#@the new york times. i do not want to create an account why do i have to make a free account??????

[mysisters-bike]

Eric Harris was not a psychopath.

I know, this is a controversial title. Allow me to explain. TL;DR SUMMARY AT END! And, before continuing, do not mistake my presentation for sympathy.

What inspired my professional research in the first place was the trope that Eric was a psychopath. This trope was, I believe, popularized by Dave Cullen's awful account of the events at Columbine. First of all, Dave Cullen is not a psychologist or mental health professional. Next, Dave Cullen's work has been referenced by professionals as if he were a psychologist.

You're probably wondering why some person posting on Tumblr feels more qualified to speak on this. My credentials: I am qualified to conduct research on humans, I have a BA in Psychology, and a Masters in Forensic Psychology. My chosen career path focuses on intervening on at-risk youth before they become school shooters. I chose to present my research in an accessible location and not hide it behind research journal pay walls.

The biggest takeaway I want you to get from this is that severe mental health diagnoses take away from the smaller warning signs we need to be paying attention to.

So, what was Eric's "problem?" His behavior is rooted in poor childhood socialization. We know this already. Eric moved around a lot as a child. Throughout his crucial developmental years, the family moved three times: Kindergarten through second grade at 2 schools in Ohio, then to Oscoda, Michigan. In Sixth grade, and a portion of seventh, he was in Plattsburgh, New York. The remainder of his middle school and high school years were completed in Littleton, Colorado.

Eric's high mobility is an explanation for his poor social skills. A study conducted by Robert T. Webb, PhD, Carsten B. Pederson, DrMedSc, and Pearl L.H. Mok, PhD (2017) supports this theory. They conducted research on over 1 million children in Europe and analyzed the psychosocial affects of "moving around a lot" in childhood. This sort of scenario is commonly seen in children of military families; Eric's dad was active-duty Air Force and is the reason they moved so much.

This research found the children who moved around more were at higher risk for: attempted suicide, successful suicide, and deviant behaviors. Violent offending spiked in those who had more mobility in mid to early adolescence. The study reported even higher risk for those who saw multiple moves in the same year, which is something Eric also experienced.

Barker and Berry (2009) found that children of active-duty military caregivers often experienced behavioral issues while their parent was deployed and excessively attached behavior when the parent returned. In a separate study conducted by Flake, Davis, Johnson, and Middleton (2009), children of deployed caregivers exceeded Pediatric Symptom Checklist (PSC) cut-off scores for high risk psychosocial morbidity. Meaning, these children had the highest possible likelihood for behavioral issues rooted in interpersonal starvation. This is a dangerous hot and cold game to play with adolescents that are still learning and understanding the meaning of attachment. 

Forming connections and then quickly abandoning them could understandably create an inability to form deep, personal attachments with others. When he did form these connections, perhaps he clutched them a little too closely. These relationships may have been highly volatile if Eric feared he may leave them and lose their connection, just as he had experienced so many times before. The slightest movement may have triggered an aggressive response out of fear. 

Eric’s inability to keep and maintain a friend group wasn’t his fault – he did not learn how to properly socialize as a child. Sure, he was friendly and polite, but those are surface-level traits. After breaking the ice, friends of Eric began finding that he was pushy, controlling, and even a bit callous.

While Eric was noted as kind and polite, he was often regarded as shy as well. This shyness may have been influenced by trouble with low self-esteem. In a journal entry dated 11/12/1998, Harris wrote, “Everyone is always making fun of me because of how I look, how fucking weak I am and shit…” (Note: Eric's surgery for pectus excavatum as well as being bow-legged)

We’ve gently and briefly begun the exploration of Eric's childhood and understand the ways in which it could have affected him, behaviorally. The sad truth is, however, there just isn’t more data to help us understand the intricacies of his upbringing. I believe it is incorrect to say he wasn’t met with love by his family.

 I do believe, however, this was the case of a child who was gentle, sensitive, and whose personality required fragility and a compassionate parenting style. He was treated a bit more ruthlessly than he was able to withstand by being subjected to an authoritarian parenting style, which we will certainly unpack further in the coming research. I cannot imagine this was on purpose, but I do feel he was forced into being a tough, surface-level person that he was not capable of being. Truly, Eric was probably a very weak person. 

IN THE END, ERIC REQUIRED CONTROL IN HIS RELATIONSHIPS. Because of his constant social upheaval, Eric fucking hated not having control. This is a common pattern in attachment styles; avoidant, anxious, ambivalent, etc. We crave control because, for so long, our lives were unpredictable.

Okay, what about his inflated ego? Eric's sense of self was greatly inflated in private, but in public, he was quiet, shy, and relatively unlikeable. He equated himself to a god -- a god of what? He was a master of nothing in real life. Eric's insecurity led him down a path in which he privately lived out his fantasy of being better than those around him.

The most important thing that gets overlooked and nullifies the idea he was a psychopath was the fact that he did feel. Evidenced in his journal:

He expresses that he doesn't want blame to fall on his friends or family. He also writes that he has no self-esteem, he wishes he was accepted more, mourns his relationship with his Dad ("I had a lot of fun at that gun show, I would have loved it if you were there Dad. We would have done some major bonding. Would have been great. Oh well."), he's upset about not having friends ("I hate you people for leaving me out of so many fun things. And no don’t fucking say “well that’s your fault” because it isn’t, you people had my phone #, and I asked and all, but no. no no no don’t let the weird looking Eric KID come along, ooh fucking nooo."), and is self-conscious of how he behaves ("why the fuck can’t I get any? I mean, I’m nice and considerate and all that shit, but nooooo. I think I try too hard.")

Lastly, the infamous scene from the Basement Tapes in which Eric is crying and says a tearful goodbye to his friends that he wishes he could have said goodbye to. Read more here, page 8.

Eric's journals are filled with anger, hate, and deplorable language. But in my opinion, he does not bear the mark of a psychopath.

TL;DR

Moving around a lot interrupted Eric's ability to socialize in childhood

As a child, Eric was likely sensitive and required a gentle parenting style and was instead met with an authoritarian style that focuses on obedience rather than nurturing

Eric's own words demonstrated his ability to feel emotion, remorse, and self-consciousness.

Eric's "inflated ego" was a show he put on in private because he wasn't accepted by his peers; it was a defense mechanism to protect himself

Overlooking small behavioral patterns in favor of severe conclusions forces us to miss the warning signs after it's too late. It’s hard to hear, but sometimes it doesn’t take that much for people to do horrible things to one another. 

#eric harris #dylan klebold #columbine #tcc #true crime #psychology

[thefallennightmare]

Moment of Weakness-twenty six

*credit to whoever created the gif. found on google/Pinterest *

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: language, smut, angst, fluff, affair, cheating, violence.

Summary: Reader is the assistant to New York's most feared mob boss, James Buchanan Barnes. He had the picture-perfect life: status in the mob, friends, and beautiful wife. So why can't he keep his mind and eyes off of reader?

Author's Note: Hopefully this chapter makes up for the boring last two!

Tags(closed): @splendidreads @sebsgirl71479 @mdpplgtz03 @pattiemac1 @unaxv @alana4610 @broadwaybabe18 @themayzittcha @playboystark @raajali3 @ozwriterchick @ragamuffin285 @screamingdying @themorningsunshine @kenziekugler22 @calwitch @sebastianstansqueen @stanaddict @stucky-simp03 @sleyeveryday @loustan90 @lyra-black13 @valsworldofcreativity @cjand10 @tesseract69 @batprincess1013 @subwaysurf45 @arsonfrogger @yoruse @5moremin @lipstickandtanqueray @mandijo17 @joannaromanoff @justsebstan @winters1917 @elizacusi-blog @football1921 @elxvrr

Bucky stood close behind me as we walked the short distance from his car to the building where we were meeting Steve and Sam. According to Steve, there was someone inside that knew some information about the hit and he was willing to meet with us on one condition. Bucky had a tight grip on a bag that held that certain condition. 

Twenty thousand conditions to be exact. 

The guy wanted $20,000 in exchange for the info that we needed. I tried to tell Bucky that no matter what information this guy had, it wasn’t worth all this money.

“For your life? I’d drain every single one of my accounts.” 

I felt every inch of my body vibrate as we walked up to Steve and Sam, who stood right outside of the entrance of the club. 

“Is he here?” Bucky questioned. 

Steve nodded. “At the bar. 

“Is it in there?” Sam pointed to the bag. 

“Yeah. Asshole wouldn't take anything less than 20,” Bucky grumbled before resting his eyes on me. “Remember what I said?” 

I sighed but nodded. “Stay by you at all times.” 

With a motion of his head, we all headed inside of the lively club while all standing close to one another. Steve stood close behind me while Sam and Bucky were in front of us. There were bodies packed close together, dancing along with the loud beats of the music and we had to physically push our way through to make our way to the bar. Steve was right behind me, his warm breath across the skin of the back of my neck, and his arms were on either side of me to protect me from whatever would happen. 

Bucky looked over his shoulder to make sure I was still close so I linked my fingers with his, allowing him to guide me through the crowd. 

Through the clearing, we all stopped in front of the bar and Steve pointed to the lone man sitting in the middle with his back to us. 

“Perhaps we can go somewhere more private?” The man swung around in the stool, now staring at us. 

When his eyes landed on me, they widened for a brief second. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” 

I shrugged. “I don’t have anything to be afraid of.” 

“Hm,” the man hummed while taking a drink. “Baron Zemo.” 

“Y/N,” I gave a curt nod. 

Baron looked towards Bucky and motioned towards the bag in his hand. “Is that it?” 

Bucky dropped it to his feet. “Tell us what you know.” 

“If it’s anything like the last few times we’ve met, all the money is here?” Baron asked while placing the bag onto his lap. 

Clearly this wasn’t the first time that Bucky and Baron had met. 

“What do you know?” Steve now asked. 

“I received a call from Clint Barton a week ago to fly him and a lady friend of his to Hungary.” 

“Budapest?” Bucky spoke. 

I suddenly remembered the conversation that was being had between Bucky and the guy he had pinned to the bar last night. 

Baron nodded. “This wasn’t the first time I let them use my jet either.” 

Bucky’s hand was still linked with mine so I could feel when he tensed. “Them?” 

“Clint and the redhead,” Baron smirked while taking a drink. 

He knew who the redhead was, we all did. Baron was playing coy which irritated us. 

“I think she said her name was Natasha?” He said. 

Bucky went to lunge for him but I held him back, letting him know that we wouldn't get any more information if Baron was knocked to the floor unconscious. With myself standing in front of him to block him, I gave Baron a hard stare. 

“Cut the bullshit, Zemo. You knew Natasha was Bucky’s wife. How many times did you let them use your jet?” I asked. 

“Quite a lot over the last year and a half, even when the two of you were married. I caught them a few times being a bit too close, especially for a married woman,” Baron said over my shoulder to Bucky. 

My heart fell into my stomach with the realization that Natasha and Clint were seeing each other. But I could only hurt for Bucky so much because we were doing the same thing that they were. 

Sam could feel the sudden tension so he spoke next. “Are you planning on picking them up in Budapest to fly them back?” 

Baron only nodded. 

“When?” Steve asked. 

He lifted up his cell phone. “Clint will call me when they're ready to come back.” 

“As soon as he calls you, you let me know. Understand?” Bucky demanded, still standing behind me. 

"For a price,” Baron smirked. 

I went to refuse, not wanting Bucky to waste any more of his money on me, but he spoke faster than I could. 

“I’ll wire you another twenty when I have proof that they touched ground in New York.” 

The smirk on Baron’s face doubled in size but the conversation that they were now having fell on my deaf ears as I felt a burning sensation on the back of my head and it wasn’t coming from Bucky. 

While peering over my shoulder, I saw that not only was one set of eyes on me but at least three that I could notice. And it wasn’t the kind of gaze that was full of desire, it was more so filled with greed. 

One of the men pushed back his jacket, revealing a gun holstered on the side of his pants and I immediately patted Bucky’s chest with shaking fingers. 

“Bucky,” I muttered. 

He followed my eyes and I knew when he saw what I did because Bucky quickly went to head over to the man who was holding his gun. However, I held him back. 

“We can't afford to cause a huge scene right now. The less people know that I’m here the better.” 

Reluctantly, Bucky nodded and used his large frame as a shield, standing behind me once again. Our eyes locked when I placed a gentle hand on his cheek. 

“No one is going to try anything while you’re here, especially with Sam and Steve,” I reassured him.

I heard a snicker from behind me. 

“You think that you’re safe because you have THE Bucky Barnes at your side? There will be a time where he can’t be with you. I’d suggest you be careful.” 

I cocked my head to the side, lips parting in a smug smile. “Is that a threat?” 

Baron gave a one shoulder shrug. “What could you possibly do?” 

My knuckles collided with his chin, his body clattering to the hard floor below and he brought the stool down with him. The loud noise caught the attention now from everyone around us but I paid them no mind. 

Baron went to stand up but I placed the heel of my shoe deep into his chest, locking him into place on the ground. 

“Let’s get one thing straight, Zemo,” I dug my heel harder into his chest when I felt him struggle against me. “I don’t need them to protect me. Clearly, I have zero problem dealing with men like you.”  

Steve looked around us, people now crowding around us even closer, and gently grabbed my elbow. 

