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avocadogirl216 · 4 years

Text

It Wasn’t You

AN: Please let me know what you think and let me know of any mistakes that I have made. This helps me improve my writing. Thanks!

Summary: You finally get to go on a hunt with your brothers but things don’t go as planned.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x sister!reader, Sam Winchester x sister!reader, Bobby x reader, Possessed!Dean x sister!reader

Warnings: Violence, Possession, Language and Fluff

Word Count: 3,477 Words

(I do not own this gif)

The day has finally come. The day where you get to go on a actual hunt with your brothers. Usually you had to stay behind with Bobby and do research but today you get to actually get to go on the road with them and hunt whatever monster was causing trouble.

You were giddy with excitement considering that you were only 14 and you get to put your training to the test. Everyday after school you trained with either Sam or Dean, whether it was self defense or weapon training, you took whatever you could get. You were a pretty damn good hunter for your age. You can take down two people three times the size of you at the same time, you can handle almost every kind of gun known to man, you know how to hack into security cameras, you can get your way out of any restraints and you can track almost anyone or anything.

Your brothers wanted to keep you out of the life as much as they could. They didn’t mind training you because you never know when it can come into handy. Especially in this line of work. Every time they mentioned a possible case you immediately jumped in, trying to help in anyway that you could. You always begged them if you could go with them, for backup, but they always said no. Up until last week they decided that you were ready to go with them. They made rules to keep you safe, which were: always listen to them, never go off on your own and follow orders down to the T. If you broke any of those rules, you can say goodbye to hunting.

You got out of bed and got dressed in a red and black flannel with a white tank top underneath, a pair of dark blue jeans with rips in them and of course black and white high top converse because you were too clumsy to wear a different kind of shoe. You coaxed your hair into a high ponytail since it was extra frizzy today and brushed your teeth.

You grabbed your prepacked duffel bag with all of your necessities from under your bed and ran down the stairs into Bobby’s living room. You lived with Bobby since A) He was like a father to both you and your brothers and B) It was the safest way to keep you close but away from the road life that came with hunting. Once you made it into the living room you found Bobby with his nose in a lore book, figures. You see Sam and Dean talking among themselves on the couch. They didn’t notice your presence until you announced: “What are you guys doing sitting around? Let’s get this show on the road!”

Bobby, Sam and Dean look up at you with small smiles on their faces.

“Man I was hoping that you would forget.” Dean said as he was getting up from the couch.

“When have I ever forgotten anything?” You asked.

“Hmm lemme see. Homework, dishes, laundry...” Bobby started to list off.

“Okay, okay. I get it. But there was no way in the history of well, ever that I would forget about this.” You said with a smile growing on your face.

“Yeah, yeah. We know.” Sam said as he grabbed his own duffel bag and slung it over his broad shoulder.

“Got everything Sammy?” Dean asked his younger brother.

“It’s Sam and yes.” Sam answered.

“Okay, well I guess that we should get going.” Dean said as he got his car keys out of his jacket pocket.

“You guys be careful you hear. (YN) listen to your brothers.” Bobby said as he stood up from his cluttered desk.

“Will do” Dean said as he started towards the front door.

“Bye Bobby.” You said as you have him a hug.

“Please be careful.” Bobby said again.

“When am I not?” You asked as you pulled away from his bone crushing hug. You walked over to the front door and waved goodbye. Bobby returned the wave with a hint of worry in his eyes. You walked out of the house and closed the door behind you. Sam and Dean were already getting into the car so you jogged over to the back door and slid into the backseat. Dean put the key into the ignition and brought the beautiful car to life. He pulled out of the scrap yard and onto the road.

You pulled out your phone, opened your favorite playlist on Spotify and put in your headphones. You sat back into the leather seat and watched as the scenery around you zoom by. The case was in Sidney, Nebraska which was about 8 hours from Sioux Falls. In about 2 hours into the trip you pass out from a sudden, unexpected wave of exhaustion. You wake up to Sam nudging your knee. You look around to see that it is dark outside and you are parked outside of a motel. Dean wasn’t in the car so he was more than likely already in the motel room.

“Hey (YN).” Sam said in a soothing voice. “We’re at Sidney, in case if you were wondering. You passed out on the way here. Why don’t we get you inside. Okay?”

