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tteokdoroki · 1 year

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ೀ⋆OCT 3RD MEAN GIRLS ━━ katsuki bakugou + free use !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. katsuki bakugou + free use. on october third, he asked you what day it was. btw, in girl world, halloween is the only time of the year when katsuki bakugou can slut girls out and no one can say anything about it. boo, you whore! (4.9K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, characters aged up to 20s, college!au, free use, dub-con, cum-play, voyeurism, humiliation, manipulation, dacryphilia, no prep, public sex(ish), unprotected sex, suprise guest appearance from shouto as aaron samuels, fem!reader, reigina george coded!bakugou.

୨୧ — director’s note. "it's october third." and you know what that means! another nasty kinktober fic for you all! i hope you enjoy this one, its probably my favourite...because uh hello!? reigina george and bakugou? name a more iconic duo! anyways enjoy mwah! - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

halloween is the only time of the year where anyone can dress like a slut and not get called one for it.

in the world of the conventionally attractive (or the plastics), the kings and queens of the social jungle, it means ditching the guts and gore in favour of skin tight lingerie with a little fake blood that drips calculatedly through the valley between your breasts — just for a little bit of added attention. it’s the one night of the year where self-objectification becomes acceptable, and you by all means, were not planning on missing out.

for you, a well spent Halloween consisted of tooth rotting candy corn, bad movies and trying to avoid the feeling of fomo (fear of missing out, fyi) building up like fluid in the lungs of a sick person. you’ve been an a-grade loser all your life and you’ve never had the chance to experience a proper friend group, high school, (and now) college experience.

however this year would be different. this year you would be ditching loser-ville for boobs and bunny ears and the shortest dress you could find. because you finally had a friendship group who did these kinds of things and you had an invite to the biggest festive rager hosted by the hottest guy on campus — shouto todoroki.

the rest of your friend group, the college renowned plastics, had warned you not to get involved with the half and half campus jock. he already had relations to your beloved ring leader, katsuki bakugou, and your involvement would be breaking several laws of girl and guy code — according to dumb blonde kaminari (he swears he has ESPN or something). katsuki was the head of U.A. university, ruling over the entire student body with an iron fist, an attitude so mean you’re sure you’ve seen professors cry and a glare so sinister he could turn milk sour if he tried hard enough.

bakugou was the definition of the picture perfect guy and he knew it. it was almost as if his face had been ripped straight from a vogue magazine, his shoulders broad, waist slutty and tiny, abs to die for too — you’d be a liar to say you hadn’t thought about him a few times before bed. katsuki was a king bee (if bees could even have kings) and you were a nobody lucky enough to have been indoctrinated into his group of flawless friends — taken under the guidance of his wing.

your own friends had told you not to fall for the glitz and the glamour that seemed to follow the barbie blonde everywhere he went. but you couldn’t help it, you were enamoured by everything that katsuki did — turned a blind eye to his bitchy persona and twisted mindset. you hardly believed the rumours about him, blissfully ignoring the truth behind the gossip because katsuki was nice to you. just the other night he had been kind enough to offer his help in setting you up with shouto. even if kirishima had tattle told on you.

regardless, katsuki had your back — you knew that. he was even talking to shouto right now, admist the full swing of the halloween party. how could anyone ever hate bakugou? he was so kind, so considerate, treating you like family from the moment you got here. you see shouto look your way fondly as they chatter about you, his lips curling perfectly around your name while he sends you a wave that makes you feel like the only girl in the world.

“she likes you, yanno.” the shorter blonde purrs, the corner of his perfectly plump lips twitching up into a knowing grin. he says your name, glowering at the way his ex perks up at the mention.

shouto blinks slow, mismatched eyes filling with affection the longer he looks at you awkwardly swaying to music you’ve never heard before. “yeah? she does?”

“it’s adorable, really. she writes your fuckin’ name in the corner of her notes with little hearts. even has the name of your future brats written in a cute little list.” the lie slips from bakugou easily, as if manipulating people is second nature to him.

“don’t bother with that, katsuki.”

when todoroki’s gaze on you lingers for too long, he kicks it up a notch pressing the head of his body into his ex’s side. “listen, half ‘n half,” with his eyes dark and sensual, the blonde allows his voice to slip into deeper, more mocking tones — playing up this innocent act. one that shouto falls for every time. “i know that she can be a little fuckin’ weird but, she’s my friend…so be nice, yeah?”

men are such fickle creatures — for all it takes is a pair of sweltering, red puppy dog eyes to drag the jock under his spell. shouto nods slowly, his own topaz and granite eyes glossing over with some form of obedience, a loyalty to bakugou that no one else would understand. “yeah, alright.”

“good,” bakugou purrs, the sound causing his brain to short circuit. “such’a good friend, half ‘n half.” the tail end of his words are replaced by the sloppy sound effect of his lips on shouto’s, tongues beginning to clash and hands possessively gripping waists.

your rose-tinted window shatters at the sight.

background conversation falls away as your friend and your crush begin to make out right in front of your fucking eyes. “you know who’s looking fine tonight, neito monoma.” kaminari squeals, shimmying in his little mouse costume.

“denki, that’s your cousin.” kirishima frowns.

the blonde shrugs. “yeah! but he’s my first cousin…that’s not right is it,”

you don’t have time to dwell on their chit chat — you feel like someone has thrown your entire body out of whack. you feel like you’re drowning as the realisation hits, katsuki bakugou doesn’t give a shit about you or your feelings. storming away from the scene, you make for the nearest bedroom, hurt and confusion swirling around in the tightness of your chest.

“what are you doin’ in here sweetness? ‘minari and kirishima have been looking everywhere for ya.”

you’re still crying like a sore loser when the king of the plastics finds you hauled up in one of shouto’s many rooms. and you hate that it’s katsuki who’s come to comfort you, sitting beside you on the queen sized bed as his hand slips over your bare thigh.

but you shrug him off, barely keeping your cool. after all, you’re still mad at him for making out with your crush. “don’t touch me, katsuki.” you snarl, doing your best to sound menacing. “i saw what you did. how could you? i thought we were friends?”

he clicks his tongue, ruby red eyes rolling as if he gives a fuck. “oh, you mean that thing with icyhot?” you don’t understand how the blonde can be so nonchalant, tossing around the situation as if it weighs nothing — costing not an ounce of your feelings. “he came onto me, sweetness. i’d never do somethin’ like that to you.”

denying katsuki bakugou is never an easy feat, he’s a man that knows where his strengths lie. in the deep timber of his rumbling voice and those eyes, with the blood lust curled around each of his pupils. katsuki is a well trained hunter, and on this occasion, you are his prey. a large hand smooths over the meaty swell of your trembling thigh, pushing the likely pair wide open for him to make room between them. “i’m a good friend, r’member?”

his hands roam your blistering hot body, gripping and grabbing at your flesh from over your costume — it feels good, you feel wanted and melt like a lump of butter in a pan at every cascading touch of his.

you’d be smart to come to your senses, before you’re snapped up in the unrelenting jaws of a hunter. but you’re entranced by those insanely red eyes, the perfect slant to his lips and all-knowing smile — it’d be useless to escape when you’ve fallen this deep. “you’re not…” your bottom lip wobbles, the achy feeling in your chest now submissive to the liquid lust katsuki has spent months conditioning you to feel. “you’re a bad friend.”

“d’aw…you don’t think i am?” dropping his tone into a sultry coo, bakugou leans in real close and you instinctively follow the tilt of his head. he looms over you, just enough so that you can see the smear of pink eyeshadow across his eyelids, the plasticky glisten of lip gloss masking the true colour of his plump lips, along with the spark of lust swirling through the brown flecks in his eyes.

you shake your head no. “no, you’re not.” big mistake.

the of temperature of the room rises just from his proximity and you find yourself willing to let the king of the plastics swallow you whole. “i don’t think i like the way yer talkin’ to me, sweets.” he growls darkly and in warning. “i should make you apologise for bein’ so fuckin’ mean.”

his breath is warm and wet against your cheek, grip rough on your waist and you can’t help but think how mean he is to you. katsuki gaslights you like it’s second nature or another one of his five senses, manipulates you with ease, putting himself on you when you know you can’t say no. because without him you would have been in social suicide, you wouldn’t have any friends, you wouldn’t have had the college experience. you would have just been ordinary.

“gimme a kiss, gorgeous.” the blonde bites down on your lower tip, tugging it away from you because he misses the metallic taste of golden blood on you — the taste of blossoming obedience in your bloodstream.

you push back, but it’s no use — bakugou’s closing the gap before your brain can even catch up, fizzing like candied pop rocks while you sink further into debauchery.

