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gogh-with-the-flow · 8 months

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Thinking about Mechanics!141 and fem reader with a shitbox car (totally not me). You're in there every three to four weeks with something going wrong with your death trap of a car. The boys aren't sabotaging your car or anything. They don't need to. Your car is just that bad. It's a miracle it hasn't killed you yet. You're trying to save up for a newer car, but your shitbox keeps burning a hole in your wallet with every light blinking on your dashboard. It's to the point that the boys recognize you as soon as you walk into the shop. They hear the bell ring and they just know it's you again.

(Contains: sex as payment, oral sex/blowjob, fingering/masturbation) but of a different style from BitW but enjoy. Not proofread :p

"What is it now?" Price asks, wiping the motor oil from his hands on a greasy rag. You're already looping the key fob off your keychains.

"It's shaking whenever I get above 45."

"What part of the car is shaking?" He asks, pulling up your information on the computer.

"All of it," you say, slapping the key onto the counter with a huff. Price gives you a sympathetic look.

"Darling, you should really get yourself something more reliable," he tells you. You sigh and lean your elbows on the counter. His eyes glance down to your chest and the low-cut shirt you were wearing.

"I'm trying, Price," you say with a little more attitude than you intended. "It's impossible to save money when everything goes back into this fucking car!" You run your hands over your face. "I'm gonna die in that thing," you mutter, only half-joking. Price stops typing for a moment, thinking to himself.

"What if we could work something out?" He asks tentatively. You look up at him to see him already staring you down.

"Like... a loyalty discount?" You try to clarify. Surely he didn't mean...

"I was thinking something more along the lines of... an alternative method of payment." He leans against the counter in front of you, his face close to yours. He smelled like what you'd expect: motor oil and engine grease and musky, manly sweat. "Something under-the-table..." Your heart skipped a beat at the double-meaning of his words, allowing him just enough plausible deniability if you chose to not accept. You swallowed hard.

"What do you have in mind?" You ask softly, your heart pounding in your chest, and with how hard Price was staring at your cleavage, you think maybe he could see it. You reach a hand out to stoke a finger along his arm, feeling the coarse hair all over it. The corner of his mouth quirked up.

"I think I have something in the back office that might work. Follow me and I'll show you."

It wasn't that you were totally desperate. Well, you were. This car had cost you thousands more than it was worth and you needed to save any penny you could when it came to it. But you wouldn't have followed just any mechanic into the rinky-dink office at the back of the auto shop. This was John Price. And he was all man.

"You want that discount, you're gonna have to work for it."

Broad shoulders tapering into a narrower waist, but still lined with the perfect ratio of hearty muscle and soft belly, all leading down to an alluring bulge and plump ass, and finally, those thick, beefy thighs. Not to mention his hands: thick, strong, and calloused from years of hard manual labor, and forearms and biceps that twisted and flexed underneath his button-down work shirt.

He holds the door open for you, his body crowding you into the tight space. The office is more of an oversized closet with a desk and an old computer. He closes the door behind you both and settles himself into the rickety office chair, which creaks under his weight. He sits with his legs spread and his hands on his thighs and gestures for you to come closer.

You kneel between his legs and he smirks, adjusting his hips in the chair while you work open his belt. He lets you open his trousers for him but pushes them down for you so his semi-hard cock can spring free. He sighs when you take it into your hand, stroking him to full hardness.

He isn't much of a moaner, you didn't expect him to be, but his chest puffs as you take the tip into your mouth and suck on it lightly. Your hand moves up and down his shaft slowly, your fingers moving to meet your lips. You lick around the head and push the tip of your tongue into his slit, making his hips jerk lightly.

You close your eyes, letting yourself fully focus on his cock, letting desire and submissiveness take over your mind as you work to please him on your knees. You take him deeper into your mouth, widening your jaw and rocking your mouth side to side to fit him farther down. Your other hand slides up his thick, meaty thigh to massage his balls while you find yourself in a gentle rhythm. You bob your head, going down just far enough, but not enough to gag you, and sucking hard on the way up as your hand holds and twists the base. You melt onto him, the feeling of him in your mouth quieting your mind, leaving any thought of hesitancy far, far behind. All you need is John Price's dick in your mouth, and you think you could reach enlightenment between his thighs.

You barely register the fact that you're moaning around him until he's teasing you for it.

"Yeah? You like this, don't you? Letting me drag you to the back of the shop to suck my cock like the little whore you are." You whimpered at the filthy words he was spitting down at you. "Knew you would- the boys and I- knew you'd like us usin' you like this," he says with a grunt as he watches your eyes roll back. "Go on and touch yourself for me, dear."

You let go of his balls and quickly open your pants to sneak your hand inside. Your pussy is soaked, your fingers gliding through your lips with ease. You moan louder as you circle your clit, the motion sending sparks through your pelvis and thighs.

"There's a good girl. So obedient. I can hear how wet you are for me." He places a hand on your head, not pushing, just guiding your pace up and down his length. You press your tongue to the underside of his cock to add pressure while you touch your clit, the wet nub buzzing with electricity.

"Just like that," he puffs. He holds up his shirt and you see through your fluttering lashes the way his abs constrict with pleasure. "Go on, make yourself cum like that. Think you can do it? You think you can cum with my cock down your throat?" His hips jerk up into your mouth again with more urgency.

Your thighs twitch as your stomach tightens. His vulger words send you over the edge, and your hips stutter against your hand. Your body twitches and thrusts on the floor between his thighs.

"Good girl- good fuckin' girl," he says, his voice deep and strained, and he fists your hair harder and pulls it tight. The rush of euphoria makes you moan around him low and loud, and he cums into your mouth with a grunt. You choke on the salty fluid, swallowing what you can, but some of it slips out of your lips and drips down your chin.

He pulls you off and takes a good look at how ruined you are, your lips swollen, your eyes unable to focus, your hand down your pants, and best of all, his cum decoration your face. He smiles at you and hands you a relatively clean rag to clean your face. Little black streaks preplace white droplets on your skin, and he can't help the fond smile that creeps up on him. He's marked you now in more ways than one.

He untangles his hand from your hair and let's you rest your head on his knee until you catch your breath. You take your hand out of your pants, and he motions for you to raise it up to him, and instead of wiping it with the rag, he leans forward and sucks your wet fingers into his mouth. He holds your eyes and you feel his tongue swiping across the pads of your fingers, until he releases then with a smack of his lips.

"I'll let the boys know about our little arrangement. They'll collect their own payment when you pick it up tomorrow," he says with a wink. He helps you stand up and walks you back to the front, leaving you with one final squeeze to you ass. "Oh, and you might want to wash your hair," he adds as he opens the door to the garage. He hands up a greasy hand. "Got motor oil in it. Sorry."

#captain john price #john price #john price smut #john price x reader #john price x you #john price x female reader #fem reader #mechanic!141 #mechanic!price

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mediumgayitalian · 8 days

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“Hello, twerp.”

Kayla grunts at him. She is focused, intently, on something small enough to be covered up by her hands and curtaining hair; Nico decides it is likely some kind of explosive. There is a reason she, Banned From Arts ‘n’ Crafts For Criminal Reasons, is sneaking into the Hermes’ cabin’s time slot and hiding behind Julia.