You took a deep breath through your nose and nodded your head while rubbing your eyes. You grabbed your bag and started to walk towards the hotel room. You walk in to see that Dean was already in his sleepwear and in bed. He opened one eye to see who just walked in.

“Mmm. Look who decided to wake up.” He said with a tired voice.

“I’m not planning on staying up any longer than I need to.” You said while walking over to the empty bed next to Dean’s and placing your duffel at the foot of the bed. You grabbed your pajamas and toothbrush and walked into the bathroom. You closed the door behind you and quickly changed clothes and brushed your teeth. You opened the door to the bathroom and turned off the light. Sam was already changed and in bed. You walked over to the bed and climbed under the covers. Sam scooted over to give you more room and you moved around until you got comfortable. After a minute of listening to Dean snore you lulled yourself to sleep once again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wake up to the smell of bacon and coffee. You sit up and rub your eyes as you look around the motel room. Dean was sitting at the table situated in the small kitchen eating bacon and cheese biscuits while scrolling a local news sight on Sam’s laptop. You walk over to the table and peer inside the paper bag to see three biscuits with no indication on what was in what biscuit.

“They’re all the same.” Dean said as if he read your mind.

You nodded and picked the biggest one as you sat down in the chair next to Dean, seeing that he went from the news website to the local police radar.

“Anything new?” You asked as you took a bite from the biscuit.

“Nothing’s changed from yesterday.” Dean stated as he took a sip of his coffee.

You nodded. After a minute of silence, Sam exited the bathroom while drying his hair with the cheap motel towel.

“Morning Stilts.” You said.

“Morning short stack.” Sam said back as he walked across the motel room and took a sip of his coffee.

“So what’s the plan for today?” You asked.

“Well, I was thinking that Sam and I would talk to the families of the deceased.” Dean said as he looked up from the laptop.

“Sounds good.” Sam said as he started to unwrap his first biscuit.

“What will I do?” You asked with hope in your voice.

“You are going to stay here.” Dean said as he got up from the table and walked over to his duffel bag at the end of his bed.

You quickly followed. “What? I thought that I was going to work the case with you guys.” You said with disappointment.

“You are going to work the case with us. You’re just gonna stay here.”

“That’s not working the case. That’s just me being here and doing nothing.” You said as you crossed your arms.

“You’re not going to do nothing. You just can’t come with us to pose as FBI. You’re too young and no one would buy it.” Sam explained.

You understood. Of course you did, the last thing that your brothers needed was to have their cover blown. You sighed. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Glad you understand.” Dean said as he walked over to the bathroom and closed the door.

“We promise not to go after the thing without you.” Sam said as he looked into your eyes.

“Okay.”

A little while later, Sam and Dean were dressed and ready to talk to the families.

“You know the rules. Door is locked until we get back, no opening it for anyone and keep your phone on you at all times. Got it?” Dean asked in a strict tone.

“Got it.” You said while looking at the floor.

“We won’t be gone long.” Dean promised as he and Sam walked out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were pacing the room trying Dean’s cell again.

They should have been back by now.

It has been 4 hours since Sam and Dean have left and they haven’t called or texted. Saying that you were worried was an understatement. You’ve called them a million times and texted them a million more. You wanted to go find them yourself, but there was two problems with that plan. One was that you didn’t know what you were hunting and two was that you didn’t know where in the world your brothers have gone or where they might be. Your heart was racing as were your thoughts.

“Screw it.” You announced to no one in particular as you walked over to your duffel to get every weapon that you packed. As you were about to put some holy water into your jacket pocket, the door to the motel opened and Dean walked in.

You gave a sigh of relief and walked over to him.

“Dean where the hell have you been? You and Sam didn’t answer your phones and I was just about to go out and look for you myself.” You said in a pissed tone.

“We were jumped and our phones were damaged in the process. Sorry to worry.” Dean explained but the way that he said his words were different. They sounded colder and on edge.

“You couldn’t call from a pay phone?” You asked, taking a step back.

“Didn’t have any change.” He said with coldness and anger in his eyes.

“Umm okay.” You said uneasily. “Where’s Sam?” You said as you looked over Deans shoulder.

“Out.” Dean said as he locked the door and started to step closer to you. You took steps back, hoping that he would get the message that you were starting to get uncomfortable. He didn’t. He continued to step forward as you stepped backwards.

