot more hesitant to go through with their plans to bring you home on the other hand dick, bruce, and damian are adamant that you aren't safe unless they can be nearby.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Nobody can come to a decision the night they find out and so they decide to sleep on it until they can come to an agreement the manor will be tense for a week or two at most before they spring into action, they will all eventually cave to their selfish needs even if some feel guilty for doing it. Alfred will sigh disappointedly but ultimately allow them to go through with their plans he only hopes you can forgive him for not doing more

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ you on the other hand will be left unaware to all that's going down you'd gotten a new phone and lived in a whole new state maybe even country! They couldn't bother you here. You were happier than you have been for a long time. Even if you missed your old friends you still tried to keep in touch over the phone.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ as for why you did this? It's likely the other batboys' faults, Bruce is annoying but he's not nearly as demanding of your time as the others, namely dick. Dick is insanely clingy once you're on his radar and he becomes aware of how much his neglect affected you mentally. The guilt for him was all consuming when he found out how much he hurt you and that he neglected you for quite literally no reason, you just didn't matter to him at the time. the thought now makes him sick, of course you matter, what the hell was his problem!! Dick would have constantly broke your boundaries by hugging and touching and cuddling you he feels like he needs to make it up to you by being a good big brother, even if that's not what you need anymore after all it's far too late you're already an adult but he refuses to see it that way you're still his baby sister. He inserts himself into your life constantly and even if he'll pay for things he'll only do so under the circumstances that the money be spent ‘together’ like sure he'll take you to that fancy restaurant but it's going to be made into a sister-brother bonding moment, like yeah he'll let you use his card to go shopping but only if he's going with you. Even if you don't use him for money he will still find ways to insert himself into your life. He's overwhelmingly intense and his behavior mixed with the other overbearing members in the batfam plus the added overwhelming feelings of having people who ignored you all your life suddenly want your time and attention is probably why you felt like you had to leave.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ you won't be gone for more than a month or two before your dragged back to Gotham and back to your family, only this time you've got a metaphorical collar around your neck as now you're likely brought back to the manor always under surveillance and on the off chance you're still allowed to own your own apartment again just know it will be heavily bugged along with your phone courtesy of Tim even if he feels bad about invading your privacy he knows they need to see your texts to make sure you're not planning to leave Gotham again. Oh and now the bat members will each take turn patrolling your house and following you from the shadows to make sure you're safe.

___

All in all I'd say you'll have your fun for a little while but ultimately you'll just drive them deeper in their obsession and they will likely kidnap and bring you home.

[auramindedd]

Fixed? Never - SMAU*

Part 3

CorpseHusband x FemReader

Warnings: cussing

A/N: again, any posts with a “ * ” attached to “smau” has writing in it. imma focus A LOT more on just the social media n message perspective, but y/n n corpse meet in this part soooo i had to add some writing :) something else b4 i forget; i’m updating my masterlist and changing it into a directory post that way you guys can also request through a google form! i’ll have requests open at all times unless i get too stressed out or if they overfill. due to me changing my masterlist, there’s gonna be about 6 posts i think. also,, thank you guys so much for 600 followers! i’ve been hitting a bunch of milestones and haven’t been remembering to say thank you, but just know that i appreciate every single one of you... also i love reading y’all’s comments 😭

🤍 directory

🕊 previous

☁️ next

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You make sure you’re set up before 6 PM, which was probably a mistake. You can’t sit still, you’re starting to get nervous, and you kind of just want to run away to McDonald’s.

Sure, you know Ludwig, Dream, and Rae, but it feels like you’re at school all over again. That anxious feeling of having to be with people while your best friends aren’t around.

You’re leg is bouncing, your nails are tapping on your desk, and you can’t stop running your hand through your hair. It probably looks like a fucking bird nest by now.

You start streaming, deciding that maybe talking to your supporters will make things a bit better.

“Hey, loves,” You greet in a not so Y/N-fashioned way. Of course, the chat catches on, and you’re being called out for it. You can’t help but giggle at the fact that your supporters know how you usually are.

@user: What happened to, “Hey, bitches!”

@user: Ou, someone is nervous.

Yeah, they obviously know you very well.

“Alright, let’s start over.” You clear your throat for dramatic effect because, well, when are you not dramatic? “Hey, bitches!” Yup, even you know that just feels right.

After a while of talking to your supporters, Rae sends you the Discord invite and the Among Us code. You join, feeling your nerves start to come back.

“Y/N!” Rae exclaims in excitement when she sees you’ve joined the Among Us lobby.

“Hi,” You say, shyness lacing your voice.

“Oh my God! The cutest voice.” Jack says. Wow, what a compliment coming from the Jack_Septic_Eye.

You take time to introduce yourself to everyone, trying to calm your nerves.

“Are we gonna start?” Ludwig’s impatient ass asks.

“We’re waiting for Corpse.” Rae explains.

Shit, another person you have to introduce yourself to?

“Hey, Corpse!” Sykkuno greets quickly, very obviously racing to be the first to say hi to Corpse.

“Hey, Sykkuno,” Corpse chuckles, and woah, the last thing you expected. You can’t help but be surprised, and you know it’s showing on your face. Why? Because your supporters are teasing you in the chat.

“Corpse,” Rae says in a sing-songy tone. “This is Y/N.” And your heart drops to your fucking stomach. Every single time it happens when you have to meet someone, but now your heart is beating even faster because you’re obviously the only one who hasn’t met Corpse. They’re all expecting a reaction out of you...

“Hey, Y/N.” His deep, husky voice says. You can hear the smile in his voice and it helps ease your nerves.

“Hi,” You greet, shyness still lacing your voice.

Corpse chuckles, “So cute.” Now you’re blushing. Great...

Rae starts the game, saving you before the others can start teasing you.

Crewmate.

You’ve only played Among Us once, in a public server with Dream, George, Karl, and Alex, and then you got bullied for not knowing what the fuck to do.

To say the least, you’re pretty glad to be Crewmate and not Impostor.

“Y/N!” Jack shouts, walking up to you. You slightly jump, forgetting they’re playing with Proximity Chat.

“Jack!” You shout back, letting his astronaut catch up to you.

“We were expecting a reaction.” He says, and of course they were.

“Uh, yeah, I don’t know. I feel like he hears it a lot, don’t want to add on to the list of Things People Say To Him Everyday.”

“Yeah, he’s probably very grateful for that.”

“Grateful for what?” Charlie walks up to you two.

“Nothing,” Jack drawls. You’ve just met Charlie, but you know that he’d tease both you and Corpse about one another’s voices.

“Oh, I know!” Charlie exclaims, but before he can say what he knows-

“Okayyy! That’s enough interaction with Charlie for today.” Jack says, and you take that as a, ‘Walk the fuck away now, Y/N!’

You walk around, trying your best to finish tasks, but when it comes to the card swipe in Admin, you want to quit life as a whole.

“Ugh, I fucking quit.” You groan, slamming your hands on your desk. A deep, rumbling chuckle comes through on your headphones.

“Having trouble?” Corpse teases.

“Yeah. I wanna rip every strand of my fucking hair out.”

“Swipe it slower.” And with that, you try again. Voila! Just like magic.

“Well if I would’ve fucking known.” You groan, Corpse chuckling.

“Here, I can help you with the game.”

“Yes, please, I don’t know shit about it.”

“You know, you cuss a lot for having such a sweet, innocent, and cute voice.” Corpse laughs.

“Yeah,” You drawl. “I know, bad fucking habit.” You slap your hand over your mouth. How does someone cuss in every sentence? Get a filter, damn.

Corpse walks around with you as you both finish tasks, explaining how the game works, and giving you tips for when you do end up being an Impostor.

Honestly, you could listen to his voice all day. He’s also really sweet.

“What are you two up to?” Brooke asks, doing tasks in Electrical with you two. Corpse told you to make sure you’re always aware of your surroundings when you’re in Electrical. So, naturally, you’re freaking out, but silently and internally.

“Brooke,” Corpse warns. He doesn’t even have time to finish his warning. Brooke kills him, his body flopping over, the one bone sticking out from the top of his body. Your mouth falls open.

“Hey, Y/N. Let’s be besties!” You don’t know what to do, but ay, #girlsupportinggirls, right? So, you walk with her. She helps you along the way, also telling you tips on the game, explaining how everything works. Then, after about a minute, a whole 60 seconds, Corpse’s body is reported.

“Why Corpse? Such an innocent man with a beautiful voice.” Lud fake cries.

“Get over it,” Brooke says.

“It’s Brooke! Brooke’s an Impostor!” Lud shouts.

“What? No! I was with Y/N for a lot of this round.” Brooke defends herself, and oh fuck, who the fuck do you defend? You’ve just met both of them, one of them will possibly hate you forever.

“Y/N?” Sykkuno grabs your attention, snapping you out of your thinking.

“Yeah, she was. She wouldn’t have had time to kill Corpse. Where was the body?” Well, there you go, potentially ruining yours and Corpse’s blooming friendship. Sad Girl Hour, type beat.

“In Electrical,” Charlie says.

“Yeah, no way she would’ve had to time to kill him.”

Nobody’s voted out. Brooke hasn’t even told you who the second Impostor is so, you don’t know if you should stay with her or not.

As you and Brooke are walking around, or skipping as she sees it, and holding hands, Dream pops out of a vent. Well, there’s Imposter two.

“Woah! Dream, way to out yourself out.” You tease, throwing your head back and laughing.

“Please, you’ve been with Brooke the whole time. Don’t say anything.” Dream begs, making you and Brooke giggle.

“I won’t, I won’t.”

“Thank you,” He starts walking away from you guys, but not without finishing his sentence that you thought was already finished. “Cutie.” And there, finished.

Fucking finished! Tweedle-dee, tweedle dum! Whoopty-fucking-do! Fan-fucking-tastic! A-fucking-mazing!

And of course you’re blushing for the whole 80,000+ people watching to tease you about.

“Oh my God!” Brooke squeals. “What was that?!”