“c’mon…” he forces his tongue past the seams of your lips, bursting through with only the darkest of intentions. you briefly seize up, because your body knows this isn’t what you want, at least not 100%. but katsuki knows how to work stubborn, prude little things like you — squeezing down on your waist heartily as he leads you into a stupid-drunk kiss. “that’s it, there we go…good fuckin’ girl.”

the world tilts on its axis and you grow lightheaded at the blonde’s praise — you should be mad at him for kissing your crush but at the same time, you’ve never wanted someone so bad. mewling against his watermelon and alcohol flavoured lips is like sealing your fate, giving up little pieces of yourself just to appease your ring leader.

“katsuki, i don’t—“

his thumb digs into your cheeks, preventing you from pulling away — not that you’d want to. wet sounds from your kisses vibrate through you and cause a twinge in the heartbeat between your thighs. “i wasn’t askin’, i was tellin’.” he grunts into your drooling mouth, wide open to echo your sweet and pliant voice. it’s with those words that you remember your place, being a plastic requires sacrifices — for you to give up pieces of yourself in order to stay by katsuki’s side.

including letting him use your mind, body and soul freely.

“so fuckin’ pretty when you’re obedient for me,” he’s snarls, hot under the collar and eager to steal more from you. he grins at how your eyes roll back just from a couple of half-hearted words. leaning back, katsuki shrugs off his shirt, revealing his perfectly carved hips and washboard abs, golden skin that only the gods could have blessed him with. the sight of him is enough to make your quivering cunt deep juices into the crotch of your panties. “let’s get back at sho, huh? for playin’ us both.”

the lines of morality and dissoluteness are often blurred when you’re with him — you become a vessel for his pleasure and you don’t even think to mind. somewhere amidst the messy, sensual lip locks bated breaths, katsuki has managed to get you onto your back and tear through your skimpy little halloween costume to suck his claim into your neck. painting you with deep mauve and midnight blue hues. his eyes dilate, roaring obsidian black taking over his mean, rage filled red eyes in a way that lets you know how bad he wants to fuck you.

it’s when the sharp edges of his canines graze your pulse point that you remember just how much of a wild jungle college is. you remember that katsuki has the ability to make your life a living hell, the power to take a bite and rip your throat out at any second. in this world, you are nothing but a meek gazelle and katsuki bakugou the lion ready for a feast.

irrespective of how much the very fact may frighten you, you ignore bakugou’s talons as they sink into your chest and leave indented crescent moons on against each breast. he rips apart the costume you worked so hard on and pushes your hands away from your body when you attempt to cover yourself up. so, from that moment, you let lust slither over your brain so you can arch yourself into him for more pleasure, and remind yourself that even if you're being used — it feels good. katsuki feels good.

you like that he’s a little mean, a mean girl. all teeth and tongue and biting when he licks into you and breaks the strings of honey saliva that tie your tongue to the roof of your mouth. you love how he roughly grabs you by the meat at your hips and tugs you up to meet the grind of his cock against your underwear. you adore how he pulls the very fabric apart like they’re nothing, rolling you onto your stomach and positioning your hips in a way that makes your back arch.

you don’t even realised that bakugou has kicked off the lower part of his costume until you feel the heat of his firm thighs against the backs of your own and the sticky tap of his flushed cockhead on your ass cheeks — smearing white globs of precum over your hot skin. the blonde groans at the visible twitch of your cunt, the way it glistens and spews lightly for him.

“oh sweetheart,” he laughs through the coagulated feeling of prurience in his throat. “so fuckin’ wet for me, hah?” he manages, spreading your ass cheeks apart hungrily, a curious finger running through your slick folds and dragging your wetness over your pulsating clit. “s’kinda embarrassing. barely even touched you.”

the situation is embarrassing, humiliating almost and a fresh set of tears burn at your waterline — mascaras already tracking down your cheeks. you don’t fight bakugou as a muscled arm snakes it’s way around your waist and pulls you onto him until your sex is flush against bakugou’s thick cock — your hearts beating in sync, heavy breathing in tune. his dripping dick slips and slides a through your quivering pussy lips, grinding against the pulse in your clit before easing the mushroomed tip through the tight ring at your entrance.

“f-fuck!” you squeak, a little out of turn. fuckdolls don’t talk. katsuki is quick to growl and remind you, collapsing his entire weight into your body while you take him with ease. no prep required whatsoever. there’s a delicious burn as his girth stretches you wide open and he fucks you with just the tip — a pleasing buzz layering itself over your logical thoughts. the ones that tell you this isn’t right. the ones that tell you that you’re more than just a plastic play thing.

bakugou squeezes your hips harshly when you push back onto him, desperate to be fed more of his cock. “keep fuckin’ still, alright?” the king of the plastics rasps, taunting you as he thrusts all the way into your tight heat with no warning. you ooze at the sudden stimulation, basking in the weight of his dick against the insides of your crying cunt and fluttering walls. “sho’s gonna love this, maybe he’ll really want you then.” he continues to purr, jamming a thumb past your swollen lips to press down on your tongue. his other hand grasps at his phone once lost in the sheets, talking a picture of your teary face while you suck on his digit to soothe yourself.

like a baby sucking on a pacifier as it cries.

sending the photo to shouto, bakugou takes a few more selfies of you like this. his favourite is the one of your face squished between his large fingers, covered in salty tears and sticky drool. “don’t cry sweets. ‘m gonna fix this, help you get together. what are friends for?”

his voice is soft, nose nudging against your cheek in a reassuring manner.

but it’s all too good to be true.

briefly, there’s a second where everything is calm, where the blonde lets you relax around him between gentle juts of his hips forward and affectionate kisses peppered against your skin. you should have realised that katsuki’s pleasure is always above your own. because he suddenly finds the motivation to pull out of your snug, sensual heat to pound into you properly, dragging is seedy cock along all of the spots along your ribbed walls that make you see stars.

you feel like a pocket pussy, only one that comes with crybaby wails and pitiful hiccuped noises. it’s all music to katsuki’s ears, blending seamlessly with the intense base from the party’s music and thump of the headboard smashing against the wall all from the sheer force of his thrusts into you. it’s easy to forget how humiliatingly loud you’re being, you can’t find yourself to be worried about someone catching you either. even if the door is wide open.

why not? because katsuki claims you willingly, over and over again with each brutish brush of his leaky cockhead against your g-spot. “s-suki! please.” you slur around his fingers that fuck your drooling mouth in perfect rhythm with his dick that plunged in and out of your puckered, creamy hole.

“yeah, yeah. i gotcha. give into me, sweetness.”

where he had been keeping you pinned against the sex-soaked cheeks — bakugou pulls his sweaty chest away from your back and adjusts the roll of his hips, letting them crash into you like waves on a shoreline. to support his body weight above you, his toned arms cage you in, head tilted to the side to watch you sniffle on his dick, red rimming your watery eyeline. “you’re so fuckin’ pretty when you cry, sweetheart.” he moans condescendingly against the shell of your ear, painting a chaste kiss against your wet cheek. “what a pretty fuckin’ girl, suckin’ me in… takin’ my cock. oh fuck.”

if you could see him, will yourself from the pillows you take purchase in and use to muffle your salacious screams — you would notice how an evil smirk as spread across the blonde’s lips while he ravages you, fucks you beyond the stars and back. “you my pretty girl, yeah? fuckin’ sweet thing.” the praise has you spiralling and simultaneously soothes the burning hatred you have for katsuki in your chest. “why you cryin’ so much? is it over him, or over me?”

the answer to his question slips out of you faster than your sex-crazed brain can catch up. “o-over you!” it’s like you can’t even think for yourself, make any choices for your body outside of what bakugou has planned for you. you’d do anything to please him so that he keeps fucking you, so that you can forget your feelings and keep your place amongst the socially elite. maybe that makes you selfish, maybe it makes you dumb — that you’re a whore for katsuki’s bully cock that churns up your guts and uses you for ecstasy filled relief.

“y-yeah? mmhm, just like that baby,” katsuki stutters, licking his lips while you throw it back on him. the weak snap of his voice (caused by you clenching down on him) has you gushing nastily down bakugou’s length. bathing him in your juices, dripping down his balls as they clap against your ass, and swing against your clit.

“yeah…yeah…y-you’re my friend, k-katsuki! didn’t wanna lose you…”

satisfied with your response and feeling a little mean once more, the king of the plastics brings a heavy hand down against your ass before gripping it tight, forcing you back and forth on his creamed dick. you hiss at the newfound pain blooming underneath your skin, blinking back more tears.

“that’s right sweets, you’ll let me do anythin’ to keep me right? stay bein’ friends.” bakugou barks salaciously into your shoulder blade. greed and power and control sparks between your bodies that move in sync with one another, your hips shakily attempting to catch up with his rough pace.

you gasp when he hits a spot that’s got you howling at the moon. “y-yes, god, yes!”