“Dean stop.” You said with your most confident voice that you could muster up at the moment. You eventually hit the wall and Dean stopped in front of you, his toes touching yours. He placed his hands on either side of your head. You tried to slow your breathing down, trying not to show Dean how scared you were getting.

Dean noticed this. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” He asked as he tilted his head.

You slowly nodded, pressing yourself against the wall more trying to create more space between the two of you.

“Oh I’m sorry.” Dean said with fake sincerity. He leaned in close enough to where his mouth was next to your ear. “I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

When Dean leaned in you caught the smell of sizzled flesh. You looked over at Deans left side of his chest to see a burn mark where his anti possession tattoo should be.

“You’re not Dean.” You stated.

“What gave me away?” The demon said as it backed away from your face. It flashed its eyes black and gave you a smile.

You looked over at your duffel to see your holy water. The demon followed your gaze. “I don’t think so.” It said as it dug its nails into both of your shoulders. You grimaced and inhaled sharply. You struggled for a bit then used some of the training that Sam and Dean taught you. You kneed the demon in the groin as hard as you could. It yelled out in pain and released its grip on you. You punched the demon in the face and ran for the holy water. The demon quickly regained itself and tackled you to the ground. You landed on your face as one arm was underneath your body while the other was being held in a painful position behind your back by the demon.

“Nice try.” It said as it flipped you over. The demon pinned your arms above your head with one hand and sat on your thighs, disabling your legs. You moved as much as you could but after a minute of struggling you realized that you were trapped.

“Dean fight it!” You said as you looked up at the demons eyes, hoping that Dean would take control.

“Oh believe me he is. He’s giving me one hell of a headache but he’s too weak.” The demon said as it trailed a finger along your jaw. “I expected more.”

You moved your head as much as you could to keep it from touching you. The demons eyes started to roam your body with no shame. It finally looked at you in your eyes and gave you a smirk. “You sure are a pretty one.” The demon said as finger started to move down to your collarbone.

“Screw you.” You said viciously.

“Ooh. You’ve got a mouth on you.” It chuckled was it ran its thumb over your bottom lip. You bit its thumb as hard as you could, tasting blood.

The demon hissed as it retracted its hand. It then clenched its hand into a fist and punched you in the face. You vision blurred for a second before focusing back on your possessed brother.

“Dean fig-” Before you could finish was your were saying the demon punched you in the face again. And again. And again. Pretty soon you were a bloody mess. Your left eye was swollen shut, your lip was busted and you had multiple cuts on your cheeks not to mention the bruises that were starting to blossom your face . You coughed up blood and spit in the demons face. It gave you a disgusted look and wiped it off. The demon then let go of your arms and used both hands to strangle you. You tried to hit the demon anywhere you could reach but the demon didn’t loosen its hold on you. You tried to suck in air but all that came out was a wheeze. Black spots danced across your vision and you started to feel light headed. The demon then lifted your head from the ground and slammed it into the dirty motel floor. You grabbed onto its wrists, hoping that it would stop but the demon kept slamming your head into the floor. The motel door banged open and Sam ran in. Before you saw Sam do anything else, you blacked out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke up to a pounding headache and the smell of sulfur. You slowly opened your eyes but immediately shut them from the light. You groaned as you opened them once again, letting them adjust to the light..

“Hey champ.” Sam said in a quiet and soothing voice. You looked up at him, seeing that he was in a chair that was pulled up next to the bed. He gave you a sad, small smile while rubbing circles into the back of your hand with his thumb.

You looked around the room to see Dean leaning against the dresser giving you a guilty look.

“Wh-what happened?” You asked looking back at Sam.

“What do you remember?” Sam asked with a curious look in his eyes.

“I remember you busting through the door and then nothing.”

“Well, we were jumped at one of the families houses and we were taken to a warehouse outside of town. The demon burned Deans tattoo off and possessed him. I eventually got out of the bindings and I hot wired a car to the motel. I walked in to see the demon strangling you. I fought the demon off of you and eventually exorcised it out of Dean.” Sam said. You noticed some cuts and bruises on his face that you were too disoriented before to see.

“How long have I been out?” You asked with a tired tone.

“3 hours.” Dean said from across the room. You looked back over to him, seeing that he hasn’t moved a muscle.

You closed your eyes and sighed. After a minute, you tried to sit up.

“Whoa, whoa. Easy there tiger.” Sam said as he put a hand on your shoulder, trying to get you to lay back down.