Instead of confirming that she is, indeed, planning to blow up at least one of her brothers’ bunks in their sleep tonight, because of Plausible Deniability, Nico swings a leg over the picnic table bench, settling in next to her. She spares a second of attention to blow a raspberry at him, seemingly unprovoked. Nico reaches calmly over, plucks a pair of scissors from Connor’s hands, which he allows because of who he is as a person, and snips a piece of her hair. In response she pulls a notebook from her pocket and puts a little tick mark next to Nico’s name.

“So,” Nico says, choosing to ignore that. “I have a Question.”

“Ten dollars.”

“I’m not paying you, you little shit.”

“Then wonder in silence.”

Nico digs two wrinkled fives from his shoe and slams them on the table, scowling. Kayla pockets them.

“Proceed.”

Nico glares at her, noting her twitching mouth, and remembers that he does, in fact, need her help, and her brother is, in fact, his best friend, so challenging her to a duel to the death is a bad idea on both counts.

(Nonwithstanding the part where she has deadly accuracy with any projectile from almost any semi-reasonable distance. And he has, like, a sword. So.)

“Your brother,” he starts, and he does not need to clarify which one, “is always trying to…feed me.”

“Yes,” she agrees, “he is internally a seventy year old Southern woman. He does that.”

“Fruits.”

“Hm.”

“Oranges, specifically. Like, every single meal.”

“…Ah.”

It is a very knowing ah, Kayla’s little noise, and in fact she sets her project aside. (It is, in fact, an explosive.) She turns slightly on the bench to face him, lips pursed, hands folded. She blinks at him for several moments. Nico holds her gaze, remembering he is out ten dollars.

“My dear brother,” she begins, “my lovely, kind-hearted, smiley, morning person brother, is neurotic.”

Nico waits. This is, apparently, the end of her sentence, as she does not continue.

“I am aware,” he says slowly. “I have been present during every rant about Hollywood inaccuracies about medical sciences.”

She nods sagely. “This is true. You have. You are, however, by virtue of his cripplingly low self esteem and fervent belief that his mere existence is a Literal Actual Curse, spared from much of his most…colourful…contingencies.”

“Contingencies,” Nico repeats.

Kayla nods again.

“Yes. You see, dear future brother-in-law —”

“Cease,” Nico snaps, reddening.

“— our lovely William, also known as your Special Guy, according to Nico With Severe Blood Loss.” continues Kayla, not ceasing, “is under the impression that you, like all people, have a Limit.”

“…A Limit.”

“Yes. A point or level beyond which something does not or may not extend or pass.”

“I know what a godsdamn limit is, Kayla.”

“You seemed confused.”

“I am going to strangle you.”

Openly snickering to herself, she moves on.

“He feeds you oranges because he regularly paces around the cabin in the middle of the night stressing about your vitamin levels,” she explains, finally. “He doesn’t know how to tell you that like a normal person because he’s afraid he’s going to weird you out. Ergo.” She makes a flippant gesture with her hands. “Citrus.”

“Why is he so godsdamn cute,” Nico mutters to himself, then remembers to throw out a hasty, “Thank you,” before scrambling away from the table, ignoring the gathered snickers, and beelining for the the Demeter cabin. “Gods.”

It is empty, thankfully, when he strolls in, except for Miranda in the front gardens, who holds up a finger as he gets closer and whispers to a struggling seedling.

“Hey,” she says after a moment, smiling up at him. “What’s up?”

“I need,” he starts. He purses his lips, rocking back on his heels. His hands make some kind of motion. He’s not sure what, exactly, he didn’t give them permission. “I need.”

Miranda, thankfully, has had years of experience communicating with non-speaking entities, and as such is relatively fluent in Nico. She dusts off her hands, patting the spot beside her. Nico sits as indicated.

“Try a deep breath first,” she instructs. “When your brain is back up and running, try again.”

“It’s running. It’s running a lot.”

“Oh. In that case, might I suggest a small shout of frustration?”

“You may.”

He clears his throat, resting his hands on his diaphragm to Maximize the Output, as he has been previously instructed, and yells. A passing satyr jumps a full five feet in the air and flees. Nico grimaces, calling apologies after them.

“They’re never going to like me,” he grumbles.

Miranda pats his head. “There, there. One issue at a time.”

“Solace,” he says at her invitation, gesturing again. “Oranges.”

“…Ah.”

“He is. You know. Right?”

“I must confess I do not.”

He takes a moment to collect himself. Or, well, he tries to. He’s had an easier time trying to wrangle errant souls surfing along the Styx, but whatever. He literally owns his brain. It Shall submit to him, or he’ll get a new one. Watch.

“Will is…intensely thoughtful.”

“He’s a sweetheart,” Miranda agrees. “Once he brushed past me on the way to dinner and felt that I was going to get a cold, so he took the food I got and exchanged it for soup and veggies and Gatorade and stuff. He forgot to actually tell me that I was about to get a cold, at the time, but it was really nice of him in hindsight.”

Nico makes another loud, strangled bleating noise. Thankfully, no satyrs are harmed.

“He is so!”

“There, there,” Miranda says again. “You’ll get to full sentences soon, I’m sure of it.”

He takes a few moments to have a minor crisis in the peace and tranquility of Friendship. It’s this new thing he’s been trying. Will tells him it’s usually called ‘trust’ and ‘vulnerability’. It is mortifying for the most part but in small doses is kind of cool. Mostly.

“Who takes care of Will?“

“He doesn’t really get sick. Apollo genes and all that.”

“No, like. Emotionally.”

“Oh.” Miranda frowns thoughtfully. “Um. Chiron, maybe? I’m not actually sure.”

“It needs to be me,” Nico stresses. “He always takes care of me, and I want to, like, repay him. Not transactionally,”Nico rushes to clarify, “but, like, mutual care-ily.”

“I see.”

“You see?”

“Yes,” Miranda says sagely. “You must Show Him. That you are Invested in your Relationship.”

“Yes!” Nico cries, gripping her by the elbows. She meets his gaze head on, eyes wide and wizened. “Yes, exactly. Relationship Investment. You’re so smart.”

Miranda preens. “Thank you.” She stands, brushing off her jeans — fruitlessly, she’s got grass stains on top of grass stains on every piece of clothing she owns — and offering Nico a hand. Together they stand and observe the various shrubs, trees, and vines surrounding the cabin, hands on their hips.

Nico narrows his eyes. “Should I just get him oranges?”

“I still don’t fully understand the orange thing. But Will likes peaches.” She leans up and plucks one off of the largest tree, holding it out to Nico. “They make him think of home.”

Nico takes the peach and inspects it. It is, of course, impeccable — thick and heavy, skin soft and unblemished, full enough with juice and flavour to be fragrant even from the arm’s length Nico holds it. This is the kind of peach that wins fairs. This is the kind of peach that sits, prized, in a market, watching as mothers and hipsters claw at each other. This is the kind of peach that immediately upon first touch strikes within you such an intense urge to chuck it at the nearest hard surface and watch it splat into a beautiful explosion of Squelch that Nico has to, hastily, set it down and out of immediate reach.

“It’s perfect,” he declares.

“Don’t throw it at him,” Miranda advises, eyeing the fruit herself.

“Shan’t,” Nico promises, and it doubles at a warning to his brain because he can’t lie to Miranda, obviously, so his brain better Check Itself. There will be no peach throwing. Peach holding, only, and peach giving.

