#neely-bear

[itsmattyj]

neely

#chair #sleepy #muffin #neely #neely-bear #paws #cat #cats #cute animals

[gilliebee]

#vintage bruins blogging #cam neely cursed my dick #blood // #injury // #slight flashing #rabid bear on the ice just mauling everyone #shout out to that one ref pinning his massive ass to the boards! both brave and also awakens something in me 👍

[theoutcastrogue]

Cartoon depictions of the homeless increasingly reflect the hostility of today’s political leaders toward people on the streets. We’ve gone from images of charming hobos with bindles to zombies taking over cities. If you consume any news at all, you’ve probably noticed that the United States is pathologically cruel to its homeless citizens. This May, the brutal killing of Jordan Neely—who was strangled to death, at the age of 30, simply because he was unhoused and shouting on the Manhattan subway—captured the national spotlight, but it was just one of many such cases of unprovoked violence. In January, two cops reportedly kidnapped a homeless man in Hialeah, Florida, drove him to an “isolated and dark location,” and beat him unconscious. That same month, art dealer Shannon Collier Gwin faced battery charges after he sprayed a homeless woman with a hose outside his San Francisco gallery, barking “Move! Move!” at her. (Predictably, Gwin got a lenient plea deal of just 35 hours of community service.) Elsewhere in the city, homeless San Franciscans have been attacked with chemical bear spray on at least eight occasions. Other assaults have been more impersonal but no less vicious. On July 14, the city of Houston abruptly closed its only public cooling center in the downtown area, potentially condemning anyone without shelter to suffer heatstroke in 90-degree weather. Among the property-owning class, the phenomenon of hostile architecture—sidewalks with spikes that stab anyone who tries to sleep, benches with iron bars, and the like—has become de rigueur. The widespread callousness and lack of compassion are both infuriating and hard to comprehend. How on Earth, we might ask, did things get this bad? [...]

Looking back at older cartoons, one of the things that stands out immediately is the absence of negative attitudes toward the homeless. In fact, during the Golden Age of animation, creators seemed to have had a real affinity for the poor and unhoused, often placing their most iconic characters in that role. There’s a wonderful 1948 Warner Bros. short called “Riff Raffy Daffy,” in which Daffy Duck is looking for a place to sleep—first on a park bench, then a trash can, and finally a furniture display in a shop window—and has to dodge the harassment of the police, as represented by Porky Pig in a little blue uniform. (Literally, the cop is a pig!) Or, in the 1950 cartoon “Homeless Hare,” Bugs Bunny’s rabbit hole is destroyed by a new construction project, leading him to unleash his usual slapstick mayhem against the developers until they put it back. In these cartoons, homelessness is something inflicted on people by outside forces—gentrification and the real estate business, in Bugs’ case—and something which can be successfully resisted. Even Disney cast a homeless dog as a romantic lead in 1955’s Lady and the Tramp, contrasting Lady’s sheltered naivety with Tramp’s superior knowledge of the world. The title invokes the memory of Charlie Chaplin’s “Tramp” films, which similarly brought dignity and humanity to the role of a homeless man. (Bugs Bunny, too, takes inspiration from Chaplin, and multiple Warner animators have drawn him as the Tramp.) In 1961, Hanna-Barbera’s profoundly underrated Top Cat followed the adventures of a gang of wisecracking Manhattan alley cats, who, like Daffy, are always outwitting a meddling policeman. At worst, classic cartoons may trivialize the suffering and danger associated with homelessness—there’s a certain recurring image of the carefree hobo carrying a bindle, which paints the whole subject in a romanticized light—but the homeless themselves are rarely disparaged or made the butt of the joke. Quite the opposite. 

It took a few years, but cartoons caught up to the Reaganite turn. In episodes from the ’90s and early 2000s, there’s a palpable shift in the way homeless characters appear compared to earlier decades. The perspective is different: we’re now seeing them through the eyes of comfortably housed characters, rather than their own. Often they don’t even get proper names. [...] This trajectory leads us, perhaps inevitably, to SpongeBob SquarePants. [..] Squidward gets accused of stealing a dime by his comically greedy boss, Mr. Krabs, and quits his job in a fit of outrage. We then flash forward to see Squidward, now bedraggled and unshaven, living in a cardboard box on the street and begging for change. [...] Mercifully, the ever-cheerful SpongeBob gives Squidward a place to stay—but the moment he’s safely off the street, Squidward turns from a sympathetic victim of circumstance into a lazy, entitled freeloader, straight out of a Reagan speech. He makes no effort to find work and loafs around SpongeBob’s house for ages. [...] Eventually, an exasperated SpongeBob writes “GET A JOB” in his alphabet soup, before shoving him (bed and all) back to work at the Krusty Krab. [...] Worst of all, though, the episode suggests that homelessness can be solved on an individual basis if the people in question simply stop being lazy and “GET A JOB.” This is the biggest myth of all. In 2021, a statistical analysis by the University of Chicago found that 53 percent of people in homeless shelters, and 40.4 percent of unsheltered people, do have jobs. The problem is that their wages are too low, and rents are too high. According to statistics from the same year, it’s impossible for someone working a full-time, minimum-wage job to afford a single-bedroom apartment in 93 percent of U.S. counties, and there are no states in which someone can rent a two-bedroom space on the current federal minimum wage of $7.25 per hour. In other words, homelessness has little or nothing to do with personal responsibility, or lack thereof. It’s a consequence of large-scale economic decisions made by landlords and bosses. [...]

— Alex Skopic

#Alex Skopic #theory #the ramblin' rover

[therealdisneyfan2319]

Latte Love | Wanda Maximoff

Summary: When a new coffee shop opens up across the street from your bakery, you enter into a rivalry with its new owner

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Warnings: Smut (minors DNI), language, mentions of major character death, house fire, mentions of alcohol

Word Count: 7.3K

Masterlist

A/N: This was a request from @aloneodi​.  The prompt was pretty straightforward: enemies to overs with lots of angst and smut.  Enjoy ;)

For the past two months the construction across the street from your bakery had driven you insane.  The constant sawing and hammering was grinding your gears.  You weren’t sure what was coming in the old storefront.  It had been vacant as long as you could remember.  You were in elementary school when Mr. Neely retired and the building now sat in a state of dilapidated disrepair: the front awning was threadbare, the windows were partially boarded up, and graffiti was spray painted over the brick storefront.  Inside the empty cases gathered dust and cobwebs.  It was a bit of a pleasant surprise when you came to work one day to see a ‘SOLD’ sign taped to the front door. 

“Maybe we should blast some music, give them a taste of their own medicine,” Natasha suggested with a smirk.  Natasha Romanoff was your right hand woman when it came to running the bakery.  Not only was she an accounting whiz and could balance the books in her sleep, she also made a mean creme brûlée.  

“I just don’t understand why it’s taken them so long to remodel.  It’s construction, not rocket science.  What’s going in there anyway?”

“It’s a coffee shop.  I met the owner when I went to the wholesaler the other day,” Sam explained as he dumped another batch of bagels into the bucket.  A slightly intimidating Air Force veteran with the heart of a teddy bear, Sam was your resident bagel maker and donut fryer.  People came from all corners of the state for his famous brownie batter donuts and egg everything bagels,

“So literally the exact same as us?”  You could hardly believe what you were hearing.  The Rolling Scones had quickly established itself as Westview’s premiere (and only) bakery.  Why did someone else need to open up right across the street?

“Hold up, it’s not exactly the same thing.  We’re a bakery that serves coffee and they’re a coffee shop that serves baked goods.  Totally different.”

You shot Sam a glance that immediately made him do an about face and head back to his boiling batch of bagels.  Flour covered fingers ran through your hair as you leaned up against the back counter thinking about all the negative ways this new shop was going to impact yours.

“What are we gonna do, Nat?  I can’t lose this place.”

“Y/N, relax.  It’s just another business.  We’re not going to go out of business just because there’s a new place in town.  If anything they’re the ones who should be worried.  They have to compete with Sam’s bagels.” 

“We could just burn it down!” Peter, the teenager who washed dishes after school and on weekends, added.  “Then we wouldn’t have to worry about them!”

“He’s got a point,” Sam added as the door jingled open.

“Peter!  Arson isn’t the answer here!” Nat rolled her eyes, heading to the back to work on handling the latest invoices.

“But it is a solution,” you teased.  Natasha groaned as she kicked the back room door open.  “Can I help you?” you asked, turning your attention to the customer who walked up to the counter.

“Yeah, I’m looking for a - oh, SAM!  Hi!”  The young woman in front of you raised up on her tiptoes and waved over the counter.