“I’ll explain later,”

•*•*•*•*•

“Y/N, how could you?” Corpse says, offended.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know what to do.”

“She’s my enemy, Y/N. We were supposed to stick together. I told you some tips and tricks, explained how to be a badass Impostor, everything!” Wow, he’s a good fucking actor.

“I can very well do the same thing, bitch.” Brooke spits, all in a playful manner - you hope...

“Not better than me, bitch.” Corpse retorts, his astronaut getting closer.

•*•*•*•*•

Imposter.

With Corpse.

Great.

Your enemy. Or as he put it, “Enemy who he can maybe, and most likely, will become friends with in the near future.”

“Follow,” He says, and even though he’s your enemy, you do.

“I gotta do my own thing.”

“You don’t know how to do shit.” Corpse scoffs.

“Okay then, what the fuck are we gonna do?”

“Double kills, all the way, but only when we meet up with each other. So, right now, we’ll both go our own ways, but when we see each other again, we’ll walk to a pair and do a double kill if we can.” Corpse explains.

“Brooke told me not to do double kills often. It won’t help get through a game.”

Corpse snorts, “Brooke doesn’t know dog shit about this game.”

“Fine,” You groan, going along with it only because you don’t know dog shit about the game either.

As Corpse explained, you two do double kills every time you meet up. You two managed to get double kills where people rarely go - Shields, Comms, and the top of Cafeteria.

After killing Rae and Sykkuno, the game ends. You made sure to leave Brooke and Dream alive.

“Period, we did that!” You exclaim, everyone else groaning and complaining about how you two should never be an Impostor duo again. “But I still fucking hate you because you hate me!”

“Exactly!” Corpse retorts in the same tone as you.

•*•*•*•*•

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taglist - comment or message me to be added!

* if your username is in bold, please reach out to me; you’re at risk of having your username removed that way i can clear space for other tags. *

@cherry-piee @littlered00 @sunnywinterdays @strang-ersclub @callmemaeve-y @powerpuffyn @kusuinko @where-thesundoesntshine @letglimmersayfuck @coryisagee @a-dot-dev @ifilosemyselfagain @tayloryorkscurls @lex-prplatmngrl @letsloveimagines @youretheonlyonewhomakesme @smiithys @mikayladoesntknow @clubfairy @mirahg @thurstyforholland @thatsouthernblondewiththeass @majasophieanna

——————————————————————————

Tags - ignore::

[currentfandomkick]

Marinette did not sign up for this part 10: Mari plots plotting

So long time no post. I live. Ish. Also finally figured out readmore on mobile, so yay. Will take forever to edit posts now though. Explanation at the bottom First part here previous part here. Ao3 here

Marinette wanted to go on record that Mandeliev did not, in fact, give her an extra day or so to study for the test. Why? Instead, she was told she may do a paper on the application of physics in gymnastics and principles of evasion in urban areas and how to combine the two to maximize one’s ability to run away from akumas and other dangers.

Or as Nino put it: “I am tormenting you into running better, the eight page essay.”

Alya dubbed it the “Run Better Paper.”

Aurore said it should include more formulas when Marinette showed her the draft. (as Adrien would complain about lack of theories and how she should have used this advanced formula she’d never heard of instead and then Marinette would have to forcibly stop him from taking over her paper. Again.)

Kim had taken to keeping her in his hoodie, escorting her to the bakery and didn’t leave her alone until Adrien said it was his “Marinette Anxiety Watch” shift.

Which she would like to go on record, is just plain mean to say. She has Liar 100% under control when world ending things and metaphorical bomb drops aren’t happening to her constantly.

—-

Bruce tried to contact Diana and Arthur again. Hal was off world, and therefore useless.

Why?

As his missing son hadn’t contacted them yet. Was still in the Miraculous team’s custody. And he saw the footage of Robin—Damian—being hunted by a lving shadow, an element casting swordswoman, and a strategist that seemed to know exactly what to do to keep Robin cornered in battle. The living shadows—Chat Noir—tried to kill his son with Cataclysm.

That was when they were in public, and had Hal watching over them.

He didn’t want to think about what the kids might do unsupervised to someone that tried to kill Ladybug, openly stalked her civilian self, and apparently tried stalk her again, in broad daylight. And possibly may have revealed her secret identity…

From the comments, it seemed that the Parisians hadn’t connected his sons aliases to the pair, writing it off as “Copy-cat Vigilantes” thankfully. And none of them were revealing more than “so the Fashion Disaster tried to go after Chat and Ryuko’s civvie… Not A Smart CopyBird” was the most he was able to get.

His children, on the other hand…

——

“I Fucking KNEW IT!” Tim yelled. “I knew it was her!”

“But,” Jason smirked. “You didn’t tell us.”

“Soup girl, baby bat!” Cass said gleefully.

“Wait, we both talked to her—and you didn’t say you thought it was her either Cass!”

“So what I’m hearing, if my ears don’t deceive me,” Jason continued. “Is that you all lost too.”

“What—“

“Wait a minute!”

“No way—”

Cass shrugged. She was the least invested in winning. She got to meet soup girl, who is very nice and her parents are safe for Baby Bat.

“We don’t have proof,” Dick pointed out. “Didn’t you say something about her being a mouse?”

“I—”

“Well—”

“Yes.” Cass cut through Tim and Stephanie’s waffling. “She is.”

Dick rubbed his forehead. “How many secrets can one kid have?”

“Five?” Jason said without much thought. “Limit is definitely five.”

—-

“Let me get this straight,” Miss Sting began, watching Ladybug very, very carefully. Rena and Carapace were busy that night and couldn’t act as the team’s Common Sense Filter in person. and texts only went so far.

So the job fell to Aurore. To talk (probably Marinette) Ladybug out of a Very, Stupendously, Inconceivably Bad Idea.

“You want to trust Robin—the kid who tried to kill you—to contact his mother—an assassin—to talk strategy about how to take down Hawkmoth’s civilian life’s business, not kill him, and trust that they won’t kill you?”

“…I’m bringing Chat with me.”

“Ladybug.”

“What, do you want me to use a Lucky Charm to prove this is our best bet?”

“You know what?” Miss Sting threw her hands up. “Yes, yes I do.”

“Fine.” Ladybug threw her yoyo skyward. “Lucky Charm!”

A red, spotted ball with an 8 on it came down.

“… you have got to be kidding me.”

Ladybug shrugged. “Uh, Magic Eightball, is it okay to trust Robin with this?”

One shake later and the floating die window read “Without a Doubt.”

“Give me that.” Miss Sting scowled, shaking as she asked. “Should she bring someone besides Chat and Robin—like someone from our team or Wonder Woman or Aquaman?”

The ball answered “Outlook not so good.”

Miss Sting glared at the magic eight ball. “I can’t believe this!”

Ladybug shrugged. “Lucky Charms are Lucky Charms—and I gotta go.”

Miss Sting checked her beeping spinning top. Someone was just akumatized.

“Re-charge first!” Miss Sting yelled before swinging ahead.

—-

“Oh, hey, when’s Demon Spawn going to contact us?” Jason asked as other bats calmed down.

“He’s not answering his communicator.” Bruce growled. “Hal took it earlier.”

The bats paused at that.

“Well then. Trackers?”

“Disabled—what? We didn’t need anyone crashing the apology and he ran off before I could stop him,” Dick defended. He is not Damian’s keeper. Just his Batman (as yes Bruce, he is Damian’s Batman and Damian is his Robin. Current masks not-withstanding).

“Then how are we supposed to find him?” Stephanie asked as the room grew uneasy.

No one answered that.

“How’s this,” Tim began. “Me, Steph and Cass agreed on who Hawkmoth probably is, each of us has a different set of evidence for it—and I’m counting breaking into his evil Liar and the cameras catching him mid-act a few minutes ago as absolute proof.”

“I’m sorry, you did what!” Stephanie leaned over Tim’s shoulder to see. “Oh shit. Isn’t that guy—”

“One of her friends? According to their private Instagram accounts, more like partner in crime and possible Chat Noir. I mean, he’s the one that calls her his “everyday Ladybug” and voices Chat Noir in everything." Tim answered idly. “My money’s on him not knowing at all.”

Bruce twitched. Then began to add ‘stalking social media feeds’ to his to-do list tonight.

“So,” Tim stepped forward. “I suggest we send this to the Wonder Woman and ask for Robin’s comm to be returned, and failing that, I bugged the video so anything they play it on, we get access to its IP and can find where they are.”

“Have Oracle go over the bug, just in case,” Bruce told them. “In the mean time, the rest of you suit up for the night. Gotham needs its vigilantes.”

—-

Marinette wanted to go on the record that her plan (to keep the bats away) was going well. Deciding what to do with Mu—R—Damian. Damian. Damian and his offer, was a challenge.

For obvious reasons, Green Lantern, Wonder Woman and Aquaman were against her asking a bunch of assassins for their help. Chat has more than a few reservations. Carapace, Rena and Miss Sting gave her looks for that plan.

But.

But it would work. She needs more information on how to make the plan burning in the back of her mind work. It’s a lot of chaos (and she may thrive in chaotic battles but this wasn’t her usual battlefield, and her team didn’t know who they were going up against for once). And Marinette? She needs to know its not just her doing this when its so out of her depths.

So despite literally everyone and their disagreements she had Chat on her right side with Damian on her left, meeting up with his Crazy, Semi-Immortal mother. And possibly his Immortal, former Black Cat candidate, grandfather.

Why?

As Marinette isn’t trusting the likely cult that makes up the Gotham Ghost Gang (Batfam if you like them) when she can get real advice and vague directions to immortal and allied (loyal and terrifying) assassins.

And yes, she wasn’t sure if Liar was wrong or right when they said it was a bad idea too.

But fuckit she’s already got Kaalki at her shoulder, looking a bit bored at the deserted rooftop that Kaalki chose for their meeting.

“داميان*,” the woman smiled at her son. “It’s good to see you.”