He waves goodbye to Miranda as he hustles off, headed for the bustling infirmary. There have been no great emergencies today — there would be a lot more of Will’s echoed screeching if this were the case — and many people who have walked in have walked out, minutes later, scowling, so now is a good a time as any. He could of course wait until Will is done his shift and they meet by Cabin Seven, like usual, but this is a Pressing Issue. Will can no longer continue to believe that Nico has a Limit, as Kayla had so unhelpfully explained. Nico is Limitless. He is a sine function. He is an eternal abyss. He is the final end of Chiron’s patience, if the horse is to be believed.

Also, the peach is really really tempting and Nico honestly does not have all that much control over his brain. It usually kind of does as it pleases. That’s why he has so many Situations.

“Solace,” he shouts, banging open the screen door loud enough to make everyone inside jump, “GET the hell over here.”

“I. Am.” Will holds up a patient’s arm, which has been hastily butterfly-clamped closed and is now being stitched. “Um. Is it urgent?”

Nico snaps his mouth shut. “No.” He stalks over to where Will is sitting, still bewildered, on his favourite stool, and stands with his arms crossed behind him. He nods at the injured camper, clearing his throat. “Proceed.”

“…Okay.”

Because Will is a Professional, his gaze remains focused on the gaping wound he is fixing. Because no one else at this camp is, everyone else chooses to gawk. Nico lets the fires of Hell enter his eyes, like Father showed him, and glares them all into subservience.

“Alright,” Will says, several minutes later, patting the patient’s knee with a smile. “I’m gonna wrap this, Jen, and you gotta keep it dry, okay? Have ambrosia twice a day like I told you and come see me at the end of the week.”

“There’ll be no scar?” the young girl hedges.

“Not if you follow my instructions,” Will promises. “Although you’ll be just as beautiful with a scar, kiddo, I promise. Ask your mother.”

Jen looks at him doubtfully, but Will is one of those people who’s unbelievably hard to distrust. It’s infuriating, if you’re Nico and committed to the whole goth/emo lifestyle. Probably comforting if you’re a normal person.

She leaves, and it is abruptly very quiet in the infirmary, which is crazy because it is abruptly never quiet at camp unless people are dead, usually, but no one is dead, and people are too godsdamn nosy to flinch away from Nico’s glare, or maybe they’re not scared of him anymore, and hey, isn’t that something. The world is so busy, all the time. Things keep happening. Who’s fault is that, again?

“Nico?” Will asks, rocking back on his heels. His hands are suddenly clean of blood and grime and his scrubs have been swapped out. They stand, also, at the other end of the infirmary, right outside of the on-call room. He looks up, and conversations have resumed, and Will is watching him, intently, bright eyes slightly too wide, front teeth gnawing at his bottom lip, Ace bandage winding, unwinding, winding.

“This is for you,” Nico blurts, and shoves the peach at him.

Will blinks. “Oh.” He stares at the peach, a moment, before a smile erupts on his face. “Oh! Thank you!”

He takes the peach, gently, from Nico’s hands, and holds it close to his chest, wide hands gentle so as not to bruise, smile gone close-mouthed, giddy. The rocking gets every so slightly faster, and the slight breeze from the open screen door ruffles his frizzy hair, and his nose is scrunched, just slightly, enough to wrinkle his dotted feathers, and Nico’s mouth is very, very dry.

“I do not,” he tries, and it grinds along his paper-parched throat, near silent, “I do not have Limits, William.”

The rocking stills. Nico mourns it.

“…Sorry?”

“Limits,” Nico repeats. “I do not have them. I am Limitless. Purge the thought.”

“You have limits,” Will says, alarmed. “Um, we had that talk, right? About pushing yourself and why that is generally regarded as a bad plan.”

“That was you shouting at me in between nectar shots and frantic mothering, actually, but that’s not what I meant.”

Will doesn’t answer, only tilting his head.

“You’re neurotic,” Nico attempts to explain, and as could be expected by literally anyone with a brain this goes poorly, and he rushes to amend. “I mean! Well, you are neurotic — but! There is a but! Stop looking at me like that! You are neurotic but!”

“This is a very bad friendship break up if that is what you are trying,” says Will in a small voice, and Nico resolves to kick his own ass later tonight to Atone.

“I like it,” he hurries to explain. “You and your — neuroses. All of you, I like it. There is no Limit. Capital L. You’re groovy. On — point. Fleek? What do the kids say. I don’t —”

“Oh,” Will breathes, thankfully putting Nico out of his misery, “oh, this is about the oranges.”

Nico nods miserably.

“The oranges are —” Will cuts himself off, staring down at his shoes. “Um, scurvy freaks me out.”

“…Scurvy?”

“It — collagen synthesis is an active process? In your body? And scurvy makes it degrade really quickly. Which kind of tears your body apart by reopening scars. On top of other things. And you — were on a ship, you know. For a while. And you sweat a lot. And you don’t take the multivitamins I give you.”

“Because they’re gross,” Nico says, breathless, “and I’m not — sweaty.”

Wherever sunlight touches Will’s skin he tends to glow, slightly, and his freckles fluoresce the longer his hand takes to traverse the space between them, past the open window, resting, lightly, on Nico’s wrist.

“You are,” he says, gently. “You have — really low magnesium and potassium levels. Just, all the time.” He glances down at the inside of Nico’s wrist. “Right now, actually. Will you eat a banana if I go get you one?”

Will will go get a banana, and Nico will follow him, and they will sit, somewhere, probably the big rock by the lake, as Nico eats it, and Will will eat his peach, and Nico will watch his throat bob, and Will will talk, hands gesturing, peach juice everywhere, and they will stay there, probably, way past sunset, right till curfew, and then they will sprint, as they usually do, to avoid the harpies, and they will go to Nico’s cabin, first, because they always do, and Will will snag an orange as they run past the fruit trees by the Demeter cabin, and he will press it into Nico’s hands, firmly, smiling as he says goodnight, and running back to his own cabin. Where he will, according to Kayla, pace, and worry. Where he will rant about Limits, and how close Nico is to approaching them.

“Will,” says Nico seriously, grabbing his hands. Will’s eyes snap to his, wide, wider than usual, and they are so blue, so so blue, are things usually this blue? He’s startled by it every time. “Will, I am a sine function.”

“I don’t understand,” he admits.

Nico nods. “That’s okay! Just — peaches.” He reaches out and pats the fruit, curling Will’s fingers around them. “For you. Okay?”

Will glances down at the peach. He glances back up at Nico. He looks down, finally, at their hands, twined around the fruit, and holds there, one, two, three seconds.

“Oh,” he says, finally. “Oh, you don’t — oh.”

“Peaches,” Nico repeats, “oranges.” He pulls one hand free and draws a line between them. “You get it?”

“I get it,” Will says, softly. He looks up and smiles, small, private; too-big front teeth just barely peeling out. “You never reach your approached value.”

“I really don’t even get that close.”

“I’m kind of losing the metaphor, here.”

“Okay.”

Nico squeezes their hands together. Will squeezes back, shifting his weight.

“I’m still gonna — you still gotta get your vitamin C.”

“More oranges?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He rubs his finger over the backs of Will’s knuckles; he shivers. Nico meets his eyes and he smiles, widely, hurting his cheeks, and Will smiles back, and he rocks, and Nico is an abyss, and he is falling, falling, falling. “I like oranges.”