“Y/N, we need to go,” his voice was soft but urgent.

I watched as one guy with a knife gripped tight in his hand slowly stalked towards me which caused Bucky to wrap an arm around me and pull me into his chest. 

“Keep your head low,” he breathed in my ear. 

With my own arm wrapped around his side, I let him quickly lead me out of the club, Sam and Steve following very close behind. 

#mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes and reader #mob!bucky barnes x yn #mob!bucky barnes and yn #mob!bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes and reader #sebastian stan #moment of weakness-mob!bucky barnes

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

King of social media | Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Tom makes a mistake and post a private video on his Instagram Story

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Word count: 0.6k

Request: Can you write about Tom making a mistake on social media? Accidentally posting a picture or saying something on a live? 

-

Phones were not allowed on set, so you only saw Tom's Instagram story hours later when you wrapped up for the day. You picked your phone up and, a frown formed on your face, seeing it blowing up with notifications. You unlocked it and quickly went on Instagram to figure out why you had so many notifications since they seemed to be all coming from there. Something must've happened while you were on set.

It didn't take you long to find the source of the notifications: Tom. It must be a picture he posted - or perhaps he had 'accidentally' tagged you on his crotch again and fans went crazy. You prayed it wasn't the latter. Although it was funny, your grandma did not understand why he had tagged you there and you had to explain the joke to her...

You clicked on Tom's account and hit the story button.

An emotional smile broke on your face, seeing him in a hoodie and curly strands on his forehead.

You hadn't seen Tom in a month because of filming and it was tough.

When you were filming in another state, flying home for a weekend was an option, but not when you were all the way in Spain. Being away from your loved ones was the toughest part of being an actor. You wished Tom could come with you all the time, but your schedules didn't always align.

''I'm on a date with my new girlfriend,'' Tom said, a arm wrapped around Tessa's neck. He kissed her head, holding his phone with his other hand. ''And it's raining. And my hair's gone super curly.'' He kissed Tessa again, but her attention was elsewhere, seeing something more interesting a little bit away. ''But we're in love. Right, princess?''

As cute as this was, it made you miss them more. You wanted to go through the screen and kiss Tom's face - and Tessa's.

Tom then looked right at the camera, his eyes a little sad. ''Me and Tessa miss you.''

The story ended and your heart was full.

Disregarding the timezone and how late it must be in New York, you called Tom. He picked up after a few rings.

''I'm guessing you saw the video,'' Tom began before you could place any words, embarrassed at his terrible social media skills.

One of his cast-mate once had to screen-record how to delete a story he had posted two times on Instagram because he couldn't figure out how to do it. He was a total grandpa when it came to social media.

''I did.''

''I meant to send this to you, but I posted it on public instead of just to you and now everyone cooing about this video...'' he explained, as if you hadn't guessed yourself.

You and Tom were a very private couple. Hollywood knew you were together, but you weren't the kind of couple who posted hundreds of selfies together or answer questions about each other in interviews. Love's a fragile little flame; you liked to preserve your private life, your private love life.

You already had to deal with the vultures circling you every time you were out in public, making you and Tom feel like a pair of foxes during hunting season. The less they know about your private life, the better.

''It's okay. You made a mistake.''

Honestly, you weren't mad. Tom's mistake was cute. The medias will undoubtedly make articles about it soon and create headlines, but at least it was a sweet message.

Tom sighed. ''A dumb mistake.''

You gasped in offense. ''Are you saying missing me is dumb?''

''No! No. That's not-''

You laughed to yourself, wishing you could see his panicked face while stumbling with his words. ''I was messing with you, Tommy.'' There was shuffling on the other end of the phone, followed by a bark you recognized as Tessa's. ''Tell Tessa I miss her.'' 

''What about me?'' 

''I miss you too.''

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland x y/n #marvel prompt #marvel mcu #marvel #marvel x reader #MCU #mcu prompts #mcu imagines

[drunkenbagel]

Enchanted to meet you - Part 3

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Spanish f!reader Contents: overall fluff, descriptions of panic attack, angst with comfort a/n: i'm so so sorry for being away so long, i somehow lost access to the account and couldn't post anything!! also have been on a kind of writer's block, so i'm sorry for that too lol. for this part i added some media, let me know if you like it :D Word count: 5,5k Disclaimer: none of the photos used are mine and therefore i do not own them, i just edited them.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

Your side of the video call stayed silent for a moment, while you were trying to process what Pedro just said.

“y/n? Did I lost you?” he asked, and groaned. “Maldita cobertura de LA” (Damned LA reception.)

“Wha- What did you just say?” you questioned again. “Are you kidding me right now? Because if you are, no te lo perdonaré nunca.” (I'll never forgive you)

”What? I just-” he started another sentence, but he was interrupted by someone asking to take a picture with him. You quickly silenced your mic and turned off your camera, not wanting to be seen by the people he was with. They would probably get the wrong idea, getting him in trouble. Not to mention the controversy and the incessant hate train that the situation would create. You knew Pedro was sensitive when it came to hurt and pain, even if it didn't seem that way just because he brushed it off with goofiness and some jokes. So, you tried your best to avoid any kind of problem that seeing someone like you with him could cause. After a few minutes, he focused his phone on his face again.

“Hey, sorry about that, darlin'” he said with a side smile. “Some people asked- Are you still there?”

You connected your mic and camera again. “Yeah, sorry. Didn't want to disturb you.”

He frowned. “Don't say that. You don't.”

You felt a small pang on your chest, but you brushed it off by jumping again to the previous topic.

“So, what is that thing you were telling me? You're inviting me where?”

“Oh, yeah! I was thinking if you'd like to come with me to Los Angeles. I've got some long filming ahead and was wondering if you'd like to visit me. I'm going to stay at my house here, and of course, as my best friend, you have a designated room” he said laughing. “I could show you around and stuff. You know, to see the beautiful places here.”

“I mean... I'd sure as hell would love it, don't get me wrong or anything” you said, letting out a nervous chuckle. “But, uhm...”

You didn't know how to tell him that you were dying to see Los Angeles since you moved to the United States, but that you were afraid to be outside with him and the consequences that it could bring. You two had been basically best friends for almost two and a half years now, but he was still a celebrity, for fuck's sake. And you were... Average. You always tried to be really careful when going outside with him. Wasn't he afraid of being seen with you? It was easier to blend in the few times you two went out in New York, especially since you preferred to go out mostly at night-time or just hang out at his house.

“Then it's settled! I'll be back there in like a week, and after a few days we can come back here for as long as you like. I think it'll be so fun being here with you, you'll love this! I'll show you so many things here. Oh, I also could show you around the studios, maybe you'll see someone from those crime shows you're obsessed with.”

“Hey! Why the cute rant and then you attack me? Not fair” you said cracking a small smile. “I appreciate your invite, really, but... I don't know, I have my job, my rent...”

“y/n, since your promotion you practically work from home. You don't go to the office anymore. And about your apartment, you always complain about the landlord, the sink, the place itself. Si no es esto, es lo otro. Why don't you move out and look for anything else?” (If it's not this, it's that.)

“I-” you tried to think of any excuses, but he was right. You had been looking for apartments, but it was very difficult to find anything decent in New York with an average paycheck. You sighed, defeated. “Look, I know you're right, but what do you want me to do? Just magically find something?”

He hummed, and brought his hand to his chin, thinking. You almost laughed. It looked like he was thinking so hard. After a few moments, he snapped his fingers.

“Here's the deal. I know this filming is going to be at least three months, so how about you stay with me here, and then you can stay at mine in New York? You know you have a room at my place anyways.”

“What? That is not-” You felt your cheeks heat up. How could he be so calm about this? “So that is your solution? You want me to move in with you?”

“I wouldn't say that, it's more like... A temporary solution until you find a place for yourself. You know you practically spend all your time in my house when I'm there! Also, you could stop paying rent for that shithole while staying with me, so I only see positive points here. Am I wrong?”

He smiled at the camera while you ran a hand through your hair, stressed. He had a very valid point, of course, but he said it so casually that it left you a bit dumbfounded. So did this mean that he didn't care to be seen with you? His New York apartment was in a multiple housing building, so it was always easier for you to go in unnoticed. But Los Angeles? You didn't know if that was possible. People there were more used to seeing celebrities, of course, but the anxious thoughts were not leaving you alone.

“Hey, I hope I'm not making you uncomfortable or anything. You know you can always say no” he said with a worried tone.

“I know, I know. I was just thinking...” you sighed. “You're right. But are you sure you don't mind me being there with you? Or anywhere close for that matter? Are you sure it's okay? Because I wouldn't-”

“Y'think I would have said it if I didn't mean it? You're offending me!” he said laughing. “Now, seriously. I'd love to have you around more. You know I miss you when we're apart.”

“Aw, mi Pedrito se enterneció. ¡Te he ablandado! How did you live without me?” you joked. (My little Pedro got soft. I have softened you!)

His could feel his cheeks getting red, but he tried to brush it off. “Anda, cállate. Do you accept my deal or not? The offer is now for limited time.” (C'mon, shut up.)

“Okay, okay! I do accept” you said laughing. “But I'll need help with moving if I have to leave everything at your apartment before going to LA. You help me or the deal is off.”

“You got it” he said with a wide smile. The way his eyes wrinkled while he was smiling or laughing made your heart skip a beat. It was too cute for your heart to handle, you loved it. The way he grasped onto anyone around him while he let out the cutest belly laugh, or how contagious they were.

Little did you know he was thinking the same thing about you. Pedro loved your laugh, especially when it was shared with him. Oh, how his heart started to beat faster every time you sent him a message. Or how that one time you were video chatting him and you felt so comfortable that you fell asleep still in the call. He ended up just watching you sleep soundly before falling asleep ‘beside you’. And now he was going to have you under the same roof? He felt like he was the happiest man in the world when you accepted. He couldn't believe you did. He had been thinking about asking you since you always complained about how awful your landlord was, or how he refused to fix anything. Truth be told, he wanted to punch that guy more than anything sometimes.

He tried to keep his silly crush for himself, especially since you were much younger than him. The last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable, so he tried to keep it away from his thoughts. But it was so damn difficult. You were so kind, so caring, and so sweet. He wanted you all for himself, but whenever he thought about it, he always ended up in the conclusion that you didn't seem to show any interest beyond your friendship. That's why he forced himself to act as he was, just your ‘older’ best friend. Who casually just invited you to live with him.

Cool, cool. Totally normal.

As the days went by, you put your leave notice to your landlord and started packing everything. Pedro helped you with all, just as he promised, even using his own car to move the boxes back and forth between apartments. Luckily, you didn't have that much stuff since your apartment was quite small. Time seemed to pass very slowly but so fast at the same time, leaving your stomach to be a flustered mess of nervousness. Soon enough, you both were waiting into the airline row to enter the plane.

“Oh my god. I can't believe I'm doing this!”

“It's hitting you now?” Pedro answered laughing. “Actually, it's making me feel weird too. But the good kind. I like it when I have you around.”

“Aw” you said pouting. “You like it, but not enough to pay for us to sit together?”

“Are you kidding me? I'm not going to pay 50 extra dollars for a seat. I'm already going to see you all the time when we land, don't give me a hard time with it! Plus, we're only a seat apart, eres una exagerada.” (You're exaggerating.)

“Whatever. I'll remember this betrayal.”

“Ugh” he said smiling while he rolled his eyes. “C'mon, we're next.”

The six hour flight went by faster than you expected it to be, especially since you slept for most of it. The chatty old lady that sat in between you two was kind enough to switch places with Pedro halfway on the flight when she saw the way he looked at you uncomfortably sleeping against the plane window, so he put the armrest back and carefully pulled you to his side so you could sleep on him.

You looked so beautiful like this. Softly moving your hair away from your face, he pushed the stray hairs behind your ear, and you sighed contently. He couldn't stop the smile that formed on his lips.

“How long have you been dating, dear?”

Pedro turned his head to his right, confused. “What?”

“Oh, I'm sorry. Are you married perhaps? It's just that I didn't see your rings so I guessed you didn't pop the question yet. Don't tell me this trip is for that! Oh my, congratulations!”

“What? No! No, no” he said while moving his free hand on the air. He could feel his cheeks getting hot and he looked at you quickly in case you had heard the lady, but you were soundly asleep. Then he looked at her again. “It's not like that. We- Uh, we're just friends. She's my best friend. Just that.”

“‘M sorry then, dear. It's just that I heard you two talkin’ about living together, saw you actin’ like you were, and I just assumed. But let me tell ya’, honey, friends don't look at each other like that” she said, briefly patting his thigh while smiling. “My dear Stevie, may he rest in peace, was always lookin’ at me the same. I didn't realize I was in love with him until I was with somebody else, for the love of god! I just assumed he was a good friend and never saw me as nothin’ else. He even helped me with this guy just ‘cause I seemed happy. But you see, honey, he just wanted the best for me as long as I was happy, even if that meant sacrificing his own happiness. I almost lost my dearest because I thought helpin’ me to find joy in another meant that he wasn't interested. I can see how you look at her. Don't let that happen to you, honey. Believe me, not worth the time you lose while y’know that you two are just playin’ pretend.”