“Mother,” Robin greeted. “This is Ladybug and Chat Noir. Ladybug wished to speak to you about potential strategies to take down an enemy outside of battle without violence,” Damian stressed.

“I am well-aware of the Kwami and their Chosen, اِبْن.**” The woman spoke calmly. “The League of Assassins formed to act as the Black Cat to restore the world to balance and un-burden the Order with its maintenance.” The woman offer Ladybug her hand. “I am Talia al Ghul, and I am at your service, with or without violence Ladybug.”

Marinette took her hand. “Thank you Talia. Our target being directly exposed like I planned would have…” Ladybug trailed off, thinking over the ramifications not only to Adrien, but to the whole of Gabriel’s brand, workers and all that worked with them. “Some intense ramifications I’d rather avoid.”

Talia nodded her head, waiting for more information.

“I believe its possible to topple them without affecting their employees by uncoupling them from their business, but doing so is, well, stocks and economics isn’t my strongest point.” Ladybug admitted a bit sheepishly.

“I would suggest,” Talia began, “to create a bit of chaos in the stock market. Perhaps a rumor here and there, let investors pull out and grab the abandoned stocks quickly. Consolidate them under one owner and become the company’s owner.”

Marinette twitched a bit at that. “That… sounds complicated.”

“Oh, but it isn’t. My son knows just how to that, or did you forget our lessons?” Talia asked coolly.

Damian twitched at Marinette’s side. “I did not.”

“You know,” Chat chimed in. “I do know a few things about those things. If its general chaos, well…” Chat’s face twisted in a way Marinette forgot he could do after that Chat Blanc episode.

“… I will take that into consideration.”

“Anything else?” Talia asked, watching Ladybug and her son. Specifically, how her son seemed glued to the girl’s side. “I am certain my son is able to take out your target, if all else fails.”

Damian scowled at Marinette’s side.

“However, I do believe that whatever is happening, whatever has you active, might require a more… experience hand.”

Damian brushed against her side. Code for ‘Possible Danger.’

“Thank you for the offer,” Chat moved in front of Marinette. “But mi’lady and the Guardians have that much handled.”

Talia’s eyes shifted from Chat to Ladybug, staying on her. “Is that so?”

“Yes. I merely needed more information on how to execute this type of plan, that’s all!” Ladybug almost, almost slipped into Marinette while Liar, while silenced for the moment, prodded the back of her mind. “I want to minimize collateral damage as much as I can, to everyone. The kwami already said they get to chose the target’s punishment.”

“Ah, I see.” Talia relaxed then. “You are following the kwami’s wishes. I will respect their wishes as well, Chosen.”

Marinette categorized this interaction as one of the “not too horrible, but will avoid a repeat” once they left.

—

*Damian in arabic

**son

so we have Talia now as a Player, sort of. she plays by her word pretty well so hopefully its a cameo more than anything else.

any ideas on how JL will handle the video, and if Miraculous Team should see it and freak out or only LB and keep on the dl while JL assissts in her Chaos Plot?

End of update. Will have to repost from ao3 on my phone now as desktop tumblr is being exceptionally rude. Tags always open, just takes me a bit to do—sorry to vixen for vanishing from tags

TAGS:  @heldtogetherbysafetypins @laurcad123 @raisuke06 @chaosace @jeminiikrystal @toodaloo-kangaroo @kris-pines04 @bisha43rbs @izang @dreamykitty25 @emu-lumberjack @vixen-uchiha

[wizzardblizzard]

heyyyy guess what?

its the good month! july! its the month we celebrate our good, good blue boy lance mcclain. my entire family has birthdays in july, but this is what i’m excited about

so i’m writing some short stuff for hashtag JuLance!! i found a prompt list on twitter and i’m doing this thing. (or i’m gonna try no promises i make it every day) anyway here’s the first one! (maybe will be up on ao3 later)

1. Earth Homecoming

When they finally descend into Earth’s atmosphere, the sky is alight with color.

Allura gasps, eyes wide and delighted, and Lance can hear Coran oohing and ahhing in the background. Lance finds he can’t bring himself to look away from Red’s viewport and properly appreciate their reactions, however. He’s too busy taking it all in, the sparks bursting in the air like stars, the twinkle of streetlights beneath.

He can feel his eyes stinging, but he keeps his eyes wide open until they fill with tears, reducing the fireworks to nothing but brightly colored smears.

Pidge’s sigh is surprisingly whimsical, soft and high-pitched and sounding like that of a girl much younger. Her eyes are wide, though they’re impossible to see with the fireworks glinting off of her glasses. Matt enters view as he tackles her into a hug, ruffling her hair. Hunk is sniffling already, overwhelmed, and a glance at Keith’s communication screen shows a smile that’s wider and brighter than anything any of them had seen from him before. In the background, Lance can hear Shiro say, “Fireworks, huh? Must be a holiday. Does anyone know the date?”

Lance blinks the tears out of his eyes and starts fumbling around his lion’s console. “Wait,” he says. “Let me just--”

He grasps his phone, activating the lockscreen. His hands are trembling, only noticeable as he attempts to read the date on the display, and he clenches his fingers harder to try and stop it.

“It’s the Fourth of July,” he says, and the rest of them erupt into noise, explaining the significance of the date and fireworks to the aliens among them. For once, Lance doesn’t join them, not even when Hunk starts making Independence Day jokes, because as the red lion begins her descent, Lance’s phone lights up once more.

Lance stares at it, watches as it automatically connects to the international network grid and a series of connectivity bars fill up one by one. A distant part of him questions how it even still works after so many years away, but the thought is pushed away as the notifications begin pouring in.

It’s a steady stream, one after the other. Push notifications clogging up his lockscreen and obscuring the image there (a selfie he had taken with Hunk and Pidge ages ago, when his only worries had been homework). Social media apps he had actually forgot about light up with likes and recommendations, phone games inform him of new promos and levels. His voicemail fills in an instant.

Lance can hear the others hailing the Garrison, making contact and ensuring they aren’t shot down. He hears Shiro’s voice catch as he introduce himself as “Captain Takashi Shirogane" and then steady as he goes on to declare them as Voltron. He hears Pidge burst into tears as her dad’s voice comes through the comms, welcoming them back to Earth. It feels like an important moment, like something Lance should be taking in, something memorable. But he’s not paying attention, because he has text messages.

The number goes up so fast Lance can’t possibly comprehend it. It seems like pretty much everyone he knew had messaged him at some point. There are texts from old school friends he had left behind for the Garrison, first questioning then pleading. Starting with “Where are you, man?”  and ending in “Rest in peace, buddy.” There are texts from classmates he thought had hated him, from extended family he talked to once a year on holidays. There are hundreds of texts from his siblings, from his mom.

“Lance, please where are you????”

“I know you have your phone, you’re practically attached.”

“Everyone is really worried, please respond.”

“We promise we aren’t mad. No one will be mad.”

“Please just come home.”

Lance feels his breath coming in shallow, feeling like his heart is twisting up his chest and clogging his throat. He’s suddenly and acutely aware of the tension in his shoulders, because the closer they get to the ground the more he can feel them relax. He takes a huge, heaving gulp of a breath and feels his body wind down.

Red sets down gently, paws landing with a heavy thump, and his view of the desert outside of the Garrison is obscured by a cloud of dust. Lance opens the thread of messages from his mom. There are one hundred and thirty-seven of them.

The most recent reads, “I’m so happy you’re okay, mijo. Please come home soon.”

Lance registers that the communication screens of the others are slowly blinking away as they leave their lions, eager to breathe familiar air, to see familiar stars. Lance reads text messages from his mom.

“I miss you so much. Please be okay.”

“Veronica laughed today and it sounded just like you. Love you, mijo.”

“Happy 18th birthday, Lance.”

Through Red’s viewport, Lance can see the others celebrating down below. Hunk is doing the equivalent of a snow angel in the dirt. Pidge and Matt are spinning in circles, hands clasped together. Coran has a camera in hand, taking pictures of everything he sees like a typical tourist, ignoring Allura and Romelle giggling at him. Keith and Krolia are off to the side, arms around each other and looking into the distance, having what looks like an emotional conversation.

“Your sister got married today. We saved a seat for you.”

“You have a brand new niece! I know you will love her.”

“Today I pulled out our old photo albums. You’re so handsome, mijo. Such a beautiful baby. I miss seeing your smile. Come back soon.”

“The therapist said that I should stop sending you messages. She said I need closure. But I don’t want closure, there’s so much I want to say.”

“Lance?”

Lance jolts out of his daze, dropping his phone in his lap and reaching up to wipe tears away with the sleeve of his jacket. With his vision clear, he sees Shiro standing at Red’s feet, looking up at him with a concerned look on his face. In the moonlight, his white hair looks silver.

“Yeah?” Lance asks, and his voice is anything but steady.

“You okay?” Shiro asks. “Are you coming down?”

Lance realizes that it was probably weird for him to not leave immediately like the others, but he can’t really do anything about that. His legs feel too weak to stand, weighed down with Earth’s gravity and his overpowering, crushing relief.

“Yeah,” he says after a moment, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. His phone is still lighting up with notifications. It’s wearing down the battery. “Just...give me a moment.”

Shiro’s frown deepens, but he nods. “Okay,” he says. “Let us know if you need anything.”

Lance hums in response, already turning his attention back to his phone.

“If only I knew you were safe, then I could let myself feel happy without guilt.”

Lance’s eyes roam over the screen, fingers moving almost reverently as he scrolls. He lets himself sit for a small moment, a blink of an eye, and then he hits the call button.

He brings the phone up to his ear, and outside of his lion he sees Hunk, Pidge, and Matt hugging each other, tears streaming down his face. He sees Shiro approach Keith and Krolia, placing a hand on Keith’s shoulder and smiling at them. He sees the Alteans investigating everything they see, from plants to sky to the distant lights of the nearby town. Fireworks still light up the sky there, red and blue and green.

The phone at Lance’s ear rings and rings. He holds his breath. There’s a click, and a clattering noise like the phone at the other side of the line had been sitting on something and needed to be picked up.