“Wanda hey!”  He walked over, an overflowing basket of hard rolls in his arms.  “Glad you came.  How’s the remodeling going?”

“Good!  My contractor told me that we should be able to open by the end of the month.”

“That’s great news!  Did you pick the name yet?”

“My brother and I argued about it for a while, but we finally settled on Latte Love.”

“You’re the one who bought the old deli?!”  

“Mmhmm.  I always wanted to open a coffee shop and I thought it was an absolutely charming little spot.  So I saved and took out some loans and got it!  I’m Wanda.  Wanda Maximoff.”  The overexcitable brunette shoved her hand out in front of you.

“Y/N L/N,” you responded as you reluctantly clasped her hand.  The last thing you wanted to do was be friendly with the person who was your direct competitor. 

Sam chatted with Wanda, asking her all sorts of questions about the wholesaler and how she was faring getting her deliveries set up.  Your vision went red at the sight of your friend and this despicable woman having a friendly conversation.  Why on earth would he invite her into your shop, the shop your parents worked so hard to build and the one you worked so hard to keep thriving?  The fear of losing the family business permeated your mind on a daily basis.  This wasn’t making it any better…

“Who’s that?” Natasha’s voice snapped you out of your stewing.  She leaned against the counter, sizing up the scene in front of her.

“That’s the new coffee shop owner.  Wanda.  I have no idea why she’s here or why she’s talking to Sam,” you huffed, crossing your arms as you leaned against the counter.

“Someone sounds a little jealous,” Nat teased.  

“Jealous?!”  Your face flushed red with embarrassment.  “You think I’m jealous?  Nat, that’s the woman who’s going to try to steal all our customers!  She’s the enemy here, not the prize!”

Natasha looked at you, then at Wanda, then back at you, and back at Wanda.  “She’s hot.  Think I stand a chance?”

“Can you pretend you’re not gay for like, five minutes please?  Five minutes.  That’s all I’m asking.  I’m not jealous, I don’t want anything to do with her, and I swear to Christ if she’s into chicks too and you sleep with her your ass is so fired.  ANYONE who sleeps with her is outta here!”  As much as you hated to admit it, Natasha was right: Wanda was gorgeous.  She had the perfect figure, her cropped jeans hugging the curves of her hips just right.  The billowy light blue and white button up and oversized sun hat gave her a youthful exuberance that radiated from her glowing face and stunning green eyes.  

“You’d have less of a stick up your ass if you got laid, you know?” she smirked.  Groaning, you headed back toward the kitchen, kicking the swinging door with your foot.  The sweet smell of powdered sugar and freshly baked cupcakes instantly calmed you.  Unsure of how to amuse yourself until Wanda left, you grabbed a cooling rack of cookies and began frosting, turning the sugary discs into half moons.  The repetition of frosting and smoothing calmed you.  With enough time and vanilla Wanda’s unwelcome appearance would soon become a distant memory.

************************************************

Latte Love had been open for almost a month.  The cafe had a slow start initially.  Customers trickled in and out for the better part of two weeks.  For those two glorious weeks you paid no heed to the brunette who could often be found sweeping the sidewalk and arranging the outside tables just so.  Suddenly, something changed.  Before you knew it a line formed outside the locked doors every morning with people waiting to get their morning cup of coffee.  You didn’t pay much attention to it at first, but once you spotted a couple of your regulars in the line your vitriol for Wanda increased tenfold.     

“That’s the third time today they’ve had a line out the door!” Peter exclaimed as he pressed his nose to the glass.

“Thank you for that reminder, Captain Obvious,” you snarked as you counted back change to the lady at the counter.  “Anything else you want to add?”  

Peter quickly recoiled from the glass, a sheepish expression on his face.  “Ned says their coffee is really good….and so are their muffins,” he mumbled.

Oh great.  Now I’ve gotta compete with her pastries, too.  What a bitch…you thought to yourself as you handed the lady back a fistful of coins.  Wanda was frustrating you more and more every single day.  You sighed, taking off your baseball cap and running your hands threw your sweaty hair. 

The door jingled.  Sam and Nat walked in, the two of them eating cookies that suspiciously didn’t look like yours.

“What are those?” you asked.

“You want one?  Wanda gave them to us.  Pietro’s trying out a new recipe for sugar cookies.  They’re honestly not half bad.”  Sam reached into the brown paper bag and grabbed a large cookie, its warmth causing it to bend ever so slightly.

“Goddamn it!  You slammed your cap down on the counter.  In your mind, this was an act of war and you were not going to stand for it.  Who did she think she was, bribing your employees?  

“Y/N, just relax, okay?  Wanda didn’t mean anything by it.  She’s really nice if you get to know her,” Natasha asserted.

“She’s stealing our customers!” you shouted.  “And I can’t believe you guys are eating her food!”

“Dude, relax.  The cookies are good and she’s nice.  Her brother’s cool, too,” Sam added, wiping cookie crumbs from his goatee.  

“Unbelievable,” you mumbled, storming around the counter and yanking the door open.  You were going over there to give her a piece of your mind. 

You didn’t care what customers thought as you pushed Latte Love’s door open.  Lucky for you there weren’t any at the moment, the last one having left moments ago.  You heard the commotion of dishes crashing from the back and a voice you hadn’t heard before mixing with Wanda’s.  As the commotion in the background subsided, it was the perfect opportunity to look around at the transformed deli.  

The new design was rustic chic with exposed brick walls, stained wooden tables, and the same rustic counter that Mr. Neely once stored his meats and cheeses in.  A series of shiny metallic coffee machines sat behind the counter, the shelves above it stocked with containers full of different types of coffee beans.  The front case was stuffed full of various breads, pastries, cookies, and sandwiches.  It wasn’t a bad place at all, and the food didn’t look half-bad either.  She’d actually done a decent job at bringing the old shop back to life.

“Y/N?” You whipped around as Wanda called your name.  She looked exhausted, her face glistening with sweat and powdered sugar as she pushed a rack of cupcakes and sweet breads out of the kitchen.  Her hair was swept up in a messy bun, strands hanging askew as she wiped the sweat from her bow with her arm.  Her black apron was peppered with sugar and frosting stains.  “How are you?  Did Sam give you a cookie like I asked him to?” “Did Sam - what?”

“Oh, I gave him some cookies to try.  Pietro’s working out a new sugar cookie recipe and he needs taste testers so I figured-”

“What are you playing at here, Maximoff?”

“Excuse me?” Wanda tilted her head as she questioned you, her gaze quickly hardening into a stare.

“You heard me.  What are you playing at?  Is stealing my customers not enough for you that you need to go after my employees too?”  

Wanda’s jaw dropped open as she stared at you incredulously.  She laughed, shaking her head as she started unloading the cupcakes.  “Are you for real right now?”

“Before you showed up we’d sell out every single day.  Now more often than not I’m throwing stuff out.  Sales have dropped and I’ve lost regulars that I’ve had for years.  So I’m telling you this now: stay away from me and my staff.”  It was all you could do to not take all your frustration out on her.

“I don’t know what you think’s going on here,” Wanda started, placing the trays neatly in the case.  While she wasn’t outwardly aggressive, she shoved them in there harder than she normally would.  “But you are absolutely insane if you think that I’m trying to steal your customers or staff or whatever.  Sam and Natasha have been nothing but kind to me and Pietro, I just want to return the favor.”

“Well stop.  The last thing I need is for my guys to be fraternizing with the enemy,” you grumbled, your blood pressure reaching a boiling point as you stared her down, fists clenched tightly at your side.

“Oh, so now I’m the enemy then?” She slammed the tray on the counter, sending loaves of bread tumbling off the sides.   “Jesus, Y/N, what’s wrong with you?  Have you ever stopped to think that maybe people stopped going to your shop because they wanted to try something new or, here’s a novel thought, maybe they like my place more than yours?”

“Fuck you, Wanda!  That place means everything to me!  You have no idea what I’ve done to keep that bakery running and I’m not gonna let your stupid bucket list adventure ruin my life’s work!”

“Get out!” Wanda shouted as she threw a muffin at your head.  Her aim was wide and the pastry hit the wall with a splat as you leaned out of the way.  “Get the fuck out of my store you bastard!”

Your vision tunneled as you stormed out of the shop, not neglecting to flip her the bird as you slammed the door behind you.  Ever since Wanda Maximoff came to town everything had gone completely and utterly wrong.  Everyone seemed to be flocking to her and her business.  Even Sam and Natasha, two of your closest friends in the whole wide world, had taken to her.  It irritated you to no end.  She constantly invaded the deepest depths of your mind, and many nights you awoke in a cold sweat after she invaded your dreams.  There was nothing you wouldn’t do to get her out of your mind: grueling pre-dawn runs, sleepless nights spent getting ahead on cake orders, countless after-work happy hours throwing back whatever alcohol you could get your hands on…anything to get that frustrating, irritating, beautiful woman, out of your mind.