“even let me fuck your crush? let me fuck you in front’a him?”

all you can do is nod and gargle in response, passionately sucking on his fingers. “get ‘em nice and wet for me. wanna play with you, gorgeous.” he nips at your skin, leaving the imprint of his canines against you before his red eyes laser focus on where your bodies continually meet. “lift your hips. atta girl.”

a heinous squeal escapes you, borderline pornographic as katsuki fumbles between your body and shouto’s high thread count sheets. his sticky fingers press into your pleasure nub in tight, calculated circles and he rewards the sound of your choked moans with another barrage of love bites to your neck. ones that you won’t be able to cover up. ones that show how much you’ve been used.

you wonder if his appetite for your dedication will ever be satisfied. even though your pussy works it’s way back onto him and swallows his cock down like fucking magic — bakugou still wants more of you. he grins sinisterly at the bruises that form just under your skin, that make you hiss when he licks over them and spills his curse words over against that sensitive spot underneath your ear. the sensitivity makes you yelp loudly, despite the people that walk by.

including none other than shouto todoroki.

“you’d even let him watch as i creamed your cute cunt, wouldn’t ya? so pathetic. it’s adorable, sweetness.” the blonde goads, pulling back so that he can get a better view of your ass bouncing against his slender hips. spreading you apart with large hands, he drools down onto his cock and your asshole, spitting onto the point at which his shaft slips inside of you — watching the white froth mix in with your viscous nectar and disappear into the creaminess of your tight hole.

your crush audibly gasps as he enters the room — mismatched eyes drinking in the view of you being absolutely wrecked from behind by his ex. shouto can’t help but admire your puffy face and equally puffy folds while he settles on the bed next to katsuki. he has no idea how his feet even carried him there.

“bakugou what are you—?”

the tail end of shouto’s words slip away when you clench down hard on bakugou, his head falling onto the latter’s shoulder while you share shaky moans. “oh my god,” katsuki pants, pulsing against your silken walls and driving his dick upwards into your sweltering mound. “you’re fuckin’ obsessed with me. with him. you just won’t let this dick go, will ya?”

admitting that you like shouto watching you get fucked by bakugou would be just as embarrassing as admitting your crush on him. it doesn’t matter if you’re crying too hard to confess the matter with words, both of them know it. they can tell by the way your pussy spasms around katsuki’s bulbous cockhead as it bullies it’s way into you with every thrust. “see icyhot, told ya she was a weirdo,” He chuckles down at you menacingly. “letting me be the one t’stretch her pussy open even though you’re the one that she wants. s’so embarrassing.”

todoroki let’s out a noncommittal grunt, equally amused by the situation like his ex. “yeah… so weird…”

he reaches around to grab at the fat of your waist and tugs you back onto katsuki so that his dick never leaves you. so that your clit is smooshed up against perfect abs, that contract with every thrust and overstimulate you.

maybe it’s not such a bad thing to be used by the king of the plastics, if it means shouto gets to touch you too.

“i think she’s about to cum, katsuki.” the two-toned haired jock states as if it’s obvious, his voice husky and low as the scent of sex trickles into the air. “you’re gonna make her cum, baby.”

“can fuckin’ feel it, she’s ‘boutta make a mess of me.” they share a lustful look behind you, that leads to them sharing sloppy, uncoordinated kisses as if you’re not even there. truly treating you like a sex toy to be used whenever, wherever.

the sounds of their kisses ring in your ears, cause heat to burn at your cheeks and shame to settle in your chest once again. but this time, you don’t fucking care — not when you’re close to cumming, not when both of the people you adore in your life are using little old you.

forcing you back and forth over katsuki’s dick even faster, shouto finds it in himself to address you, moaning out your name. “a-are you close?” he simpers, tongue rolling over his ex’s.

“i— i am. p-please. let me cum. lemme cum. lemme c-cum—!” you chant as if it’s the gospel, voice tapering off into a set of whistle tone simpers as you finally hit your high. black spots dot your vision, katsuki using a last burst of energy to canter into you, slamming against your g-spot over and over again. the dam breaks before your brain can register it, release trickling out of your fluttering hole like a flash flood after a vicious storm. it soaks his soft tuft of blonde pubes and soils the sheets below, your body wracked with shakes and aftershocks.

katsuki's cock against your cervix being the epicentre.

the two men behind you share a sick little laugh when you collapse into the sheets face first, both of them leaning down to kiss either of your cheeks soothingly.

“so fuckin’ cute ‘n loyal,” bakugou coos in a twisted tone, pulling out of you to jerk himself off over your quivering body.

shouto smiles and rubs soothing circles in the small of your back in an attempt to calm you down — taking pleasure in your tiny sniffles and hiccups while you come down from your high.

“your turn, bakugou.” he purrs slightly, using his arm to prop himself up on the bed for a perfect view of you both.

“mmfuck, shit ‘m so close.” colourful curses spew from between bakugou’s perfect, cherry bitten lips just as he hits his peak. slick sounds accompany the movements of his rough palm up and down his length, coaxing himself towards orgasm. he cums with a shout, a feral growl tearing his chest in two with how loud it is. all while ropes of his blistering hot and white cum land on your ass, pussy and back.

he collapses next to shouto after that.

you feel a finger drag through the hot mess on your back and turn around just in time to watch bakugou feed a scoop of his cum to your crush. todoroki sucking his fingers happily. “go get her a towel, icyhot.” he demands, and like a slave to the crown, todoroki follows — disappearing from the room in search for a rag to clean you up with. surprisingly, the blonde helps you to sit up, taking you into his chest so you can snuggle against it. “don’t cry sweetness, s’okay. i forgive you for thinkin’ i was a bad friend.”

tilting your chin up, you’re rewarded with a firm chaste kiss — swallowing katsuki’s moans as he tastes the saltine tears in your lips. “you’ll never do it again, right?”

“r-right…” you reply meekly, flinching at the blonde who boops your nose almost affectionately.

he busies himself with fixing your costume until shouto returns with a wet rag to wipe the cum from between your thighs and the rest of you. you try not to let it get to you when they share another passionate kiss, sucking on each other’s tongues and mussing up each other’s hair until they’re all rosy cheeked and short of breath.

you would be a fool to think that you ever stood a chance with shouto todoroki after tonight.

much like you, he’s just another piece in katsuki’s game of chess. he’ll never escape the toxic cycle of their relationship when things keep going like this.

“you look sexy with your hair pushed back, icyhot.” katsuki says to shouto once they come up for air, ruffling his silky locks out of place. his ruby, crazed, gaze slinks over to you next, a coy smirk playing at his lips. “sweetness, tell him, icyhot he looks sexy with his hair pushed back.”

katsuki bakugou is terrible. evil. conniving. but he’s all you’ve got, even if he is a mean girl.

“shouto…you look sexy with your hair pushed back.”

2K notes · View notes

youunravelme · 1 year

Note

“What do you want to watch?” tatgylb. i imagine mat getting home from a game after mama bear puts ella to bed. mama bear sitting on the couch not doing much and when mat gets home they decide to watch a tv series (right after she moves in)

perfect! i loved this request (i love writing scenes for tatgylb, especially when i'm procrastinating on part 6 lol). and what a soft moment i never ever thought about! thank you for your creativity!!

here it is!

it had been a long day. ella didn't sleep well during the night, and was cranky all day until her afternoon nap (she hardly slept during her morning nap too). when she woke up, she was an angel, but by that point you were dead on your feet.

so you sat her down in her play pin while got her dinner ready. things moved pretty quickly after that, with ella eating dinner and then taking a bath before you put her down to sleep.

you immediately fell into the couch and turned on mat's game while the sound of ella's sound machine reverberated through the baby monitor on the coffee table.

truth be told, you weren't super into hockey before you met mat. you picked up a few things from just the amount of highlight videos you've watched to get a feel for what's impressive and what's not allowed.

but you were still kinda lost without mat there to explain things. you supposed you could text sydney, but she was probably at the game.

so google was your only option. you found yourself googling calls the refs were making at different points in the game.

it wasn't long before the third period ended with the isles losing 4-2.

you were scrolling on your phone when mat came home. he dropped his stuff down at the entry way and mumbled a hello to you before heading back to his room. you thought that was the end of it until he came out in basketball shorts and a seattle thunderbirds tee shirt.

"what're we watching?"

you shrugged, too exhausted to have an opinion. "what do you wanna watch?" you held the remote out towards him and he took it albeit hesitantly.

"anything but espn, i don't think i can take another highlight reel or analytics of my shitty performance tonight." he scrolled through the channels before exiting out and going to disney plus.

he stopped over the animated movies and hesitated. "what's your favorite disney movie? and don't say the lion king, i can't take more sadness."

you shrugged. "maybe you should pick tonight, after all it seems like you've had a shitty day."

"you're slouching and you look dead inside, i think it's safe to say you also didn't have a great day today either."