Lance breathes.

“Mom?”

[paulbogaards]

I’m looking to hire a Publicist

ACTUAL JOB DESCRIPTION (not the one you will find posted on PRH):

The Executive Vice President, Director of Publicity and Media Relations for the Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group (@paulbogaards) is seeking a Publicist to dazzle the industry and world with their work and brio and warm good humor providing day-to-day support and counseling for authors (a lot of counseling) in a blistering-paced, internal and external facing (internal = editors = suspicious, external = agents = sometimes mean though they will describe their behavior as outcome directed), detail-oriented (seat 2A not 12A), data-driven (blah blah blah) environment working with dying legacy media professionals, social media pioneers, brand ambassadors (FML), booksellers (❤️), and other half-crazed publishing desperados.

The ideal candidate for this position will have had previous experience working as a magician. There is no finer point to make. As a publicist, you need to make magic happen. Magic. Every fucking day. Come equipped with a rabbit and a top hat and a goddamn wand and get ready to wave it every Wednesday afternoon at approximately 4:00 PM. You will be given books to work on that have no possibility whatsoever of becoming bestsellers, and yet, the operating expectation is that all of them will list. Authors expect that outcome. Agents expect that outcome. Editors expect that outcome. Publishers expect that outcome. It’s as if they’re all smoking the same green-blonde hallucinogenic.

The job is a grind. No one is capable of doing it for very long. The hours, the demands, the pressure, the weight of expectation, the dissonance between acquisitions and the marketplace, all of these things cause enormous stress on publicists. Think about this: the executive director has been doing it for thirty plus years. He has become a hollow shell of the man he once was as a result.

“Every day is a beat down.”

“I know.”

“Editors. Agents. Authors. Journalists. All of them are a fucking menace.”

“Tell me about it.”

“They look at us like we are, I don’t know what.”

“They look at us like we are fucking waterboys. That’s how they look at us.”

“That’s exactly right. We’re the fucking waterboys.”

You could be that person -- one of the waterboys (or gals). You are young and full of magic and convinced that book publishing is not decline but instead enjoying a renaissance. You look at Amazon with wide-eyed awe and innocence. You will step into the job thinking of the difference you are able to exact on behalf of writers everywhere. You, my friend, are a naif.

This is what will actually happen: You will be staring at your mobile in a crosswalk, answering a complaint from an author about their seat assignment on a United flight, and then be hit by an Uber. That is the most succinct description of book publishing in the 21st century that the director can think of.

All candidates for the position will undergo Anna’s box test. This is a test where you are invited in for an interview with the director, and there is a box on the seat you are supposed to sit in. If you just stare at the box, waiting for the director to move it, you are summarily dismissed and immediately disqualified as a candidate. If you pick up the box and place it somewhere else, you have passed the first test.

You will hear whispers about publishing projects where the company is rumored to have paid considerable sums of money for a book and then a call will come in from a reporter asking questions about said project and you will immediately route it to the director. The director has experience answering questions about the amount of money the company overpaid (5 million, 10 million, 20 million) and why the book is worth that much (it’s not) and how many copies will it take to earn out (it won’t) in what will become an infinite loop of inquiry and denial and the reporter, determined, will end up substantiating the figure through a disgruntled publisher who was knocked out on the last best bid (Karp) and then come back to you and ask you to confirm the figure and you will again deny it and they will wind up reporting the number anyway (though reporters these days don’t press in the same rough way that, say, Streitfeld and Kirkpatrick used to, and that is OK with the director, he is accepting of the new school press corps, though he generally prefers old school guys, and will always answer the phone when Keith Kelly calls, because he is the embodiment of OLD FUCKING SCHOOL, a guy who will tease out any story he can about Jann Wenner).

As a publicist, editors will complain to you about the New York Times (what the fuck are they doing over there?) and then become agitated and disgruntled and dismayed and threatening when one of their books is overlooked by that outlet (they reviewed a fucking book from New Directions instead of my book?) suggesting to you that action is essential (we need to do something) and you will reassure them, say of course, of course, I’ll get right on it, but really, what are you going to do? You will come to understand, very quickly, that happiness is elusive in our industry and joy is fleeting. Mostly, everyone suspects each other of book espionage.

Generally, the Publicist can expect career advancement provided they do their job without committing actionable offenses on social media or installing a joy button under the desk in their office or threatening to kill someone because they wrote a bad review (editors do this all the time. First, they threaten you. Then they threaten the BRE. Then they write a drunken email to the reviewer). Do not be led by their bad example.

This is a good position to learn about the business, as good as any, the director basically runs a farm team for the industry, his first hire now runs comms for one of the Big Five and he will smile when he sees a story in the paper with her Chairman touting the benefits of open floor plans (“there was just this energy and buzz and sense of excitement of collaborative human endeavor that really was kind of exhilarating”) and he is proud for a moment recognizing that his first hire has mastered the PR skill of ventriloquism (she has also mastered adapting the infinite loop of denial into the infinite loop of positivity.) Others have gone on to assume posts of similar stature at The New Yorker (where Remnick still won’t give anyone a credit line including Tommy Orange whose book THERE THERE was just excerpted in the magazine and everyone is supposed to be thrilled about that and the mention of said work on the contributor page but I’m like FUCK THAT who looks at the contributor page give me a book shot in the well of the magazine but of course there is no justice in much of this work, people want what they want when they want it and for selfish ends, the labors of the writer remain forgotten, the working men and women who are the backbone of our industry are frequently an afterthought, and THAT SEEMS TO ME A GREAT PUBLISHING INJUSTICE), and the Brooklyn Cyclones (that was Dave, he was a very handsome, I went to his wedding in New Jersey, there was a Venetian dessert table with fountains, it was like something out of the Sopranos), and Jennifer, who married someone rich and Jewish (that is kind of like going to work for The New Yorker) and gave birth to four children and will sometimes send me emails asking what the fuck happened to her life:

“What the fuck happened to my life?”

“Husband. Money. Kids.”

“FUCK.” Jennifer had (has) a foul mouth. I loved (love) that about her.

“Is there still work for me in publishing?”

“No. Business is dying. Stick with your plan. Keep the husband.”

Occasionally, you will find the director weeping at his desk and you will wonder if he is suffering from some kind of nervous breakdown and then you will observe an open email on his computer and see that it is simply a note of gratitude from a colleague - warmly written and sincere - and you will come to understand that they appear so infrequently that when they do the only way he knows how to respond is by weeping and you will feel a little sad for him. As a publicist, you will live a life of sadness and defeat. And you will learn to cry.

The director is looking for someone to step into his role because he is tired of weeping. The job has exacted a toll. He has become impatient.  His responses to queries are no longer soft and nuanced. This week, for example, an editor from T Magazine sent him an email asking if Cormac McCarthy would cooperate for a cover profile and he responded “Not possible” and the editor wrote back asking “As in not possible for October because the book is so far out, or...unlikely to be possible at any time?” and the director wrote back “EVER” in all caps and then he sat back is his chair and thought “who are these fucking dragoons and when will they ever learn?”

Another reporter suggested to the director that he was giving him incorrect guidance, when, in fact, the director answered the reporter’s question with the information at hand. The director is fifty-seven and has made a living being honest with reporters and went back and forth with the reporter about his track.

“He kept asking me the same fucking question.”

“That’s how they work.”

“I said to him, ‘We’re in the weeds here. You’re suggesting the football moved. I’m telling you it was a completion. End of story.’”

You will attend meetings where nothing happens. That is another succinct description of book publishing in the 21st century.

You will be working with seasoned publishing veterans who spend most of their day worrying about Amazon and Barnes & Noble and the death of media.

You will read books before they become books and often find yourself thinking about transitioning out of the industry.

One page proposals will arrive with breathy notes from editors. An auction will follow. The director will be asked to create a marketing and publicity summary in advance of the auction.

“Based on what?”

“The proposal.”

“The proposal is one page.”

“Just make something up.”

So the director will make something up. You will help him. This will happen simultaneously across the industry. The people who make up the best things often acquire the book. So if you are good at making things up, possibly this is a job for you.

You will send emails, respond to emails, and stuff books in jiffy bags. If you are good at stuffing things in jiffy bags, possibly this is a job for you.

People will ask you questions. People from inside and outside the company. The desk you occupy is a kind of information station and you will need to learn the answers to so many questions (the director knows the answers to these questions but doesn’t have the patience to respond anymore and indeed it has become dangerous to let any questions through to him because he will often say something wrong on purpose, or say something inappropriate, there was even an instance when a reader called inquiring about Carl Hiaasen’s book tour and he asked her out on a date and Who the fuck does that?)

Candidates for this position need to be confident and made of steel and in possession of magic. Possibly you are that person. Please apply by clicking on the link here.

Thank you.

PS: “I’ll need a spacious south facing hotel room in a 4 star property, and OMG it cannot be The Muse, I mean how could you book anyone in that hotel?, it’s full of escorts and German tourists, the rooms are tiny, mine felt like a cell, and given my crippling anxiety about touring I’m lucky to be alive after that stay, you need to respect the work I’m doing on the road, and that was not a respectful hotel booking, and being in United boarding group two on my flight to New York, well, that was not respectful either, but I don’t want to get too far afield here, I just need you to listen to me and hew to my requests, do that and we will have a successful tour, my comfort and safety remain a priority, take it seriously, double pane windows on a high floor are essential, but not too high, away from the elevators and adjacent to a fire stairway, and quiet, the room has to be quiet, with fine linens and towels and four down pillows (one for between my legs, two for my head, and one to snuggle with), a king bed, a duvet, fresh flowers, white peonies if they are in season, a tub and a shower and 24-hour room service, these are the basics, the last tour almost killed me and that simply cannot happen this time out…”

#publishing #books #publicrelations

[ernmark]

Oh man, that Peter has amnesia au is killing me slowly in the best way. Any chance we could get more?

I take it you guys enjoyed that one, then?