“I’m fine.” You said as you continued to sit up. Eventually Sam helped you and leaned you against the head board. You looked over at Dean to see some bruises marking his face along with a cut on his right cheekbone. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t worry about me.” Dean said as he started to make his way over to the bed.

“I’m sorry have you met me?” You asked.

“Unfortunately.”

“Hilarious.”

“I’m known for it.”

“Sure you are.”

Sam chuckled and patted your hand before letting it go. “I’m gonna go get us some dinner.” He said as he looked between you and Dean. He grabbed his jacket and the keys to the impala and walked out of the motel room.

There was a minute of silence before Dean spoke.

“(YN) I am so sor-” Before he had a chance to finish his apology you interrupted him.

“Stop, just stop.” You said as you looked into his guilt ridden eyes. “You have nothing to apologize for. It wasn’t you.”

“Yeah but I could have stopped it.” He said while avoiding your gaze.

“Come here.” You said while patting the empty space next to you.

Dean hesitated before finally moving next to you, still avoiding your eyes.

“Look at me.” You said. He didn’t. “Dean Winchester I said look at me.” You commanded in the tone of voice he used when you were in serious trouble. Dean looked up at you with eyes starting to fill with tears. “I forgive you.”

“You shouldn’t. I failed you as an older brother.” He said as a tear made its way down his face.

You moved your hand to his face and wiped the tear from his cheek with your thumb. “No you didn’t. Don’t you ever think that. Ever. You are the best big brother I could ask for. You’ve done so much for Sam and me. You’ve taken care of us when no one else would, you made sure that we had a happy childhood despite our situation, you’ve protected us and you’ve always been there for us, no matter what. I couldn’t ask for anyone better.”

Dean gave you a small smile. “And I couldn’t ask for a better sister.”

“Come here.” You said as you held your arms open for him. Dean leaned in and gave you a hug that wasn’t as tight as it usually was. “You’re not gonna break me Dean.” You said as you hugged him tighter in which he returned. After a minute of holding each other, you two let go. You yawned while rubbing your non hurt eye.

“You tired?” Dean asked. You nodded. Dean helped you lay down and get under the covers. “Night sis.” He said as he smoothed your hair. When he started to walk away you caught his hand. Dean looked down at you with curiosity.

“Stay with me?” You asked with your puppy eyes that matched Sam’s.

“Sure sweetie.” He said as he started to lay down next to you. You scooted over to give him more room on the bed. When he got comfortable, you layed your head on his chest as he wrapped his arm around your body.

“Love you De.” You said tiredly.

“Love you too kiddo.” He replied back.

You yawned once again and closed your eyes. You were quickly lulled to sleep to the sound of Dean’s heartbeat and to the soothing fact that Dean would always protect you from the monsters of the night, no matter what.

#spn #supernatural #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfic #reader insert #sister!reader #dean winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #bobby singer x reader #violence #possession #fluff #language

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aphrodites-law · 4 years

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A Bit of Clarity 🍂 (7/?) The visions had started last autumn, a year ago now. It had caused a bit of chaos for some, a bit of clarity for others. Two days ago, Clarke Griffin had been perfectly fine managing both her Café and her stress. But now she was curious - so deeply curious about the vision of herself entwined with the aloof Lexa Woods that it was leading her to complete distraction.

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6]

Clarke usually went straight to the café, but the past few days she'd started taking a detour. Since the article in the Gazette, Finn's Coffee & Bagels had taken a serious hit. Costial was a city with a deep-rooted pride for small businesses; mom-and-pop stores that had earned their success and customers' fidelity. Hard work and honesty were appreciated - shortcuts and lies were not. In just the one exposé, Finn's shop had lost half its patrons. Other outlets had jumped on the bandwagon and word had spread very quickly that anyone who bought his food or coffee might as well buy it in super stores for the same mass-produced quality at half the price. Finn had lost the support of his backers, but, more importantly, the Mayor had publicly condemned his son's business tactics.

To be perfectly honest, Clarke took some joy in the fall of Finn's plans. She had no doubt he would come up with another project very soon, perhaps in the theater sector, but at least his future in restoration was bleak. Clarke knew gloating wasn't a good look on anyone, but she wasn't ready to climb down from her cloud just yet. She was sure something would soon come along to knock her down a few pegs, but these days she was feeling pretty confident.