"we could watch mulan?" mat nodded and pressed play on the movie.

when the music of the intro started playing, you could see him look at your from the corner of your eye.

you hesitated but looked at him anyway. "are you okay?"

he nodded. "in case i don't say it enough, thanks for helping with ella. it means the world to me."

you smiled back, a genuine one that almost hurt your cheeks. "it means the world to me too, mat."

#tatgylb #1k celebration #mat barzal #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine #mathew barzal imagine #mathew barzal

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liacobain · 3 months

Note

i’m sorry that caitlin clark has the IMMENSE privilege to say that she “stays off social media” and that she “doesn’t see” all this stuff. fuck outta my face bro. that’s such bullshit. oh my god that is SUCH FUCKING BULLSHIT.

what’s crazy is her psycho fans have already hated on Kate saying the truth that A’ja is the best player and leaders she’s ever been around. and Clark is not gonna address that either and let her cult fans attack HER BEST FRIEND OF 4 YEARS for a true statement. All of a sudden Clark was the leader of the Iowa team now? That was all Kate for 4 yrs.

The reason why they were trashing the ESPN rookie ranking was because they chose to ignore how they came about the ranking…they included efficiency and Clark hasn’t been efficient. Don’t care how many points you scored or how many rebounds you have, she turns the ball over more than anyone and her defense is mediocre at best. There’s literally a checklist that the committee uses to select the players. Guess what, Clark doesn’t check all the boxes. Not sides telling the media what Clark told her after finding out she didn’t make the roster, “They woke a monster.” Sure, Jan. She’s still gonna turn the ball over a lot, and shoot 3s since that’s all she really does.

it actually pisses me off that when asked questions all she says is “oh i don’t have social media” or “i try to block that out” like i get not being on social media because oh my god is it hell, but when you have people that support you being racist towards your peers and your TEAMMATES?? you have to speak up. there’s no way she doesn’t know what’s going on bro she’s just choosing to live in ignorance. and that’s what rlly shows her privilege. bc god forbid angel be caitlin in this situation, lord knows what people would say about her. the LEAST caitlin could say is “hey, stop being racist and rude to my peers i don’t condone that” and i would be fine. but she just won’t. and that’s extremely fucking frustrating. the whole narrative that caitlin is the victim in all these situations is bullshit. her fans literally can’t handle the fact that she’s have a learning curve, which is totally ok for a rookie. caitlin isn’t the greatest player in the world and that’s ok. she’ll learn and get better. her “fans” literally aren’t fucking helping. i’m tired of all this weird ass discourse

also like i said before, let more ppl start coming for kate and ong i will be fighting tooth and nail 😭😭😭 kate is her best friend, and if she can’t even acknowledge her fans when coming after her BEST FRIEND idek what to think anymore. kate has always been the leader, so now she’s around other leaders and she’s giving them praise. idk why ppl have to make it about caitlin. so frustrating.

#caitlin clark #indiana fever #wnba #kate martin

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jazzy---j · 2 years

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Daughter of Poseidon: The Lightning Thief

“even the gods have to bow to fate”

Chapter Summary: Back home Cassie and Percy get an unenthused welcome back. And the family trip to Montauk is not much better. Honest conversations, funky dreams, and a goat boy at their doorstep lead them down a dangerous path.

Masterlist >>> Read on ao3 (3/23)

Grover Unexpectedly Loses His Pants

Confession time: we ditched Grover as soon as we got to the bus terminal. More like Percy grabbed me and ditched Grover.

I know, I know. It was rude and totally not cool. My brother has absolutely no manners.

I told Percy we should wait for him, we promised. But honestly, Grover was freaking me out too, looking at Percy like he was a dead man, muttering "Why does this always happen?" and "Why does it always have to be in the sixth grade?"

Whenever he got upset, Grover's bladder acted up, so I wasn't surprised when, as soon as we got off the bus, he made us promise to wait for him, then made a beeline for the restroom. Instead of waiting, Percy got our suitcases, grabbed me, dragged me outside, and hailed the first taxi uptown.

"East One-hundred-and-fourth and First," he told the driver, as he shoved me in the backseat.

“Dude, we just left Grover!” I said as I punched Percy in the shoulder.

”Ok one... owwww!” He said rubbing his shoulder, “two your lucky I didn’t leave you, the only reason I didn’t is because mom wouldn’t be happy if I left my only sister at the bus station!”

A word about my mother, before you meet her.

Her name is Sally Jackson and she's the best person in the world, which just proves my theory that the best people have the worst luck. Her own parents died in a plane crash when she was five, and she was raised by an uncle who didn't care much about her. She wanted to be a novelist, so she spent high school working to save enough money for a college with a good creative-writing program. Then her uncle got cancer, and she had to quit school her senior year to take care of him. After he died, she was left with no money, no family, and no diploma.

The only good break she ever got was meeting our dad.

I don't have any memories of him but, Percy says he remembers just this sort of warm glow, maybe the barest trace of his smile. I don’t have the heart to tell him that he may be imagining that. My mom doesn't like to talk about our father because it makes her sad. She has no pictures.

See, they weren't married. She told us he was rich and important, and their relationship was a secret. Then one day, he set sail across the Atlantic on some important journey, and he never came back.

Lost at sea, my mom told us. Not dead. Lost at sea.

She worked odd jobs, took night classes to get her high school diploma, and raised us on her own. She never complained or got mad. Not even once. But I knew we weren’t easy kids to raise.

Finally, she married Gabe Ugliano, who was nice the first thirty seconds we knew him, then showed his true colors as a world-class jerk. When I was young, Percy and I nicknamed him Smelly Gabe. I'm not sorry, it's the truth. The guy reeked like moldy garlic pizza wrapped in gym shorts.

Between the three of us, we made my mom's life pretty hard. The way Smelly Gabe treated her, the way he and Percy got along... well, when we came home is a good example.

Percy and I walked into our little apartment, I was hoping my mom would be home from work. Instead, Smelly Gabe was in the living room, playing poker with his buddies. The television blared ESPN. Chips and beer cans were strewn all over the carpet.

Hardly looking up, he said around his cigar, "So, you're home."

"Where's my mom?” Percy said gripping my hand tightly.

"Working," he said. "You got any cash?"

That was it. No welcome back. Good to see you. How has your life been the last six months?

Gabe had put on weight. He looked like a tuskless walrus in thrift-store clothes. He had about three hairs on his head, all combed over his bald scalp as if that made him handsome or something.

He managed the Electronics Mega-Mart in Queens, but he stayed home most of the time. I don't know why he hadn't been fired long before. He just kept on collecting paychecks, spending the money on cigars that made me nauseous, and on beer, of course. Always beer. Whenever was home, he expected Percy to provide his gambling funds. He called that their "guy secret." Meaning, if either of us told my mom, he would punch Percy’s lights out and lock me in the closet for hours.

But this time I wasn’t gonna let him take advantage of us.

"We don't have any cash," I quickly told him, Percy’s face remained stoic but as he squeezed my hand he was silently asking, “why are you lying?”

Just watch and learn big bro.

Gabe raised a greasy eyebrow.

Gabe could sniff out money like a bloodhound, which was surprising since his own smell should've covered up everything else.

"You took a taxi from the bus station," he said. Probably paid with a twenty. Got six, seven bucks in change. Somebody expects to live under this roof, he ought to carry his own weight. And his good for nothing sister. Am I right, Eddie?"

Eddie, the super of the apartment building, looked at me with a twinge of sympathy. "Come on, Gabe," he said. "The kids just got here."

"Am I right?" Gabe repeated.

Eddie scowled into his bowl of pretzels. The other two guys passed gas in harmony.

"Fine," I said. I dove my hand into Percy’s jacket pocket, dug out the money, and threw it on the table. "I hope you lose,” Percy said as started he dragging me to our room.

"Your report card came, brain twins!" he shouted after us. "I wouldn't act so snooty!"

I slammed the door to our room, which really wasn't our room. During school months, it was Gabe's "study." He didn't study anything in there except old car magazines, but he loved shoving our stuff in the closet, leaving his muddy boots on my windowsill, and doing his best to make the place smell like his nasty cologne and cigars and stale beer.

Percy turned to me with a raised eyebrow, “Cassie what was that all about?” he said perplexed.

I smiled at him mischievously and the swiped beer cans off the bottom bunk of the bed dropping my suitcase on it, “well bro that is what I call a hustle.”

”Uh-huh,” he nodded still not understanding. Percy ran his hand through his hair. I held in laughter, I absolutely loved to irk him. It’s my favorite part of being a sister.

“Can you please just stop the riddles and just tell me what going on? What hustle are you talking about?” He said annoyed.

“Jeez ok, ok don’t need to get your underpants in a twist,” I said laughing. I open up my suitcase and grabbed a paper bag from the inside. I handed it to Percy. He looked back and forward between me and the bag.

”What is this?”

I rolled my eyes and threw my hands up in the air, “oh my god, dude it’s a gift for you!”