Pedro only looked at the woman with his lips briefly parted, his heart heavy on his chest. He didn't want that happening, but he could also not risk ruining the relationship he already had with you. He would never do that. Also, he noticed how you always avoided going to crowded spaces or where paparazzi could spot you two together. How could he not? He knew that you didn't like the attention that kind of things attracted, so he respected your decisions over where to meet. Pedro preferred staying with you watching TV or playing games rather than cameras following him everywhere anyways. In fact, he knew moving to Los Angeles was a huge step for you, since it was nearly impossible to go out and not be spotted by paparazzis. That was mainly why he was feeling so nervous about this whole thing, but he hoped that after all the time that you two had been friends for, maybe you wouldn't be too bashful about going out with him, and would let him recognise you publicly as his friend.

He spent the hour and a half that was left of the flight sleeping with his head on top of yours, only waking up when the lady beside him shook his arm gently to let him know that you were landing. He then did the same with you, and couldn't hold back a smile while he watched you rub your eyes and yawn. After getting off the plane you two went for your baggages, and after you managed to put everything in one big stroller, you started walking outside.

“I'm impressed” he said, watching you push the thing by yourself. “I thought you were going to bring your whole house over here. Is this really everything?”

“Well, no” you said as if it was obvious. “Did you think I was going to bring my scarfs, jackets and big sweaters to LA? I'm not-”

You stopped talking when you saw a man with a camera in the distance. He was taking pictures of you. You gulped and tried to laugh, but an uncomfortable chuckle came out.

“y/n? Are you alright?” asked Pedro, a little worried by your change of demeanour. He moved his eyes in the direction you were looking, and then he saw it. A couple of men with cameras, and they were getting closer. “Hey, look at me.” You linked your eyes with his, and he had a soft look on them. “You'll be alright. C'mon, let's take a taxi and get home.”

You nodded and tried to ignore the sound of clicking cameras getting closer. Taking the stroller, Pedro quickly made his way to a taxi and started packing everything up while you got inside. When the men reached the car you heard him say something before he got to the back of it with you and gave the address to the driver. You nervously took his hand with yours and he squeezed it twice, which was his silent way of asking if you were feeling okay. You squeezed it back once. Yeah, just anxious. You two came up with this method after Pedro realized that you sometimes went non-verbal when you were in situations that made you feel anxious, and he wanted to know how he could help. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he left a kiss on your hair while rubbing his thumb over yours. After a few minutes in silence, he spoke up.

“I'm thinking you won't have much enthusiasm of going out. I understand if you wanna spend the day at home. We can watch a film or something, then order food. Sounds good?”

“Yeah” you answered in a whisper. “I'm sorry.”

“Why? You didn't do anything wrong. I know you're not used to this, and I love you for coming with me to the other side of the country despite knowing the situations that you may have to face. I should be the one apologizing” he said, and kissed your forehead. “I know this will be hard at first, but I want to be able to call you my friend. To talk about you in interviews, or when people ask me about funny stories. And I'm not trying to give you an ultimatum or anything since I understand that you want your privacy, I do too, but with my kind of life, you always have to give something. I don't want you being followed, but at least I want to be able to not hide my amazing best friend to the world.”

“I understand, and I'm okay with it. I didn't just accept moving with you lightly, I knew what I was getting into. And I understand that it may have been difficult not to say anything about me, but I just- I wasn't ready. It's not easy being a celebrity's best friend” you said with a chuckle. “But I also get your point. You have been my best friend for a long time now, and I don't want to hide anymore. I know it's going to be hard, so I need you to be patient with me. More than you have already been, which I'm incredibly thankful for. But it's not going to be something I magically get used to. Don't you think I might also be dying to share you with the world? I'd love to! But I was trying to wrap my head around it. And I did, and I'm ready. So expect me posting about you and your shitty habits everywhere on my Instagram and Twitter from now on.”

He couldn't hold back a wide grin while he took you into a tight hug, and you giggled. “Thank you. Thank you so much for doing this, y/n. Ugh, you're the best. How did I ever bag this good of a friend?”

“I believe you stalked me for weeks, forced Ernesto to tell you things about my schedule, then waited for me in the café every time like a puppy and called it ‘a coincidence’, right?”

“You're saying it like I'm some creep or something! I just liked how normal you treated me, okay? Shut up.”

After arriving to the house and setting your things on your room, Pedro gave you a small tour of the house. You loved it. Especially the views from the amazing balcony that led to a beautiful view of the city. You two opened a bottle of wine while waiting for the takeout to arrive, and you braced yourself to finally face the challenge: going through socials. You were sure that the photos from this morning were all over the internet already, and when you entered Twitter, you confirmed it. The paparazzi pictures where everywhere, and everyone was speculating on how were you related to him. When the food arrived and he was about to dig into it, you spoke.

“Pedro?”

“Yeah?”

“I think it's time to post it” you said while taking a long sip of the glass.

“That fast?” he asked incredulously. You nodded and showed him your phone. “Okay then, one sec.”

He took out his phone and typed something. A few moments later, your phone chimed, and you stared at the Instagram post you were tagged in.

“You bitch! You could have picked another photo” you said while laughing.

“I know, but that's the funniest one” he said chuckling too.

—•—

It had been a bit more than a month since the photo was posted, and people were taking it a lot better than you had expected. Some were even asking you to post ‘unseen’ Pedro content. There were also people that insulted you and told you ugly things, but you decided to ignore and block them. Your social media follower count had exploded, and you had a lot of new people interacting with your normal content, but you got more or less used to it.

You had been out together a couple of times, mostly to get groceries and stuff before Pedro began his filming. He made you copies for every key in the house, and also gave you the spare one for his car in case you ever needed it. But since then, he spent a lot of hours out in the studios, so you mostly saw each other at early mornings or nights.

“Hey, I'm free today so I was thinking of going to the beach or something. I know it's not the best weather, but maybe we could take the car and then rent some bikes and go for a ride over there? What do you think?” Pedro asked you one afternoon while eating lunch.

You yawned while nodding. You had tried not to sleep in the Los Angeles daylight, but you were still kind of used to the New York timezone. Jet lag was no joke, and your shitty sleep schedule didn't help either.

“Sure. But I might be a little out of practice, so you better not laugh at me.”

“But that would be the best part!” he said laughing. “Okay then, I'll go for the car. This way I can show you around a bit more than these past weeks.”

He seemed very happy since he made you two public, and it made your heart go soft at the thought that sharing you with the world had that kind of reaction for him. Sometimes you thought that the people would find your friendship weird because of the age difference, but to your luck, it seemed like most people understood the situation a little. Of course, there were the ones that thought it was weird, or that you two were dating but didn't want to tell, but luckily it wasn't that many people.

When you got dressed Pedro drove to Santa Monica beach, then rented the bikes, and it was then when your small tour began. He showed you Venice beach, his favourite places to eat, drink and you even saw a museum from the outside. When the sun was starting to set, you rode back to the bike renting shop and sat in the sand to watch the sunset.

After it got a little dark, Pedro drove you to a local Mexican restaurant not too far to have dinner. You ordered some tacos and enchiladas, and while eating them both of you talked about how filming was going. He was so excited about it, and he wanted to invite you to set. You told him you would think about it beacuse you too had a job, but you ended up promising you would soon since you could do yours from anywhere and your schedule was more flexible. Pedro had a small desk on the living room so you used it as a makeshift little office.

Unaware for both of you, some people had spotted Pedro at the restaurant and posted it on the internet, which led the paparazzi to the location. They were waiting outside, and when you two realised it, it was too late, since there were already a small swarm of them. Your stomach began to ache with anxiety. This was the first time that you encountered that many together.

“I can ask the staff to let us out from the back” Pedro said after seeing your reaction to the small crowd.

“No, no. I don't want to inconvenience them or anything. We'll just... Go out, and then walk to the car and go back home. I'll be fine” you said, but worry was lingering in your voice.

After getting your leftovers in a small container, paying and gathering your things, you got up and headed to the exit. When Pedro got his hand on the handle of the cristal door, the flashes of the cameras had already began clicking around you. You had to cover your eyes and stop in your tracks for a second, which Pedro used to take your hand and lead you to where the car was a few meters away. Everyone was pushing around and shouting, trying to get his attention.

“Why did you hide her?”

“Did she move in with you?”

“Are you two dating?”

You reached the car, but they were too close. One of them was blocking the passenger door, so you couldn't really get into it. Pedro was already on the driver's side of the car, waiting for you to get in.

“Please move, you're in the middle” you heard Pedro say to them.

The photographers didn't listen and kept shouting while flashing their cameras. They were so close, too close, you felt like your air was slowly getting kicked out of your lungs. But they didn't back off, they just kept moving closer and pushing their way into you to get the best angles.

“Why are you even with her? You can do so much better!”

Pedro turned around to yell at the guy who said that, but he was just in front of you, and while he flinched backwards trying to get away from him thinking Pedro was maybe going to push him, his camera hit your face. It hit you right in the cheek, breaking the skin ever so slightly but enough to make you bleed. You gasped and your head moved down from the impact. You heard Pedro yell your name as he ran to your side, and you could swear the small crowd went silent for an instant before resuming the flashing of the cameras.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Pedro screamed at the guy. He took your face softly in between his hands as he was inspecting the spot which you had been hit on.

“She was in the middle, it's not my fault!”

“It's not your fault?” he said tearing his eyes from you to the man, and felt the worry for you shift into rage inside of him. “If you had even a little bit of a brain you wouldn't have to push anyone, you fucking asshole!”

You couldn't hear anything. Everything sounded like it was muffled. Panic was starting to build rapidly into you, making your limbs shake. Your breath was becoming irregular and your hands were sweating. No, no, no. Not here. Not now. You turned your back to the photographers, facing the car and putting your hands against it in an attempt to ground yourself. Tears started forming in your eyes, and you tried not to spill them. You didn't want to cry, not here, not where you could embarrass Pedro. That was the last thing you wanted. You tried to open the car door with shaky hands, and after what felt like an eternity, you got into the car. You crouched down and took your head between your hands trying to stop your head from pounding. Pedro was so fucking angry at the guy. How could he treat you like that? He had no right to do it. He was almost going to punch him but stopped in his tracks when he saw you get into the car and double over. His stomach sank at the sight. He knew what that position meant for you, and without any other word he got into the car and drove away without caring if he ran over one of those ungrateful men.

“Breathe, baby. We're out, I'm taking you home. We're almost there. Steady breaths.”

He kept talking to you in an effort to ground you, but silent tears were already streaming down your face as you hyperventilated. You hated this, you hated messing up everything. As soon as you were home, Pedro got out of the car and ran to your side. After opening the door, he carefully took you in his arms as you clinged to him, still with uneven breaths. He took you to the living room and lowered both of you to the ground.

“y/n, let's breathe together, okay? Look” he said while taking your hands into his and clutching them into his chest. He breathed in and out slowly a couple of times, and you tried to imitate him, but it was very hard for you, which only got you more frustrated and anxious. “It's alright, don't push it. Slowly. There's no rush, I'm here with you. Now, I'm going to leave your side for a second” he said softly, and you let out a small whine. “It'll be just a moment, and I'll be right back, okay? It's alright, I promise.”

You slightly nodded, still shaking and breathing harshly. Pedro quickly got up and grabbed an ice pack from the freezer, making his way back to you. He then sat in front of you and put it into your hands, holding them to your chest. Cold always helped you calm down.

“Meanwhile... Let's do 5-to-1, alright? Tell me 5 things you can see.”

After a small pause, you nodded and started looking around. “P-photos” you answered with a small shaky voice. “TV. Kitchen. F-fan. Bal- balcony. Shoes.”

“Good. Very good, baby. You're doing amazing” he said with a smile. “Now 4 things you can touch.”

You looked around and with a trembling hand you touched the rug. Then your pants. Then the sofa. And lastly the small coffee table that was in front of the sofa.

“That's good. Very good” he reassured you again. Positive responses helped you feel like you were a bit more in control. “Now three things you can hear.”

You breathed in and out shakily again, and closed your eyes for a moment. You could hear some faint music from the street, playing not too far away. “M- music.” Moving your head slowly, you heard the kitchen clock ticking. “Clock.” Pedro nodded and gave your hands a small squeeze. A breeze made the trees outside crunch. “Wind.”

“Perfect. That's very good, baby. You're doing great. Now can two things you can smell?”

You looked around again, trying to find anything that came into your ratio. You sniffed the air, and saw the abandoned leftover box in the middle of the room.

“F-food.” Pedro smiled at you and nodded. You looked at him with teary eyes, inhaled and then clutched his shirt. “You. Your- cologne.”

He couldn't stop his face softening or the loving look he gave you. He knew you were just saying it because he was the closest thing you could smell, but he couldn't help his heart from beating faster.

“Very good. Now the last one, something you can taste.”

You had calmed down a little, but after a few moments of looking around, your breath became hitched again. You couldn't find anything. Nothing. Not even a mint or some candy. Pedro saw how your thoughts started racing again, and his smile faded completely, panic briefly washing over him too.

“Okay, okay. Remember, slow breaths. Deep and slow, please.”

Your eyes didn't meet his, frantically looking for something that would complete the exercise. You had to complete it. It wasn't right. Pedro thought of every possible solution, but nothing came to mind. Until it did. But he didn't want to do it. It felt wrong, but he saw you start trembling again, he couldn't just leave you to suffer. He knew how important this cycle was to you.