************************************************

After your spat, it was like someone had built the Berlin Wall in the middle of the street.  Patrons realized that something was up with the two shops and most had picked a side.  Lucky for you a majority of the customers you lost returned.  Things finally went back to normal for a while.  Sam and Natasha stopped frequenting Latte Love, or if they didn’t they kept quiet about it.  Natasha reamed you out for the way you snapped at Wanda, telling you to grow the fuck up and deal with it like an adult while Sam became unusually quiet around you.  It was exasperating, but at least you felt like you were in control again.  Yet as things started to go back to normal, there was something looming around the corner that would change your life forever.

************************************************

“Hello?” you mumbled groggily into your phone.  It was the middle of the night and your phone jolted you awake with its abrasive ringtone.

“Y/N, it’s Nat.”  You shot right up, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.  She sounded extremely concerned to the point where you were worried.

“What’s wrong?  Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.  It’s the bakery.  It’s-”

You didn’t even let her finish before you hung up, frantically searching for some clothes and your keys as you raced down the stairs of your apartment toward your car.  As you sped down the road toward downtown, an orange glow illuminated the dark buildings while sirens grew ever closer.  

Oh no.  Oh no no no no no.  Please no.  Please.  You white-knuckled the steering wheel, your damp palms sliding as your heart pounded in your chest.  The turn onto the main drag confirmed your worst fears: The Rolling Scone was burning. 

You skidded to a halt almost as soon as you turned the corner.  Fire engines, police cars, and ambulances blocked the area surrounding your store and the other end of the road while firefighters rushed into the burning building.  You jogged down the street, looking for a familiar face in the crowd of first responders.

“Y/N!” Natasha jumped out of the back of an ambulance and came running over to you, a reflective rescue blanket draped over her shoulders.

“Nat!  Oh god, are you okay?”  She threw her arms around you and squeezed you tight.  You instinctively pulled her close, cradling her head with one hand as you wrapped your other arm around her.  

“I don’t know what happened.  I was working on the books in the office before I got started on the donuts and I started smelling smoke, so I walked out there and the kitchen was on fire.  I tried to put it out, but when it got too big I called 911.  It’s all my fault, Y/N.  I’m so sorry.”  Her eyes were brimming with tears as she apologized for the mistake that wasn’t her fault.

“It’s not your fault,” you mumbled against the top of her head.  “I’m just glad you’re okay.”  You held her close to you as she cried into your shirt.  The sight of your beloved bakery burning to the ground in front of you should’ve elicited some emotional response from you, but you felt nothing.  None of what was happening seemed real.  You’d wake up in a few hours, shake off your nightmare, and head back to work like nothing ever happened, but that wouldn’t happen again for a very long time.  Now when you woke up, you’d have to spend the foreseeable future picking up the charred pieces of your livelihood.

************************************************

Gone.  It was all gone.  The last tangible reminder of your parents had gone up in smoke.  Words couldn’t accurately describe just how devastated you were.  The bakery was the way you dealt with the crushing pain of having tragically lost your parents so early in life.  Now your coping mechanism was gone.  You looked around, seeing the charred remains of the booths, the front counter, and the collection of employee and family pictures that hung on the back wall.  One picture in particular caught your eye.  It was you and your parents after the little league championship game the year your team won.  The picture was charred around the edges, half of your mom’s body was burnt off, but it was mostly intact.  You ripped it off the wall, sighing as you stared at the faded memory.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered at your parents’ beaming faces.  You let their dream burn down and with it your last memories of them.

You stayed in the building most of the day.  Natasha stopped by at one point to find you on the floor leaning against what was left of the front counter.  She offered to grab you some food or take you home, but you declined, wanting nothing more than to disappear into the void.  That’s where Wanda found you when she showed up later in the evening.

“Hey,” she said as she crouched under the CAUTION tape.  You ignored her as you stared at the charred photograph in your hand.  She stood awkwardly in front of you, a brown paper bag in one hand and her purse in the other.  Wanda was the last person in the world you wanted to see right now.  You wanted to scream, to tell her to leave you alone, but you didn’t have the energy.

“Please go,” you murmured, flipping the photograph through your fingers.  

She didn’t go.  She walked over to the counter, kicking a piece of charred wood to the side as she sat down next to you.  There was an unspoken tension in the air as neither of you looked at each other: you stared down at the picture, she stared at the brown bag in her hand.  

“Here,” she said as she slid the bag over to you.  Taking a look inside the brown bag, you saw two delicious looking honey butter muffins staring back at you.  “I figured that it’d help you feel a bit better.”  Wanda smiled, her emerald eyes glimmering back at you.  For the first time since you met it made your heart skip a beat.

“You figured that muffins from your still-standing cafe would help me feel better about my bakery burning down?”

“Look I’m sorry, okay?  I’m really sorry about your bakery…” she trailed off as she brought her knees up and hugged them close to her chest.  “It should’ve been my place that burned down, not yours.”

“Don’t say that.”

“But it’s true!  Sam told me all about this place.  How your parents built it from the ground up, how you’ve literally spent your whole life working here, how you dropped out of school after they died to-”

“Please stop,” you interrupted as you felt another lump in your throat. .

“Is that them?” she asked, leaning over to get a better look at the photo in your hand.

You nodded.  “That’s, umm, that’s the day we won the little league championship.  Dad coached my team that year and…”  You trailed off as your eyes filled with tears.  “Umm, this place is the only thing I have left of them, you know?  Coming here every day, it’s almost like they’re still here.  And now that it’s gone I…”  You looked down at the picture as hot tears rolled down your face.  The emotional breakdown that had been brewing all day was finally bubbling up through the cracks.  “Sorry.”

Before you could say anything else, a pair of soft hands wrapped around you and pulled you close.  “It’s okay, you can let it all out,” Wanda whispered.  That was all it took for you to finally break down.  You sobbed into her chest as she held you.  She squeezed you close as she gently rocked back and forth, her fingers gently stroking your hair.  “You’re okay, Y/N.  You’re going to be okay.  I’ve got you,” she soothed.  Your body was wracked with sobs as you finally let everything go. 

Wanda’s touch was calming.  You’d never felt so calm or safe wrapped up in someone else’s arms before.  You never cried in front of anyone, not even Natasha and she was your best friend.  Somehow you knew that Wanda was someone you could trust completely.  “I’m sorry that you’re going through this, but you don’t have to go through it alone,” she whispered in your ear as your sobs started to calm.  You didn’t have enough control to speak yet so you simply nodded into her chest.  Her scent was intoxicating, a combination of sugar, roasted coffee beans, and vanilla blossom shampoo.  You never noticed it before.

“Sorry for getting your shirt wet,” you sniffled as you sat up.  

“Sorry for throwing a muffin at your head,” Wanda chuckled as she reached up to brush a stray tear from her face.  Her hand was incredibly soft as she rested it on your cheek.  You felt your face grow hot, but you weren’t sure if it was from the way she was touching you or the lack of distance between your faces or all of the above.  The knot in your throat instantly migrated down to your stomach as you locked eyes with her.

“ S’okay,” you mumbled as you lost yourself in her deep green eyes.  After staring for a moment too long, you turned your head away and blinked.  She shook her head, realizing for herself the tense intimacy of the situation.  “What kind of muffins are these?” you asked, quickly changing the subject.

“Honey butter.  Pietro found the recipe online and fell in love with them.”  

“I can see why,” you responded with your mouth full.  “They’re good, but I think mine are just a bit better.”

“Shut up,” she answered with a playful smack.

************************************************

Over the course of the next few weeks, Wanda came over to your bakery almost every day.  At first it was just to bring you something from the cafe: a cup of coffee and something sweet in the morning or a sandwich after she closed up for the evening.  Her presence soon became a familiar comfort to you and you looked forward to the few moments you spent with her every evening.  Daily food deliveries turned into offers to pick up dinner, and you often found yourself sitting up with her until all hours as you ate and continued the arduous rebuilding process.  Soon enough Wanda was coming over to help you on her days off.

As you spent more time with her, the way you thought about her changed.  You no longer woke up in a cold sweat from nightmares that involved her.  Nowadays when you dreamt about her you woke up with an uncomfortable throbbing in your pajama pants.  Her smile made you weak at the knees and you craved any opportunity to touch her.  She was an incredible woman but you were terrified to tell her how you felt.  