”Oh!” he said still staring at me. I refrained from rolling my eyes again. They were gonna get stuck like that if I kept it up.

”Percy please just open it!” I exclaimed.

“Ok, I was just surprised,” he said as he opened the bag and looked inside. He pulled a wad of cash in his hand, eyes wide.

”Wh-where did you get this?” He said sorting through it, “This is like 100 dollars!”

I started to get giddy, “I know! I’ve been saving up all year. It’s for you.”

He looked at me in shock, “What are you talking about?”

I only smiled more. “Percy you always do so much for me and mom. I just wanted to do something for you. I was thinking you could go down to that skate shop you like and buy a new skateboard.”

Suddenly Percy pulled me into a hug, “You are the best sister ever!” He exclaimed.

I pulled out of the hug to look at him, “Duh I could have told you that.”

He rolled his eyes and ruffled my hair, “Don’t let it go to your head, I’m still older.”

He hid the money in his backpack and we both began to clean up the room.

I shoved Gabe’s boots out of the window. Ha, good riddance. I opened up the closet to get my dance bag out when a wave of cigarette smell went into my nose. I gagged.

Gabe's smell was almost worse than the nightmares about Mrs. Dodds, or the sound of that old fruit lady's shears snipping the yarn.

But as soon as I thought that, I got nauseous. I remembered Grover's look of panic—how he'd made us promise we wouldn't go home without him. A sudden chill rolled through me. I felt like someone—something—was looking for me right now, maybe pounding its way up the stairs, growing long, horrible talons.

Then I heard my mom's voice. "Percy? Cassie?”

She opened the bedroom door, and nausea disappeared.

My mother can make anyone feel good just by walking into the room. Her eyes sparkle and change color in the light. Her smile is as warm as a quilt. She's got a few gray streaks mixed in with her long brown hair, but I never think of her as old. When she looks at me, it's like she's seeing all the good things about me, none of the bad. I've never heard her raise her voice or say an unkind word to anyone, not Percy, not me, not even Gabe. Which believe me took self-control.

"Oh, Percy." She hugged us tightly. "I can't believe it. You've grown since Christmas! And Cassie your hair has grown out longer!”

Her red-white-and-blue Sweet on America uniform smelled like the best things in the world: chocolate, licorice, and all the other stuff she sold at the candy shop in Grand Central. She'd brought us a huge bag of "free samples," the way she always did when we came back from school.

We all sat together on the edge of the bed. While Percy attacked the blueberry sour strings, she ran her hand through my hair and demanded to know everything we hadn't put in our letters. She didn't mention anything about us getting expelled. She didn't seem to care about that. But was I okay? Were her babies doing all right?

Percy told her she was smothering him, and to lay off and all that, but secretly, I knew he was really, really glad to see her. So was I.

From the other room, Gabe yelled, "Hey, Sally—how about some bean dip, huh?"

Percy gritted his teeth. I opened my mouth to yell out some really colorful language any New Yorker would be proud of but, my mom gave me a pointed look so I shut my mouth.

My mom is the nicest lady in the world. She should've been married to a nice rich billionaire, not to some jerk like Gabe.

For her sake, I could tell, Percy tried to sound upbeat about our last days at Yancy Academy. I told her I wasn't too upset about the expulsion. We'd lasted almost the whole year this time. Percy made some new friends. I'd done pretty well in Latin. And honestly, the fights hadn't been as bad as the headmaster said.

I didn’t hate Yancy Academy as much as I should have. Honest to god I put such a good spin on the year, I almost convinced myself. I started choking up, thinking about Grover and Mr. Brunner. Even Nancy Bobofit suddenly didn't seem so bad.

Until that trip to the museum...

"What?" my mom asked. Her eyes tugged at my conscience, trying to pull out the secrets. "Did something scare you?"

"No, Mom,” Percy said. He caught my eye and willed me to stay silent.

I felt bad about lying, I knew he did too. I wanted to tell her about Mrs. Dodds and the three old ladies with the yarn, but I didn't wanna ruin the little bit of normalcy in my life. I got a feeling that mentioning those things would change that.

She pursed her lips. She knew we were holding back, but she didn't push us.

"I have a surprise for you," she said. "We're going to the beach."

Percy’s eyes widened. "Montauk?" He exclaimed.

"Three nights—same cabin."

"When?" I said practically jumping off the bed.

She smiled. "As soon as I get changed."

I couldn't believe it. Our family hadn't been to Montauk the last two summers, because Gabe said there wasn't enough money. I bet there would be if he didn’t waste it on booze every chance he got.

Gabe appeared in the doorway and growled, "Bean dip, Sally? Didn't you hear me?"

I wanted to kick him in his soft spot. Percy looked closer to punching him out but we both met our mom's eyes and I understood she was offering us a deal: be nice to Gabe for a little while. Just until she was ready to leave for Montauk. Then we would get out of here.

"I was on my way, honey," she told Gabe. "We were just talking about the trip."

Gabe's eyes got small. "The trip? You mean you were serious about that?"

"I knew it," Percy muttered. "He won't let us go."

My frown grew.

“Of course he will," my mom said evenly. "Your stepfather is just worried about money. That's all. Besides," she added, "Gabriel won't have to settle for bean dip. I'll make him enough seven-layer dip for the whole weekend. Guacamole. Sour cream. The works."

Gabe softened a bit. "So this money for your trip... it comes out of your clothes budget, right?"

Was he serious?

"Yes, honey," my mother said.

"And you won't take my car anywhere but there and back."

"We'll be very careful."

Gabe scratched his double chin. "Maybe if you hurry with that seven-layer dip... And maybe if the kids apologize for interrupting my poker game."

Maybe if I push you out the window with your boots. And make you go splat on the pavement.

But my mom's eyes warned me not to make him mad.

Why did she put up with this guy? I wanted to throw a fit. Why did she care what he thought?

"I'm sorry," we muttered in unison. "We’re really sorry we interrupted your incredibly important poker game. Please go back to it right now."

Percy looked like he had to force the response out.

I gave the most innocent puppy dog eyes I could. They weren’t sincere of course. I was definitely being disrespectful.

Gabe's eyes narrowed. His tiny brain was probably trying to detect sarcasm in our statement.

"Yeah, whatever," he decided.

He went back to his game.

"Thank you, Percy, Cassie," my mom said. "Once we get to Montauk, we'll talk more about... whatever you've forgotten to tell me, okay?"

For a moment, I thought I saw anxiety in her eyes—the same fear I'd seen in Grover during the bus ride—as if my mom too felt an odd chill in the air.

Her smile returned, but I knew she knew that something was up. She ruffled Percy’s hair, kissed my cheek, and went to make Gabe his seven-layer dip.

An hour later we were ready to leave.

Gabe took a break from his poker game long enough to watch me lug my mom's bags to the car. He kept griping and groaning about losing her cooking—and more importantly, his '78 Camaro—for the whole weekend.

"Not a scratch on this car, brain boy," he warned Percy as he loaded the last bag. "Not one little scratch."

My hands clenched beside me.

Like he’d be the one driving. We were twelve. But that didn't matter to Gabe. If a seagull so much as pooped on his paint job, he'd find a way to blame one of us.

Percy grabbed one of my hands as we watched him lumber back toward the apartment building, I got so mad I did something I can't explain. As Gabe reached the doorway, I made the hand gesture I saw Grover make on the bus, a sort of warding-off-evil gesture, a clawed hand over my heart, then a shoving movement toward Gabe. The screen door slammed shut so hard it whacked him in the butt and sent him flying up the staircase as if he'd been shot from a cannon.

Percy turned towards me shocked. Maybe it was just the wind or some freak accident with the hinges, but we didn't stay long enough to find out.

Percy shoved me into the back seat and got in the front passenger seat of the Camaro and told my mom to step on it.

He turned and looked at me, questions written all over his face.

I could only shrug in response. What was going on?

Our rental cabin was on the south shore, way out at the tip of Long Island. It was a little pastel box with faded curtains, half-sunken into the dunes. There was always sand in the sheets and spiders in the cabinets, and most of the time the sea was too cold to swim in.

I loved the place.

We'd been going there since Percy and I were babies. My mom had been going even longer. She never exactly said it, but I guessed why this beach was special to her. It was the place where she'd met my dad.

As we got closer to Montauk, she seemed to grow younger, years of worry and work disappearing from her face. Her eyes turned the color of the sea.

We got there at sunset, opened all the cabin's windows, and went through our usual cleaning routine. We walked on the beach, fed blue corn chips to the seagulls, and munched on blue jelly beans, blue saltwater taffy, and all the other free samples my mom had brought from work.

Was that blue food I said? Yes, it was!