Part 1 | Part 2 

Peter stares at the door long after it slams in his face, clutching the envelope like a lifeline.

This shouldn’t bother him. It might be slightly embarrassing, perhaps, but it shouldn’t bother him. It shouldn’t matter.

His chest shouldn’t splinter when he hears a broken sob through the thin walls. 

It’s jut a con, after all, if one that went sour a little too quickly. He got what he needed, and now he can move on. He doesn’t need to linger on Mars for long– a few quick heists, and then he can be on his way. The faster he gets to work the faster he can leave.

No matter how often he tells himself that, he can’t seem to make himself listen, even when he leaves the apartment building behind him.

Instead he wanders aimlessly through the streets of Hyperion City, lost in thoughts that keep drifting back to Juno Steel. It was wrong what he did to the lady, of course, but when has that ever stopped him before? When has he ever spared a second thought for such trite niceties? Why should Juno Steel be any different from anyone who’s come before?

Hours pass in contemplation, until he’s thoroughly walked off the breakfast Juno made him (did he already suspect, when he put that meal together? Or did he prepare a breakfast with the hope of sharing more in the near future? Peter isn’t sure which is worse). His stomach is starting to growl, and so he follows his feet down an out-of-the-way avenue. He doesn’t even know why he’s going there– this is a warehouse district, not any place that might serve food. And yet there it is, nestled between a truck rental and a storage facility: a Brahmese cafe. 

It’s an odd stroke of luck– perhaps he smelled it without noticing?– even moreso when he finds that they actually make quite excellent plumb rolls. It’s always a chore to find a place that can make them properly. 

It’s the taste of home that does it. He put Brahma behind him, and he can do the same for Juno Steel. And so, emboldened, he takes out the envelope and finally takes a look.

And then stops chewing.

That can’t be right. Because the date Juno wrote down is next week. Peter would assume that they’re merely coming up on the anniversary of the event, if Juno hadn’t included the year. This year.

Is this part of Juno’s fixation? Is he really so deranged that he got the year wrong? Though he isn’t– no matter how much Peter wants to believe that Juno’s some kind of stalker, he knows beter. Could it be some kind of code, then? A reference to something else? A warning? 

Peter glances at the calendar on his comms to see if it corresponds with something– but the year is off on his comms, too. 

He rises from his chair and grabs a neighborhood newspaper from the front of the store. It’s there, too: the wrong year. Perhaps Mars is off– some kind of overzealous tribute to Old American Daylight Savings Time? 

Or perhaps it’s more simple than that: he’s wrong. 

Yes. That must be it. He must just have the year wrong. Maybe he’s been travelling so long that his internal calendar is off. Yes. It’s just the travel getting to him. He’s probably been writing down the wrong date for ages. He does a quick internet search for his last heist, just to recalibrate his expectations– but it’s oddly difficult to find. He has to do some digging before he finds the headlines, buried under far too much old news. It was an excellent heist– it should have made headlines. It should have shocked the archeological community for weeks, at least. 

And then he finds the headlines, like a fossil under too much sand: ancient history.

The year on the article is precisely the year he thought it was: last year. It’s a year old. But that can’t be right. He pulled that heist days ago. 

But a second news feed corroborates the story, and then a third, and a fourth. And then, as all news streams will, they tire of the story and move on to something more interesting. And while that happened, he was counting his money from a newly-fenced golden record on his way to Mars. The journey should have taken a little more than twenty-six hours, perhaps another one or two if he accounted for security and delays.

Somewhere in the course of that flight, he lost a year.

Peter checks the date on his comms again, almost compulsively. It’s irrational, he knows– the only time he’s losing is the handful of hours he spends asleep, though the dreams are fitful and they don’t do anything to calm his fraying nerves. 

He’s searched for every database, every system, every social media stream, and all of them come up empty. Of course, if he was easy to find he would be long dead by now. And yet there has to be some trace, somewhere. But there’s nothing. No matter how he looks or where he turns, there’s nothing. He might as well not have existed at all, and that frightens him in an entirely new way.

Frantic and thorough, he checks every lead, cross-references every alias, until he’s exhausted every option.

All but one.

And so he pockets his comms and takes a deep breath, and he opens the door of the Juno Steel Detective Agency.

The secretary greets him with a throaty giggle. “Hello again, Agent Glaaaaaaass.”

He doesn’t recognize the name, and so he has no persona to attach it to, but he makes do with what he can. She is charmed, and so he is charming. 

He sweeps into a bow to hide his glance at her name plate. “My dear Rita, we meet again.”

It’s the right tactic, judging by the way she giggles. “Are ya here to see the boss?”

“As a matter of fact, I am. Is he available?”

“He says he ain’t, but you go ahead. He could use a good case to cheer him up.” 

Peter raises his eyebrows into a caricature of concern. “Is he alright?”

“Sometimes he just gets like this,” she says. “But it’s been pretty bad lately. I think maybe somethin’ happened, but don’t try and ask about it. That just makes him mad.” 

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” 

She taps something into her keyboard and the door slides open to reveal a glowering Juno Steel. To be perfectly honest, Peter’s surprised to find the detective at his desk. Given how things ended last time they met, he half expected Juno to try climbing out of his window to avoid this conversation.

But Juno is past trying to run. His bionic eye flashes dangerously. “I told you to get the fuck away from me.”

Peter steps closer, and the door slides shut behind him. “Juno, I know you’re upset–”

“This conversation is over. You have ten seconds to turn around and walk back out that door, or I’m throwing you out the window.”

“Juno–”

“Five seconds.”

This isn’t working. So Peter tries something different. “Four years ago, I stole the collected notebooks of Jasmina Seth Hill from a museum on Perseii Four. The curator of the exhibit was Ruslan Clemens Lawerenz, and their assistant was Eiríkr Barker, who was smuggling weapons to the resistance. On the night I went to steal the notebooks, the head of security was Éimhín Lefèvre, and the other members of her shift were Fionnghuala Kozlowski, Bearach Langdon, Den Phoebe Vigo, and Antonina Chaves, and every sixteen minutes they went on their rounds in two pairs while one remained at the security terminal. The passcodes I used to get in were, in order, Alkatraz, 4869974351, and password1234. The floor plan–”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Juno demands– and probably for the best, because all of that was a mouthful. 

“If I’d forgotten the slightest detail, my life would have been over,” Peter says firmly. “My life and my livelihood depend on my memory.” 

“And you were so busy keeping track of the important stuff to bother remembering me.” He’s already reaching for the panel at the door, and a chill goes down Peter’s spine. For an irrational moment, he’s certain that if Juno shuts that door between them, he’ll never see the detective again.

“You’re not all I forgot, Juno,” he blurts out. “I’m missing time.”

“Try putting down the bottle. That’s what they tell me.” 

Juno isn’t even looking at him anymore, and it sends a flare of desperation through his blood. “Dammit, Juno, something happened to me, and you’re my only hope of finding out what it was. I need your help.”

For half an instant, that seems to get through to him– but only for that half an instant. Just as quickly, Juno’s resolve hardens. “Not my problem.” 

“I’ll pay you.” 

Juno’s eyes narrow. “I don’t want your money.” 

Of course not, not when Juno can afford a bionic eye. But Peter is desperate. If Juno walks away from him now, he might never get another chance to find out what happened. So he tries again: “It’ll make us even.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Juno says. The sudden stiffness in his spine says otherwise.

“For whatever it is you did to me. That thing you’ve been blaming yourself for all this time. Do this for me, and we’re even.”

It’s a gamble, and Peter knows it. The muscles tighten in Juno’s arms; his hands ball into fists. Push too hard, and Peter will be walking out of here with a concussion. “You said you forgave me for that.”

“But that isn’t enough for you, is it?” Peter presses. “Not when I don’t remember what I forgave you for.”

“Because you were just telling me what I wanted to hear.”

“You’ve already made your apologies, Juno. Perhaps this will give you closure.”

Juno grunts. “Who needs closure when you have scotch?” He pauses, waiting for a reply. 

Peter isn’t sure exactly what he’s expecting-- a laugh at his sad little joke? Further protests? Begging? A desperate confession of love that they both know is a lie? 

Peter stands his ground, utterly silent, as the seconds tick away between them. Whatever it is Juno’s after, he can’t give it to him. 

Finally Juno sighs. “Goddammit. Fine.” He reaches into his desk, and for a moment, Peter expects to see him pull out a bottle. Instead it’s a notebook and a pen. “Sit down, Nureyev. I’m taking your case.”

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

Crashing Parties & Taking Numbers

Steve Rogers x OFC

Warnings: language

A/N: This is a commissioned story for @jasmineladjevardi , who I love and adore. Enjoy! Commissions are open!

Summary: Jasmine decides to crash a charity party, because there is a first time for everything. What she wasn’t counting on was the fact the party was a Hydra funded event and a certain Captain was there doing some undercover intel. 

Steve walked into the charity party, wearing a nice suit and tie, feeling a bit stiff, but alert. Alert was the key focus tonight because this so-called charity event was a Hydra cover up. Maria Hill had informed the team that a few high ranked Hydra officers’ wives were in charge of the whole event. So she was able to obtain tickets for the group and told them to keep their eyes and ears open. It was strictly an intel mission, no combat unless necessary. She wanted to get as much detail on any plans Hydra had going on and judging by the guest list she managed to score, there would plenty opportunity to do so.

Strolling through the room, Steve made his way to the bar, ordering himself a drink - even though it would have no real effect on him. It was all for show, plus he needed something to take the taste of disdain off his tongue. All these people that lived and breathed New York air,  laughing and drinking the night away.

How many were Hydra sympathizers? Hydra loyalist?

….

I faked my way through several dull conversations, eyeing the bar that seemed to drift further and further away. Why I was convinced crashing a charity party would be a brilliant venture was beyond me, but it did beat spending another night at home. I excused myself from the overly friendly older gentleman, who smelled like my grandpa and raced toward the bar.