Natasha, of course, had noticed the shift in your demeanor towards her.  “So do I get to fire you when you sleep with her or are you gonna fire yourself?” she teased one night while you were tearing the tile flooring out of the kitchen.

“Fuck off, Nat,” you answered, not steering your attention away from the floor.

“Don’t pretend like you weren’t drooling over her when she wore those shorts in here the other day.  Besides, I see the way you two are when you’re together.”

“She’s just being friendly.  She’s like that with you and Sam too, you know.”

“Y/N, she kept staring at your crotch when you wore those grey sweatpants last week.  Even if she doesn’t like you, and I’m telling you she does, she still wants to fuck you.”

“Right, yeah,” you guffawed.  While you brushed Natasha off, you hoped she was right.  You had caught Wanda staring when you wore your grey sweats last week…and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it.

“You should tell her how you feel.  I’m pretty sure she feels the same way.”

“Nat-”

“She’s over there now.  Just go talk to her.  Ask her out for dinner or something.”

“Nat-”

“Relax, I’ve got everything under control,” she smiled at you.  “Go talk to Wanda.”

You groaned as you pushed yourself up from the hard floor.  “Fine.  But if this all goes wrong I’m blaming it on you!”  You wiped your hands on a rag, throwing it at Nat as you headed for the door.

“It won’t!” she called from the kitchen.  You shook your head, grinning as you pushed the door open and crossed the street to Latte Love.  The store was closed for the evening.  Inside, Wanda was cleaning up, wiping down the tables and counter like she did every evening before making her way to The Rolling Scone.

Wanda looked up as she heard the door jingle.  Her exhausted face lit up at the sight of you.  “Hey you,” she called.  “What’s going on?”

“Not much.  Just helping Nat rip up the tile in the kitchen.  Contractor says he’ll be ready to go by the end of the week for that.”  The words felt like cotton balls in your mouth.  You never got this flustered around her but the thought of telling Wanda how you truly felt about her had your stomach tied in knots.  “How was your day?”

“Good!  Pietro left early for an appointment, so it’s just me closing up.  I was planning on picking up Indian for dinner.  Wanna join me?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.  Listen-”

“Oh!  I got this call for this INSANE order.  This lady wants twelve dozen cupcakes by Sunday.  SUNDAY.  Can you believe that?!”

“Wanda-”

“I mean of course you can, you’ve been doing this a lot longer than I have.  But I mean we’re a coffee shop, not a bakery!  I would’ve sent them to you but, well, you know, it’s a little hard to bake cupcakes when you don’t have an oven.”

“Wanda-”

“So I said ‘Sure, why the hell not?’ and I think that was a mistake because-”

“WANDA!” you said a little more aggressively than you intended. 

“Yeah?” She threw her hand towel over her shoulder.

“Wanda.  I, well, fuck.  Sorry, I’m not good at this.”  Your hands were all sweaty and your knees felt weak.  “Look.  What I want to say is, well, for the past few weeks we’ve…spending time with you…fuck!  Why is this so hard for me to say?”  You ran your fingers through your hair, frustrated that you couldn’t figure out the right words to say.  

Wanda’s quizzical look slowly softened into a smile as she started to put the pieces of the puzzle together.  She looked down at the ground, biting her lip as she threw the towel on the counter right before she jumped up on it, spun around, and hopped off on the other side.  She walked right over to you, stopping less than a foot away as she looked up into your eyes.

“You know, for an emotionally suppressed type of guy, you’re pretty cute when you get all flustered,” she teased.

“Wanda, I-” 

Before you could finish your thought, Wanda grabbed your waist, leaned in, and kissed you.  Your hands somehow found their way to the back of her neck, palms resting on her cheeks as you cupped her head.  Every single coherent thought you had flew out of your brain the second her lips touched yours.  They were just as sweet as you imagined they’d be.  You smiled into her lips, eternally grateful that she had been the one to initiate this in the first place.  She smiled back as you deepened it, capturing her bottom lip between yours.  There was no need for talking, no need for any other explanation.  The dance between your lips told the entire story: you were hers, and she was yours.  The knot in your stomach burst into a million butterflies as every touch ignited a burning sense of desire within you.  

“Wanda, I-” you somehow managed to choke out as she began to kiss the side of your neck.

“There’s a couch in the office and the door locks,” she mumbled.  Her lips grazed your sensitive skin as she spoke and it took everything in you not to let out an offensive moan.

“Lead the way.”  Wanda grabbed your hand and dragged you behind the counter and through the kitchen to the small office in the back of the shop.  You slammed the door shut behind you as Wanda pinned you to it, locking the door with one hand before bringing it back up to roam your body.  She slammed her lips into yours as you grabbed her hips, pulling her flush against your body.  The contact sent a surge of energy through your groin and you knew it would be only a matter of moments before your shorts became unbearably uncomfortable.  

You explored her body as you kissed her, tracing over every curve as she moaned into your mouth at the sensual contact.  She was heavenly.  You decided to change up the intensity of your make out session, swiping your tongue over her lower lip.  She willingly opened up and allowed your tongue to explore hers.  

Before you realized it, Wanda’s hands made their way down your body to the front of your shorts.  She unbuttoned them, stopping right afterwards to palm your throbbing erection.  You nibbled on her bottom lip as she fondled you and she smiled into your mouth in response.  As she pulled your pants and boxers down, you pulled off your t-shirt and threw it off to the side.  

“You’re beautiful,” Wanda whispered as she looked at your naked body for the first time.  She ran her hands over your toned biceps, strong and wiry from years of kneading dough, and your pecs, down your toned stomach before reaching your cock.  She grabbed it with one hand, stroking it gently as she dropped to her knees.

“Wanda,” you groaned as she worked her hands up and down your shaft.  Pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she lined up her mouth with your tip and swallowed the first part of your penis.  She swirled her tongue around your tip, coating it in saliva before removing her mouth and using it as lube to jack you off.  Your knees felt weak as she took you in her mouth again, bobbing her head up and down your entire length.  She sucked and licked and swirled your cock, hollowing her cheeks as she took you down her throat.  The noises that came from her mouth as she gagged on your length were sinful, but it only made you want her that much more.

At one point she reached for your hand, placing it on the back of her head.  You took that as a sign to do what you wanted, so you moved her head up and down at a speed you liked.  You moaned as you felt the familiar fire burning within you, spurred on by the way Wanda’s eyes watered as she let you fuck her throat.  She grabbed onto your thighs as you pounded into her, nails digging into your flesh as she looked up at you with those pleading green eyes.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moaned as Wanda ripped your hand away from her head, bringing her other hand up to jack you off as she sucked on your tip.  The sudden suction and added stimulation immediately caused you to tumble over the edge as you released down her throat.  She greedily swallowed every last drop.  Having her suck you off like that was a life-changing experience.

Wanda sat back on her heels, wiping the drool from her chin as she gasped for air.  “Nice cock,” she chuckled.  “Hope it feels as good as it tastes.”

“Why don’t we find out?” you teased, offering your hand to her as she stood up.  “But I think you’ve got too many clothes on for that.”

“I think we can take care of that,” Wanda smirked, reaching down to pull her shirt over her head.  “Want to get my pants?” she asked as she reached behind her to undo her bra.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” you joked as you unbuttoned her jeans.  You slid both them and her panties down her legs before she kicked them off.  “Wow,” you said, taking a step back to admire her.  

“Like what you see, tiger?”

“Wanda, I’m sure you’ve heard this a million times, but you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”  Wanda blushed a deep shade of crimson at your words.  It wasn’t an exaggeration.  She was absolutely gorgeous.

“Thank you,” she whispered sheepishly as she sat on the couch.

You sat down next to her, your eyes darting from one part of her nude figure to the other before you settled back on her lips.  Leaning forward, you kissed her as she fell back on the couch.  It didn’t take much to shift your position so that you were completely on top of her.  You relished the taste of her lips as you kissed and you wanted to savor  the sensation of every second.

“Fuck,” you murmured as you reached a hand down between her legs.  “You’re absolutely soaked, Wanda.”  She whined as you drew a finger up the length of her cunt, teasing around her engorged clit.  “You do that to me every day.  I go home soaking wet and fuck myself thinking about how good you’d feel inside me.”  She bucked her hips against your hand, desperate to relieve the ache building within her.  “God, I want you in me so bad, Y/N.”

“Jesus,” you whispered through gritted teeth as your erection swelled at her words.  “And here I was trying to figure out how to tell you how the first thing I do every morning is jack off to the thought of you.”

“I guess we both have filthy minds then,” she grinned.  Her face was flushed with arousal, the redness spreading down her neck and onto her breasts.  “Fuck!” she exclaimed as you dipped a finger ever so slightly inside her before quickly pulling out.  “Please just fuck me!”