“Oh, fuck this. I- I'm sorry” Pedro muttered while tenderly taking your face in his hands and bringing his lips to meet yours. Your entire body stopped shaking in shock as your eyes widened. You could taste his minty toothpaste along with your shared dinner. Without you noticing, your breath had become slower because of the air shortage. But Pedro noticed that, and he gently pulled back from the kiss. He slowly opened his eyes to meet your still widened ones. For what felt the longest time you two didn't say anything, and his thoughts were the ones that started to race now.

Fuck. I fucked up everything. Why did I even do that? Shit. I ruined it. Now she's going to leave and-

You left the ice pack on the floor, and leaning into him, you snuggled into his lap and put your head on his chest, hugging his waist with your arms. He did the same and held your head with one of his hands, resting his lips on top of it. Pedro was now the one with wide eyes.

What was he supposed to do now? What the hell did this even mean?

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x you #fanfiction

[spidereggs888]

Miguel’s new secretary ooh-la-la

(lol /j 💀)

Miguel O’Hara & y/n, any gender or non gender. Very casual writing style. TW Dark humor, dangerous situations, 18+. Y/n are sorta attracted to Miguel (why else would you be here?) but he doesn’t know you lol

This is a loooong read so make sure you have time or something. Also, there’s an illustration in the middle of the chapter! Enjoy

≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋≋

MIGUEL & YOU

ACT 1 | ALGORITHMIC LOTTERY

It's the year 2110.

You are maneuvering through traffic in a sputtery fashion, the lifter problem in your engine getting so bad it almost sounds like you got rocks under the hood. The podcast is going on about alligators in Nueva York sewers.

“Couldn’t be more wrong,” you mumble, “there’s CROCODILES in the sewers, not alligators.”

You aren’t looking forward to this interview. How the heck did you manage an audition for office secretary to the CEO of Alchemax?!

“I don’t know,” you say aloud to your other self, “but if I get the job, Imma upgrade to a better ride than this heap of Maglev shit…”

But there’s other bitches who want this position. Two of them you are aware of: Syd and Brody. Syd is a real suck up who will say any damn thing to get the position. She out-groveled you and got the lead PR accounting job you wanted. Suck-up Syd is what you call her around your friends. Brody on the other hand is opposite; he thinks he can strong-arm his way into anything and he pretty much has. He’s kicked people down, screwed people over, and there’s a rumor he filed a sexual harassment charge on his friend Ashton just to get the promotion before Ashton could.

These two skanks are gonna be tricky, but that’s the least of why you loathe this whole thing. You also heard that Miguel O’Hara is a hard ass. When he came into power a few years ago, he immediately fired the former secretary for talking about his father in a positive light. Then he proceeded to chew and spit out people who ever had the misfortune of being in that job position.

“Or maybe they just cut their losses after raking in half a billion,” your friend Speshall guessed the last time you seen her, “they prolly couldn’t take the heat for that long so they waited until they were set for life then said something stupid on purpose to get him to let them go. What a retirement plan! To work for the sexiest man of the year then have him berate you on your way out!”

She was always like this.

Anyway, now your car is not being validated in the automated parking center.

“What the HELL?!”

“Sorry, your credit has been declined.”

“Oh fuck me-“

You fumble your lanyard of data sticks. You are looking for the green one, which has a small amount of credit you procured from test playing phone games. You lean out of your car window to bring the green stick drive near the wireless reader.

“Sorry, we cannot accept credit from online gambling. Please use another method of payment.”

“Oh fuck you!”

≋ ≋ ≋ ≋

Now you are walking. You had to park where they don’t give a shit about where your money is from. Alchemax is trying to create a good precedent by not accepting dirty money, but Alchemax, as far as you know, does dirtier stuff for pay. Why the hell is “gambling money” any different?!

Scowling so hard, you almost didn’t notice there’s some douchebag trying to walk close behind you. He probably saw the lanyard of data sticks around your neck, so you fluff your scarf around until they are covered.

“I don’t have any money, muh guy” you say in your heaviest Nueva York accent along with this generations lingo.

“Oh I’m not afta you. I was tryna tell ya there’s this otha weirdo following ya. I’m tryna group up here.”

You know better than to look back. That’s what this fucko wants you to do. He’s probably a flasher, so you walk into traffic.

“Hey that’s dangerous, yo!”

You don’t listen. Cars flying past is not as scary as going up to see the freakin CEO of Alchemax.

No cars hit you, so now you have to face reality. You walk into the Alchemax Business Bureau building (one of hundreds), and wave your ID at the receptionist in the lobby. The receptionist is preoccupied with a lady who has one hand on her hip and the other holding out a holo watch. It’s projecting a screen with a giant hourglass animation flipping over and over.

“I don’t know why it’s so hard to get a damn cup of coffee around here, I just don’t!”

“C’mon it’s not necessary to bring security here, ma’am.”

He remains standing behind his desk and grimaces at you. You really need to get him to validate your ID so you won’t be stopped by security, so you pull up your phone and say to the woman, “you want some coffee coupons for Dunkin Donuts?”

“What?”

You open your savings app and hastily air-swipe several coupons to her holo device like someone flicking bills at a stripper. She stops to look at them.

“A regular frap for half off? Oh woooow, how- will they really honor this?” She asks.

“Yeah! It’s good for two more days, so you may wanna hurry over to the kiosk at the west end.”

“Really?”

“They sell all brands of coffee, they’ll honor it.”

“Well, nevermind, then,” she says curtly to the receptionist as she turns her shoulder away, “Didn’t want hours-old coffee anyway.”

She turns on her fancy heel and trots away. You grin stupidly at the receptionist who rolls his eyes and snatches your ID card from you. He swipes it near his card reader then flicks it back without a word.

After a nod, you swiftly leave down the lobby to the elevator area. You round the corner and see an open elevator closing. It's the only one since the other two are under construction. You rush forward as fast as your legs will allow.

"Wait wait WAIT WAIT!"

The doors are closing and you see the face of Suck-up Syd with her smoky eyes and faux fur capelet. She smiles and does nothing as the doors close.

"Shocking typical," you grumble. But you know where the other elevator is. You take off to the other end of the building for the second set of elevators.

You make it onto the elevator with two other people, some white chick and an Indian dude. The lady sees your pass.

"Going for the secretary job?" She asks.

"Yeah."

“Me too. If I don’t get this, I’m going to jump from this building,” the lady jokes.

“If I get this, I WILL jump from this building,” you add.

“Either way, it's gonna be job security for the custodian department,” the Indian guy says. All three of you chuckle politely.

The elevator lets more people in. You check your phone. You are fucking late by 20 minutes, but so is the lady who wants this job or else. You assume it would have taken a while anyway, since there was about 15 people going in for this very same job. Could it be you?! Could you land this job?! What if your mom was wrong?! And what if O’Hara says yes? What if you are set for life?

The final floor of this elevator is reached. You wobble on your way out. The lady doesn’t move.

“Actually, I can’t do this. I’m going home.”

The elevator doors close and she goes back down. You hear a faint byeeeeeeeeeee as the elevator descends to lower levels. You pay no heed and follow the Indian man into the massive hall.

There’s already chaos. One guy is being escorted out of the lobby by his shirt collar, and he's spouting obscenities. Some lady had dropped all her paperwork and she’s too numb to pick it up again. Two ladies near her are sarcastically wishing each other luck, one of them is Suck-up Syd. She looks 10x more desperate today with her tight-fitting outfit and belt buckle the size of a plate. Her overly fake smile gives you no esteem or hope. You almost sit but realize there’s barf on the chair.

Okay, surely everyone is overreacting in here.

“Man I’m not scared at all. There’s a trick to facing down Alpha males,” says a guy who you didn’t ask.

“Ah, cool.” you say through a grin. It’s Brody. You don’t even have to see him to know he’s there with his overwhelming presence of snobbery.

“See, as a Sigma male,” he continues, leaning on the back of the barf chair to talk to you, “I don’t adhere to the Alpha’s orders. That’s how the pack survives! One guy is an outlier so like if the Alpha fails in his role as leader, the Sigma will show by example and the rest of the females and Betas will follow him-“

“BRODY!”

You and Brody see Ashton in the doorway you came from. Ashton beelines across the room with his briefcase raised high. He brings it down on Brody with a loud clunk and they grapple and exchange blows. You go ahead and sit down perfectly still.

"Oh my GOD!" Suck-up Syd muses. She only sees this as two less competitors. You wince as the men start yelling obscenities at each other in their struggle. The guards who took out the last guy come back in and see this happening and they both huff angrily.

"Next!"

"Ah, that's me!" Syd says, “you guys are welcome to leave, I probably got this in the bag.”

She gets up and thrusts her capelet onto the lobby assistant.

.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱ⋅.˳ ˳.⋅ॱ˙˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.

Four hours pass. Brody and Ashton were escorted from the building, those bozos didn’t even get an interview, but it was funny watching Brody get dragged down to hell by a demon he wronged.

Suck-up Syd walked out in tears and a forced smile. You felt bad for making fun of her in the past. She’s just kinda desperate and a little pathetic. You assume groveling doesn't work on the boss.

Other people came and went swiftly. The cheerful Indian man from earlier left looking surprised at his failure. The lady who dropped all her crap earlier apparently already had an interview and was reeling from her bad luck. You understand their disappointment since being chosen for this position was like winning the lottery, except you don't know if you won or not.

“Next!”

Your stomach twists but you refuse to be like them. This is just a job. You’ll be answering phones, emails, and possibly even mailing some dry cleaning. No big fuckin deal.

You thank the lobby assistant but she ignores you and walks away. She is just doing her job. She looks very tired of everyone else’s shit and is probably glad it's over. You walk to the elevator where the second to last person is taking baby-steps, talking on his phone with someone nursing his wounded pride. That could be you in a minute.

I'm probably not gonna get it either, you think, but I'm going down with some dignity.

You work yourself up as you step into yet another elevator, this one glass paneled. You stare across Nueva York as you ascend, contemplating your future. So what if you don't make it? You will simply fall back to your job and go about your life. Your mom will say she's right about the invitation being a fluke. You will go back to paying off debts and supplementing your food budget by testing mobile phone games during work hours and before you go to sleep. You see your own reflection, no longer as young as you used to be, and you sigh.

The glass doors open behind you. You walk through another set of foggy glass doors. Despite your self pep talk, you are still not looking forward to this. You've seen pictures of Miguel O'Hara before; over 6 feet tall, wide shoulders that could support an ox yoke, and a presence so large one would think he could go toe to toe with Godzilla. How will the interview go? You imagine fire. You expect a demon sitting behind a black marble desk in the darkness, a horrendous mob boss wearing Scarface attire, spitting fiery facts and passing cruel judgment, his horns ascending at the heavens with searing indifference and contempt for mercy. You expect a fax machine in the corner that will print out your death.

This is not what you see.

There he is, in this meager temp office sitting behind a tiny desk covered in empty water bottles. His shoulders are wider than the desk, but he's scrunching them in to seem normal. He's wearing a regular dress shirt, no tie. No fancy jewelry either, just some off-brand oversized watch on his left wrist. He looks disappointed already, but not at you. He’s squinting down at some of the tiny desks’ interactive holo-projections. You see your name on one of the files he’s peering at through comically large anti glare glasses.

You don’t sit. You are too stressed. He hasn’t noticed you. He picks up one of the water bottles and carefully opens it with his monster hands. They look travel-sized compared to him. He sips it and notices you.

“Hello!” You greet.

He finishes it in two gulps and sets it down slowly, as to not disturb the other bottles.

“Okay I don’t have a lot of time left, so let’s cut through here… you work for the guys in the PR department-“

“Ah yeah, they are a very friendly bunch down there! That is until you get to know them!” You blurt out. He looks up at you with tired eyes and swipes through the files without looking at them.

“Says here you were demoted from vice head PR accounting a while back, but you attached a note saying you have an alibi? Let’s hear it.”

“Uhhh.”

“C’mon I don’t have all day.”

“There was a payment discrepancy, uh, I was given a raise but I noticed my boss didn’t update it for a whole month. He was on vacation and wasn't answering my calls, so... since he left the finances to me I updated it myself… And I got into trouble BUT it was technically not embezzlement, so I was given an ultimatum to either move to a lower department or get fired, so-“

“Self-reliant. Got it. There's a note from your current department head saying she's been notified anonymously that you've been paying for Alchemax home services with gambling money, what do you have to say about that?"

"I- that is a th- thing with SoloGameMedia, ah, they are a parent company to a gambling franchise, therefore every transaction from them is registered as gambling profit- but I test games with- from them directly! It's a side hustle- thing, I- that, I DO NOT playtest games during work hours! Only on-"

"Why do you think I should hire you?”

You are caught off guard by the most basic interview question.

“Hhhhhh WELL… because you need a secretary now?”

He’s already looking back down at the files again. You can see NYPD files, apparently he’s now looking at your small criminal record. You also notice his shirt is unbuttoned on the top. For curiosity's sake, you discreetly raise up on your toes to see down his cleavage. It's deeper than you expected. One mighty flex and that shirt will send buttons flying everywhere. He looks back up as you quickly drop back down on your heels.

“Yeah. Mmm. Ok. So you are way in over your head in college and credit debt, you have been gambling as a means to get by- really don’t care about that, and you did not dispute your boss's ultimatum when you had the chance."