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bestworstcase · 6 months

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something. about adams emblem being a rose. wilt and blush. moonslice.

the SDC brand across his eye…

(something about rules of three)

the wilting rose. the burning rose. the boy hiding the brand where his eye should be behind a grimm mask, because you tried to make a monster of me so i’ll give you a monster you’ll never forget. the warrior with silver eyes. (“you have silver eyes,” that’s the first thing ozpin ever said to ruby. qrow knew that, too. all of this because of her eyes.)

adam is doing… something, symbolically, in relation to summer rose. if the resemblance to cinder’s burn in the placement of his brand is deliberate i would hazard that something is connected to silver eyes as destiny, as a thing that marks you out as a warrior—a hero’s life is not her own. if you’re not always performing at your absolute best…

(performing.)

the moon will sadly watch the roses die/in vain/lost, no gain + the rose will grow to be a seed/from every life another leads + some roses will never bloom/some dreams will rot on the vine

snaps fingers. red. he’s a lunar eclipse

(<- into shadows strayed)

i am sure this is going to clarify itself the instant we meet summer rose In The Present but man. in this fractal spiral of a story…

he was… at best paid pennies in abominable working conditions, at worst outright raised in a situation akin to cinder’s of slavery with a gloss of plausible deniability. someone at the SDC branded his face. the wilting rose, wilt and blush, moonslice, the central thematic importance of his eyes in his character. a lunar eclipse. right?

those born with silver eyes are destined to lead the life of a warrior.

(an invincible monster who took your mother) (and who have i taken from you, girl?) (i’ll take her) <- hm.

i have some questions about summer’s childhood, is all

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 year

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Fiddling with the simple but elegant chocolate box in my hands, I am full of nerves. Even though I knew deep inside that this was a confession gift, there's no way Azul would return my feelings, so I decided to use another excuse for why I'd give him a gift in the first place. I was too afraid of rejection to be direct, instead sending a hint with just enough plausible deniability. As for what happens after the chocolate has been handed over, the ball was in his court entirely. When the door of the VIP room opens, I get up a little too quickly and slap on my usual mild smile.

"Hi, Azul. Today is Valentine's Day so I figured I should get a little something for my employer! Thank you for being such a great boss. I sincerely hope this is up to your high standards. They're fruit dipped in dark chocolate! A little healthier than eating regular chocolate... One can fool themselves into thinking that. Anyway, please enjoy."

I wanted to stay true to Azul’s air of professionalism and fixation on how his image is perceived by others 👁️👄👁️ Because of that, it kind of turns out like a slow burn or a pining situation! Kaguya-sama: Love is War?

I wanted the final line of dialogue to have a double meaning; it’s a figure of speech for “it’s a good time to meet”, but due to context, it can also be perceived as romantic but with enough plausible deniability plus, it sounds like “It’s a Deal”. My line of thinking is that Azul doesn’t want to be left vulnerable or in the position where he’s the one that has to give in first; he wants to push the reader to come out with it themselves (hence the “slow burn”/“pining” energy).

Sweet on You.

The exiting customer brushed by you. You managed to sidestep quickly enough to protect your precious present.

“Come in,” Azul called from beyond the door.

You entered, careful to keep quiet so as to not disturb him. Azul was always a busy man, but he was even busier at this time of year. There was no shortage of clients flocking to Octavinelle with problems that needed solving—but exams and holidays brought the truly desperate to him, seeking out his sketchy services.

Azul was stationed at his desk, nose and pen nib to a draft, running his eyes along line after line of legalese He was flanked on both sides by sizable towers of contracts—and if either toppled, he’d find himself swimming in paperwork.

The merman made a note and finally glanced up. His lip curled with mild amusement when he came upon you. Not another customer, but a server.

“If it isn’t one of my valued employees.” He set down his pen and rested his chin upon folded hands. “What can I help you with this evening?”

You brought out your present and set it down before him. Brightly colored fruits coated in shiny chocolate—almost as black as the deepest depths of the ocean—had been nearly arranged in a windowed box.

They were just a little something for your employer, for being a great boss, you clarified, trying to keep your tone even and nonchalant. You hoped he couldn’t detect your heart thumping like a war drum. Your nerves were playing you like an instrument.

If fruit dipped in chocolate could be dismissed as healthy, then your lie could be sold as a truth, you reasoned with yourself. And hopefully, he, too, would be fooled.

“My, my, how considerate of you to think of your employer on this day.” Azul nodded approvingly, a pleased glint dancing in his eyes.

“I see that you’ve gone through painstaking efforts to acquire fresh fruits and tempered dark chocolate of the highest quality. It seems you understand my personal tastes quite well. Fufu, perhaps the Sea Witch’s spirit of benevolence has left its mark on you.”

“I’m glad my gift was received so favorably. I’ll leave you to enjoy it at your leisure. If you will excuse me…” You turned and started heading for the door.

“Just a moment.”

You froze and looked back.

Azul had risen from his seat, regarding you with a serious, scrutinizing expression. He seemed to see right through you with his ashen blue eyes, cutting right to your true intention.

You broke out into a sweat, barely even registering his next words.

“In accepting this, it has become a debt that must be repaid. What is it that you desire in return?”

You, you wanted to blurt out--but the notion was quickly batted away. Instead, you shook your head. “Seeing you happy is enough of a reward itself, boss!”

“Are you absolutely certain? You solemnly swear that you won’t demand recompence at a future date and time? Would you sign a waiver confirming this for my records?”

Date. Your stomach fluttered. No, no. He doesn’t mean that kind of date, you scolded yourself.

“Whatever puts your mind at ease.”

He took one look at the mountains of paperwork on his desk before returning to you. “Unfortunately, I have my hands tied up in other matters at the moment. However, there is an opening in my schedule next weekend. We can set up a private appointment to sit down with drinks and discuss the terms and conditions of the agreement.”

A private appointment. Just us two, you realized. In this room with tea and snacks, your shoulders touching as you both leaned in… Your face heated. T-To look over the contract, not to kiss!!

You mumbled out a vague confirmation.

“Excellent. Ah, and one more thing.” Azul’s smile was so kind that it made your blood run cold. “I understand that you may not see the value in laying out the truth of your intent to your… work colleagues such as myself. Something else is on your mind, yes?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

He heaved a sigh. “As your employer, it would be unbecoming of me to pry further, so I will leave it be. However, should you decide that you wish to speak your mind and air your other... concerns, I will hear you out. That is, after all, what I am here for.”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

“Then it’s a date.”

He had laid out his bait, and you had happily bitten.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Azul Ashengrotto #twst x reader #Azul Ashengrotto x Reader #twisted wonderland interactions #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland scenarios #sweet on you #Reader #self insert

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sgiandubh · 7 months

Note

I actually am a shipper so I wasn’t trying to make the rounds to stir shit. I haven’t been around for too long only about 2 years or less. I just got upset when I saw the Getty pictures of Sam’s hand on Eleanor’s hip and hand on her back and then the fan pictures and video too of his hand on her back and giving her hug made me start to question everything since he does that with Cait too. I’m sorry for giving the wrong impression.