As I approached the counter, I eyed a man leaning against it. He looked bothered and busy, so I ignored him and ordered a drink. Placing my clutch on the bar, I took out my cell and started running through my social media until a chuckle came from the man.

“These things tend to be pretty boring, huh?”

I smiled and tried to ignore how wonderfully attractive he was. “To be honest - wait, can I trust you?”

He laughed and looked down at the ground before grinning. “People say I’m trustworthy.”

“In that case,” I mused, moving a little closer to him. “I’m crashing this joint.”

“So you weren’t invited?”

“Say it louder for the rest of the crowd,” I teased, turning to the bartender and thanking him for the drink. “My friend was supposed to come with me, but she got stuck at work and I bought this dress for the occasion, didn’t want to see it go to waste.”

“It’s a pretty dress.”

He placed his glass down and glanced around the room, a look of distraction fell over his face. I reached for my bag and started to excuse myself when he stopped me by briefly touching my arm.

“I could use some company, my friends dragged me to this thing and they’re all scattered around.”

Seeing that I was planning to leave, his blue eyes, warm and friendly, they made me want to stay. Made me think spending some time with a complete stranger couldn’t be so bad, not when he looked like that.

“Sure, I have no plans and apparently no friends either. I’m Jasmine.”

He smirked and held out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Jasmine. I’m Steve Ro-”

Steve’s stopped talking and held tightly to my hand just as two men passed us. I eyed them carefully and by the look on my new friend’s face, he knew them and he definitely was not happy to see them. I tried pulling my hand back, but Steve was too occupied to notice.

“We have everything ready.”

“Good, I’ll send everything to Peterson. Everything is going as plan.”

Steve and I stood there listening, neither of us breathing, hands gripped together. My eyes stayed glued to Steve’s, which in turn were on the two men. I clutched the glass in my other hand and brought it to my lips, downing the drink.

"So, that’s my hand.”

My question broke Steve from whatever trance he was in and he quickly let go of my hand, apologizing.

“Sorry,” he smiled sheepishly. “You want to go walk around? Maybe we can find some food in this joint?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but the gentlemen next to me started talking again and I caught the last bit, a whisper that made me gasp. Steve’s eyes widen and he looked to the men, seeing something I couldn’t because he suddenly pulled me into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered before planting an over the top kiss onto my lips. I was stunned for a mere second, but the way his lips danced against mine, it was all too consuming. I slipped both arms around his neck and his arms moved around my waist.

“It’s Rogers!”

One of the men bellowed out and Steve broke the kiss, grabbing my hand and telling me to run. I jerked back and reached for my clutch before letting Steve pull me through the crowd. My feet pounded against the floor, blurting out ‘excuse us’ over and over as Steve pushed his way into a closed off hallway. The corridor was dark, so Steve lead me into a room and closed the door, rushing toward the window.

“Nat,” he said into his comm. “I’ve been recognized. It was Richards and Stanfield, they were talking about some plans.”

I looked at the door and grabbed a chair that was off to the side, doing what they do in movies and placing it up against the knob. Steve turned and chuckled, saying there was nothing to worry about.

“I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The light coming outside the window hit Steve’s face, brightening the area around his eyes and it was like that, everything clicked.

“You’re Steve Rogers, Captain America,” I whispered in disbelief. “I thought you looked vaguely familiar, it’s the eyes.”

Steve laughed and moved to me. “I’m sorry to pull you into this.”

“Hail Hydra, one of the guys said that and I heard,” I explained, giving a little head shake. “I mean I’ve read the papers, the stories, but to hear those words...it’s bone-chilling.”

“I know, are you okay?”

He reached over and placed a hand on my shoulder, sending a warm feeling up my spine.

“Yeah, I mean, I’m talking to a freaking Avenger!”

“I’m just Steve,” he urged, his smile fading when the door knob started to turn.

Steve quickly grabbed me and rushed me to the corner of the room.

“Stay right here and don’t worry, I got you.”

“I’m sure you do,” I replied quietly, nodding for Steve to do his thing.

His eyes locked with mine for nearly 30 seconds before the door swung open, knocking the chair down, and he turned, reaching a hand around to pull me into his back. I shut my eyes but felt Steve’s body relax against mine.

“So we do all the work while you decided to slip away into this dark room with an unknown woman?”

“Romanoff,” Steve groaned as the lights turned on.

I opened my eyes and peeked from behind Steve, recognizing the redhead right away.

“Holy...you’re Black Widow. You are really beautiful.”

Nat smirked. “Oh, I like her Steve, can we keep her?”

“Very funny,” he muttered, stepping aside. “This is Jasmine, we met at the bar. She-”

“I blew his cover,” I admitted and Natasha laughed.

“She didn’t,” Steve insisted, giving me a soft smile. “So are we cleared or are we going to get an earful from Hill?”

“We’re good, I came looking for you, the car’s ready. We need to go debrief at the Tower.”

“Right,” Steve said disappointedly. He turned to me and asked if I needed a ride home.

“I drove here, but you could walk me to my car?”

….

“Again, I’m sorry for dragging you into all this,” Steve offered, tucking his hands into the pockets of his pants. “I just couldn’t help myself when I saw you standing next to me at the bar. Maybe I should have waited until after we got the intel we needed before approaching you.”

I felt the blood rush to my head and I laughed nervously, waving a chaotic hand in the air. “No big deal, this is what I get for crashing a charity party that apparently is a front for Hydra.”

“Well,” he shrugged, taking a step toward me. “I’m glad you did.”

“Yeah, I’m sorta feeling that way too.”

Steve smiled brightly and he scratched the back of his head. “Um, do you think I could get your number? I’d love to take you out on a non-Hydra outing sometime.”

I bit down on my lip to contain the beaming smile on my face as I nodded eagerly. “Yeah, Steve, I’d like that.”

Forever tag (tagging in everything I write, no matter the fandom)

@my-amazing-nerdyness @naih-reedus @maciiiofficial @casownsmyass @jade-taillia @fangirlextraordinaire @indominusregina @feelmyroarrrr @my-rainbow-wonderland @myhopeisinfinite @girl-next-door-writes @dontbeamenacetotheforce @melonberri @superisatomboyuniverse @xloudwhocares @crownie-sr @dracsgirl @moonlight53 @makemyownwonderland @dreamwhisper87 @trekken81  @barely-emily @winterboobaer @purelittleblueberry @goodnightwife @mishaissocoollike  @stormyfandoms@foreverybodythatunderstands23 @gallifreyansass @flirtswithdanger @yana-tardis-drwho @myplaceofthingsilove   @jchona  @alyssaj23  @blackhoneybucky @urbanspacedecay@castieltrash1 @hannahsakorax3 @imagine-all-the-imagines  @motleymoose @distinguishedqueenofbooks @kitkatgaming @fizzylollipop12 @iamwarrenspeace @darkmystress00 @lunarwolfrose  @kapolisradomthoughts @sisinia13 @swiggityswagness @takemetoneverland91 @to-pick-ourselves-up-7 @sarah-mos @rubynationwins@padfootorionblack @kaywolves @wonderlace19 @yourxaveragexslythergit @purelittleblueberry  @courtneychicken @rayleyanns  @whatmakesmebeme-tblr @thewinterwitch@avengersgirllorianna @holywinchesterness @tatortot2701 @brewsthespirit-blog @seabasschino  @lame-lozer @ex-bookjunky @travelwithwords @supernaturaldean67@thehuntchback @shoytai @besamiculo-puto @ign-is @zuni21798 @multipleuniversesinwriting@pleasantdreamqueen  @damalseer @10kindsofderp @hennessy0274-blog @jodoethr @s-t-r-i-k-e-us @seeing-but-not-observing @happyskywhale

[aion-rsa]

How Batwoman Takes on Policing and Social Issues

https://ift.tt/31NtgS3

Police brutality has gone from a niche concern – one most white people considered impolite to bring up at dinner parties – to a compulsory national conversation. It’s long overdue, which has left many playing catch-up, especially white folks and popular media. As David Dennis Jr. pointed out in his excellent Twitter thread (seriously, go read it!) superhero shows have an especially tall order, given that they rely on portraying lawlessness and a fictionalized criminality that the hero can then clamp down on. But that image is out of touch with reality and can send damaging messages.

We’ve long discussed this problematic aspect of the genre in our reviews and features, whether it’s Barry Allen’s personal private prison kept in the basement of STAR Labs or Oliver Queen’s incredibly short-lived interest in reforming the prison industrial complex…before he went right back to adding more people to it. But Batwoman has taken a different tack that other comic book shows could learn from. 

Batwoman has, to greater and lesser degrees, explored gentrification, corruption of police and the legal system, police brutality/the lawlessness of privatized law enforcement, and the wrongful conviction of a Black man. The show is not perfect, and it must be stated that no other show is doing quite what HBO’s Watchmen did in terms of exploring this country’s legacy of race, anti-Black violence, and policing. But Batwoman is a superhero show that spent the last year actively engaging with questions like “was that an appropriate use of force?” and “isn’t this a gross violation of the civil rights of the people of Gotham City?”

In the Gotham of Batwoman, a private security firm called The Crows operates with near-impunity within the city, keeping the incredibly well-heeled secure while everyone else hopes for the best. Gated community is an understatement, and frankly, the firm is closer to a mercenary paramilitary operation.

By the end of the season, The Crows have expanded their reach through an app that’s available to all Gothamites, even those who aren’t clients, so anyone can call in the mercenaries if they see big bad Alice and her brother Mouse, or Batwoman, whom Crows head honcho Jake Kane views as equally villainous. It’s easy to imagine the Crows’ app going the way of SketchFactor in DC and other IRL safety apps, which quickly turned into racial and socioeconomic maps, with white and upper class folks flagging anything that made them uncomfortable – namely, Black neighborhoods.