See, Gabe had once told my mom there was no such thing. They had this fight, which seemed like a really small thing at the time. But ever since, my mom went out of her way to eat blue. She baked blue birthday cakes. She mixed blueberry smoothies (she added blue food coloring so it would really be blue, not purple). She bought blue-corn tortilla chips and brought home blue candy from the shop. This—along with keeping her maiden name, Jackson, rather than calling herself Mrs. Ugliano—was proof that she wasn't totally for this whole Gabe situation. She did have a rebellious streak, like Percy and I.

When it got dark, we made a fire. We roasted hot dogs and marshmallows. Mom told us stories about when she was a kid, back before her parents died in the plane crash. She told us about the books she wanted to write someday when she had enough money to quit the candy shop.

Eventually, I guess Percy got up the nerve to ask about what was always on both of our minds whenever we came to Montauk—our father. Mom's eyes went all misty. I figured she would tell me the same things she always did.

"He was kind, Percy," she said. "Tall, handsome, and powerful. But gentle, too. You two have his black hair, you know, and his green eyes."

Mom fished a blue jelly bean out of her candy bag. "I wish he could see you two. He would be so proud."

Proud? How she could say that? What was so great about either of us? Two dyslexic, hyperactive kids with a less-than-exemplary report card, were kicked out of every school we have ever attended.

"How old were we?" I pushed. "I mean... when he left?"

She watched the flames. "He was only with me for one summer, Cassie. Right here at this beach. This cabin."

"But... he knew us as babies, right?” Percy said hopefully. I looked at him with sadness.

"No, honey. He came to visit once after I had you, Percy, but he never saw Cassie. He had to leave before you were born." The hope I didn't know I had disappeared. Percy slumped next to me.

I tried to remember the memory that Percy always talks about. Something about our father. A warm glow. A smile.

I had always assumed he knew us as babies. At least staying around till I was born. My mom had never said it outright, but still, I'd felt it must be true. Now, to be told that he'd never even seen me...

I honestly didn’t know how to feel about my father. How can you be angry at someone who you’ve never met? Or miss them when they were never around in the first place?

But he did go on that ocean voyage and chose to not marry my mom.

He'd made choices and left us, and now we were stuck with Smelly Gabe.

"Are you going to send us away again?" I blurted out. "To another boarding school?"

She pulled a marshmallow from the fire.

"I don't know, honey." Her voice was heavy. "I think... I think we'll have to do something."

"Because you don't want us around?” Percy said still dejected. I stepped on his foot.

Well, don’t make her feel even worse bro!

My mom's eyes welled with tears. She took our hands, squeezing them tightly. "Oh, Percy, Cassie no. I—I have to, honey. For your own good. I have to send you away."

Her words reminded me of what Mr. Brunner had said—that it was best for us to leave Yancy.

I felt a pang of hopelessness in my heart.

"Because we’re not normal?” I asked.

"You say that as if it's a bad thing, Cassie. But you don't realize how important you two are. I thought Yancy Academy would be far enough away. I thought you'd finally be safe."

"Safe from what?" my brother cautiously asked. Like he didn't wanna open this can of worms just yet.

She looked us both in the eyes, and a flood of memories came back to me—all the weird, scary things that had ever happened to us, most of which I hoped were just a really realistic dreams.

During third grade, a man in a black trench coat had stalked me on the playground. When the teachers threatened to call the police, he went away growling, but no one believed me when I told them that under his broad-brimmed hat, the man only had one eye, right in the middle of his head.

Before that—a really early memory. Were in preschool, and a teacher accidentally put Percy down for a nap in a cot that a snake had slithered into. My mom screamed when she came to pick us up and found us playing jump rope with a limp, scaly snake Percy’d somehow managed to strangle to death with his meaty toddler hands.

In every single school, something creepy had happened, something unsafe, and we were forced to move.

"I've tried to keep you as close to me as I could," my mom said. "They told me that was a mistake. But there's only one other option, Percy—the place your father wanted to send you two. And I just... I just can't stand to do it."

"Our father wanted us to go to a special school?" Percy asked.

“Also who is they?!” I exclaimed.

"Not a school," she said softly. "A summer camp."

My thoughts were moving a mile a minute. Why would my dad—who by the way hadn't even stayed around long enough to see me and my brother be born mind you— talk to my mom about a summer camp? And if it was so important, why hadn't she ever mentioned it before? Why did he just send us himself?

"I'm sorry, Percy, Cassie," she said, seeing the look in my eyes. "But I can't talk about it. I—I couldn't send you to that place. It might mean saying goodbye to you for good."

"For good? But if it's only a summer camp..." Percy trailed off.

She turned toward the fire, and I knew from her expression that if we asked her any more questions she would start to cry.

That night I had a vivid dream.

It was storming on the beach, and two beautiful animals, a white horse, and a golden eagle were trying to kill each other at the edge of the surf. The eagle swooped down and slashed the horse's muzzle with its huge talons. The horse reared up and kicked at the eagle's wings. As they fought, the ground rumbled, and a monstrous voice chuckled somewhere beneath the earth, goading the animals to fight harder.

I ran toward them, knowing I had to stop them from killing each other, but I was running in slow motion. I knew I would be too late. I saw the eagle dive down, its beak aimed at the horse's wide eyes, and I screamed, No!

I woke and threw the covers off of me. I ran over to Percy's bed, but he was already sitting up breathing hard.

Outside, it really was storming, the kind of storm that cracks trees and blows down houses. There was no horse or eagle on the beach, just lightning making false daylight, and twenty-foot waves pounding the dunes like artillery.

With the next thunderclap, my mom woke. She sat up, eyes wide, and said, "Hurricane."

What was she talking about? Long Island never sees hurricanes this early in the summer. But the ocean seemed to have forgotten. Lucky us. Over the roar of the wind, I heard a distant bellow, an angry, tortured sound that made my hair stand on end.

Then a much closer noise, like mallets in the sand. A desperate voice—someone yelling, pounding on our cabin door.

My mother sprang out of bed in her nightgown and threw open the lock.

Grover stood framed in the doorway against a backdrop of pouring rain. But he wasn't... something was off.

"Searching all night," he gasped. "What were you thinking?"

My mother looked at us in terror—not scared of Grover, but of why he'd come.

"Percy, Cassie," she said, shouting to be heard over the rain. "What happened at school? What didn't you tell me?"

I was frozen, looking at Grover. What the hell was going on?

"O Zeu kai alloi theoi!" he yelled. "It's right behind me! Didn't you tell her?"

He'd just cursed Ancient Greek, and I'd understood him perfectly.

I don't remember being able to do that.

I was too shocked to wonder how Grover had gotten here by himself in the middle of the night. Because Grover didn't have his pants on—and where his legs should be... where his legs should be...

My mom looked at Percy sternly and talked in a tone she'd never used before: "Percy. Tell me now!"

He stammered something about the old ladies at the fruit stand, and Mrs. Dodds, and my mom stared at us, her face deathly pale in the flashes of lightning.

She grabbed her purse, tossed us our rain jackets, and said, "Get to the car. All of you. Go!"

Grover ran for the Camaro—but he wasn't running, exactly. He was trotting, shaking his shaggy hindquarters, and suddenly his story about a muscular disorder in his legs made sense to me. I understood how he could run so fast and still limp when he walked.

Because where his feet should be, there were no feet. There were cloven hooves.

What the hell?!

chapter 4 >>>

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novumtimes · 2 months

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Serena Williams Gently Razzes Harry and Meghan for Accusation That They Take Up Too Much Oxygen

On Thursday, Prince Harry made an appearance at the ESPY Awards, where he received the Pat Tillman Award for Service, as wife Meghan Markle watched from the audience. Though Mary Tillman, the mother of the NFL player-turned-soldier who died in 2004, expressed dissatisfaction about the decision to give the award to the prince, Harry praised her work in shepherding Tillman’s legacy as he accepted the statuette. “I’d like to begin by expressing my deepest gratitude to everyone at the Pat Tillman Foundation, led by Marie Tillman Shenton, who I’m so honored is here tonight,” he said. “I’d also like to acknowledge the Tillman family, especially Mrs. Mary Tillman, Pat’s mother. Her advocacy for Pat’s legacy is deeply personal and one that I respect. The bond between a mother and son is eternal and transcends even the greatest losses.” In a June press release, ESPN announced that Harry had been selected for the award in recognition of his role with the Invictus Games and “tireless work in making a positive impact for the veteran community through the power of sport.” Mary Tillman, who is not listed as a leader of the foundation that bears her late son’s name, later told the Daily Mail, she thought Harry was “a controversial and divisive individual.” During the televised ceremony at the Dolby Theater in Los Angeles, Harry accepted the award following a tribute from three veterans who were participants in the Invictus Games. In his speech, Harry dedicated the award to the injured service members who have competed since the foundation began in 2014. “The truth is, I stand here not as Prince Harry, Pat Tillman award recipient, but rather a voice on behalf of the Invictus Games Foundation and the thousands of veterans and service personnel from over 20 nations who have made the Invictus Games a reality,” he said. “This award belongs to them. Not to me.” Harry and Meghan, who wore a white halter dress by Staud, went directly to their seats, skipping the red carpet. Longtime friend of the couple Serena Williams served as the night’s host, and during her opening monologue, she joked about their ubiquity in the media. “Please, Harry and Meghan, try not to breathe too much tonight,” she said. “Because this is my night and I don’t want to be overshadowed by accusations you guys are taking up too much oxygen.” Source link via The Novum Times

#The Novum Times

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ghtrrgwe · 8 months

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Epstein list brings a frenzy of Clinton and Trump conspiracies

The furor over the Epstein sex trafficking case feeds into a mistrust of elites

Less than an hour before a trove of papers related to sex trafficking financier Jeffrey Epstein was unsealed Wednesday night, former President Donald Trump’s niece and longtime antagonist Mary Trump sent out a blast email titled “REVEALED: My Uncle & Epstein’s List” to her nearly 140,000 newsletter followers.