"Wait, what?"

"Four years ago, when your boss gave you the ultimatum to get demoted or get fired. His proposal was ILLEGAL."

Your gut twists.

"That- that was illegal?!"

"You had six months to report him and you didn't. Why?"

"Be- because I just thought he was being fair, I-"

"I'm sorry, but you got screwed."

He looks sincere behind those nerdy lenses with his pout lips. You really want to throw something right now.

“I… oh…”

"Look, the most I can do is re-open your case," he says as he pushes his glasses back up his nose bridge, "You might get a small settlement out of it, but even that isn't guaranteed."

"So... I'm not getting the job?"

"How do you expect to get hired with such an unexceptional history of white collar crime and a meek attitude that's gotten you nowhere? Hey Lyla? Is this all we have?”

An AI assistant pops up from the interactive desk.

“This is the last one, sir.”

“Okay, cool. Look I’m sure you’re actually great at your job, but I have places to be-“

“Wha- well so do I!”

“Uh huh, nice talking to you,“ he scoots his chair back and hits his knee on the tiny desk, sending empty bottles scattering all over the room. He cringes.

“Well if I’m so unexceptional, why was I accepted for an interview?!”

“I’m gonna guess because of some algorithmic lottery? Probably to do with the amount of experience you have in your department, I dunno,” He guesses as he attempts to gather the bottles by sweeping them under the desk with his shoes, “If you wanna blame someone for the short interview time, thank those other time-wasters who came before you. I gotta go.”

“Now WAIT a… minute”

He stands up from his tiny desk as you say that. He’s towering over you with a tired expression and loose strands of hair about his face.

“What?” He asks, all friendliness gone.

“Can we continue this interview at a different time? You obviously haven’t found a secretary you want, but you still need one, right?! I could be the one you need even if I’m not the one you want!”

It takes every inch of your being to not slap yourself on the forehead. He is scrunching his nose, squinting down at you with mild contempt. You get a good look at his sharp, broad temples and cheekbones, complete with a hardened jaw. His thick dark lips are pulled to one side in annoyance and are accentuated with a pair of jowls that look poised to bite at any time like some kind of deep sea angler fish. His eyes are very dark. They almost look red…

His expression goes blank as he sighs.

“Okay.”

“Great! Ah, when?!”

“Tomorrow, same time.”

“Grabsolutely- Great- fantastic! I won’t let you down!”

“Uh huh.”

He leaves. You assume you should leave too. You awkwardly follow him. He grabs his coat off a nearby chair, and you get a brief display of his amazing body shape as he flips the coat over his shoulders. You avert your attention to the floor, already feeling disrespectful after having looked down his shirt. Now you are both in the elevator. You are doing all in your power not to pass out over your small lucky break.

O’Hara pretends you aren’t there as he looks at his phone and chats with his AI assistant.

“Lyla, push the evening meeting to tomorrow as well, except an hour earlier.”

“Roger that!”

“I need coffee.”

“Roger that also!”

“Please, PLEASE tell them to not add cream. I really hate when they do that.”

You wanna ask him if he’s lactose intolerant but you already pushed your luck today.

Apparently he is exiting the building in the same way you are going, but he's booking it with long ass strides and it's difficult to keep up. You both end up on the same elevator again, this time with other people. He awkwardly acknowledges you with a blank smirk and brow raise, then promptly looks back down at his phone. Everyone else is trying not to bother him.

"Hello, Mister O'Hara, I didn't realize you were here! Hi!" says a lady who is shooting her shot at a social connection (she totally knew he was there.)

"Ah, hey. Miss...?"

"Stacy Brian! We met at the Student Festival earlier this year."

"Oh, right, right! Miss Brian, how are you?"

"Doing well! I didn’t know you wore glasses!"

"Oh- I totally forgot these were on my face," he admits while taking them off and trying to find a place to stash them, "I actually don’t wear glasses, it's- um, I have issues with bright computer screens."

You discreetly watch him in the elevator wall reflection as he quickly swaps the lenses out for a pair of red sunglasses. The elevator doors open and everyone flows out into the foyer. You realize you never got his card.

"Hey one more thing, sir!" You call out to him.

"What?"

"I don't have your number! What if we need to reschedule?!"

"Ah, right. Get your phone out, please."

He turns back around and searches for something on his phone. With a swift flick of his hand, he air drops his ID and number to your device.

"Thank you!"

"¡De nada!"

He swiftly leaves through the front doors and trots down the steps. You watch this huge marvel of nature hail a cab. The automated transporter car is so small that he has to bring his shoulders in tight to fit through the doorway. This seems to have more to do with him not wanting to snag his nice jacket.

A man of this position and wealth... hailing a cab? Must be in THAT much of a hurry. You look down at the data he sent you. His ID photo looks like they took his picture after pulling an all-nighter, and his half-hearted smile reveals his crooked teeth. But somehow he still looks great in an unconventional way.

•°《💀》°•

You drive home, feeling both anxious and also deflated. Miguel O'Hara was a mixed bag of what you expected. Speshall hyped him up as a sexy hunk of the year and Brody felt so intimidated that he went on an unwarranted Alpha Male rant, but the guy was so awkward with his tiny desk and water bottles and weird glasses, and he was whining to his AI helper about his coffee. He’s a large… finicky… lactose-intolerant nerd, but he's also got the moxy to move mountains. What’s more, now ya gotta think of what to say to him in the next interview. What could be expected of a guy like that? What if he cancels the meeting and your chance is lost forever?

Your car makes it home and you sit in it for a moment. Speshall left you a text asking about the interview.

Went weird, you text back.

"Welcome back, tenant 27," the AI apartment valet greets.

You open your car door and notice you've been parked over the grates again. You remember when you last dropped your phone in this spot, the fucking thing went right in between the grate holes and you couldn’t get it back for a week. You have the presence of mind to upload the latest bit of information (O'Hara's phone number) to your data cloud.

You walk through the parking garage. You know all the safe routes. It didn’t matter who you were, Nueva York was never safe at night.

You hear footsteps to your left but it’s just a couple of people walking together, a man and woman trying to huddle. The garage opening is just ahead. You go ahead and march out, not looking back.

You step out into the warm breeze of middle-class Nueva York. The wind is artificial, billowing from the hydro-electric plants that keeps this city running. It took you forever to get here, a lot of cheap-skating, white lies, and debt piling to maintain this life, but you are here! Unapologetic holo screens buzz near you as you walk, begging you to spend money as they light up the way to your apartment. There's no point in tapping their "no" buttons since that just wastes your time. The screens showcased brand-new cars, beautiful clothes, and radiant health. If you had more money, at least some of that could be yours. You hate that people roll around in all the wonderful things this world has to offer while you have to make do with decade old clothing and over-processed food. Where the hell is everyone getting it all from? When the hell will you get yours?

“Hey! Wanna buy a shared data cloud?!”

You are now being bothered by a salesman. You say nothing and keep walking. Even saying no opens more dialogue. He gives up but another comes at you.

“Wanna be a part of the elite task force that edits any and all articles about Thor?! It’s a paying job! $100 an hour!”

As dystopian as it sounds, $100 an hour won’t get you far in Nueva York, not in this era of quadrillionaires.

“Hey, I saw ya on da street earlier! Ya walked into traffic!”

You accidentally glance over at the familiar voice talking about the familiar subject. He’s got you. Your eyes are fixated on a creepypasta face, his irises flashing in a hypnotic pattern. This was way worse than the idea of the guy being just a flasher.

He’s a black market demon. The worst street hawker known to man.

You can’t remember much else besides him taking you by the hand and leading you away.

_________________________________________

Next: ACT 2 | BLACK MARKET DEMONS

#miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #miguel x you #kinda #not really #more like awkward turtle #MIGUEL & YOU #Spiderman 2099 fanfic #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n

[justdontaskme]

Another Chance

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Reader

Summary: It wasn’t easy to let her go, but at the time it was the only thing you felt was right for the both of you. But now that she’s randomly shown up in your life you’re not sure you’re ready to move on from her.

A/N: There may or may not be a part 2 to this. I haven't decided yet. Let me know what you think. Enjoy!

For a Tuesday night, the dinner rush was quite busy, which you welcomed more than anything. It helped make the night go by faster, and the only thing you wanted to do was go home and sleep for three days straight. Even if that wasn’t possible, you could still dream. 

Opening up your own little restaurant in New York wasn’t easy, but it had been your dream for the longest time. Things weren’t always easy, especially the first couple of months, where you were constantly anxious of possibly having to close up shop. However, things had finally taken a turn for the better as business had picked up significantly not long after. 

Now it was almost one year since the grand opening, and business was booming for a small restaurant. Bills were paid on time with just enough leftover for you to live your rather modest lifestyle and create a decent savings account for future travel. You loved your job, your employees were amazing, so all in all you could say you were happy. 

“Um, boss?” Selena called to you, rousing you from your concentration as you finished up the last touches of the dishes going to table 1. You looked up to see a slightly starstruck expression on her face and wondered what had happened out there. Or who was out there. “Someone’s here asking to see you at table 4. They haven’t ordered yet, but insisted on speaking to you first.”

“Tell them I’ll be out in sec, please. Thanks, Sel,” you answered, turning to your sous chef, Esther. “Can you take over? I’ll be right back.”

She nodded. You stopped by your office to clean up a bit before presenting yourself in the dining room. Once you’ve quickly swiped any stray hairs away from your face and straightened your chef’s coat, you set out. 

On your way over, you greeted a few of your regulars and checked on a few newer faces. As you approached table 4, you could have sworn the figure facing away from you seemed familiar, but you didn’t know why. 

“Hello, I’m Chef Y/N,” at the sound of your voice, the mysterious stranger turned to you with electric blue eyes you would never forget, “Kate?” 

The girl gave you a short wave with a tight lipped smile, her nerves apparent from the incessant shaking of her leg and her twiddling thumbs. 

It’s been years since you’ve seen the archer, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t missed her. In fact, you’d been missing her since the day you broke up. No one needed to know that, though. 

The breakup was a bit of a blur to you. It was quick and full of unanswered questions and heavy hearts. You just remembered your heart shattering when you saw Kate’s face fall and her blubbering as she tried to fix something that she didn’t even know was broken. 

It had been your choice, but that didn’t make it easier or hurt less. Especially, when Kate would constantly seek you out to try to fix things, to get back to being happy together. But you were firm in your stance. Eventually, you had to cut off all communication with her. It was the only way you’d both move on. 

So it was a bit surprising to see your ex-girlfriend sitting in your restaurant years later, looking even more beautiful than when you last saw her. Her body was more toned, her hair just a bit longer and shinier. There were a few more scars from what you could see of her face and hands. You could only imagine everywhere else. 

But none of that mattered, you were just happy she was healthy and alive. Everytime she showed up on the news, your anxiety almost crippled you, as you hoped for her to come out unscathed. 

“Heard you finally opened your own restaurant, thought I’d come check it out,” the raven-haired girl said, her eyes flitting back and forth between yourself and her hands.

“Uh, yeah. Took some time, but I finally did it,” you smiled a little awkwardly, the tension between the two of you a bit more uncomfortable than you’d like.

“You have a minute?” she asked, gesturing to the open seat across from her. 

Nervously, you considered her offer. A part of you was about to make an excuse about needing to back in the kitchen, but another part of you did want to just hear her voice for a little longer. It didn’t even matter that things were awkward between the two of you, her voice was still the most soothing sound you’ve ever heard. 

Scanning the restaurant, you figured Chef Esther could handle the orders for a bit. So you indulged yourself, sliding into the booth across from her. 

For longer than you cared to admit, the two of you just sat and snuck glances at each other whenever you thought the other wasn’t looking. 

“You look good,” you said, breaking the silence and bringing Kate’s attention back to you. 

“You, too,” she smiled. “And this place, this place looks great. I love the color scheme. The blue walls with the accent wall of gray, blue, and white. Like it’s not too bright, but not too dark to feel gloomy, “ Kate described, her eyes still exploring the place with wonder. “The white tables lighten up the room a bit. It’s just the way I remember you describing it.”

Your eyes widened, “You remembered all that?”

“Of course. You were always talking about opening your own restaurant,” she reminded you, and you felt embarrassed as you pictured all the drawings that littered your apartment when you were living together. “It was always fun to see all the sketches of your ideas. Looks like it all came together.”

“Yeah, I guess it has. It’ll be a full year in a few weeks,” you said proudly.

“I know,” Kate said, which surprised you. From your perspective, your restaurant had flown under the radar since its inception, which you didn’t mind because it kept the clientele from getting out of hand most days. For Kate to have heard of this place must mean word had spread more than you thought.

“How's the hero life?” Unlike you, Kate had been anything but discreet. Her success was being plastered around the city and everyone wanted to know more about her and the new iterations of the Avengers. 

“Good. It’s good. Not everything I thought it would be, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything,” Kate answered. 

You nodded but weren’t really sure what you were agreeing to. “Good. I’m happy for you.” 

This small talk was weird and nerve wracking but you didn’t know what else to talk about with her.

“So, um, do you know what you want to order? Or did you just stop in to say hello?”

Kate reopened her menu, scanning the list of dishes again. “You know, it’s hard to choose. Everything just sounds so good.”