“You’re cute when you beg,” you sighed as you lined yourself up with her entrance.  You teased her with your tip, rubbing it up and down her slit and over her lips and clit before barely pushing your head in.  She whined, rolling her hips in a feeble effort to lower herself onto you.  

“Y/N please-” Wanda’s words turned into a sharp cry as you slammed your entire length inside her.  Her pussy was absolute heaven.  She was warm and wet, her slick velvety walls engulfing you and squeezing in all the right places. 

“Oh my fucking god,” you croaked.  You laid over her for a minute, trying to regroup yourself enough so you wouldn’t immediately blow your load inside her.  As she adjusted to your intrusion and you calmed yourself down, you began to roll your hips against her, thrusting in and out.

“Shit,” she gasped.  Wanda rolled her hips in time with yours, meeting you as you thrust your length all the way inside her.  You continued at a steady pace, the sounds of her wet pussy being the only noise in the room.

“Are you okay?” you asked, noticing Wanda’s eyes were screwed shut.

“Feels really good.  Can you go faster?”  Not wanting to disappoint, you began to pound into her.  Her mouth gaped open at your newfound intensity as she reached up to wrap her arms and legs around you.  “Oh fuck, right there.”

The couch shook under the duress of your movements.  You pounded into Wanda, her tight hole stretching perfectly around your cock with every thrust.  Sweat beaded on your forehead as you grunted from exertion.  Your moans and groans, along with the squelching of Wanda’s pussy, filled the room.  As you pounded into her cunt, your cock disappearing within her wet folds, Wanda’s moans became louder and more erratic.  “You close, baby girl?”

Wanda nodded, wrapping her legs tighter around your midsection.  “My clit,” she choked out.  You helped her move one of her arms from your back to the sensitive spot.  She circled it furiously, a loud groan tearing from her chest.  “Faster,” she commanded.

You doubled down on your efforts and hammered into her dripping cunt.  The way her walls fluttered and clenched around you told you she wasn’t far away from her orgasm.  The way she tightened around you sent that familiar coil through your lower abdomen.  It wouldn’t be much longer until you reached your climax as well.

“I’m gonna cum,” she whined.  You pounded into her as fast as you could, groaning as your hips slammed against her swollen pussy.  Her hand circled her clit furiously.  Wanda came with a loud groan, her back arching off the couch as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed down on her.  Her walls throbbed and clenched rhythmically around you, the intense sensation finally causing you to cum as you released your thick load of cum deep inside her.  Wanda dug her nails deep into your back as you absolutely ruined her.

“Fuck I love you,” you gasped as you collapsed on top of her from sheer exhaustion.  Blood pounded in your ears and black dots peppered your vision as you recovered from the best orgasm you ever had.  

“You love me?” Wanda asked, her eyes blown wide with desire from the afterglow of her incredible orgasm.

“Shit, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said that.”  A sense of panic overtook you as you stared down at Wanda.  

“No it’s okay.  I mean, I feel the same way,” she admitted, smiling back up at you.

“Really?”

“Mmhmm” 

You chuckled as you leaned down to kiss her.  “Guess I have to quit my job now.” 

Wanda looked at you with a confused expression.  “What?” she asked as she cocked an eyebrow.

“I told everyone that they’d be fired if they slept with you, so I guess I’ve gotta quit.” 

“I love you,” Wanda giggled as she shook her head.

************************************************

“So let me get this straight: we’re merging with Latte Love after you threatened to fire us if we talked to Wanda?” Sam crossed his arms as he sat on the newly reconstructed front counter.  You had called the team together to announce the new business venture you were about to embark on.

“Okay first off I only threatened to fire you if you slept with her.  Talking to her would’ve resulted in a stern talking to and overnight donut duty for a week.  Second, it's not a merger so much as it is a partnership.  Both businesses will operate independent of one another, but now we’re going to start carrying some of their baked goods,” you explained.  Everyone looked at you in utter disbelief, unable to fathom your sudden shift in the way you viewed Latte Love.

“What changed?” Nat asked, tapping her pen against the table.

“Oh you know…stuff…things,” you murmured sheepishly as your face reddened.

“Oh my god!”  Nat’s eyes widened in realization as she stood up. “You slept with her!”

“Dude what?!  That’s so -” Peter exclaimed before Sam slapped his hand over his mouth to shut him up.  You pinched the bridge of your nose as you looked up at the ceiling.  Natasha was laughing at the irony of the whole situation before she lambasted you with questions.

“How long has this been going on?  Wait, was it a one time thing?  Oh, it was definitely the time I made you go over there to talk to her when we were ripping up the floor.  And you told me you two just talked.  Talking my ass…Is this a business deal, like sex in exchange for pastries?  Are you two a thing?  I should’ve guessed with how much time you’ve been spending over there and how you never want to do anything fun with me anymo-”

“Nat, will you please shut up?!”  Her endless questions were exasperating.  Yes, you and Wanda were in fact a thing but you hadn’t told anyone about it.  You hadn’t even told Nat about your back office hookup even though it happened two months ago.  There was so much going on with rebuilding the bakery and dealing with insurance claims that you wanted to keep this part of your life private.  “I just think it’d be a good idea for both of us, maximize our profits, boost both of our busin-”

“Hey babe, is there any way you can come help me with the rest of the-” Wanda paused as she barged in on your team meeting.  “Oh hi guys!”

“Mmhmm, it’s definitely good for both of you,” Nat smirked as she took a sip of her coffee.  You shot her a warning look while Wanda stood utterly oblivious to the scene unfolding around her.  “Go on, go help your girlfriend with whatever she needs.  I’ll show Peter how to do the bagels.”

You smiled at Wanda as you headed toward the door.  “So what do you need my help with?”

“Nothing,” Wanda responded as she reached for your hand.  “Just wanted to spend some time with my favorite guy.”

“Don’t let Pietro hear you say that.”

“That’s okay, he already knows.”  She squeezed your hand reassuringly as you crossed the street.  

You smiled as her grip tightened around your hand.  Six months ago there was no way to predict that the woman who ruined your life would ultimately become the greatest thing that ever happened to you.  As you crossed the threshold from your bakery to her cafe, you were grateful to be able to call The Rolling Scone, Latte Love, and Wanda home. 

#wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fic #scarlet witch fic #wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch x reader #wanda maximoff x male reader #wanda x male reader #scarlet witch x male reader #wanda maxmioff x y/n #x male reader #male reader #male reader insert #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfiction #oneshot #request #therealdisneyfan2319

[curtsycream]

James Potter Blurb

I saw the quote and I felt like writing, might do a few of these idk yet

It was raining heavily outside as she sat shoulder to shoulder with James. Her eyes focused on the steady sound of rain hitting the window in the dorm he shares with Remus and Sirius. The two having left for the common room an hour ago.

Tilting her head she looks at James as he pushes his glasses up his nose. Her eyes attentive as she watches him then flip the page to the book he was reading. A muggle book by the title of Valley of The Dolls a book she told him about.

She picked up on his little habit of reading or buying things she expressed interest in. Just last week she expressed her love for Vermont Teddy Bears due to how soft and cute they were. That very same week she found one wearing a red jumper with the letter J on it.

Smiling to herself she looks back towards the window her hand in his free one. She let out a small laugh when she heard him mutter something. He had another habit when he was absorbing in what he was reading he would disregard any and everything around him. It was a sight to see as he would mutter to himself as if the book could speak back to him.

In that moment a thought came to her mind, “hey, Jamie…do you think the universe fights for souls to be together?”

The question was strange in the way that he didn’t expect her to ask something like that. Lifting his gaze from the book he looked her in thought.

“You don’t have to answer that, I was just thinking.”

“No I don’t mind, it just caught me off guard,” he started while closing the book. Placing it on his lap he nods his head, “some things are too strange and strong to be coincidences.”

She couldn’t find it in herself to disagree as she leaned forward kissing him gently on the lips. What she felt for him and how he showed his love for her was too strong to be a mere coincidence.

“I’m starting to really dislike Neely..”

“Just wait a few chapters I’m sure you’ll dislike her more,” she laughed out.

“Promise to listen as I complain about it?”

“As long as I get to complain with you.”

“I promise.”