But, much like the release of Epstein documents this week, Mary Trump’s post revealed little.

Instead, the bestselling author rehashed the former president’s onetime friendship with Epstein and mentioned an unnamed woman who had made lurid abuse claims against Donald Trump before withdrawing her case.

At the other end of the dial, popular conservative commentator Glenn Beck told his 450,000 paid subscribers that “we know Bill Clinton’s mentioned 50 times” in the Epstein documents, while failing to note that the prominent Democrat’s name appeared repeatedly because of a legal argument over a witness’ truthfulness – and not because of any new claims of wrongdoing by Clinton.

The release of the long-anticipated Epstein files by a Manhattan federal judge has sparked a feeding frenzy by hardcore partisans and conspiracy theorists, fueled in part by misinformation and internet fakes – another example of surging political paranoia and mistrust as the U.S. enters a high-stakes election year, experts say.

Hoping for ‘the next big thing’ to bring down political enemies

“There’s a word for it: hopium,” said Mike Rothschild, an author who researches conspiracy movements. “It's this addictive hope that that the next big thing is going to come and – forget about all the failures – this is going to be the thing that finally brings down your enemy, whether your enemy is liberal or conservative.”

“That strain of unshakable belief," he said, ''it's a very human thing.”

As the release of the documents neared, speculation of what − and who − they might expose reached a boil. Rep. Tim Burchett, R-Tenn., said he expected to see congressional colleagues revealed as friends of Epstein. Late-night host Jimmy Kimmel threatened to sue New York Jets quarterback Aaron Rodgers for suggesting on ESPN that Kimmel would be named in the papers. (He wasn't.)

Red meat for haters of Bill Clinton and Donald Trump

The “Epstein list,” and the scandal surrounding the multimillionaire’s exploitation of teenage girls, offers plenty of red meat for partisans on the right and left.

Trump and Epstein were filmed and photographed together at parties, and in 2002 he praised the wealthy businessman as a "terrific guy.”

“He’s a lot of fun to be with," Trump told New York Magazine. "It is even said that he likes beautiful women as much as I do, and many of them are on the younger side."

Clinton, like Trump, appears on flight logs for Epstein’s private jet. Clinton’s spokesman said in 2019, after Epstein was arrested on federal sex trafficking charges, that the former president had flown on Epstein’s jet to destinations in Europe, Africa and Asia.

Both Clinton and Trump said after the 2019 arrest they were unaware of Epstein’s crimes and hadn’t spoken to him for more than a decade. Trump told reporters in the White House the two had fallen out. “I was not a fan,” he said.

And testimony in the papers released this week has discredited claims that Clinton was ever a guest at Epstein’s private 70-acre Caribbean Island, which he has always denied. But that hasn’t stopped social media personalities with huge audiences from stitching either Clinton or Trump – depending on the poster’s sympathy – to Epstein’s side.

Trump – despite his own partying with Epstein – helped drive the island narrative, telling the Conservative Political Action Conference in 2015: “Bill Clinton? Nice guy. A lot of problems coming up in the famous island with Epstein." Donald Trump Jr. boosted those claims this week in a post that received 2.7 million views.

The 'Epstein list' and Epstein conspiracies

Both former presidents have been accused of sexual misconduct. Clinton was impeached in 1998 over his affair with a White House intern. In May, a jury in a federal civil lawsuit found Trump liable for sexually abusing advice columnist E. Jean Carroll in 1996, awarding her $5 million in damages. He has appealed.

By Thursday afternoon, ahead of the release of another batch of Epstein documents, popular social media accounts were claiming that an Iowa school shooting earlier that same day had been staged to divert attention from potentially embarrassing disclosures in the Epstein papers.

That conspiracy theory points to a broader, and less partisan, mistrust of American elites and the conviction that powerful people will do anything to cover their tracks.

“I think there is the perception that Epstein ran in these rarefied circles, elites of society, of arts, and politics, culture, royalty – and that most of them somehow knew something about what was going on, didn't say anything, didn't do anything,” said Rothschild, the author of "Jewish Space Lasers: The Rothschilds and 200 Years of Conspiracy Theories." “A lot of what's happening is this guilt by association, that anybody who had anything to do with Epstein is also linked to the worst things Epstein did.”

On Thursday, Julie K. Brown, the Miami Herald reporter who was pivotal in bringing Epstein down, took on her colleagues in the news media for downplaying the new documents.

“The way the Mainstream media is dismissing the Jeffrey Epstein files reminds me how it pretty much ignored the fact that Epstein molested dozens of girls in 2008 because, well, there was no proof,” Brown wrote on X (formerly Twitter), adding, “nothing here behind the curtain to examine, right?”

Brown was referring to a 2008 sweetheart deal that allowed Epstein to serve 13 months in a Florida jail on a single count of soliciting a minor for prostitution, ending a federal investigation in which he faced a potential life sentence. The prosecutor who signed off on that deal, Alex Acosta, later served in Trump’s Cabinet as U.S. labor secretary.

How did Jeffrey Epstein die?

Even Epstein’s 2019 death by suicide in a Manhattan jail cell has been spun as a murder instigated by either Clinton or Trump to cover up his crimes.

On Wednesday, Mary Trump referred to Epstein as having “allegedly committed suicide,” despite an investigation showing how lax supervision allowed Epstein to kill himself. Donald Trump, while president, retweeted a conservative poster's claim that Epstein had somehow been murdered by the Clintons – while in a federal detention center operated by Trump’s Justice Department.

Still: Someone was likely abusing children alongside Epstein and his former girlfriend Ghislaine Maxwell. Epstein is dead and Maxwell is serving a 20-year prison sentence. Every other prominent person who has been alleged in civil court proceedings to have joined in Epstein’s crimes – a list that notably doesn’t include either Clinton or Trump – has denied it, and no one else has been prosecuted.

“The public interest must still be served in learning more about the scale and scope of Epstein's racket to further the important goal of shutting down sex trafficking wherever it exists and holding more to account,” Sigrid McCawley, an attorney for one of Epstein’s victims, said this week. “The unsealing of these documents gets us closer to that goal.”

#Epstein #EpsteinList #Epsteinadasi #EpsteinClientList #EpsteinIsland #EpsteinFiles #EpsteinDocs

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malevolenttly · 8 months

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Epstein list brings a frenzy of Clinton and Trump conspiracies

#Epstein

But, much like the release of Epstein documents this week, Mary Trump’s post revealed little.

Hoping for ‘the next big thing’ to bring down political enemies

“That strain of unshakable belief," he said, ''it's a very human thing.”

Red meat for haters of Bill Clinton and Donald Trump

The “Epstein list,” and the scandal surrounding the multimillionaire’s exploitation of teenage girls, offers plenty of red meat for partisans on the right and left.

Trump and Epstein were filmed and photographed together at parties, and in 2002 he praised the wealthy businessman as a "terrific guy.”

“He’s a lot of fun to be with," Trump told New York Magazine. "It is even said that he likes beautiful women as much as I do, and many of them are on the younger side."

The 'Epstein list' and Epstein conspiracies

That conspiracy theory points to a broader, and less partisan, mistrust of American elites and the conviction that powerful people will do anything to cover their tracks.

On Thursday, Julie K. Brown, the Miami Herald reporter who was pivotal in bringing Epstein down, took on her colleagues in the news media for downplaying the new documents.

How did Jeffrey Epstein die?

Even Epstein’s 2019 death by suicide in a Manhattan jail cell has been spun as a murder instigated by either Clinton or Trump to cover up his crimes.