The café had been busier, which Clarke and Wells planned to capitalize on with the right promotion. Today he'd surpassed himself with some mini marble cakes, one of which Clarke had shoved in her mouth as soon as he'd shown her. It was the perfect time to look more seriously into new hires, which Clarke had pushed back for far too long. Gaia and Harper had been noticeably excited by the news. Wells would vet any additional help in the kitchen, but she could tell it was a relief for him too. Their café was small, but the workload wasn't.

Clarke was drafting the job application at the end of the counter when she heard someone clear their throat. She looked up and closed the laptop with a mischievous smile, her heart doing its now familiar dance.

“Lexa.”

“Clarke.”

Lexa had her dark green raincoat on, hiding the plaid collar Clarke only associated with her now. It didn't seem like she'd ordered anything yet, bypassing the two people in line to find her.

“Have a good weekend?” Clarke asked.

“I did. Had a long chat with Semet actually.”

“And?”

Lexa smiled at Clarke's interest. “You’ll find my observations in the Gazette... eventually.”

"Nothing world-changing though, I take it?"

Lexa shrugged. "I think the world's seen most of the changes already."

"I'd knock on wood if I were you."

"Why? Wary of change?"

"No, but a break for… oh, the next five or ten years might be nice. I miss going about my day not wondering when aliens will come crashing."

Lexa laughed. "I assure you Semet's experience didn't give any indication we might soon meet our celestial neighbors."

Clarke glanced at Gaia and Harper, making sure they still had everything under control with the orders.

“So um, I had an enlightening weekend too.”

“Oh?” Lexa asked, nonchalant.

“Yeah. I was thinking we could... discuss." Clarke bit her lip. "Maybe over dinner?”

Lexa's demeanor visibly shifted, not as casual as she'd been just a few seconds ago. “Is that really what you want?”

“Trust me, it’s become crystal clear what I want.”

Lexa seemed a cross between reticent and eager, like she was a wild animal in a cage and the door had just opened, but she didn’t quite know what might come from stepping outside- freedom or punishment.

“Clarke. Maybe we should... slow down.”

That was surprising. Clarke frowned. “Slow down from a glacial pace?”

“Just days ago you weren't even sure what to think of me."

“But then we- I thought the rooftop-" Clarke's cheeks felt warm. "I was under the impression we were on the same page."

Lexa looked away and Clarke felt her morning's happiness wither away. So much for staying on her cloud. She took in Lexa's demeanor: tense shoulders and the obvious inability to catch her eyes. Clarke truly didn’t understand her. It was frustrating - bordering on humiliating.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Clarke-"

"No, no. I don't know what game you think this is, but I'm not playing it."

Lexa seemed panicked. "It's not a game."

"Then what the fuck is it?"

Lexa looked toward the door as two people came in. Harper greeted them cheerily, waiting for their order. This was neither the place nor the time. She looked back at Clarke with pleading eyes, unable to offer an explanation.

Clarke shook her head, tired of the silence. "I told myself I'd stop sitting around and waiting for things to happen, but I won't waste my time on someone who can't decide if I'm worth the chase. You clearly don't want any sort of relationship-"

“It’s not that simple,” Lexa argued.

“It is that simple," Clarke gritted through her teeth, feeling both stupid and angry. She'd fallen for Lexa's charm again only to be disappointed once more. It felt like being doused in ice-cold water. "You either want someone or you don’t. So which is it?”

Lexa shook her head imperceptibly. There was something on the tip of her tongue, Clarke could tell, but she couldn't get it out.

Clarke glanced at the front door when it opened, a family of three walking in. She swallowed her disappointment at the turn in her morning before giving Lexa a hard stare.

"I have to get back to work."

"Clarke-"

“You need to figure out what you want,” Clarke snapped lowly. “Preferably without stringing people along while you do so.”

She took the family's orders with a smile, trying her hardest not to look toward the door as Lexa walked out with hunched shoulders.

* * *

Clarke posted the application on their website and several job boards in the afternoon. Resumes came fast, but Wells wanted to be a part of the process - usually less involved in the business side now that most things were squared away - so they'd set some time aside on Wednesday to reach out to applicants. Wells even planned to speak to a couple smaller theaters over the weekend to expand their partnership program.