You smiled, taking that as a huge accomplishment. In an urge to impress her, you wanted to pull out the big guns, “Do you trust me?”

After a rather significant pause, where you considered taking back your words, Kate responded. “Sure, why not?”

“Alright then, I’ll whip you up something off our special menu. Only a few special people know about it,” you sent her a wink before heading back to the kitchen. 

When you returned, Esther looked at you with raised eyebrows but said nothing, and you didn’t divulge any details. Instead you got straight to work.

As you were cooking, you were quite intrigued by the fact that the interaction hadn’t been worse. You chalked it up to time mitigating any explosive feelings from getting in the way. It made you think that maybe the two of you could be friends. 

For reasons you refuse to admit, you decided to hand deliver the food to Kate, asking your second to take over once more. 

“Dinner is served,” you announced, placing the nice board in front of her, watching as her mouth practically watered at the sight. 

“Is this?” Kate looked at you for confirmation. 

“I almost made you one of our more “refined” dishes,” you rolled your eyes at your own use of air quotes, “but thought this would better fit your taste buds.”

“You always knew me best,” Kate said offhandedly, reaching down to grab the cheeseburger from the board, taking a hearty bite. “Man, I almost forgot how good your cooking was.”

Your face warmed at the compliment. 

“I’m glad you like it,” you smiled, “I’ll leave you to it.”

Before you could step away, Kate’s hand shot out to stop you. Shocked, you turned back to her, eyebrows raised.

“Thank you,” Kate said.

“Don’t be a stranger, Kate,” you said, your hand giving her arm a quick squeeze before leaving again. 

****

By the time it was last call, the flow of people had died down. Your sous chef went to work cleaning up the kitchen and you began prepping for the brunch rush tomorrow. Like most nights, your employees finished their work and offered to stay, but you quickly brushed them off and told them to get some rest. 

After all your tasks were complete, you grabbed your backpack and keys, walking out of the building to see someone with an adorable dog waiting just across the street. They start to make their way over as you’re locking up. 

“Kate? What are you still doing here? And who is this beautiful pup?” you crouched down, waiting for the dog to approach you before gently petting the dog’s head.

“You said to not be a stranger,” she shrugged, a small smirk on her face, “And this is Lucky, say hello, bud,” Kate instructed, giving him praises as he followed obediently. “I was wondering if we could walk you home,” she said.

“You don’t have to do that, Kate. Really, I’m just a few blocks away.”

“Come on. It’s late,” you rolled your eyes but took her up on the offer as you led her down the street. 

The three of you walked in silence, Lucky nudging your hand with his nose every few steps, which you found so cute. The city was still alive, but it was peaceful with Kate by your side. Most of the earlier tension seemed to have melted away. 

It was about halfway to your destination that you felt something in the air shift. 

“I know you’ve had a long day, but there’s something I want to ask you,” Kate began, her voice quiet, to the point you had to lean towards her to hear. When she didn’t say anything, you slowed down to look at her. “Did my mom pay you to break up with me?”

You were stunned by her question, but tried your best to hold a steady face. Honestly, since Kate showed up, all you could do was replay your entire relationship in your mind. All the good, the bad, and the end. 

“What brought this on?” you asked, concerned but also trying to buy yourself some time to formulate your response.

“I went to see my mom today,” Kate said, her eyes avoiding yours as her grip on Lucky’s leash tightened. “She made this comment about having to pay off a bunch of people to get me to where I am,” Kate explained. “She never said who, but she did say she also paid off some of my exes.”

You took a deep breath. It was time to tell her the truth. 

“Yes, your mom offered to pay me off to walk away from us,” you confessed, and that must have been all Kate needed to hear because she was turned around and started heading in the other direction. 

Your shoulders dropped as you let out a huge sigh. You considered letting her go, once again feeling it was for the best, but your tired body betrayed you as it sprang into action. 

“Kate! Kate, wait, please!” you shouted, jogging to stop her. When you finally caught up to her, you grabbed her arm to keep her from moving further away. “I didn’t take it, I promise.”

“But you still broke up with me,” she stated, her blue eyes lost as she tried to process everything. 

You nodded, “Yeah, I did.”

“Why?” her voice cracked and you felt all the unresolved feelings from your sudden break up years ago come bubbling to the surface. 

Your throat tightened as the tears started to well up in your eyes, “Because you didn’t need me, Kate. I didn’t want her money, but it helped me come to the conclusion that you would be better off without me.”

Her response was quick. “You don’t know that.”

“Look at us, Kate. I mean seriously look at us. Money aside because I could care less about that, but our lives are so different. You’re a full-fledged Avenger now. You’re a hero like you’ve always wanted to be. And I am just so damn proud of you,” you hiccupped as the tears started to fall. “But you didn’t need me to make all of that happen. You made your dream happen all on your own.”

“It didn’t mean as much because you weren’t there to share it with me,” she whispered. “For so long, you and I talked about our futures together, and one day it just all disappeared. I wasn’t ready to let it go.” 

“Kate,” your voice got caught in your throat. 

“When my mom told me she paid off my girlfriends, you were the first person I thought of. I thought maybe that’s why you broke up with me. That maybe it wasn’t my fault,” Kate cried, causing Lucky to whine by her side as he tried to comfort her. 

“It wasn’t,” you assured her, “you were the most important person in my life, Kate.”

“Then why did you leave me?”

Your heart physically ached. “Because for your dream to come true, I couldn’t make you choose between me and being a hero.”

“Why couldn’t I love you and be a hero at the same time?” she pressed.

You sighed, walking over to the nearest building, pressing your back against it and sliding down until you were sitting on the floor. Your eyes were stuck to her shoes until she followed your actions until she was sitting next to you, Lucky sitting in between her legs.

“When we were dating, I knew you better than anyone else. You’re one of those people that give your all to whatever it is you’re doing. School, archery, dating. All of it,” you said, leaning over to pet the golden retriever. “Hero life takes a huge commitment. Your heart is so big and you want to help everyone. That’s what I loved about you. But I couldn’t sit back and watch you split yourself trying to make everyone happy. It’s impossible.”

Kate sat in silence. Everything in her mind was jumbled and out of sorts.

“I also wanted to be able to share my dream with someone who could be there for me when I needed them. And you couldn’t always be there,” you added sadly. “It didn’t matter how much I loved you because it wouldn’t be enough if you weren’t actually with me.”

All of this changed everything to Kate. There was so much she didn’t know before, and this information had her seeing things differently. But her feelings were the same as they always were. And she had a feeling based on how you talked about your feelings before there was a chance you still felt something too. 

“Would you ever consider giving us another shot?”

You scoffed, “Have you been listening to me at all?”

The archer shifted her body so she was fully facing you, her lips pursed as she thought over her words, “I hear you, I do. But what if things could be different now?”

You scoffed, “How?”

“We’re older, wiser now. I can make time for us and still be a good hero. We can grow and change together. You are living your dream and I’m living mine. What if we could find a way to make them coexist?”

“And what if we can’t?” you countered. You didn’t want either of you to get hurt from this relationship a second time. Because this time would probably hurt so much more than before. 

“But if we can, it could be the most beautiful thing to experience. I haven’t stopped thinking about us, and I know I still have strong feelings about you. Feelings that I’ll never be able to shake,” Kate said, her thumb stroking your cheek softly as her eyes stared straight into yours. “I think it could be the love of a lifetime, if we let it be.”

“I’m scared,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “We’re different people then me were before.”

“We are,” she agreed, “but I fell in love with you once, and I think I’d fall in love with every version of you.”

“You don’t know that,” you argued.

“And you don’t know that I won’t,” she shot back. “I want to give this another go. But only if you want to,” she said, leaving the ball in your court. 

It was all so sudden. You knew things couldn’t go back to how they were. It’s been too long for that, but you also couldn’t ignore the feelings you had. The ones you thought you had abandoned for both of your dreams to come true.

“I want to try again,” Kate was about to cheer before you stopped her, “but only if we go slow. We can’t jump into what he once had.”

“Totally agree. Slow and steady,” Kate’s smile was near blinding at your decision. “Let’s get you home,” Kate said, standing up and offering her hand to help you to your feet. “You need some sleep.”

“Sleep sounds heavenly,” you said, never letting go of her hand, which she responded to by pulling you closer, her lips pressing against the top of your head.

It felt good to be close to her again. To be in her arms and to have her in your life. This was how it was supposed to be.

#kate bishop x reader #kate bishop #mcu x reader

[acaseforpencils]

Jane Mattimoe (aka A Case for Pencils).

I've been interviewing mainly New Yorker cartoonists on here for close to nine (!) years, which is wild to think about! A lot has changed since I started this blog in 2014— back then, I had a broken wrist from a fall I had while working in a restaurant, and I didn't have the money for a laptop for months, so I would go to the New York Public Library to use their public use computers to work on Case during the daily half hour increments that were allowed at the time. I currently have a mostly working laptop and a fairly healthy wrist, which is a great improvement!

Here I am at my desk, repping the NYPL on my mug. I know it looks messy under my desk, but I promise all of those art supplies are neatly stacked!

I started this blog as a young baby artist who wanted to open up a world to people who might not otherwise have a chance to learn from some of the greatest living artists of all time. I never went to art school (I found it unaffordable), and knew there were plenty of folks out there like me who might not be able to go to classes, but who certainly deserved to hear from some of the top professionals in their field. Since I had known many New Yorker cartoonists for a couple of years at that point, I figured why not see if they will help me out? And, well... they did!

Doing this blog is a LOT of work, but it has been thrilling to hear many many young people (several of which that I have interviewed on here!) say that they learned a lot from reading it.

I don't put myself on here very often, so I thought I might take the time to talk about some of my more recent art projects. Above are some of my watercolor portraits. I have been working hard on trying to achieve more luminosity in skin and watercolors are a beautiful tool for achieving that. The key is lots of layers and lots of patience!

To the left is a recent painting I did of some ruins. Again, my goal is create light. The painting to the right is a pet portrait that I did a couple months back.

I've been learning lots of new crafts. To the left is a bird house that I painted using the cheapest acrylics possible. Usually with art supplies, cheaping out is disastrous, but for some reason, 80 cent acrylics seem to be working out for me? If you are an acrylics artist, please feel free to tell me why I'm wrong to use them. I also have been having fun with decoupage (photo on the right), which is basically using special tools to glue fancy tissue paper etc. onto various objects (I've slowed down on this a bit because I've run out of things to cover in decorative paper).

I've been having a lot of fun making decorative objects—I feel that it is important to make beautiful things for yourself when you're an artist. Having pretty things doesn't have to be expensive if you make them yourself, and they become keepsake items. I made this little gingerbread garland pictured above by cutting out felt and frosting it with fabric paint.

I've also been having lots of fun with sewing. This is a two piece set that I made recently. It's really fun to be able to think of something I would like to wear, and make it! Sewing is a different kind of art for me—with painting, I am in a strange incoherent state. But with sewing, I am following all sorts of instructions, and thinking about it in a far less abstract way. It's definitely a different usage of my brain, which has made it a fun challenge.

I hope you all are doing well, and learning new ways to make art! I appreciate all of the support over the years, and hope to continue this blog for quite a while longer. Thanks for reading!

You can find my Instagram here, my website here, and Twitter here!

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If you enjoy this blog, and would like to contribute to labor and maintenance costs, there is a Patreon, and if you’d like to buy me a cup of coffee, there is a Ko-Fi  account as well! I do this blog for free because accessible arts education is important to me, and your support helps a lot! You can also find more posts about art supplies on Case’s Instagram and Twitter! Thank you!

#jane mattimoe #artists on tumblr #art process

[jasonraish]

LINK TO BUY HERE

I tried to do something a little different this year and change the format of my Croquet and Ink series and add a little narrative possibility to it where the viewer can imagine their own story. Are they at separate croquet garden party fundraisers? One in Connecticut and one in Los Angeles and someone has slighted someone and now made someone's sh!t list and are now advising their partner/colleague/cousin via long distance phone call delivered by the white gloved butler directly to the croquet pitch to buy that business right out from under their new arch nemesis' husband's feet? The possibilities are endless. I also thought the prints would be fun displayed as a pair back to back with the phone lines less than subtly hinting at a connection.

A Dandy Wellington and Jason Raish collaboration. 100% of proceeds donated to The FIT Black Student Illustrators Award fund. These timed editions are available for 2 weeks only, never to be printed again (edition size will be the final number of prints sold). Sales begin April 28th @12:00pm EST until May 12th @12:00pm EST

LINK TO BUY HERE

$1,500 no-strings-attached awards will be given to Black student applicants displaying artistic merit and financial need graduating from New York’s Fashion Institute of Technology BFA illustration program. Recipients can do as they please with the award money as there’s no one way to reach your artistic goals. Recent data from The Illustrators Survey shows that 3% of the illustration industry is Black. Our goal is to help Black students bridge the gap between graduation and professional success so they can be seen, heard, and shape the narrative of this industry they are so underrepresented in.

If you want to make an individual donation please go to www.fitnyc.edu/give and be sure note the changed process: Choose other from the dropdown menu and manually type in FIT Black Student Illustrators Award to ensure you are donating to this fund. It is a 501(c)(3) organization. All the accounting and final $ amount of proceeds will be transparently and publicly shown and the final edition size announced.