#james potter #james potter x reader #blurb #James blurb #marauders #marauders era #harry potter #fluff #x reader #xreader

[legend-the-dumb-jock]

Anonymous: <p>Yo man! You're stories are always so amazing! Is it possible you could help me? I've been jealous of my dad's easy life and obsessed over his big burly body for years now. He's so hairy everywhere, so tall, and his got thick huge muscles everywhere. A proper muscle beer belly. I wish I could own and touch all of that myself, and see my hot dad's looking back at me in the mirror. I want it to be mine forever! Can you swap our bodies, or make me posses my dad's body permanently? </p><p>It be a dream come true to wake up one day and realize I'm my own hairy sexh dad completely!</p>

😈

There’s a diet for everything. Sure men normally grow up wanting to be like their father but wishing to actually be their father ! Now that’s something ! With him being the way you described we all need to see this specimen. But that’s besides the point.

This change is going to come with a price but I’m sure your willing to pay it now problem. So for you. Living in your fathers massive shadow. Your father was just getting out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his wide waist. Padding to his bedroom with his massive feet and his taught beer Neely swaggering in front. Everything you wanted. You didn’t even realize I was there behind you. Watching you as you watched him walk down the hallway. You getting a hardon watching his large hair body. Him none the wiser. With a quick motion I kick you from behind. Sending you slamming right into you rather large meaty back but where you expected to be met with a large hairy fleshy resistance you were embraced with a warm darkness and….pain? You hear some footsteps walking up you and opening your eyes you on the ground looking up at me. Smiling a devilish smile of sharp teeth. I’m a demon after all. “Come on get up”. On command you get to your feet. Towel still wrapped around the waist of the body you’re in. Only now you’re looking down at me. Realization sets in. You begin to look at you hands. Arms. Chest and gut. You drop the towel and everything. It’s all there. You run to the bathroom and just like you wanted. You father is staring right back at you. Only now you’re in full control. And you will be from now on. Everything that was him or was his is now yours. You begin laughing finalizing getting your wish to become you’re father permanently. Stuck in his hairy large bear body for good.

Oh and that price ? We will need to talk terms of your new condition. We walk to your fathers bedroom where you have fun looking at all the clothes you can now fit. Putting on his underwear and gym clothes. Settling on a pair of size 16 Nikes you look ready for the gym. You didn’t even hear me tell you the terms of the your new condition before you head out the door leaving me to laugh. You’ll find out soon enough though. Not everything can be easy 😈

March 17th, 2022 8:26pm

[thatswhatsushesaid]

bearing in mind that this is absolutely 1) a thc-induced fever dream of a project that 2) will likely never see the light of day and 3) will date me like i'm an ancient drilled sample of ice from the greenland ice sheet

is there any chance. literally any chance in hell. that i could convince someone (or several someones) in this fandom to help me recreate at least a few panels of brad neely's iconic george washington song/comic as a dumb comic. but make it about jin guangyao.

anyone. anyone at all

#ray.txt #he did crimes??? good for him 😌 #it's probably just the weed making me think this would be both hilarious and /idiot doom spiral voice HIGH CONCEPT #Youtube

[elvenking42]

100 New Things I Checked Out in 2023

It's the end of the year and I wanna make a list of media I checked out. Movies, shows, books, songs, etc. I like getting to talk about all this stuff! If you wanna know what something made the list, just ask! I'd love to talk more about it!

Tyrellosolo New Years art

Wingspan (2019) 

INU-OH (2021)

Two Earthlings - John Brosio 

Zip Gun Bop - Royal Crown Revue

Super Mario Brothers: Great Mission to Rescue Princess Peach (1986)

Forest (2017) 

Fantastic Planet (1973)

Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil (1997)

How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying (1967) 

Bei Mir Bist du schon - Ella Fitzgerald

Connordraws I Sing to my Cat

Contact (1978)

Donks (2023)

Dynasty AMV

Eddie burback- The Deceptive World of Ghost Kitchens

Ice Merchants (2022)

 Marcel the Shell with Shoes On (2021) 

Womanizer - Britney spears

The Super Mario Bros Movie (2023) 

MilleBourne (1954) 

The Birds (1963)

RRR (2022)

 Pigdemonart - Bowuigi Comics

Everydaylouie 's 3d blender work

Guide to Heraldry - Ottfried Neubecker (1980)

Buss Down Wig - Baddie Brooks

Genius Party Anthology (2007)

The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom (2023)

Pretty fly (for a white guy) - The Offspring

Millennium Actress (2001)

God's Alternative Medicine - Knowing Better

On Looking: Eleven Walks with Expert Eyes - Alexandra Horowitz (2013)

Blackberry (2023)

The Flintstones (DC Comic) (2016)

Maintenance Phase Podcast

The Bus - Paul Kirchner (1987)

Nimona (2023)

Black book of hours

Nintendo World Universal

Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind (1984)

Daydream - Timeshare 94

Jerma House Flipper invitational

Pokemon Sleep (2023)

Atlantic Oscillations (disco dub) - Quantic

Barbie (2023)

Don't You Want My Love - Moodymann

Good Omens S2 (2023)

Guitar Hero III: Legends of Rock (2007) 

Even Flow - Pearl Jam

Host Club 'Ai Honten' - Tokyo, Japan (1971-2020)

TMNT Mutant Mayhem (2023)

No Diggity - Black Street

Expansions 12" Mix - Scott Grooves

Planet of the Bass - DJ Crazy Times

I Love Hue (year)

Canisalbus: body heat

Horny '98 Radio Edit) - Mousse T

We Love Katamari + Royal Reverie (2023) 

Music theory and White Supremacy - Adam Neely

Rope (1948) 

 Sanctus-ingenium: who are you loyal to, who are you lying to? 

Rhythm Nation - Janet Jackson

Joseph Melhuish - "Some Dogs"

Jacob Geller- How Can We Bear To Throw Anything Away?

Novov - Interactive Art Museum

Thefaiao - Ganondorf practicing piano commission

Russian picture book illustrations by E.Bulatov and O.Vasilev

The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina Of Time (1998) 

Bacardi Raising Spirits ad

Curse of Strahd (2016)

Black Magic Woman - Santana

OFMD S2 (2023)

Dynasty AMV

The Owl and the Pussycat - Scott Gustafson

Sunset Boulevard (1950)

Soylent Green (1973)

Christian Riese Lassen's digital gallery

Oye Como Va - Santana

Guardian deity, Thunder God, Wind god - Mori Yoshitoshi

Phantom of the Paradise (1974) 

 Scavengers Reign (2023)

 WRTV Sonic Forum Simulator

A Little Night Music

Monkey Gone to Heaven - Pixies

Mike's Mic - Scooby Doo 2002

Wasteland Weekend - People Make Games

Lethal Company (2023)

Closer to Fine - Indigo Girls

Don't Speak - No Doubt

George Sherwood Hunter "Jubilee Procession in a Cornish Village"

Plagiarism and You(Tube) - Hbomberguy

Rainbow War (1985) 

Ezlo-x’s Lost Family LoZ Fancomic 

Ocarina of Time manga (2012)

Suolaxier's fursuits

Doctor who: Wild Blue Yonder (2023)

How Do You Smoke a Weed? - Owlin (year)

Mario Wonder (2023)

A Tiger in the Land of Dreams - Tiger Tateishi (1984)

#personal

[emp-blast]

idk, just thinking about how the "melody" that Sigma hears is not an actual melody in terms of music, but it is the closest thing that he can compare it to.

The universe, in all of it's wholeness, is a concept that I think very few can even begin to understand. [insert ramblings about how we all live on a giant rock that's floating in pitch-black nothingness, surrounded by other galactic bodies that no one can really explain completely].

Now, just imagine that Sigma is able to view the totality and sheer magnitude of the universe. How do you go about relaying what you are seeing/have saw to others? Even to yourself?

It's not uncommon for scientists (or academics in general) to relate their work to another interest that they have. Music is a common example. And I think that it's clear that Sigma is at least somewhat interested in music in some form or another. So whatever he's hearing isn't exactly music, but something close enough.

(Okay, now here's where I start theorizing or whatever, bear with me)

Scientists have discovered that planets and other cosmic entities actually make sound. There are various ways to hear these sounds, such as through electromagnetic waves, sonar, or gravitational waves (which are converted so the human ear can hear.) I think this is what Sigma is hearing. But instead of needing to convert these sounds, he can actually hear the pure sounds of the universe. Anything from a blackhole millions of lightyears away, to the Earth beneath his feet. He can hear it all.

(Okay, now. look,,, Listen. I am in no way, shape or form an expert on chaos theory or fractals so i'm bound to get things wrong. so again, bear with me)

Furthermore, what if sounds from naturally occurring objects work similar to how fractals work in nature? You can already kind of do this with music. For example, I watched a video titled Musical Fractals by Adam Neely, in which he made a version of All Stars by Smash Mouth that self-referenced itself by more or less lowering the pitches of the individual notes, and then playing back those notes but at a much slower speed. The only problem with this is that, apparently, it's not a true equivalent of a fractal because it doesn't extend onto infinity. But! the basic concept is there.