Read more

TV

Replacing Kate Kane on Batwoman Season 2 is a Terrible Idea

By Lacy Baugher

Sophie Moore, a high-ranking agent with the Crows, continually pushes back against their use of force and in several circumstances when the Crows overstep the rights of citizens, to the point where she is sidelined, suspended, and eventually kicked off the Crows. She questions her mentor Jacob Kane in his vendetta against Batwoman – for whom there is no arrest warrant, the shoot-to-kill order on Alice that comes and goes throughout the season, and the extreme blanket use of surveillance on average citizens. If you’re worried about police breaking the law or the militarization of the police, try the privatization of a police force on for size. While the writing on Batwoman clearly raises concerns throughout the season, Sophie and Kate are among the only people able to effectively check the Crows’ power, largely due to their personal and professional relationships with Jake Kane. 

One of the show’s greatest assets has been the willingness of its writing and its hero to give the supposed villain of any given episode – who is often disenfranchised in some way that turns out to be connected to how they have lashed out at the system – the benefit of the doubt. It’s a benefit that our legal system is based on, but one that we know many people do not get – and one that the Crows don’t often give to suspects. Some so-called villains have turned out to be innocent people manipulated by others, or victims of systems that eroded their humanity.

For example, the season finale deconstructed the media and law enforcement trope of the giant invincible Black man, using the show’s own gossip host (voiced with juicy irony by longtime Batwoman comic fan Rachel Maddow) to introduce a suspect with barely-coded language. The show goes on to deconstruct that narrative, introducing the audience to his brother, who worries about his sibling who was nothing like the man described on TV. Gotham’s professional football league used him for entertainment and several people in positions of power abused their privilege to do serious harm, in this case irreparable CTE that turned a gentle man into someone who literally couldn’t feel pain, yet another harmful stereotype of Black folks that has caused harm from slavery to the medical field.

Gotham’s actual police force is so incompetent as to be a non-factor. They only come up in maybe a handful of episodes, but they feature prominently in one of the season’s best arcs: the wrongful conviction for Lucius Fox’s murder. His father’s murder was a defining moment in Luke Fox’s life. 

Normally the calm, logical, emotionally removed man behind the comms and tech on Team Bat, we watched Luke put together the pieces and realize that a fellow Black man had been set up to take the fall for his father’s death and then pursue the real killer. This wasn’t a clunky after school special one-and-done story so the creators can check a box. The arc was allowed to breathe over many episodes, giving actor Camrus Johnson the space to show the complex and often-changing swirl of emotions his character was experiencing. 

Read more

TV

Batwoman Showrunner Addresses Kate Kane Season 2 Departure

By Kayti Burt

Nothing about the writing or the performance was straightforward or easy. It’s the kind of ambitious writing and gnarled injustice that real people actually face, the sort of thing that we actually need real heroes for. It was a high point of Camrus Johnson’s excellent, season-long performance.

It’s worth noting that simply having the male lead – number two on the call sheet, Batwoman’s professional other half – played by a Black man, makes a big difference. But while other Arrowverse shows have had prominent Black characters – John Diggle on Arrow and Iris and Joe West on The Flash come to mind – Batwoman is different. For one, the writing has made explicit that Luke and Kate are partners, whereas for all that he came to eventually love and respect them, Oliver fought Diggle and Felicity every step of the way, and The Flash has always felt like a lead singer with a backing band. Even then, there’s a hierarchy, and a quick spin around the internet will produce ample evidence that neither Iris West-Allen nor Candice Patton have received the kind of treatment that a show’s leading lady would normally expect. 

At the root of this is the writers’ room. Batwoman is written by a diverse group of people that represents the issues discussed on the show. It includes queer folks, women, and BIPOC. Actors can do their best to convey the work with skill, sensitivity, and depth. But talent behind the scenes needs to be diverse as well, otherwise they’re still going to be talking about Grandma Esther’s noodles. 

While there’s a lot we don’t know about Batwoman season 2, namely the LGBTQ actor who will play the new lead and how they will be written in to pick up the threads from last season, I hope Batwoman will continue working with “villains” who are more complicated than we’re used to seeing on shows with tights. 

I also hope they’re able to portray more of the income inequality that showrunner Caroline Dries discussed in an interview with Den of Geek earlier this season. “One thing we had in Gotham City is this idea of the ‘us-versus-them’ in the districts where people are protected and then other districts where they’re left to their own devices because they can’t afford private security.”

Dries told us that, unfortunately, this wasn’t as emphasized as she would have liked, due to the limitations as production.

“In a perfect world, you’d have a bird’s eye view of the city and you would actually be able to see districts,” Dries said. There were some references to this earlier in the season with checkpoints between neighborhoods, but as the season went on, Dries said those little bridge scenes were the first to get cut due to time and money. Fortunately, it sounds like it will still be part of season 2, and likely more pronounced.

“If I had all the time in the world and all the money in the world, I would have been able to dramatize that disparity better and the segregation a little bit better, visually,” Dries said. “But we’re going to continue to keep that alive, especially now as we’ve seen the Crows sort of becoming more heightened in their power and becoming more authoritarian and scarier.”

Read more

Movies

DC FanDome to Reveal DCEU, Arrowverse, and More DC Universe Secrets

By Jim Dandy

Moreover, homelessness has been part of the show’s narrative since the very first teaser, but Batwoman has yet to engage with the issue of economic inequality or with actual people experiencing homelessness as individuals, rather than as an abstract concept. Even if it’s simply by having Mary, Luke, or the mysterious “Ryan Wilder” develop a relationship with someone who sleeps rough outside Wayne Tower or their apartment building, or if Mary’s clinic starts back up again and a character or two is differentiated that way, it would be nice to see humanity and individualism, rather than a monolith.

Finally, while it’s not an issue involving our carceral systems, it must be said that Batwoman has provided the space for Meagan Tandy’s Sophie to have a truly lovely storyline about her sexuality. While Kate Kane/Batwoman has basically always been out and accepted, that’s not everyone’s story. Not everyone has accepting parents and a family fortune to fall back on if they’re kicked out of the military. Sophie’s journey as a queer Black woman has been allowed to progress at her own pace, allowing the character to unpack what it means for her relationship (she starts the series married to a man), her identity, and her family as she explores who she is and what that means to her. Not everyone’s path is the same, nor do they have to express it the same way. While it’s great for people to see Kate Kane as a role model, I imagine there are far more people who can relate to Sophie Moore.

As television reorients itself around a long overdue reprioritization of Black lives, the landscape will shift, in some cases dramatically, as with the cancellation of long-running show Cops. But for other shows, like Batwoman, there’s an opportunity to continue pushing even further forward on the very social issues that once caused trolls to review-bomb the show with so much online hate. Heading into season 2, as the social and cultural landscape shifts, Batwoman should continue Kate Kane’s legacy of fighting injustice intersectionally, centering the marginalized while upending comic book tropes about law and order. 

The post How Batwoman Takes on Policing and Social Issues appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/2Z09TUa

[technicalsolutions88]

TechCrunch has obtained an internal memo published by Facebook’s outgoing head of public policy Elliot Schrage in which he blames himself for hiring PR firm Definers. He admits to having the company push negative narratives about competitors, but says Facebook did not ask or pay Definers to publish fake news. COO Sheryl Sandberg left a comment on the memo, saying it was never Facebook’s intention to play into anti-semitic theories about George Soros.

The memo includes a Q&A regarding points raised by a New York Times article detailing how Definers worked to spread negative publicity about Google and other tech giants to make Facebook look better, and that the firm’s employees also published biased articles bashing Facebook’s competitors and critics through a news site called NTK Network that’s affiliated with Definers.

In the memo, Schrage justifies the use of opposition research, and chastizes Facebook employees for allowing internal finger pointing surrounding its troubled past two years to become public. He also notes that his replacement, Facebook’s new head of global policy and former UK deputy Prime Minster Nick Clegg will be reviewing its work with all political consultants, which could turn up more skeletons.

Facebook’s former head of policy and comms Elliot Schrage (left) meeting former President George W. Bush. [Image publicly shared by Facebook’s Andrew ‘Boz’ Bosworth]

Schrage announced in June that he’d be stepping down in the wake of the Cambridge Analytica scandal, but would stay on to help find a replacement. Many have asked who, if anyone, would be fired for putting Facebook in cahoots with Definers. As TechCrunch previously reported, Schrage was atop the chain of command here. Given his extensive experience in public policy, was likely well aware of the nature of Definers’ work. Schrage taking the blame provides a convenient solution to the issue, as he’s already on his way out.

“Responsibility for these decisions rests with leadership of the Communications team. That’s me. Mark and Sheryl relied on me to manage this without controversy” Schrage writes. “I knew and approved of the decision to hire Definers and similar firms. I should have known of the decision to expand their mandate . . . I’m sorry I let you all down. I regret my own failure here.” This explanation serves to protect Zuckerberg and Sandberg from additional blame, even as Sandberg strives to show she’s not passing the buck by noting “I want to be clear that I oversee our Comms team and take full responsibility for their work and the PR firms who work with us.”

Schrage’s defense of his bosses provides additional cover for Zuckerberg’s comments from a CNN interview that ran tonight in which he said he won’t step down as Facebook’s chairman and hopes to continue working alongside Sandberg for decades to come. The memo could have been aimed at quieting internal unrest about Facebook’s chief lobbyist Joel Kaplan. His ties to the GOP, support for Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh, and involvement with Facebook’s latest PR troubles had led some employees to question his employment. Now Facebook has someone else to take the heat.

Schrage is effectively jumping on the grenade here.

The memo and comment can be found below:

Internal Facebook Memo By Elliot Schrage

Many of you have raised questions about our relationship with the Definers consulting firm. We’ve been looking into this and though it is close to a holiday for many of you I wanted to share an update on what we’ve learned and where things stand:

Why did we hire Definers?

We hired Definers in 2017 as part of our efforts to diversify our DC advisors after the election. Like many companies, we needed to broaden our outreach. We also faced growing pressure from competitors in tech, telcos and media companies that want government to regulate us.

This pressure became particularly acute in September 2017 after we released details of Russian interference on our service. We hired firms associated with both Republicans and Democrats — Definers was one of the Republican-affiliated firms.