And yet, the more good news and exciting plans came their way… the more frustrated Clarke became. Clearly she wasn't incompetent and had a firm handle on most aspects of her life, but for some reason her romantic aspirations had turned into a complete disaster. Was that really all that was in store for her? Had she somehow agreed to a bustling café in exchange for an empty home? Professional success so long as she slept alone? The exchange with Lexa had left a bitter taste in her mouth, like it'd been a cosmic reminder her happiness would always be short-lived.

She kept busy to avoid blowing the lid off her anger, forcing smiles while she chatted with patrons, made coffee, and watched the mini marble cakes disappear one by one. There were so many reasons to be elated, but not even Finn's fall from grace could lift up her mood anymore. He'd get on with his life eventually - people like him always did.

Maybe Clarke had made a mistake with Niylah. She was sweet and charming in her own way. They got along great and were certainly compatible in bed. What they had was easy and uncomplicated - Clarke had never given herself a headache trying to figure out Niylah and Niylah had never chased after her only to run the opposite way. She was straightforward and easygoing; eager to share every aspect of her life Clarke might be curious about. Niylah was a Costialite through and through: honest, hardworking, and kindhearted. She didn't make her heart race or take up her thoughts, but she didn't make her feel like a tightly coiled spring either.

Which meant Niylah deserved better than her. She deserved someone who looked at her like she was the only person in the room. She deserved someone who wanted everything with her. Clarke knew it wasn't their sexual relationship she missed, but rather that period of time when she hadn’t cared as much about her loneliness. She missed the whirlwind of planning and opening the café, the breezy attitude that had carried her through so many problems.

One vision had changed it all, and Clarke couldn't say it was for the better.

* * *

Wells was already gone before closing time, the kitchen immaculate and the next day's ingredients already prepared. Clarke didn't know how he did it - as if he had ten hours more in the day than the rest of them. The last patrons trickled out until eventually there was no one and Gaia turned over the OPEN sign on the front door.

"Go home; I'll clean up," Clarke told her, putting her hair up while Gaia grabbed the broom from the back room.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, give Poppy a good cuddle for me."

Gaia took her coat and purse. "You should come over soon. Give her those cuddles yourself."

Clarke smiled tiredly. "I do miss those big ears."

Gaia had the sweetest beagle she took on long hikes every weekend. She'd been born with one ear much longer than the other, but her lopsided anatomy only added to her personality.

"You haven’t even seen my new place yet," Gaia pointed out.

She'd moved into her mother's second building a few months back, the one on the same street as Lexa's, which only reminded Clarke how poorly she'd neglected all her relationships.

"One day soon I'll pop in with wine and a pizza and you won't be able to get rid of me," she promised.

Gaia smiled brightly as she shouldered her purse. "Holding you to that, boss."

"See you tomorrow," Clarke said as Gaia walked out.

Clarke dimmed the main lights, wiped the last few tables and put the chairs up. She straightened out the coffee mugs and cleaned the front of the display case, giving herself a few more minutes before she headed home. The rush hour traffic outside was slowing down, giving Clarke some needed quiet.

To hear their small bell ring as the door opened was more than a surprise. Clarke turned around and stilled, watching as Lexa pulled down her raincoat’s hood and looked at her across the room. Her hair was out of its braids, damp and frizzy.

Clarke felt her anger roar back to life and stoke the fire inside her. Her heart pounded, furious that Lexa had had such an effect on her mood today. But she wouldn't back down. She wouldn't look away until it was Lexa who was forced to do so.

"We're closed," she told her coldly. It was so unlike her to be so curt.

Lexa didn't move, didn't even open her mouth to attempt a reply. It was infuriating.

"What do you want?" Clarke asked harshly, echoing her question from this morning.

Lexa's eyes flashed with similar ardor and her jaw locked. Then, in four strides, she was in front of Clarke and kissing her.

Clarke felt her hands on her waist first, and then the heat of her mouth against her own. She gasped, fisted her hands in Lexa's collar and then unraveled. She kissed Lexa back with the force of her anger, pulling and pulling until Lexa had her pressed against the display case and her body flush against hers. Her tongue felt like silk when it brushed the tip of hers, when it took a risk and was rewarded. Her hands felt like embers, leaving a trail of fire wherever they touched her, first on her waist and then lower, on her hips, until they became more dangerous and cupped her ass while she pressed tight against her. Desperate and possessive.