But I took a little time to reflect and remembered videos and images we got of Sam and Cait from Outlander promo this year. Between the moments at 92Y where Sam gave Cait a kiss on her temple and rubbed her back as well as the end when posing with Sophie in Rik. To the looks and knowing glances he gave her during interviews and even giving her a pat on the leg I believe in one interview. I overreacted initially and now that I put things into perspective, I can see the difference. There’s an intimacy and connection between Sam and Cait that comes across in promo that isn’t there with Eleanor.

Sorry again for coming across the wrong way. I truly was just looking for some reassurance initially

Dear (returning) Weary and Distraught Anon,

That would be very strange, because it really (REALLY) looks very similar to an Anon @bat-cat-reader showed me perhaps ten minutes before you chimed in.

However, since this is a plausible deniability situation, please accept my apologies, even if I still am not 100% sure about you.

I was just writing a post about body language at tonight's BAFTA preview of TCND, but since you've made reasonable amends, I am including it here for you, Anon:

S&C at OL's S7 Premiere in New York, June 9, 2023:

S & Tomlinson tonight:

Please note the following:

Tomlinson is completely disengaged, watches confidently the press people in front of her. She does not smile. Translation: I am a woman who just showed the press, the PR people and potential employers my latest project. I am a pro. I am very married and I know this hunk belongs to someone else. I am only playing PR games in *urv's mind.

S does the same. He uses his left hand as a completely non-committal blocking shield. Colgate smile is somewhat too calibrated to be spontaneous, the result is pleasant (which is to say 'decent bordering on meh'). Translation: we are all buddies and I (S) hope you liked our wee series. I really, seriously enjoyed working with these people and I am relieved we were allowed to promote this series in the middle of the strike turmoil. My well-rehearsed Optimistic Gaze Nr. 4 hides very well my real thoughts, that even @sgiandubh can't telegraph to her readers. And these thoughts have nothing to do with being here (note to readers: above thoughts probably involve a living-room near GLA).

Alfred Enoch: he is the only relaxed person in this picture and the only one whose smile perfectly aligns with his eyes (both sincere, open and enthusiastic). His arms' position is completely natural. Translation: I am over the moon to be here, I managed to work during a really rough patch and I really hope someone has noticed me tonight. Maybe I'll get another gig soon. These people are my friends, but tonight, it's all about myself: it is me I am showing off, selling and promoting here. Hire me: I am the funny one.

Bonus (dotted arrow shows where S's gaze is directed):

I think that needs no further comments. I rest my case, Anon.

Thank you for clarifying, I think you were brave to come back. Don't be a stranger, if I managed to not scare the bejesus out of you, yet.

PS: who knew my Business Intelligence uni credits would come in so handy, in the most unlikely of situations?

#Anon

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jewish-love · 5 months

Text

As a jew on the internet, I have seen so much antisemitism spread.

Here are some phrases, dog whistles, and more that are common right now

109/110 - A dogwhistle. Used by antisemites to claim that because jews have been kicked out of a supposed 109/110 countries, that it must be the jews fault. [Note that there is only proof of about a dozen places officially kicking out jews]

(((Echo))) - A dog whistle. This is a dog whistle with much more plausible deniability because of its second internet usage as hugs. The (((echo))) is used to signify that a person is jewish or a "jew-lover" so that other antisemites can find and attack them, mostly through comments, but sometimes even doxxing and in-person violence.

"6 Million wasn't enough" - Blatantly antisemitic phrase calling for genocide. It means that the user believes that the 6 million jews killed in the holocaust were "not enough" and that all jews should die.

"6 Million is impossible" - Antisemitic phrase that perpetuates holocaust denial. Users of this phrase believe that the idea of 6 million jews dying in the holocaust is a lie made up by jews to manipulate people.

"271k" - Used to claim that 271,000 is the "real" death toll of the holocaust. The true origin of this death toll was a record of the death certificates across 13 camps [Mind you, even though estimations vary, all reasonable sources say there were well over 5,000 camps. Proper research seeming to conclude there were about 44,000 camps and ghettos. Not all of these camps issued death certificates either.] This is often used in combination with the previous phrase.

"Reptile" - This has been commented on many jewish posts. It is used to say that jews are vile creatures that control the world. The stereotype came from a book written in 1999 by David Icke claiming that there were reptilian aliens controlling the entire world.

"Gas the jews" - Blatant antisemitic phrase. I have seen an extremely alarming amount of this phrase. It has been used in chants, commented all over social media, and more. This is a reference to the gas chambers from the holocaust in which they killed jews.

Jews and allies, what other antisemitic phrases have you seen online recently?

Oh, and I shouldn't have to clarify this but not all jews support Israel's actions, not even all Israelis support Israel's actions. Calling for extermination of jews will not help Palestinians. Instead of harrassing and harming jews, donate to Doctors without Borders, donate to food drives. Support the citizens getting caught up in this brutal war.

#jewish #jewblr #judaism #judiasm #antisemitism #tw antisemitism

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fuck-customers · 1 year

Note

I'm the "dirty looks and guilt tripping for wanting to go home after my shift" anon.

To clarify: they are not asking me or my coworkers to work off the clock. None of my coworkers are working off the clock, i checked with two coworkers I'm friends with and they double checked their payslips to make sure.

That's why it's so confusing to me that managers aren't just scheduling us longer - what could they possibly be getting out of it to not schedule us for the full hours they need us but then guilt us into staying those hours because theyre desperate, when they're paying us either way??? Is it some kind of power trip? It seems like they'd be screwing themselves over in case there's ppl like me who will insist on leaving when my shift is done (once finishing whatever task I'm working on etc)

If they schedule it the higher ups would yell at them for not controlling hours. But this way they have plausible deniability. "You see Mr. Area manager I only shcheduled them for 6 hours but it was busy in the store and they had to stay over to ger the lines down."

Source: 30 years of that bullshite.

-Rodney

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clarenecessities · 1 month

Text

so, hey. I haven't updated you guys on the situation with Scott and Ethan in a while. it's been a very eventful 10 days.

You can see Ethan's updates here but I will be offering my own biased perspective and summary.

i'm sure my mother would want me to clarify that i did not advise anybody legally, nor did i tell anyone to bring a lawsuit, but. i did lay out my understanding of the law as it pertains to Ethan's case & tell anyone who would listen that i would have sued months ago

and uh as i provided ample sources and a laconic summary of the fair use doctrine and alternatives to federal court, i may have contributed to Ethan's decision to file with the CCB :3 which is (to be overly brief) like small claims court for copyright infringement specifically.

nobody has said so explicitly, so i do have some plausible deniability. but if by some grave miscarriage of justice Ethan were to lose a single one of these claims y'all Know I'd do my damnedest to recoup the man's losses anyway so i feel very comfortable in saying SPITE WORKS!!! THAT'S THE POWER OF SPITE-FUELED RESEARCH BABEY! THIS IS A WIN FOR CLARE!!

even the very worst case scenario for Ethan is a win anyway; the CCB's awards are capped at 30k, but since he's a much, much kinder person than I am he elected to pursue their "smaller claims" options, which further caps it at only 5k.

and let me tell you. the statutory damages alone would cost Scott upwards of $180,000 in federal court (not even counting the libel), so if he doesn't take this case (participation in a CCB case is voluntary for both parties) he is a fucking idiot. But I guess we kind of knew that already.