So, what I'm thinking, is that Sigma is hearing all of these sounds from all around the universe. And these sounds all converge with each other to make a symphony of sorts. These sounds also repeat an infinite number of times, which causes looping. A melody (the phrase most commonly used by Sigma to describe what he hears) is a series of notes that serve to form a tune, or the "main" part of a song which often repeats and varies a bit throughout.

So basically, Sigma is listening to the fractal sounds of the entire universe.

okay, ty for coming 2 my tedtalk bye now

#siebren de kuiper #sigma #overwatch #additional thoughts and criticisms are appreciated #(especially from someone who is more knowledgeable on the topic) #i definitely could have worded this better. but i don't feel like rewriting the entire thing soooo... #i'm posting as is.

[arctic-hands]

"Racism was a long time ago, get over it!" For one, if you think pervasive and systemic racism, both anti-Black as well as racism against other marginalized racial and ethnic groups, in America is "over", you're probably too willfully obtuse to bother to continue reading, but on the rare chance you do, I'll indulge your claim that "racism is over!":

I just turned thirty this month, May twenty twenty-three. My father was born four years before Loving v. Virginia granted the basic right for Black and white peoples to marry each other in every state. My mother was born the same year the Green Book ceased publication. My grandmother was barely thirty when she attended the RFK rally in Indianapolis where Kennedy announced that Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated. My father (not in attendance) was not quite five. My father was a fourth grader the year Fred Hampton was assassinated in his own bed by the FBI and local law enforcement. My mother was two years from giving birth to my older brother when the Black Panther Party was torn apart by COINTELPRO, my father was a few couple years into college. My father wasn't even thirty when I was born. My mother is a few years younger.

The LAPD beating of Rodney King and the consequential riots happened almost exactly a year before I was born, I was nineteen when Rodney King passed away. That was two years before Mike Brown was killed by Ferguson police and the consequential uprising. I was twenty-two and living just outside Baltimore the year Freddie Gray was killed in the back of Baltimore PD van from a "rough ride" and the consequential uprising. I had fun (despite covid and the lockdowns) on my twenty-seventh birthday when my four roommates and I got drunk and sung bad karaoke, less than three weeks before George Floyd was murdered (as defined the court and the rulings proving guilt) by Minneapolis PD and the consequential worldwide uprisings. Today I'm just two weeks and a day past my thirtieth birthday when I woke up to the news that a U-haul truck bearing the Nazi flag tried ramming the fence to the White House. That's the same day the NAACP issued a travel warning for Black people to not go to Florida, fifty-seven years after the Green Book ceased publication. This is just a few weeks after Jordan Neely, a Black man my age who was having a mental health episode was killed by a white marine being encouraged by other people in the subway car. Florida governor Ron DeSantis is funding that white marine's defense team.

Ruby Bridges is still alive, as are all but one of the Little Rock Nine–as is the white teenager who was forever caught on camera screaming at them. It's only in the last few years that the civil rights leaders of the Fifties and Sixties who weren't assassinated have started dying of old age, and many more are still alive. I was in seventh grade when Rosa Parks died, I was almost done with third grade when the white bus driver who had her arrested died.

This isn't "a long time ago". This isn't old history. It's all within living memory. Our living memory. Our grandparents' memories, our parents' memories, the memories of you and I that are still forming.

Anyway I don't know how to end this, I'm shaken by the NAACP warning I guess, and I'm not even Black. And you're a willful fool if you think racism is over and has been over for a long time.

#racism #anti black racism #police brutality #Florida #civil rights #2023

[reasoningdaily]

No One Cared About Jordan Neely's Life. They Just Want to Use His Death | Opinion

1

One thing I've learned as an adult is that people who actually care about someone don't let them continually fail. Instead, they address that person's problems head-on, because people who care actually want you to succeed, and success often requires course correction.

Progressives are currently beset by a sick reversal of that, where no one is willing to address the root problems of the people they claim to care about, because the people who are failing in our society are more suitable as political pawns and social commodities to exploit for attention and donations.

Instead of addressing real problems like mental illness, violence, crime, and homelessness, progressives are normalizing these things, gaslighting people who call them out as unacceptable, and denouncing any attempts to truly rectify the problems that have our cities in a stranglehold. And they do it all in the name of compassion.

Ka'Chava [The Gold-Standard of Health Shakes] The Gold-Standard of Health Shakes

This phenomenon has been on full display in the Left's response to the sad killing of Jordan Neely this week. Neely was a homeless man with a long history of arrests who was suffering from extreme mental illness. Neely tragically died while being restrained in a chokehold by a passenger on the subway after Neely was aggressively screaming at passengers, per witnesses.

The story is horribly sad. Everyone seems to have failed Jordan Neely, as well as everyone in that subway car with him. But the incident has brought out the gross hypocrisy of those who claim to care about the indigent, with a detail to satisfy every political appetite.

Jordan is a Black man who was killed via chokehold by a white man, so let's bring out the term "lynching," because it'll always elicit racial animosity. If the racial angle doesn't work for you, you can always use Jordan's death to show the world how much of a do-gooder you are by exclaiming how the "unhoused" have a right to scream as much they want in an enclosed space. You get to wag your finger at the three men who refused to participate in the New York City tradition of keeping your head down, pretending these people don't exist, and praying that you don't become their target. And you get to accuse those who don't decry those men loudly enough of condoning murder.

Let's be real: These people don't care about the homeless. The upper-class city dwellers of New York treat homeless people like bears in the wild: Don't make eye contact with them and they won't bother you. When this strategy doesn't work, they gaslight you into accepting rampant squalor as not only normal but progress! And when you vocalize your guttural displeasure with watching people live in filth and desperation, the self-appointed homeless-whisperers will manipulate you into believing this is just what city life is supposed to look like.

They do everything to avoid addressing the issue and helping people recover a normal life. And in so doing, they entrench the problems—all while posturing as white knights.

New Yorkers are supposed to just accept that New York's Penn Station looks like a scene from "The Walking Dead." Wanting to do something other than accept the status quo of submitting an entire train station to drug addiction and suffering makes you intolerant, per the Left.

Progressive politicians like Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Rep. Jamaal Bowman will fire off a tweet about "another Black man dying" or complain about rising rents, but it's just a precursor to drafting up a new round of donor emails, much like after the death of Tyre Nichols.

You know what they say: Never let a crisis go to waste.

Never mind that Ocasio-Cortez and Bowman could actually do something about homelessness in New York. It's actually their job!

But to do something, they would have to actually care. And you know they don't care because they don't act, and anyone who suggests they should is cast as a heartless bigot.

Everyone is debating when someone can or can't use a chokehold. But no one is willing to ask why Neely was on the streets in the first place. The Left's supposedly compassionate approach of letting the homeless just exist means not ever really contemplating what we've let this city become. We've been trained to not look at the homeless as people but as inconvenient rats whom we need to quickly scurry past. They didn't just one day wake up at the feet of your subway station's stairs, but no one cares how they ended up at the bottom—as long as their bottom doesn't interfere with their walking path.

If any of these protesting progressives cared about Jordan Neely, they would care to understand his declining mental health after his mother was murdered and stuffed into a suitcase by his stepfather when he was 18 years old. They would attempt to empathize with the trauma of having to take the stand against the man with whom he shared a home with and comprehend how his own stepfather took the most important woman in his life from him forever.

The man who went through that needed help. He needed an intervention from the state.

Instead of admitting this, they brandish videos of Neely dancing like Michael Jackson in subway stations, as if this activity is a sign of success and happiness, not desperation and struggle.

Would you tell your highly talented friend that dancing in the subway will get them far? Of course not—but it's suitable for Neely because they don't really care.

If you want to know if someone cares, they'll be honest about what is happening around them and want realistic change. They won't pretend that everything is fine. They won't work extraordinarily hard to convince you that depravity is normality.

But I don't think most people actually care about Jordan Neely's life. They just care about what his death can do for them.

Adam B. Coleman is the author of "Black Victim To Black Victor" and writer on Substack at adambcoleman.substack.com.

The views expressed in this article are the writer's own.