Clarke moaned loudly, overwhelmed by the sudden force of her desire. She needed Lexa to take her, to be inside her, to fulfill her incessant need for release. She couldn't imagine a second away from Lexa's lips, a second where Lexa didn't touch her.

“God, I thought of this,” she moaned between kisses, eyes closing when she felt Lexa's mouth down her neck. She smelled like the rain; felt like a storm.

“I think about you all the time...” Lexa breathed in her ear, almost like she hadn't meant to say it aloud.

Clarke pulled back, cupping Lexa's face to make sure she wasn't imagining this again. After a beat, their next kiss turned hungrier. Clarke wanted nothing more than to pull Lexa in the back room. She didn’t need romance or a bed. She needed Lexa’s fire to consume her and for the world to stop existing for just a moment. At the same time she was content staying there, pinned between glass and Lexa's body while they kissed into the night.

But her imagination was kinder than reality, as a car suddenly honked at another outside, startling Lexa. She ripped away from their embrace with wide eyes, stumbling back like she was dizzy, the reality of the situation catching up to her.

Clarke could read it all on her face: the surprise at her own actions, the realization of where they were and what they had almost done so publicly. She could've cried when Lexa suddenly looked like a deer in headlights.

It was the same expression from this morning. Clarke shook her head at her, begging her not to run. But a part of her knew it was futile - Lexa had already made up her mind. Still, she had to try one last time.

"It's okay."

Lexa's bottom lip trembled. "I shouldn't have done that. I thought I could, but-" She pressed her hands against her eyes in frustration. "I'm so sorry, Clarke."

Clarke's chest felt heavy. "Please don't go. Help me understand."

"I won't bother you again."

"That's not what I want," Clarke replied in frustration, stepping closer.

Lexa shook her head. "You don't want me."

"Why not?"

To Clarke, Lexa seemed broken. Like something in her had finally shattered.

"You started looking at me after your vision," Lexa whispered. "We never spoke until… until you had it. And I never realized it was you in mine until I saw you drawing."

"What does it matter?"

"You don't know me," Lexa told her, voice cracking. "If you did, your vision would never become true. You'd want nothing to do with me."

"Don't you dare put words in my mouth," Clarke snapped.

Lexa stopped short, so Clarke took a deep breath and stepped even closer.

"Lexa. I don't need to be protected. You're right, we don't know much about each other. So let me learn and let me make my own decisions afterward. Please. You can't pretend there's nothing between us - you can't."

"The visions-"

"I don't give a fuck about the visions," Clarke told her stubbornly. "Maybe it opened my eyes, but it didn't create feelings out of thin air. That's not possible."

Lexa still looked skittish, ready to bolt at any moment. Clarke reached out for her hand, relieved when Lexa took it. It was so different than the rooftop, where Lexa had grabbed hers so confidently. How could a person be so torn?

"Maybe you were right this morning," Clarke said softly. "We've skipped a lot of steps. So let's start over."

Lexa finally caught her eyes. "I hurt people, Clarke. I don't mean to, but inevitably it's what I do."

Clarke knew that was all she'd get out of Lexa tonight. Hesitantly, she cupped her cheek.

"How about this? If the rain lets up, I take you to the river this weekend. We bring some drinks, some snacks, maybe some hiking shoes. You can tell me about the Mountain Men and I can tell you about the weird resumes I'll inevitably get this week."

Lexa let out a chuckle, which made Clarke smile hopefully. "Doesn't sound too scary, does it?"

"No. That sounds nice."

Clarke felt hopeful for the first time. "Just two people hanging out, getting to know each other."

"I'd like that." Lexa glanced at her mouth and swallowed. "I do want you, Clarke."

Clarke pressed her index against her lips. "I know. Nobody kisses a friend like that. But…"

"Fresh start?"

"Right.” Clarke still had to speak her mind: “Lexa, you can't keep running away without telling me why. I'm patient but I'm not a saint. I get angry too. I get scared."

Lexa nodded quietly, looking down at their hands before she glanced around the room.

"You were closing up."

"Yeah, did you not notice the chairs on the tables?"

"I was preoccupied. Can I help?"

"Lexa… I think maybe you should go home."

Lexa looked down. "I'm sorry, I must be giving you whiplash."

"Just a little," Clarke smiled.

"I'll see you this weekend?"

"I didn't mean you can't swing by for a quick hello and a cup of coffee. Or not coffee. Wells is baking up a storm, it'd be a pity if you missed it."

