The office of Norman Osborn appears less of a space inhabited, more so now occupied by a poltergeist. Occasionally, chairs have been set out of place, paperwork askew, but Osborn does not seem to occupy the same immense presence that set the space alight some decades ago. So much so is this building dead that the rattle of the vents and electrostatic hum of the hallway overheads drone over the occasional performative shift in his seat. He isn’t impatient, sitting in an uneasy silence, but Otto would like to make it clear that he is hoping for a cue.
Here, to occupy the time - a list of patterns that Otto has noticed with years: Long, empty stretches of uninhabited cubicles that mark borders between one department and the next. A steadily-decreasing tendency to overstay his welcome in his own lab and be ushered off by late-night janitorial staff. Occasionally, upon arrival, 6:29AM, he steels himself on the sidewalk for sixty seconds and decides on some banal reason to continue, a reason not driven by resolving international crises or his lifelong affair with the atom. He will accept a genial invitation to lunch. He will walk a portion of his evening commute, so that he might stop for flowers and a quarterly. He will take one footstep and follow up with another.
A second list. He constructs many of these, for the dissemination of context from raw data. What Otto once enjoyed about these meetings: Their banter is productive. (Was.) Norman exists as his antithesis, unpretentious, pragmatic. Whereas Otto could theorize to a point of neurosis, Norman could put methodology to paper and act. See: Oscorp Industries. At best he is bated when he sits opposite Norman, now, and has learned to expect a conversation to open with bad news. He resists the urge to look at the time and leans instead to gesture broadly over the files they’ve spread between them.
“I think,” Otto treads carefully, in a tone that could be taken in bad faith as placating, “It would be a good idea to file for deadline extensions on some of these projects.” (Wounded already by the thought of setting the biomechatronic actuators aside for any length of time, leaving his four algorithms still without a body, confessing his lack of company confidence aloud feels like another blow in itself.) “At this point, there's no harm in trying.”
@entraps.
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"Absolutely no one comes to save us but us."
Ismatu Gwendolyn, "you've been traumatized into hating reading (and it makes you easier to oppress)", from Threadings, on Substack [ID'd]
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i will never stop being 6 years old and lonely. i will never stop being 11 years old and lonely. i will never stop being 19 years old and lonely. i will never stop
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seeing everyone just mindlessly sign up for threads despite all the clear warning signs feels like I’m living in Sailor Moon or a magical girl anime episode where the Monster of the Day just set up shop over night and their product is literally draining your lifeforce for the Dark Kingdom but people keep going there
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Ill post this au( inspired by tweet above) i started on my twt on Tumblr too
First part
more comic panels below
Second part
Third part
Fourth part
Shenanigans side extra
this is currently an ongoing series, if this does well here, I will continue posting these in bulk (~ ̄▽ ̄)~
for more frequent uploads, you can follow my twitter at ArcherD116, feel free to ask me ab this au and give your suggestions!
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Being the only guy who works in a beauty store is fucking hilarious sometimes. Im the only one who can sell our shitty beard shampoo and a not insignificant amount of our customers think im untrustworthy. According to my coworkers i use every mens product we have so they can get dudes to buy a shaving cream. Trying to explain to people that theres no difference between "men's" and "women's" products is like talking to a brick wall. Ive had multiple women get angry with me for sampling them out one of our "men's" moisturizers when they specifically said they wanted a mattifying one to control oil and that's the best one we have for those two things. I still think about the guy who came in asking if we had "masks for men." I contemplate ending it all every time someone returns a completely unused product that they absolutely refuse to try just because it either says or doesnt say "for men" on it. 90% of the time its the perfect product for them. I had a lady who was willing to buy a worse product for her needs that was more expensive just so it wouldnt say it was for men. Are you ever tired? Are you ever exhausted? These are the same kinds of people who say that im the one whos obsessed with gendering everything because im trans.
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ignore it and you will still have the best year ever bc you deserve beautiful things
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