Let's see. So, Ethan started getting his copyrights registered last weekend (another benefit of the CCB; registrations can be filed concurrent to submitting your claims, though I don't think I told Ethan that) like right after my last post on the matter here. He submitted proof of his intent to bring legal action to YouTube, who can't actually apply strikes until a decision is reached, though those videos are sort of in purgatory.

Meanwhile, that allowed Scott to begin posting content again. He immediately abused that power. On the 23rd, Scott posted a fourth (4th!) defamatory video, whose thumbnail looked like this:

That action figure is his childhood OC, which he put into the MOTUC line. In addition to his literal, actual face. But don't worry, not his name! That was a DC Classics exclusive 🙃

For those of you that are unfamiliar: That's the license plate from Better Call Saul.

He made a bunch of really, painfully wrong assertions that I tried to write up again just now and bro I can't. It is fucking Cringe. I can't. He did claim he had a lawyer, which as I told him following the second defamatory Community Note, is grounds for him to fire that fucking lawyer.

Ethan did a second interview with Dad-At-Arms basically updating people on the situation, letting everyone know he was going to take things to court. That went up the 24th.

On the 25th, Scott posted another Community Note, this time doing a little victory lap, concluding, "So much content coming to ya! It is great to be on the air again!" and resuming his regularly scheduled posting for the remained of the week.

Then along came Monday.

Every single one of Scott's videos was privated, including the advertisements for his consulting firm and stupid bullshit AI comic.

Well--come to find out, he emailed Ethan right around when everything went dark saying he was "truly" and "sincerely" sorry for everything, and "never meant to create a fight" between them and that it was "never intentional".

"To make things right I am going to halt any videos and take down what I have. I hope this will make it right and restore your site to its full capacity."

Which like, alright, I try to be a little more level-headed in spaces these creeps might see, since they're already fucking wilding about every other aspect of my identity and personality. But the fucking BALLS on this guy!! The fucking audacity!!!!! MONTHS of claiming he was being BLACKMAILED and HARASSED, giving Ethan's identity to one of the biggest pieces of shit I've ever seen in the fandom (and that is saying something) and then his thousands of subscribers?? Telling those people really really obviously fake bullshit to make himself seem like the super reasonable victim and not the perpetrator of--ballpark, 'cause I don't know who may have granted him permission--five to ten thousand copyright infringements?

And "to make things right"!!!!! Right for whom, Scott!!!

I've been assuming he finally talked to a lawyer, because even with receiving notice of Ethan's intent to take him to court, I just don't believe we'd see this complete a 180 in him without the advice of counsel. Whom I do not envy right now, he's shot himself in the foot at every fucking opportunity. I doubt they told him to private everything, since a jury at least might construe that as hiding evidence (there are no juries CCB proceedings) but he's a big fucking idiot. Of course he'd panic and try to hide everything.

Case in point, this morning he unprivated everything. And then just unlisted it. Presumably because he realized he'd broken his embeds across every website out there, including his own (not that that ever got him to fix his LinkedIn button...). He did delete all of the Community Notes about Ethan though, just for good measure :) Still absolutely no public word from him since last week.

I have receipts on all the libel saved in multiple locations, but I do appreciate him un-privating some of his videos for me. Gonna make documenting those much easier 😏

i had a second post up on the forums but it's being weird about copy/pasting into tumblr, I'll see about that tomorrow ig. And I'm working on a third summarizing my case law research. HUGE win for me today in that the finding which most directly contradicted my arguments was actually reverse on appeal in 2022 so I'm sitting real pretty, citation-wise. Very smug, very petty. Feeling absolutely great.

#fiq debacle

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transmascpetewentz · 4 months

Note

Hi Jew here

Jews are absolutely being tokenized right now

"I'm not antisemitic, I'm antizionist!" is a statement that implicitly tokenizes the "good non zionist jews"

NK, JVP, all being tokenized so that the antisemites can mantain some plausible deniability because the man in the black hat hekhshered their hate for them.

Hi! I agree with you 100% but I think there was a slight misunderstanding here. Individual Jews and trans men are definitely being tokenized, but my use of the word in this context is different from how an entire oppressed class is tokenized to provide a veneer of anti-bigotry for certain groups before they go on to oppress others.

It's true that my language is pretty unclear but I don't know how else to clarify the difference between "tokenizing individuals of a group" and "tokenizing the entire group." If Jews were tokenized as an entire group, then that would mean that the online left would be hypervigilant to any slight implication of antisemitism, but that isn't the case. Individual Jews are tokenized to justify antisemitism, not the group as a whole.

Again I don't hold this against you or anyone but words are hard and the English language is quite limited.

#asks

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zukaangweirdo · 7 months

Text

Another tale of Ba Sing Se

Like my fic 'Private Intermission', this fic takes place within this au.

They don’t talk much.

There isn’t exactly much to talk about. Not at first, anyway. Aang just sits and drinks his tea – somewhat tense – while Zuko serves customers – extremely tense.

Walking into the Jasmine Dragon that first time, Aang had wanted to turn around and run. It had only been pure determination which had kept him in place as his and Zuko’s eyes met from across the shop.

The last time they’d seen each other, Zuko had let him go. Aang had just about begged him, but still. He’d had a tribe to save, and Zuko had recognised that and conceded.

It wasn’t the first time Aang had wondered if they might have been friends under different circumstances, but he’d never felt it so deeply.

So when Zuko had walked over to him and asked if it was just him, or if he was waiting on a party, Aang had just shrugged and let the banished prince show him to a table for one.

“You’re quiet today.”

“Huh?” Aang asks.

His tea has gone cold – he hadn’t even realised it’s in front of him already – and Zuko is standing by his table. The Jasmine Dragon is empty, which is an extremely rare occurrence.

“Where’s your uncle?” Aang asks.

“Market. We need more leaves.”

“Oh.”

“Normally you at least have something to say,” Zuko presses, crossing his arms and then uncrossing them. “Even if it’s just ‘hello hotman’. Which, by the way, not funny.”

“It’s fire nation slang.”

“If you say so.”

They fall silent again, but Zuko is still watching Aang. It’s making Aang uncomfortable.

“Do I have something on my face?”

“You mean other than the giant arrow?” Zuko asks.

It takes Aang a moment to realise Zuko is teasing him.

“Oh, ha ha,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I bet you’ve just been waiting to use that one forever.”

“Sort of. I mean, it’s very prominent.”

Aang says nothing.

“Your tea’s cold,” Zuko obseserves.

“I guess it is.”

“Want me to heat it for you?”

“Sure.”

Aang expects Zuko to heat his tea then and there – they’re alone, after all – but instead the fire bender picks up the cup and brings it to the fire. The way he heats it, holding it close to the flames, probably doesn’t really do anything for it, but Aang supposes Zuko would at least have plausible deniability if somebody walked in right now.

Smart.

Zuko brings his cup back to him, and Aang takes a sip.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Why are you here, Zuko?”

Zuko doesn’t answer for a moment. He turns away from Aang and begins to wipe a nearby table. Aang begins to think he’s being ignored when Zuko says: “well, I’m a refugee aren’t I?”

“Are you?”

“It’s not like I can go home.”

“You could,” Aang points out. “You could grab me right now. What’s stopping you?”

Zuko does ignore that question.

“Why are you here?” he asks instead. “Last I checked, you’re the Avatar. You don’t need to hide out in the only city unaffected by the war.”