I continued my Croquet and Ink series and created 2 illustrations exclusively for this fundraiser. This series takes the stuffy, conservative, homogenous nature of vintage high fashion and sets it alongside the rebellious self expression of tattoos (Japanese Ukiyo-e inspired). Add the historically upper crust game of croquet and you’ve got Croquet and Ink. As Dandy Wellington says: Vintage Style NOT Vintage Values.

In the summer of 2020 I found myself feeling paralyzed and useless during the renewed social justice movement and wanted to do something. Dandy Wellington and I have known each other for a few years and when he issued his #BlackApparelArts challenge I thought maybe the best thing I can do as an illustrator is fundraise with my art. I had just started teaching at FIT (my alma mater), we got together, ruminated, slapped our knees and said, this whole thing was born of illustration why don’t we get hyper-local and and support Black illustration students at FIT! We got to work and this is our 3rd year doing this. The fund was created under the FIT Foundation 501(c)(3) charitable giving arm.

We've partnered with FIT's own PrintFX print lab for the 12x18” Epson giclée 192 g/m matte archival prints to be signed and numbered. I've also partnered with Framebridge to provide framing. I personally use them a lot and make no money from this, I just want people to have a nice time and alleviate the hassle of getting things framed. 10% of Framebridge's cost will be donated to the fund and 100% of print proceeds will be donated.

For Prints: Save on shipping when you order two or more. For Frames: Free shipping provided by Framebridge when you buy a frame. I ship them the signed print, they frame it and ship it to you. Please allow 4-6 weeks for shipping as it's just me packing and shipping orders, on top of Framebridge's processing time. 

Purchasers and donors are encouraged to leave a comment/note/encouragement at the checkout screen for the future recipients of this award and I will make sure they receive them. Hopefully this initiative is a start to diversifying the illustration industry and getting some great art for your walls at the same time!

And as always support the previous years winners:

Corinne Southerland @cori456_joyce, Adesewa Adekoya @blk.indigo, Shaniya Carrington @scrco.art, Jenis Littles @jenisdraws, Rico Ford @rico_antonio76, Dayna Moore @designmoore_studios

#illustration #fashion illustration #artists on tumblr #fyiart #croquet #representation matters #fit black student illustrators award #fashion institute of technology #dandy wellington #vintage fashion #vintage style #women's fashion #women's style #men's fashion #men's style #1920s fashion #lawn party #black illustrators

[bloodboundsiege]

out of curiosity, what made you decide to make this into a full fledged visual novel instead of just writing a fic? esp since afaik there hasn't been a demand/outcry for more bloodbound

(this ended up being rlly long, so I'm putting it under a cut. if you don't want to read all of that, the tl;dr is I've been working on an spec adaptation of Bloodbound since 2021, I've been making edits with Choices assets for a little over a year now, and I started messing around with ren'py during my stint in the now no longer active @nightboundthesecond project, and this spinoff is the culmination of all of those things bc I wanted to do something w them).

Anyways, here's the long version:

So...I kind of already did. Sort of.

In summer of 2021, I was going through a pretty bad depressive episode and ended up rereading Bloodbound (which got me back into the fandom as a whole, more on that in a sec). When the dust cleared, I began really heavily reconsidering what exactly I was doing with my life.

I'd been toying with the possibility of doing a film MFA of some kind, but I was worried I didn't have the skillset to get into any grad programs. So, I began teaching myself how to write screenplays by adapting Bloodbound into a spec TV series. From August 2021 to April 2022, I wrote twenty-eight episodes, with three rounds of revisions, which really strengthened my abilities as a writer. I'm currently at a T10 film school getting an MFA. I wouldn't be where I am without doing that. Part of my love for Bloodbound stems from the fact that it quite literally changed my life.

The very nature of turning a book into a screenplay/teleplay is that you have to restructure a lot of plot points so they fit in better with the new medium. With a TV adaptation, you also usually have to build onto the source material. For Bloodbound, that meant fleshing things out and creating new characters to move the plot forward. It also meant exploring things that either happened offscreen or were only brief scenes.

And so when it came time to write episodes for the book 2 adaptation, the huge aspect of that was going into New York City and seeing what Gaius was doing during his hostile takeover. And since I had very little to work with from the source material, I had to come up with a lot of stuff off the cuff. And as I put those storylines together, I was like there's actually some pretty interesting stuff here. This visual novel is based off of that stuff.

@clansayeed and his fantastic reimaginings of Bloodbound and Nightbound had been on my radar for a while at this point, but I wasn't aware of the fake caps he made until I actually checked out his tumblr account. I thought they were really fucking cool. As a little private celebration for finishing the third round of edits for season 1 (and to let myself take a break), I decided to teach myself how to make fakecaps and recreate a few scenes from my adaptation in the Choices format:

I found out that I really enjoyed reworking assets into new outfits and character designs--lowkey, putting on a podcast or a video essay, opening up pixlr, and just making stuff became one of my go-to ways to unwind in the midst of mfa apps and life in general--, so I started making more fandom service stuff for fun and posting them on Reddit. I made a variety of stuff: role reversal AU edits, general dress up stuff, and of course... "on the set of [choices book]: the tv show" fake caps.

I feel like you're not really supposed to say this, but it was kind of validating to me that a lot of those posts did like. Decent numbers. And that kind of motivated me to get better at doing it, especially in the beginning.

And then...It Lives Within dropped. And I think that shifted a lot of how people--myself included--considered what they could do within a fandom space like Choices. Like, if we could make our own shit, why not? I was really intrigued by the idea, and so when there were calls for writers and sprite artists for a Nightbound project, I jumped at the opportunity.

(As a side note, I think the fact that now there are people within the fandom making their own sequels/spinoffs/whatever is gonna be rlly interesting for the general ecosystem of the Choices fandom and its future, but that's a convo for another time lol)

While the team I was on is no longer working on a sequel, being part of that group did a lot for me, and I look back on being part of that really fondly. I think we all were kind of picking up whatever we needed to do, regardless of if it was what we signed on for. For me, that meant teaching myself how to use Ren'py. The thing was, this was still in the really early stages of development, which meant I didn't have a lot of story to play with. So...

I was kind of like. Fuck it. Let me try my own thing out.

The original idea was actually a prequel set in the 1910s, as I'd done an MC set and an LI set based on that very premise, but the problem was that there are so few assets from that time period, and asset creation has never been my strong suit. But then, I thought back to the adaptation I'd been working on.

Some of the strongest writing I think I've ever done was in the episodes where the primary storylines were following Gaius's takeover of New York. I think a lot of the themes of the second book came out in those moments. And as cool as it would be, as much as I've fantasized about it, I don't think Bloodbound: The TV Show is ever happening. So it made sense for me to rework that into a visual novel spinoff.

In terms of the actual framing of this story, I spent a lot of time in the Bloodbound tags in the early days of working on my adaptation. I was deep in those tags. And it's really interesting to see what people expected it to be before its release. Part of it was the assumption of a Clan sorting system. Obviously, that wasn't actually the case.

Additionally, I think a lot of people were frustrated by the fact that Bloodbound's MC isn't really given the option to just. Be bad. Which then makes moments like this super jarring:

So, I decided to put everything I'd learned together. I was working on the GUI/character creation features for Nightbound (side note, the GUI in this game isn't an absolutely perfect replication of the Choices GUI yet and won't be for the demo, but we're getting there), I had a ton of edits I'd made that I wasn't using for anything, and I had a story that I knew could be reworked into an arc about a new vampire in New York City during Gaius's coup.

But with this project in general, it's less about a demand for a sequel/midquel/spinoff within the fandom and more like. I noticed that there were some things people wanted out of Bloodbound and didn't get, and trying to give it to them, because I wanted those things too, and I felt like I had the means to create that. When I've talked to IRL friends about this project (non of whom play Choices), I've just been like "yeah it's a visual novel fanfic" because...it's a visual novel fanfic.

So. That's why.

(This was super long (and felt a little self centered, sorry!), but if you read all of that, I hope it all made sense. All of this is to say that this has been a labor of love for a book series I've been living with for a year and a half, and I want to get part of what I've done with it out of my head. I hope you all like it.)

#bloodbound #bloodbound the siege #anon #ask #sorry this was so fucking long but i rarely get to talk about this stuff lol

[briarridgerp]

VALENTINA FLORES (Francia Raisa) is looking for their EX-HUSBAND.

CONNECTION NAME:

Completely UTP!

CONNECTION:

Ex-husband

AGE:

37-42

FACECLAIM:

I'd be open to pretty much anyone, but some ideas are: Jesse Williams, Martin Sensmeier, Carlos Miranda, Lewis Tan, Charles Michael Davis, Nick Sagar, Rahul Kohli, Sinqua Walls, Clayton Cardenas

BACKGROUND

These two met while Val was in college in New York (he didn't necessarily have to be in college as well, but they met while she was in school). They got along like a house on fire. There were truly very few people in Val's life who validated her journey to coming to accept and appreciate her deafness, like he did. He understood and supported her completely. After Val graduated, they remained in New York for a few years, living together happily and enjoying doing life together. A year or two after she graduated, they got married, truly believing they were well on their way to their own happily ever after. After that, they moved a couple times for his job (whether because of a promotion or a new job, is totally open!) and Val was happy to do so. During this time is when she really started her instagram account for her yoga practice and began to do some social media brand deals. They were perfectly happy, until they weren't. He began spending more and more time at work. Things were great whenever he was at home, but his time there began to decrease and decrease. Maybe work was truly just getting more intense, maybe there was someone he was spending more time with who wasn't Val, I'm very open to discussing options! Shit hit the fan though when Val had a pregnancy scare. She had never really thought she wanted to have kids, but once she realized she wasn't actually pregnant, she also realized how much she had wanted to be. She was devastated when they found out it was just a scare. His feelings about the whole thing are completely UTP, but I hc'ed that they just had a huge miscommunication about what they each wanted, things were said that hurt each other, and the crack that him spending more time at work had created began to grow. Things got so bad, that they barely spoke, barely saw each other even when he wasn't at work. Finally, during what was supposed to be a 'work trip,' another person answered her husband's phone and Val had no choice but to come to the conclusion that he was cheating on her. This destroyed her and she filed for divorce very shortly after. How the divorce went, why he is now in Briar Ridge, how long it's been since they've seen each other is very much up for discussion!! I'm just looking for the angstiest of angsty connections here lol

EXTRA

Some musing posts: here, here, here, here, and here

CONTACT

Please contact the BECCA on this blog.

#wanted connection #small town rp #town rp #original character rp #oc rp #mature rp

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

Hey there 🤭

I would like to make a fun/fluff request if you’re free…

How about the reader and another fem Avenger created social media accounts for fun and are laughing like crazy at funny and weird thirst messages and pick up lines from male fans. Loki eavesdropped and expresses his disapproval of Midgardian flirting attempts. He takes matters in his own hands and charms y/n to death😍💗

Why certainly! Norns, I love getting requests! Enjoy, and I hope this finds you out there, anon!

---------------------------------------

“The Real Thing”

Summary: After overhearing some atrocious pickup lines, Loki needs to show you how a real suitor wins a woman’s heart.

Content Warning: Fluff, some dumb one-liners I had trouble coming up with because I'm not a Dude!Bro Word Count: 1.4k

“’You won’t be a widow anymore when I’m done with your hot little ass!’ What does that mean?”

You and Natasha found yourselves incredibly bored and lonely one afternoon at the compound. None of the men were around as far as either of you knew, whether they were with family, out doing PR stints, or just pumping at the gym, so you got the brilliant idea to do some lurking on Reddit. You happened upon a subreddit called “What pickup lines would you use on The Avengers?”

It was, as you’d suspected, absolute comedy gold.

“Wait, here’s one for me!” you said, bidding Nat to stop scrolling.

Y/N may be able to move boulders with ease, but lets see how far she could move MY rocks!

Are you Sisyphus, Y/N? Because I want you rolling up and down my hills all night!

“I must say, I am impressed that one of these clueless mooks was able to correctly reference Sisyphus,” Nat admitted. “That’s a total of one of them who may have finished school.”

You shrugged. “We’ll never have to deal with them anyway. Oh, look, here’s one ‘I want you to Avenge my cock up your—'”

“—good Norns, do you Midgardian women sincerely respond to this piss?” You looked over your shoulder to find Loki standing in the doorway, looking amused. Nat chuckled.

“Wait until you read the erotic fanfiction,” she said. “The depraved things they write about us!”

“I know, right?” you giggled.

Loki sauntered in and stood behind you and Nat, raising an eyebrow as he read over your shoulder.

“No wonder your birthrates are declining,” he snarked. “No woman in any of the Realms would hear these crass lines and willingly open her legs. Who do these men think they are?”

You rolled your eyes. Sometimes Loki was a tough nut to crack. “Chalk it up to cultural differences? Am I to assume on Asgard you just get naked and ask politely?”

Loki gave a half-smile as he thought of his next move. “Oh no, Y/N,” he said, his voice lowering. “On Asgard, we woo our women. Courtship where I’m from is the real thing.”

Nat scoffed. “I’m sure it is. That explains why yourself and Thor have such devoted wives.”

You offered a fist-bump to Nat, who returned it with a wink.