What did we ask them to do and what did they do?

While we’re continuing to review our relationship with Definers, we know the following: We asked Definers to do what public relations firms typically do to support a company — sending us press clippings, conducting research, writing messaging documents, and reaching out to reporters.

Some of this work is being characterized as opposition research, but I believe it would be irresponsible and unprofessional for us not to understand the backgrounds and potential conflicts of interest of our critics. This work can be used internally to inform our messaging and where appropriate it can be shared with reporters. This work is also useful to help respond to unfair claims where Facebook has been singled out for criticism, and to positively distinguish us from competitors.

As the pressure on Facebook built throughout the year, the Communications team used Definers more and more. At Sheryl’s request, we’re going through all the work they did, but we have learned that as the engagement expanded, more people worked with them on more projects and the relationship was less centrally managed.

Did we ask them to do work on George Soros?

Yes. In January 2018, investor and philanthropist George Soros attacked Facebook in a speech at Davos, calling us a “menace to society.” We had not heard such criticism from him before and wanted to determine if he had any financial motivation. Definers researched this using public information.

Later, when the “Freedom from Facebook” campaign emerged as a so-called grassroots coalition, the team asked Definers to help understand the groups behind them. They learned that George Soros was funding several of the coalition members. They prepared documents and distributed these to the press to show that this was not simply a spontaneous grassroots movement.

Did we ask them to do work on our competitors?

Yes. As I indicated above, Definers helped us respond to unfair claims where Facebook was been [sic] singled out for criticism. They also helped positively distinguish us from competitors.

Did we ask them to distribute or create fake news?

No.

Who knew about this work, and who signed off on it?

Responsibility for these decisions rests with leadership of the Communications team. That’s me. Mark and Sheryl relied on me to manage this without controversy.

I knew and approved of the decision to hire Definers and similar firms. I should have known of the decision to expand their mandate. Over the past decade, I built a management system that relies on the teams to escalate issues if they are uncomfortable about any project, the value it will provide or the risks that it creates. That system failed here and I’m sorry I let you all down. I regret my own failure here.

Why have we stopped working with them?

Mark has asked us to reevaluate how we work with communications consultants. It’s not about Definers. It is about us, not them.

Mark has made clear that because Facebook is a mission driven company, he wants to hold us to a higher standard. He is uncomfortable relying on any outside firm to make decisions about how to make our case about our mission, policies, competitors and critics until he can become comfortable with our management, oversight and escalation.

Where are we now?

Many people across the company feel uncomfortable finding out about this work. Many people on the Communications team feel under attack from the press and even from their colleagues. I’m deeply disappointed that so much internal discussion and finger pointing has become public. This is a serious threat to our culture and ability to work together in difficult times.

Our culture has long been to move fast and take risks. Many times we have moved too quickly and we always learn and keep trying to do our best. This will be no exception.

What happens next?

Our legal team continues to review our work with Definers to understand what happened. Mark and Sheryl have also asked Nick Clegg to review all our work with communications consultants and propose principles and management processes to guide the team’s work going forward. We all want to ensure that we, our advisors and consultants better reflect Facebook’s values and culture.

Comment On The Memo From Sheryl Sandberg

Thank you for sharing this, Elliot. I want to be clear that I oversee our Comms team and take full responsibility for their work and the PR firms who work with us. I truly believe we have a world class Comms team and I want to acknowledge the enormous pressure the team has faced over the past year.

When I read the story in New York Times last week, I didn’t remember a firm called Definers. I asked our team to look into the work Definers did for us and to double-check whether anything had crossed my desk. Some of their work was incorporated into materials presented to me and I received a small number of emails where Definers was referenced.

I also want to emphasize that it was never anyone’s intention to play into an anti-Semitic narrative against Mr. Soros or anyone else. Being Jewish is a core part of who I am and our company stands firmly against hate. The idea that our work has been interpreted as anti-Semitic is abhorrent to me — and deeply personal.

I know this has been a distraction at a time when you’re all working hard to close out the year — and I am sorry. As I said at the All Hands, I believe so deeply in the work we do and feel so grateful to all of you for doing so much every day. Thanksgiving seems like the right time to say a big thank you once again.

Facebook has other ties to Definers, the GOP-led opposition research group

Additional reporting by Taylor Hatmaker

from Social – TechCrunch https://ift.tt/2PITiB2 Original Content From: https://techcrunch.com

[perspectiveofsham]

My Media Audience: A First Post

The very first lecture Jennifer Good asked the class a simple question where curiosity prompted many students including myself to start thinking of the past, the question was “How have audience changed, In your lifetime? In your parents’ lifetime, in your grandparent’s lifetime” it caused me to think how developed audience experiences has changed for everyone personally from my parent’s teenage years to my teenage years, according to Sullivan (2013), “Shift from real-time interaction towards more privatized, individualized spectatorship of mass media also reflects some of the profound technologies changes that have redefined the notion of audiences in our modern era” (p. 8). After reading this statement it is understandable that advancement in technologies make oral and face to face audience interaction challenging, since now there are many ways to have an audience experience and expanding an audience without having to be there in person, for example live streaming or snapchatting a concert from your phone. I chose this particular audience experience since it is something I have personally done multiple times, but it didn’t occur to me that I was expanding an audience by doing such act ever since Good asked the class to take a poll whether, “I actively use my phone while at concert” which many, including myself, answered True. When this question appeared on the screen it reminded me of the time I attended the Ariana Grande concert in 2015 and literally recorded the whole concert on my phone and posted 10 second snapchat stories of every song she performed which makes people watching and myself recording an audience member. Going back to the night of the concert, right when the concert finished, I received two twitter mentions from two of my friends [attached photos 1 & 2] who both said they felt like they were at the concert because of the videos they were watching that was on my snapchat story. According too Good they did not attend the concert physically but they are considered an audience member for the video and I would be considered a producer for the video. Relating back to how audience experiences have changed it would be impossible for my friends to see the concert and just heard about it through word of mouth, with the advanced technology of having our phones that are able to capture moments on video, it is possible to see a concert without having to be there physically. With this being said I was able to witness a concert without having to be there in person and experience my favorite artist, Nicki Minaj, live without having to be there, considering the concert was somewhere in the states and I was in St. Catharine’s at the time I was grateful enough to have someone send me a link to someone’s livestream of the concert, where he was streaming the concert on his phone, his kind gesture not only benefited me but the 2000 other fans watching the same livestream swell, while I was watching the livestream it really did feel like I was a part of the concert which is when I remember that exact feeling I had is the same feeling my two friends had when I recorded the Ariana Grande concert. After a couple weeks Good had assigned a specific reading for week 4 which was the article by Lee, J called “The Double-edge sword: The effects of Journalists’ social media activities on audience perceptions of journalists and their news products”. Not only does the article talk about it Good touched upon in lecture how, “audiences exposed to a journalist self-disclosure and interaction with audiences via social media perceive the journalist more positively” (September 28th 2017), when she mentioned about this in lecture and when I read the assigned reading this immediately reminded me of the time I interacted with a sports journalist on twitter, in 2015. This sport journalist specifically writes about Brazilian Football, in other words he talks about The Seleção (Brazil national squad) and Brazilian born professional players in different leagues for his audience who are fellow Brazilian football (soccer) fans as well. This interaction I had was through twitter when the journalist tweeted about my two favorite players [Attached photo 3] where I replied back with a cuter photo of them, but was not expecting an interaction, where he retweeted the photo I tweeted to him which caused other audience members of his account too favorite and retweet my tweet. For some, like me, this interaction is appreciated since but because of his interaction it can also be seen as a violation of his professionalism and can be seen as a football fan interacting with other football fans than someone reporting about the Seleção. Since twitter is one of the biggest platforms to entertain and inform an audience it is often unreliable, so bringing in factual information to specific audiences it will take some time for your audience to believe the information you are giving is legitimate, most journalists don’t interact with their audience due to the violation of their professionalism. With this specific sports journalist that I interacted with is known to give his personal opinion on things making us (his audience determine if he is really a sports journalist for the Brazilian team or just another fan of the Seleção, for example [Picture 3] shows the tweet he has tweeted “PSG players had to wear numbers from 1 to 11 today, so Thiago helps his best friend David keep number 32. Aw” just by reading this tweet as an audience it’s hard to determine if he is just giving his public opinion about their friendship on the pitch or actually giving factual information which is why I avoided his profession as a journalist and tweeted back to him as a fan instead causing this interaction. Although this journalist appeals to many football (soccer) fans, in seminar two seminar facilitators (Natalie and Tiffany Sep. 21. 2017) asked a very important question, “Media Effects theory views the audience as objects. Do you believe media is making us, the audience, more individualistic or is it blinding our ability to think for ourselves?” this really got me to wonder on how true media has the ability to blind our way to think for ourselves. As an audience we witness a lot of things in the media in particular a personal example is watching YouTube beauty videos, two years ago when I would do makeup to school I wouldn’t be doing my makeup I do now but since personification of makeup has been changed in the last two years. The reason why these changes occur is we allow the media to pitch in ideas that many beauty gurus incorporate in their videos which becomes the makeup norm. and since us, the audience, we allow these changes into our everyday lives. Although media has the ability to blind us it also has the ability to let us think for ourselves, for instance the discrimination colored people face in the media and how people of colour are portrayed in the media a recent example was the Las Vegas shooting, where the media is portraying the shooter as a “lone wolf” since he was a 64 year old white male, but I immediately dismissed the idea of him being a lone wolf but a terrorist which is my individualistic approach to the situation since I was not there in person I was able to see many videos of the incident happening and was able to come to a conclusion myself and many others who use this situation to use their audience to bring light on how if this was a person of colour they would be labeled as a terrorist extremely fast without any background knowledge of the person what’s so over. With these four personal audience experience I feel I did the best of my ability to connect to the readings, lecture slides, and seminar facilitations.

- Shamieda Rajaram

5863709

Seminar 9 (COMM 3P18)