#Epstein

0 notes

abcnewspr · 1 year

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ABC NEWS ANNOUNCES NEW SEASON OF ‘RECLAIMED,’ THE EDWARD R. MURROW AWARD-WINNING PODCAST SERIES DELVING INTO THE HISTORY OF BASEBALL’S NEGRO LEAGUES

The Third Season of the Podcast Franchise Unpacks the History of Racial Oppression in Baseball and How the Legacy of the Negro Leagues Lives on in American Society Today

First Two Episodes of ‘Reclaimed: The Forgotten League’ Debut Monday, Oct. 2

ABC News*

Today, ABC Audio released the trailer for its six-part podcast series “Reclaimed: The Forgotten League,” thelatest season of its award-winning “Reclaimed” franchise.Host Vanessa Ivy Rose traces the history of her grandfather, Norman “Turkey” Stearnes, who, along with other Black baseball players in the early 20th century, was shut out of Major League Baseball due to his race. The series explores how America’s pastime was shaped by its history of segregation and the impact Black players have had on the sport. The first two episodes of “Reclaimed: The Forgotten League” debut Monday, Oct. 2, with new episodes posting weekly through October.

Prior to Jackie Robinson joining the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1947, Black players were not allowed to compete in Major League Baseball. The exclusion led to the creation of their own league in 1920. The impact of the Negro Leagues went far beyond baseball and became a pillar of Black life in America. The podcast series chronicles the growth of the Negro Leagues and how it became a lucrative source of income for Black team owners and players.

Rose uncovers powerful stories and rarely told history by exploring her own family history and through interviews with living Negro Leagues player Ron Teasley, Negro Leagues Baseball Museum President Bob Kendrick, baseball researcher and Seamheads Negro League Database co-founder Kevin Johnson, and more.

The series also delves into the ways in which Major League Baseball and the National Baseball Hall of Fame are grappling with this history to this day, as the MLB made a promise in 2020 to integrate the Negro Leagues statistics into its official record book.

“Reclaimed: The Forgotten League” is the third season of ABC Audio’s award-winning “Reclaimed” podcast franchise. This year, “Reclaimed: The Story of Mamie Till-Mobley” was honored with the prestigious Edward R. Murrow Award for Best Podcast, Signal Awards for Best Documentary and Best Writing, and Best Host at the Ambies. The first season of the franchise,

“Reclaimed: Tulsa’s Buried Truth,” explored the history of the 1921 Tulsa race massacre.

The trailer for “Reclaimed: The Forgotten League” is available now on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon Music, Audacy, iHeartRadio, Pandora, Sirius XM, TuneIn and the ABC News app.

“Reclaimed: The Forgotten League” is produced by ABC Audio. Laura Mayer is executive producer.

About Vanessa Ivy Rose

Vanessa Ivy Rose is an author, educator and former D1 athlete from Detroit, Michigan. She has worked in public education for 17 years, teaching English and history. Vanessa is part of the Negro Leagues Family Alliance, a group of Negro Leagues descendants working to preserve the legacies of their family members. Her grandfather, Norman “Turkey” Stearnes, played in the Negro Leagues from 1923-1945, most notably for the Detroit Stars.

About ABC Audio

ABC Audio is America’s premier source for radio news, entertainment content, and podcasts. ABC News Radio reaches more Americans than any other commercial broadcaster through its network of more than 1,600 radio stations and digital distributors. ABC Audio offers affiliates on-demand access to original audio, video and social media content, as well as news, entertainment and lifestyle digital text stories. ABC Audio is part of a top-ranked podcasting network, along with partners at ESPN, National Geographic and Marvel. The growing podcast portfolio includes ABC News’ flagship daily news podcast, “Start Here,” as well as the critically acclaimed, chart-topping hits like “The Dropout,” “Reclaimed: The Story of Mamie Till-Mobley,” “In Plain Sight: Lady Bird Johnson” and “The King Road Killings.”

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sportsminorityreport · 1 year

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A talk with CU’s Chancellor & the latest on the PAC Media deal... Plus a hidden explanation on why it is taking so long?

While I was putting together the last few articles, things have happened (or not happened, depending on your point of view) in PAC circles.

There is a new article today talking with the Chancellor of the University of Colorado, Phil DiStephano. There were some candid moments that I love about college football articles when a leader is euphoric with the moment. There is a moment where he basically says, “I love that I hired Deion Sanders because prior to hiring him we were so bad the fans and the boosters weren’t just talking about firring the coach, they weren’t just talking about firing the Athletic Director, they were actually talking about FIRING ME. Now with Deion here, no one is talking about THAT crazy thought and I can get back to my job.”

“Oh and I expect we will see a new media deal SOON...”

Yeah. He went there. Another PAC leader saying “a deal would be done soon”.

Just two weeks ago Pete Thamel, another highly respected realignment reporter said “no deal is expected for a few more months.”

Look...If Thamel said it, that is the case. The real question then becomes WHY did DiStephano say otherwise? Was it a PR thing? Was he just being optimistic? Is he being told new information?

He also said that the deal may be worth more than all but the SEC and Big Ten deals after all... This is a comment with optimism we haven’t heard in AGES about the PAC media deal and absolutely demanded follow up...but was not.

So...What’s in the water at these PAC meetings?

Is the PAC close to a deal with the 3 headed dog of ESPN, Amazon, and Apple? Is this just unfounded optimism/corporate talk? Is this based on reports from the PAC conference leadership? And if so, are the presidents being told the truth?

Two weeks ago, the PAC followed the not-so-subtle advices of longtime media consultant John WIlliams and spoke to the CW.

Those talks appear to gone nowhere and are now over. Luke Bouma’s salacious headline suggests THE CW has walked away but that is not necessarily clear from the source article.

Contact with ION has not been noted since the WIlliams arrticle, but it is a weaker brand, so perhaps that can be forgiven.

My guess is that perhaps hubris played a role?

The word of the PAC speaking to the CW was met with derision and scorn across college football fandom. It was quite similar to the brushback when FOX won the bidding for the NFL way back when. And like that, it is likely unfounded. Content on the air mostly finds it’s audience.

Lets unpack what has occurred if Luke Bouma was correct and the CW bailed. Perhaps this was a “we already have a plan, but if it will shut you up...” kind of move by the PAC for the benefit of their critics.

I am frankly surprised that with a company like the CW with an apparent desire for sports content that is KNOWN in insider circles, the PAC couldn’t get through a single meeting without the CW pulling the plug. If that is actually what happened. How does that happen? How do two entities, desperate for each other’s offerings, miss? How do those talks “never get serious”?

My GUESS is that the PAC went in saying, “hey we are the PAC and we WILL be bringing SDSU and SMU with us. Will you pay us more per school for all 12 of these schools than x partner (be it Apple, Amazon, or ESPN) we might talk to you.”

The CW doesn’t have “ESPN money” (or do they? More on that in a moment). What they offer is exposure and the potential to eat up weaker content, making the remaining content scarcer and more valuable.

With that in mind.... You couldn’t leave a door open for the sale of any games?

My personal approach would have been to push the idea that you want SOME of the PAC content on the CW --- an early game every week on Saturday would ben a winner in terms of national exposure, but we HAVE to make money on our better matchups selling them elsewhere--- what can the CW do to make that worthwhile?

But that strategy frankly doesn’t work as well when you don’t have more “less desirable" content...when all you really have to offer is most Oregon State and Washington State games and maybe all of the SMU content, it’s a tough fit.

Some of that content may actually be somewhat desired by your current media partners. Not the SMU stuff obviously (not this year anyway), but the rest.

To me I see that as a gross misunderstanding of what the CW brings to the table. The CW brings funding for expansion that your current partners do not want to give you.

This hits me as the PAC leadership wanting the minimal effort path.

The presidents/chancellors saying, “Let’s just get back to 12. We know we want SDSU and SMU. Go sell that.”

DeStefano took a moment to say he would vote for 12. That tells me everyone is on board with SMU and SDSU. Except maybe the media partners.

Square peg. Round hole.

Says the PAC school leaders in unison, “Where’s my hammer?!’

The problem is that’s this new PAC 12 is just not a good product overall on the field or on TV.

A potential positive spin

A very positive spin based on the optimistic revenue projections by DiStefano would be that the PAC met with The CW ...and Amazon lost it’s shit over that and promised the payouts, even if they took a while, would be worth their weight if the league immediately suspended talks with the CW.

Do I believe that? No.

IS it possible? Anything is possible in realignment. TAMU and UT are in the SEC. Maryland and freaking Rutgers get bigger TV checks than LSU and Florida.

There is always a logic under the words said by a principle in realignment.

How would you vet that as a reporter? By finding out the voting representative at each school and polling each of them or at least a few of them on the phone with a battery of easy questions with a simple one that you really want answered buried inside:

“Based on your optimism today with the negotiations with Amazon, Apple, and ESPN where do you feel the per team payouts will be on this next contract? Above 32M, in the 25M to 32M range, or just below 25M?

If the answer you hear most is above 32M, this newly optimistic view may be a valid take on the whole failed CW thing and not a bit of subterfuge to sway support by the Chancellor.

It is potentially a big story. I’ll be looking for articles that address this.