“We also don’t prioritize marriage for the sake of coupling up,” he returned sternly. “A marriage proposal is very special on Asgard.”

You spun around in your chair to face Loki. “And I’m sure you’d have a grand old time finding a girl down here, especially after we had to clean up YOUR mess in New York City last year!”

Loki grinned mischievously, taking your hand in his. “You have no idea, Princess,” he said, bending down to give it a light kiss on the knuckles.

You felt your heart flutter like a schoolgirl’s. Looking into Loki’s playful gaze, you suddenly felt a little vulnerable.

“So, why don’t you do a demonstration of how it works and why it is so much better to do things your way?” Nat suggested. You shot her a dirty look and mouthed ‘the fuck?’, which she returned with a wink.

Loki nodded and pulled you to your feet by the hand he held. “The first step to having a beautiful woman falling at me feet to know her heart. You cannot expect to attract someone by guessing what they respond to until something works. For example,” Loki said teasingly, licking his bottom and not letting his eyes leave yours, “Y/N always puts her hand on her cheek when she’s daydreaming and runs a finger over her lips when she’s deep in thought, so I’d make my desire known by caressing her soft skin in admiration, like so.”

He drew his free hand to your cheek, running his finger down from your ear to the base of your neck, making you shiver.

“Um…how did you know that about me?” you asked, trying not to waiver in your stoic façade.

“A suitor respects the object of his fantasy,” Loki declared. “He knows what she wants and he delivers it to her on a silver plate, because,” he paused, leaning in closer to you until you were able to feel the heat of his breath on your face, “he knows she is a goddess, and her pleasure is always his command.”

“And then what?” you asked quietly.

“Y/N works hard. A lady with her schedule would respond well to a relaxing date by a lakeside, a table for two set up with candlelight, supper ready and waiting, and two firm hands on her shoulders like so…” Loki moved around behind you, using two very gentle palms to sweep your hair back behind your ears before beginning to massage your shoulders. It was as if his touch was tailor-made to your preferences: not too firm, but still enough to work out the knots and pinches you developed from working all day.

You couldn’t help but utter a small moan of pleasure, inaudible to Natasha, but Loki sure noticed, leaning down by your ear and whispering, “I heard that.”

Nat crossed her arms in front of her chest, now thoroughly entertained. “Go on,” she coaxed.

“Oh, just a moment, I do believe Y/N needs a moment to catch up with me,” he responded, kneading your shoulders another moment before spinning you around to face him again. “Is my demonstration a bit too on-the-nose for you, darling?”

Darling. And there went your poker face. “Please, go on. This is quite…um…”

“Educational?” offered Nat with a chuckle.

“Uh, yeah, that.”

Loki bowed his head. “Once I have a partner drawn to me, the real seduction begins. As a sapiosexual, I am attracted to intelligence, and as such, playful banter always serves as excellent foreplay. However, for our purposes here, let's just say we are already aware that our wits are matched. Therefore, the next step is the first kiss, which is the most vital step in the entire courtship.”

“The kiss?” you asked, still trying to hide your excitement, completely in vain.

“I believe a bard you have here on Midgard once said, ‘its in his kiss,’ and indeed, it is,” Loki explained, his low, rolling baritone making your heartbeat radiate throughout your core at a solid 10 on the Richter scale. “A kiss tells you everything you need to know about a woman’s love language. Sometimes it’ll be quick and firm, but I do believe Y/N, with her tactile kink and romantic side, would prefer something slow and sensual…something like…”

Loki leaned down and placed a kiss softly on your lips before gently poking between them with his tongue, begging entrance, which you couldn’t help but immediately grant. You didn’t expect him to only linger in your mouth for a moment before withdrawing his tongue and delicately taking your lower lip between his teeth, gently sucking.

Oh, Nat, please leave so we can finish this, you prayed in your mind. He’s got me.

Sadly, Loki pushed your face away from his with a soft tug of a lock of hair behind your ear. “My, my…” he muttered with a smile, “I may have succeeded a little too much in my presentation. My apologies!”

He quickly pulled away from you and walked back towards the door.

“Loki?” you asked weakly.

“The last rule of courting a woman the Asgardian way…until you have her in bed for the first time, always leave her craving you.”

Giving a quasi-mocking bow, Loki took one last look at you and winked. “Oh, and Y/N, I’d like to go over some paperwork later tonight if you’ll kindly drop by my apartment at nine?”

You nodded silently. It was all you could do, standing there, still recovering from a wooing you didn’t want to recover from.

“Good,” he said with authority. “Ladies,” he acknowledged before shutting the door behind him.

You looked to Natasha, your jaw dropping to the floor.

“I won’t lie, a part of me wishes I was an Asgardian right about now,” she said, smiling at you. She couldn’t help but get some amusement at your perplexed (and turned-on) look. You were still feeling the tingling aftershocks rippling up and down your legs from the kiss itself.

“Tell me about it! Hey Nat, did he ever say if he was seeing anyone?”

#MCU fanfiction #MCU Loki #Loki fluff #anon prompt #loki flirting #flirty fic #loki x reader #Loki x reader fluff

[allycat75]

Aren't you tired, Boston Dumb Fuck? I know we are!

As someone who is on record as not liking to be manipulated, aren't you tired as a perpetrator of it? Of all the lies and machinations? Let's just take a little look at the last few months, shall we. This is a bit long, but you have been busy and getting no where. In fact, further than no where (cue Paul Simon's "Slip Sliding Away"). And I recognize this may not be under your control, but you signed on the dotted line so you hold ultimate accountability. If you don't like what is happening in your name, you are a grown ass man with agency, regardless of what that contract says. There is always a way.

First, bravo for pretending to be married to a racist, antisemetic, fatshaming Lolita. Something I never thought someone who really loved love or was a good upstanding citizen with integrity would ever do, but you never cease to surprise me.

Then, creating the illusion of two ceremonies- the "East Coast" one (was it your house in MA, Cape Cod, somewhere in New York, your cursed place in Vermont?) with a random smattering of work friends who were in the area for other commitments (and had projects to promote but couldn't because of the strike) and your clout chasers who needed to boost their followers, all on your niece's birthday, I think (way to be a super user uncle- was all the prep for her party good cover for you? I am sure she appreciated your care and attention). Then the "Portugal" ceremony ("let's go Portugal") which only seemed to prove some of your family and friends got a free trip to Portugal at some point this summer.

But what we didn't get were sighting of you and the little wifey, not even puttering around town making preperations, or getting coffee at a local cafe. Were no phones working in either location? They couldn't give a shit about her, that I get, but I am sure a few people would have recognized you, even in your current sorry state, and at least done that thing where you pretend to take a picture of something else and catch you in the background (see "funeral dinner" below), and posted it in real time.

Seeming to be everywhere and nowhere, strategically planting anachronistic and ambiguously located photos on "random" people's SM. Or the blurry, Ghost Hunter-quality photos of people that could be fake, you and/or Fish Mouth or the image of your soul slowly leaking out of your body.

Like the one where you look healthy one day (and your bride looks exactly like she did in one of your lame-ass scare videos from years ago when you see her in the reflection in your glasses), then magically, two days later, you look like absolute shit. As if you are having a Mitch McConnell-like seizure!

But my favorite has to be the funeral dinner with Scarlet, Colin, Stanley and Fish Mouth, that was taken months ago (you looked much less sickly then). Interesting how the poster, for some reason, made her account public then made it private again once the damage was done. Colin looks like he just loves you and how you are using his wife so this talentless twit can get ahead. Awesome how you put one of your best friends in this awkward position!

The only seemingly legitimate sighting we got was on the plane where you didn't even sit together. Even stranger because you rarely fly commercial these days- I wonder why this time was different? We find her non-posing, feigning interest in something the stranger next to her is saying while someone in the aisle obviously takes her picture. Girl's not famous in any country- no way some rando traveler is just going to recognize her and stop the flow of passengers to take a photo. Then there was the ghost bag Fish Mouth was pulling. My theory is we thwarted a bad photoshop of you holding her hand, BDF, because you still don't want to touch her. Ah, true love!

(Side note- you do know you are paying for all this set-up and clean-up, by the way. Megan isn't doing a bad job out of the goodness of her heart).

Forget that this "marriage" and globe hoping could get you and the wifey into a heap of trouble with immigration, but you are a famous, rich, white man and she is an arrogant, entitle brat who seems to be able to pitch a tantrum until she gets what she wants so I am sure you will be fine. No need for introspection on how your decisions have consquenses. Sounds like bliss to me!

PS- don't give your crack (like the drug, not the compliment) team any ideas. One of the reasons I did this rundown was to show how absurd this all is. There is no amount of "proof" that could make your lies true at this point, so save the billable hours for your next crisis. We've seen the show and all its sequels and we are not buying tickets because it sucked from the very start. Don't insult our intelligence!

#You are the company you keep #brian wilson vibes #i hate manipulation #liars suck! #ai in human form #is your mom still proud? #is this the life you want? #don't piss on my leg and tell me it is raining

[controversialhottakes]

I deleted my old tumblr about a year ago but then decided to make a new account with the intention of logging on every now and then to see what was going on in the fandoms I interested in. I wasn't going to interact with the posts or post anything myself but I can't keep my mouth shut anymore. I know that tumblr is a very far-left-chronically-online-teenagers kind of website (where "teenagers" does not necessarily refer to the actual age but rather to the black and white thinking and inability to understand that the real world is much more complex than that) and I'm not a fan of social media in general, plus I'm a very busy person, so I don't really like spending a lot of time on here but sometimes it can be fun.

Imagine my surprise when I created my new account sometime in December or January, only to find out that Noah Schnapp had apparently been cancelled, when only a year earlier he was being praised for being "so brave and queer" (I have my thoughts on all of this too but they're irrelevant right now). Knowing tumblr, I obviously rolled my eyes and moved on, wondering briefly what he might have done to warrant people cursing him left, right, and centre. Then I came across that photo and was like... I have no idea what's going on. Because I literally didn't. I learn about the news from newspaper headlines and only occasionally glance through New York Times, The Guardian, Süddeutsche Zeitung, or some other reputable newspapers when I have the time and nothing better to do.

So I decided to do my research. Cambridge Dictionary told me that Zionism was "a political movement that had as its original aim the creation of a country for Jewish people, and that now supports the state of Israel" which sounded more than reasonable to me, I could 100% get behind that myself. This left me even more confused as to why everyone was freaking out. At that point, I knew that there was a war in the Middle East but I didn't pay much attention to it. But by that point I was so invested in finding out what started this witch-hunt that I decided to sacrifice some time I didn't really have and dig deep into the topic.

Since my knowledge of the history and politics of the Middle East was close to nill at that point, I just knew that it'd been very tense and very messy ever since I could remember, I had to do a lot of reading, and I quickly realised that the situation was extremely complicated. The whole region was a ticking time bomb and I couldn't think of any potential solution to the problem. In other words, I still don't think there was any chance of this not turning into an armed conflict sooner rather than later.

Armed with this new knowledge, I then returned to tumblr, thinking that people were upset that Noah was making a joke about the war, which is perfectly understandable. Instead I found out that the woke American left was now supporting terrorists. Which was an interesting development, to say the least. More terrifying was the realisation that they were getting all their information from Islamic sources, including the Hamas itself, because the West is apparently evil now (neo-orientalism, anyone? just me? okay...) and can't be trusted. Also, the Jews are responsible for that because they're controlling the governments and the media and basically everything else? Correct me if I got that wrong, I'm not very good at conspiracy theories, they confuse me, but I think that's what a lot of people are implying?

Let's take a moment to let it sink in: people believe everything a terrorist group tells them (see sources at the end if you have any doubts that that's what they are) as opposed to consulting different sources from various places where the press are reasonably free to tell the truth... Not only that, they are now "rooting for" Hamas (it's a war, not a football match, but fine) and, on the more extreme end, want to see Israel destroyed. In the same breath, with no sense of irony, they renounce genocide and praise the Nazis (which is what I actually wanted to talk about, but this has got too long, so more on those charming chaps, their modern counterparts, and how the far left has become the far right in my next post).

As for Noah, I find the post itself rather off-putting but not the fact that he might support Zionism (in its original form; people on this site seem to have redefined it and now I see it used as an insult, but I can't for the life of me figure out what you think it means, not to mention that none of you can actually agree on what it means, so I'm just going to stick to the original definition, thank you very much). But he's 19 and teenagers will always be teenagers, they rarely stop to think before doing or saying something. If he was 20 years older than he is, I'd think he should know better, but I've seen kids (and many adults) do much dumber, not to mention dangerous (as in could actually get them and/or other people killed), things in real life. I've done much dumber things myself. It's just that the most of us have the privilege of doing those dumb things in private, without millions of people analysing our every move.

Sources:

EU list of external terrorists (see 9 on p. 6); for more information, including criteria for listing, see this

An article from The Guardian from July 2017. Especially interesting:

The US classifies Hamas as a terrorist organisation, although in the UK it is not banned in its entirety. The Home Office’s list of proscribed groups only includes its military wing, the Izz ad-Din al-Qassam Brigades, for their “aims to end Israeli occupation in Palestine and establish an Islamic State”.

US list of FTOs (Hamas designated as a FTO on October 8, 1997)

#antisemitism #idek what to tag this #i have a lot of thoughts on this topic and i am going to share them #noah schnapp