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#Jordan Neely #New York City #2023 #modern-day lunching #systemic racism

[vermillioncrown]

music in fanfic

long long ago, i threatened to write a little brain vomit on music in fanfic. it's never going to become less relevant of a topic, so why not now?

i gotta start with two concepts before i discuss music within fanfic

the concept of "musicking"

link is to adam neely, a jazz musician that does a lot of interesting music-related video essays and content. he discusses his breakdown of disliking a certain genre, and the concept of "musicking" that was part of his process of understanding his dislike and whether he can learn to like it.

tldr: it's the definition of music as an activity, in which how a piece isn't divorced from the listener, the artist, and the context in which its presented and engaged with.

in this vein, every entity along the way of music bears some 'responsibility' for the complete context of a piece. something like that.

think of how many variables that is, creating slight variations to how someone perceives a piece of music. we can generalize sentiment, but with generalizations always comes exceptions. perception of music depends on its context.

music is not a universal

another link to adam neely, in part of a huge video essay discussing music theory. the video is very relevant to how i try to portray music in dream before daybreak, but the pertinent part is in the link.

our definition of music is colored by our cultural/societal standards, not just individual perception. it's like how different languages work - some aspects of grammar and syntax or whatever have analogous ones between languages, but some parts have no direct counterpart. and that's not a deficiency, it's just how that language works. ie. chinese doesn't have tense. you just need to know via context. nor does chinese have articles, which makes it a nightmare for my parents to figure out how to write a sentence in english. in contrast, i'd say there's a flexibility with english that's not present in chinese. less context is needed to engage with something.

definition of music depends on society and culture.

=

mismatch in medium

so we have this thing, music, that's presented, and then it's up to an audience to interpret it.

writing also aims to convey an idea, and the words work to guide a reader's understanding. a writer can choose words, sentence structure, all sorts of writing blah blah to control that understanding. fanfic has the guide rails of canon to help, too.

but once you add music, you add a humongous degree of freedom for the reader. each piece, just by the title, means something different per reader. without the context of presentation for the musical piece, there's nothing to anchor the reader to a specific experience, either. reading is done in multiple contexts, too - there's no way to force an experience if you NEED a reader to know a song (what if they're reading in public, at the checkout line, in the doctor's office, on the toilet, etc)

at best, one's mention of a piece of music can provide a shorthand understanding of what the writer wants to convey.

neutral, it holds no meaning to the reader and is superfluous.

worse, the reader disagrees with a writer's implied conveyance via a piece of music and it detracts from the writing.

it's not the same as poetry, even going just by lyrics. there are additional elements that provide context for the lyrics. we can try to take the lyrics as-is, but that's not how those lyrics are typically presented and absorbed. then it's like a losing battle trying to separate lyrics from the rest of the musical context. this can adulterate the writer's intent with using a piece unless that intent is clearly conveyed via writing.

=

personal approach to using music within fanfic

enjoying music is a big part of being human, so its usage and reference within fanfic shouldn't be avoided. it can be a quick way to relate to your audience, but also a turn-off for others, as well.

i prefer to break down why a piece is personally meaningful within a fic. is it something i was listening to while writing (for tone, texture, lyrical content, behind-the-scenes mood, etc)? is it something meaningful within the narrative, too (serious or joking, larger theme or a moment, idk)?

can it be broken down into descriptions that don't need the actual piece as a reference? if i'm already trying to shape a reader's thoughts with the narrative, why can't i add additional prose for what i want the music to try to convey? it's not about the exact piece - it's what that piece means. in the same way, i try to avoid namedropping the piece unless the title is actually relevant, or can be a meme (never gonna give you up as an example).

with all of this, i hope it's understandable why i get fussy and disagreeable with other people's assignations of music with what i write. we're not the same people. let's say even as fellow writers - unless we lived the exact same life, given similar premises that we're trying to execute, the end product will not be the same. so goes our musical experiences and sentiments.

finally, i'd rather leave the piece there and let the reader approach it on their own. everything they need is in the writing. music is bonus, behind-the-scenes content.

#redglyphs #writing #opinionated verm #this is not some comprehensive essay #just a collection of thoughts that i've danced around every time i get some song/music-related ask #it was more immediately relevant w dbd bc music is a huge motif in the canon and in the fic #every once in a while i remember that someone asked me about translating mitski songs and how it'd be so powerful #and i need to pass out #because that's not how that works. you've removed that song from any relevant context #(also you assume that someone else likes the same thing you do) #i don't ask you to like 'fa ru xue' by jay chou. what i tell you is that it's meaningful to zyx #its context in their previous life #its composition and particular style which relates to the actual isekai and blend of old and new #its lyrics are barely mentioned and when mentioned it's with wwx mocking how Odd it is in dbd's setting #anyways that's some thoughts

[swldx]

BBC 0431 15 Jun 2023

12095Khz 0357 15 JUN 2023 - BBC (UNITED KINGDOM) in ENGLISH from TALATA VOLONONDRY. SINPO = 55545. English, dead carrier s/on @0357z then ID@0359z pips and newsday preview. @0401z World News anchored by Chris Berrow. People in North Korea have told the BBC food is so scarce their neighbours have starved to death. The government sealed its borders in 2020 because of Covid19, cutting off vital supplies. It has also tightened control over people's lives. At least 79 people have died and more than 100 have been rescued after their fishing vessel capsized off the coast of southern Greece. But survivors and Greek officials say that hundreds more migrants[sic] were on board. One of the three "godfathers of AI" has said it won't take over the world or permanently destroy jobs. Prof Yann LeCun said some experts' fears of AI posing a threat to humanity were "preposterously ridiculous". Australia's Parliament passed legislation to prevent Russia from building a new embassy near Parliament House on security grounds as tensions grow between Moscow and a major supporter of the Ukraine war effort. More than 100,000 people in India and Pakistan have been evacuated from the path of a fierce cyclone a day before its expected landfall. Forecasters have warned that Cyclone Biparjoy, which means "disaster" in Bengali, could destroy homes and crops. Authorities in Kenya have brought attempted suicide charges against 65 survivors of a Christian cult after they rejected food at a rescue center that was holding them. The survivors are reportedly followers of Pastor Paul Mackenzie. A former US Marine has been indicted by a grand jury over the death of a homeless black man on a New York subway train, according to reports. Daniel Penny, who is white, was filmed restraining Jordan Neely in a chokehold for about three minutes in May. @0406z "Newsday" begins. 250ft unterminated BoG antenna pointed E/W, Etón e1XM. 250kW, beamAz 315°, bearing 63°. Received at Plymouth, United States, 15359KM from transmitter at Talata Volonondry. Local time: 2257.

[huhnkie]

~~ in the news ~~

We are sorry about Mr. Jordan Neely's passing.

Three men subdued Mr. Neely when he threatened subway passengers saying that he is not afraid to go to jail.

I think the three men's intention was to prevent a potential mass shooting that is common in 2023 America. 

In law, homicide is defined as a killing of a person by another person.

Some homicide is legal. Self defense and defense of others are examples of legal homicide. 

We understand the emotion is running high in this case as the three men were white and the man withheld was black.

But, this case has no bearing on racism. It was all about perception of potential danger and its neutralization by citizens before police officers arrived.

Again, we are sorry about the incident. But I do stand by the three citizens who did their best to protect other passengers in that train.

I love all races equally. 

...

Solution? 

Learn martial arts and focus on education and career development. Diet and exercise. That's the only way to have a healthy and happy life.

Humanology has solutions for all the world problems. 

My name is huhnkie lee and I'm running for the u.s. president in 2024 as an independent thinker. 

[neely-osbarrow]

Meet some of my other DnD characters! I’m not as crazily obsessed with these guys as Neely but I still love them and thought you might wanna meet them.

First, Sindri. He was my first ever DnD character and is a dwarven druid which I’m told is an unusual combo but he is so much fun! His weapon of choice is knuckle dusters and if that doesn’t work he’ll become a bear :p Next, Duckie. They are my next DnD character I played after a three year break and they are the most useless but loveable character I’ve ever made. Duckie is a gnomish wizard artificer but I forgot how exactly you’re meant to assign stats (I thought you had to assign as you roll rather than place them where is best) so they can rarely do a spell but is very good at talking to others. They’re also obsessed with fungi!

Then, Aster. He is my current character I’m playing with. Neely was designed to be in this campaign but after discussing more with DM we decided Neely wouldn’t be the best fit for the situation going on. Aster is a fairy fighter with a background in anthropology and is trying to study elves and goblins. He is also a massive dickhead and goes off on his own and likes showboating. Currently his brain has been nommed on by an intellect devourer and has gone missing and I have to wait two weeks for next session- aHh!

#dnd #dnd oc #d&d #d&d oc #oc blog #fantasy character #➶other’s ocs

[accursi]

Reverse Retro: Boston Bruins

The Bruins' old white jersey, worn by such legends as Ray Bourque and Cam Neely in the 1988 and 1990 Stanley Cup Finals, has been given a yellow remix with the bear head logo shoulder patch.

#boston bruins #bruins #nhledits #nhledit #hockey aesthetic #rr* #*