“You think it’s unaffected?” Aang asks. “I thought you were smarter than that.”

“Well, maybe I just thought you were dumber.”

“Hey!”

Zuko chuckles. It’s a nice sound. Aang doesn’t think he’s ever heard Zuko laugh at anything not evil. If he has, he’s blocked it out.

“It’s Appa,” Aang blurts out. “He’s missing. We think he’s here.”

“In my uncle’s tea shop?”

“No, Zuko. In this city.”

Zuko nods slowly, then turns to Aang.

“How does a giant sky bison go missing?”

“Well, it’s more like he was stolen.”

“I see.”

“Do you?”

“Sort of.”

Which is fair enough.

Aang finishes his tea, then stands. He’s about to leave, but it is a rare thing to be alone with prince Zuko of the fire nation and not be attacked by him.

He turns to Zuko.

“I never thanked you.”

“For what?” Zuko asks, sounding genuinely confused though he’s not looking at Aang – back to wiping tables.

“For letting me go, back when we were on the north pole,” Aang clarifies. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“As you pointed out, I kind of did.”

“No, I mean… I didn’t expect you to do that.”

“Aang,” Zuko says.

It’s the first time Aang has heard his real name spoken in Zuko’s voice. Not Avatar. Not child. Just Aang.

“Just because I really want to go home, that doesn’t mean I agree with everything my home is doing.”

“And what would that be?” Aang asks.

Zuko meets his eyes, but he doesn’t answer.

Aang leaves.

#zukaang #atla #avatar the last airbender #fanfiction

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random-thought-depository · 1 year

Text

A perspective that I think may be clarifying on what "skilled labor" as a class relations concept actually is and why "skilled workers" have more leverage:

Complex cognition-intensive difficult-to-monitor labor gives the laborer a lot more opportunities for difficult to detect and effective resistance.

With low-tech agricultural labor, "put the workers in a chain gang and have an overseer watch them and whip them if they practice passive resistance such as working with deliberate slowness or incompetence" can basically work. This is because much low-tech agricultural labor is physically difficult but not very cognition-intensive and therefore is easy to monitor; the overseer can feasibly keep track of what the workers are doing and understand what they're watching, and they can do this without too much extensive training.

With computer programmers, "chain the workers to their chairs and have an overseer watch them and whip them if they practice passive resistance" is how you end up with a software package that causes your nuclear reactor to go into meltdown without any alarms being triggered within ten minutes of installing it.

With a surgeon, "chain them to a chair and have an overseer watch them and whip them if they practice passive resistance while they give your nephew stomach surgery" is how you end up with your nephew getting something really dangerous to his health sown into his stomach lining.

The more opportunities for hard to detect effective resistance a task offers, the more the good-will of the worker matters, and thus the more it pays for a boss to incentivize workers with rewards instead of punishments and to generally be nice to them. This applies not just to slavery vs. paid labor, but to things like incentivizing workers through the reward of high pay and good working conditions vs. incentivizing them through the implicit threat of destitution.

Maybe more importantly here, programmers and surgeons have a lot more opportunities for less drastic low-level passive resistance, the sort that often never gets detected and shows up only as a lower level of productivity and/or a higher rate of plausibly deniable accidents. A cook can poison food, but if they aren't willing to escalate all the way to poisoning, well, it's not difficult to tell whether a dish is palatable, and giving your boss overcooked beef in the stroganoff isn't much of a revenge. A programmer often has a lot more opportunities to make life very difficult for their boss in ways that are plausibly deniable and probably won't kill anybody.

The greater leverage of "skilled" labor is not just about the abundance or scarcity of people with the relevant skills and the resource-intensiveness of training (though those are factors), but also about how difficult the labor is to monitor and how many opportunities it gives the laborer for hard to detect and effective resistance.

I suspect some of the Steven Pinker decline of violence thing is down to a high-tech society relying more on complex cognition-intensive difficult-to-monitor labor (as the examples chosen illustrate). A shift toward complex cognition-intensive difficult-to-monitor labor may be a major factor in the decline of slavery, and may be exerting a significant upward pressure on wages, through the mechanism I've just described. On the flip side, I think this dynamic is part of why bosses and capital owners benefit from de-skilling; de-skilling decreases the opportunities for passive resistance available to laborers; an artisan had much more opportunities for passive resistance than an assembly line worker.

#class politics #my big ideas

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satashiiwrites · 1 month

Text

snippet sunday

tagging the usual suspects, @monsterrae1 @quietborderline @missanniewhimsy @tkwritesdumbassassins @outtoshatter @rosieposiepuddingnpie @whimsyswastry with no pressure. This is all for fun.

banner by me.

Title: Family, Familia, ‘Ohana, Chapter 13, Steve POV (this is getting to be a 20k chapter 😆)

Fandom: 911, H50, SWAT

Pairings; Buddie, McDanno, platonic Deacon/Hondo

Fic summary:

Tags/warnings: first draft (may not make final edit for chapter), NavySeal!Buck, set post tsunami/lawsuit era, angst, slow burn, long fic

Steve’s never been one to put off unpleasant business so he turns his suddenly leaden feet toward Joe’s cell. Robert, tonight’s watch, nods in acknowledgement and then slides down the hallway to give Steve a semblance of privacy even though Steve knows that if Joe talks loudly the sound will easily carry

“Joe,” Steve greets his former mentor.

“Steve,” Joe returns as he sits up, coming to stand a few feet away but not reaching for the barred door between them.

Steve doesn’t know what to say. He’s rooted to the spot and feels the weight of any decision pinning him in place. He’d purposefully taken Joe off the chess board but now he doesn’t know what to do. Does he release Joe? If he does, then what will Joe do? Will he alert Doris and help her spirit Wo Fat away again so he can return to haunt Steve’s life and hurt more people? Or will Joe simply fade back into his retirement with a home base in Montana and floating in with the other tourists from time to time to visit?

“Steve,” Joe calls softly, pulling his attention back to the older seal. Joe looks tired, the lines around his eyes from years of exposure to the outdoor elements seem deeper and less like laugh lines than they used to. He’s aged years in a span of days and Steve hates it. “You got him, I see.”

“I did.” The words stick in Steve’s throat which has gone drier than the desert.

“I’m glad you corrected my mistake.” Joe says gently and closes the distance between them, leaning on the bars of his cell. They’re not quite touching but they could be if Steve let them.

“So it was a mistake?”

“It was. I let your mother—“

“Don’t call her that. She doesn’t deserve that honor,” Steve cuts in and corrects with a viciousness that he didn’t know he was harboring, tamping down on the urge to say something worse about the woman who’d birthed him.

Joe tilts his head, studying Steve and then slowly nods. “You’re right. Doris. Doris knows my weak spots and she played into them. It’s not an excuse but an explanation—I don’t expect your forgiveness.”

“What if I want to give it?” Steve isn’t sure he does want to forgive Joe but he dislikes this entire conversation and hasn’t made a decision about forgiveness yet.

Joe leans back and sighs. “I haven’t earned that, Steve. Sitting in here? This is just me making it easier for you to do your job at this point.”

“I have to let you out at some point,” Steve mulishly points out.

Another shrug. “I suppose you do—and I have a possible suggestion.”

“Suggestion?”

“Allow me to correct my mistake.”

Steve doesn’t follow. “What do you mean?”

“Allow me to correct my mistake,” Joe repeats, not clarifying.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Steve resists the urge to growl in frustration. Joe’s not giving details because he either wants Steve to have plausible deniability or he’s going to pull something that Steve is going to regret and Steve isn’t sure which it is. “I’m going to need you to lay this one out for me.”

“My mistake was allowing Wo Fat to escape the nice little maximum security hole you’d stuck him in.”

“And what? You’re going to take him back to Colorado?”

Joe doesn’t confirm or deny. “I will put him in a place he won’t be able to crawl out of—even with Doris’ help.”

#Family familia ‘ohana #Buddie #mcdanno #navyseal!buck #First draft #snippet sunday

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thecoleopterawithana · 2 years

Text

Jokes and Laughs

Instant Karma (1970): What in the world you thinkin' of / Laughin' in the face of love? [...] How in the world you gonna see / Laughin' at fools like me?

I’m So Tired (1968): I wonder should I call you / But I know what you would do / You'd say I'm putting you on / But it's no joke / It's doing me harm

I’ll Be Back (1964): You could find better things to do / Than to break my heart again / This time I will try to show that I’m / Not trying to pretend

You’ve Got To Hide Your Love Away (1965): Everywhere people stare / Each and ev'ryday / I can see them laugh at me / And I hear them say / Hey, you've got to hide your love away

Girl (1965): She's the kind of girl who puts you down / When friends are there / You feel a fool

On the latest episode of @anotherkindofmindpod, “Instant Karma” is discussed. The song John released in February 1970 is hypothesized to be a message to Paul, trying to reach him during the 6th month of their trial separation. The various mentions of laughter (or being laughed at) throughout the song are highlighted. This immediately brought to mind some other songs, the first one being “I’m So Tired”.

There’s a bunch of different elements at play here which I feel the need to tease apart. The first one is John’s need to clarify that he’s not joking or pretending, he is being serious this time. This is related to a point I’ve touched on before, which is how John and Paul used humor as an intimate but ultimately safe way to express emotions. Much like communicating through songs, this enabled them to keep a layer of plausible deniability. They could always backtrack and say they were being misinterpreted, they didn’t really mean it. Ergo the need to be explicit about when they’re being serious (“You'd say I'm putting you on but it's no joke”; “This time I will try to show that I’m not trying to pretend”). Paul has also touched on a similar theme in his songs:

However Absurd (1989): Do not mock me when I say / This is not a lie. / It's funny thing, / Half serious, / With our hands on our ears.

Paul actually goes as far as to ask the listener not to mock him once he admits to telling the truth. This brings me to my second point: John’s displeasure with being laughed at and made to feel like a fool. Especially when the laughing is happening after he made himself vulnerable and was sincere about his love.

Now, mix up the two and you have ample room for some pretty painful misunderstandings! Take an emotionally fraught situation (say India, for example), where one of the parties is trying to subtly suss out the status of the relationship (“Who are we, oh my love?”). Usually, for fear of losing face in front of the other, you hide your truths behind the veneer of plausible deniability that joking around can offer. But this time, you are being sincere; you are being vulnerable. But the other person, who is used to your playing around, takes it as a joke, maybe laughs a bit, says you are putting them on. The other probably never meant to hurt you; at most they’d be laughing with you, never at you. But after some time, with enough insecurity and pain eroding the trust between you, you wouldn’t put it past them, to be laughing in the face of your love.

#The Beatles #John Lennon #paul mccartney #Instant Karma #I'm So Tired #I'll Be Back #you've got to hide your love away #Girl #However Absurd #Look At Me #that Beatle humor #you'd say i'm putting you on #But I could never speak my mind #the person I actually picked as my partner #johnny #macca #1970 #meta #my stuff

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saintmeghanmarkle · 7 days

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📃 Megalist of 𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝑳𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒔 and Other 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 in H&M’s Political Orbit 📃 by u/SeptiemeSens (Part 1 of 3)

📌 Link to Tumblr post Part 2 of 3

📌 Link to Tumblr post Part 3 of 3

📌 First Ladies:

Akshata Murty - Multimillionaire heiress and wife of Rishi Sunak, Prime Minister of the UK. On May 8th, 2024, Akshata attended Harry's Invictus Games 10th anniversary service at St Paul's Cathedral in London. Also in attendance: uncle Charles Spencer, auntie Lady Jane Fellowes, and other Spencer family members [source]

Hillary Clinton - In 2019, Hillary accepted Meghan's invitation to visit Frogmore Cottage where she met Meghan and 6-month old Archie. Following the Oprah interview, Hillary commented: "It just was heartbreaking that this incredibly accomplished woman Meghan Markle, who falls in love with Prince Harry, was not fully embraced by not just the so-called Firm, which is the name for the permanent bureaucracy that surrounds the royal family, but by the media in the UK." Hillary also participated in Meghan's 40x40 project [source 1 // source 2 // source 3]

Jill Biden - At an awards ceremony following the Oprah interview, Jill wore an Oscar de la Renta lemon dress pattern. It was similar to another Oscar de la Renta lemon pattern dress Meghan wore to a Spotify event the month before. Sewer Squadies claimed that Jill's dress was a subtle nod of support to H&M. Meghan even sent Jill a basket of lemons in thanks. After the funeral for the late Queen Elizabeth II, H&M reportedly asked to fly back to the US on Air Force One but they were denied [source 1 // source 2]

Michelle Obama - When Meghan guest-edited British Vogue's September 2019 issue, she lied about a "casual lunch of chicken tacos with Michelle Obama". In reality, it was an email interview. Following the explosive interview, Michelle thoughtfully responded: “My hope is that when I think about what they’re going through, I think about the importance of family, and I just pray that there is forgiveness and there is clarity and love and resolve at some point in time,” Michelle Obama said. “Because there’s nothing more important than family.” The Obamas are hold great respect and admiration for the late Queen Elizabeth II [source 1 // source 2]

Oluremi Tinubu - Following H&M's tour of Nigeria, First Lady Tinubu gave a speech in which she remarked: "We don't accept nakedness in our culture." Her comments were widely interpreted as a critique of the Meghan's clothing choices in Nigeria. Nearly a week later on May 30th, in an *alleged* email reply to AFP Fact Check reporter Tonye Bakare of Nigeria, the office of the First Lady *allegedly* clarified: "At no point did she say anything about Meghan's dressing." [source]. Was this the sinister work of Misan Harriman, Christopher Bouzy, and the Sussex Censorship Industrial Complex? Plausible deniability by First Lady Tinubu? Was First Lady Tinubu silent or was she... silenced?

Sophie Grégoire Trudeau - Former wife of Justin Trudeau, Prime Minister of Canada. Meghan's 'dear friend' Sophie participated in the 40x40 project and the Archetypes podcast. In May 2024, Sophie publicly distanced herself from Meghan: "I know her,” she says, before adding that they haven’t spent much time together, and telling me how terrible she feels for Kate Middleton after her cancer diagnosis (“my heart just sunk when I saw what was happening.”) [source]

Zita Oligui Nguema - First Lady of Gabon, photographed with H&M during their May 2024 visit to Nigeria [source]. Will First Lady Nguema invite H&M to visit Gabon for their next faux royal tour?

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author: SeptiemeSens

submitted: June 04, 2024 at 11:46AM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit

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