"That sounds nice."

Clarke accompanied her to the door, where she noticed the rain had become heavier. It was incessant these days, washing down the streets of Costial and keeping the coffee shops and movie theaters busy. Nothing unusual for the season. She grabbed one of the forgotten umbrellas in the stand by the entrance, giving it to Lexa.

"That's alright-"

"Take it. I don't you want coming in sneezing and sniffling this week."

"Thank you, Clarke." Slowly, hesitantly, Lexa kissed her cheek. "Goodnight."

After Lexa walked out in the rain and turned the corner with one last glance over her shoulder, Clarke stood in the dark for a moment. Then, she walked to the back room and slid down the wall until she was sitting on the ground. She clutched her heart, eyes closing as she let the last few minutes rush over her. Whiplash didn't even begin to cover it.

In the resounding silence, she tried processing what had just happened. She could still feel Lexa's kiss, everything she had imagined and more. But then Lexa had pulled away. It felt like she was two different people, one aching with desire like Clarke, the other convinced it would hurt them both. But why?

Clarke thought back to when she had first noticed Lexa. Courteous, quiet Lexa who had placed her order and sat near the weeping fig tree for hours while she worked. What could have driven her to Costial? It couldn't be the job opportunities - she didn't work in theater and the Gazette was no more reputable than their neighboring cities' newspapers. Family was the obvious guess, but then why not come earlier? What kind of life had she left behind that still haunted her today?

Clarke wasn't sure she'd be able to shut up this weekend, too wrapped up in Lexa's mystery to keep herself from asking questions. She wanted to know everything but knew she had to be cautious. Still, spending time together was a step forward. She was relieved Lexa hadn't run after all, but it would be difficult to forget the pain in her eyes. Despite the uncertainty of their relationship, if it could even be defined, Clarke had a feeling it would be worth fighting for.

[part eight]

#f: a bit of clarity #clexa #clarke x lexa #w

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carols-review-box · 4 years

Photo

My Thoughts on Ginny & Georgia: Season 1

These are my thoughts.

Right off the bat, I want to address that this is, by no means, a comprehensive review. I’m not even sure if it can be called a review. These are just my thoughts on the show, and it may or may not cover everything (in fact, it most certainly won’t cover everything), and I’ll try my best to write it out in an organized manner, but I can’t make promises. (Though, in all fairness, this is just a blog for my own entertainment, and I don’t expect anyone to actually read it.)

Now, moving on. Ginny & Georgia, season 1. Where do I begin?

First Impressions

I first encountered Ginny & Georgia on Netflix when the website decided to auto play its trailer while I was scrolling through it. I watched--almost begrudgingly-- a short, 1 minute clip of Ginny complaining to her teacher about how all the books on the curriculum were written by white men. While I understand where Ginny was coming from, and while I understand that a lot of high school literature is written by authors who sometimes are not representative of their audience, Ginny’s introduction just came off as obnoxious and annoying. I thought, “Imagine moving to a new school, and that’s the first thing you say to the teacher.” I rolled my eyes, wrote the show off as another try-hard feminist woke piece (or something like that), and didn’t think I’d watch it.

Well, at some point, I obviously decided to give the show a try. And by the middle of the first episode, I was actually really surprised when Ginny didn’t turn out to be insufferable in the beginning. I say in the beginning-- because her character really slides downhill past a certain point.

Plot

Throughout the entire show, I was probably a thousand times more interested in Georgia’s plot than Ginny’s.

It makes sense-- Ginny’s plot is... well, pretty much a generic teen soap opera that I’ve seen hundreds of times before. There are some unique themes to her story that I’ve rarely seen portrayed in other shows, like her experience as a biracial person, but other than that, it seems to be your run-of-the-mill drama.

On the other hand, Georgia’s plot is fresher. I haven’t personally seen any black-widow narratives (if Georgia could be called that), so I was intrigued and curious by how her story would play out. Not to mention, I liked Georgia’s love interests far better than Ginny’s, but maybe that’s just my personal taste.

In comparing these two plots, I do feel like the writers did Ginny wrong. Georgia is given an interesting storyline with a relevant backstory and plot points that actually make sense, whereas Ginny’s story is mediocre, we rarely get to see her side of the past, and half the stuff that goes down in her life is either unrealistic and overdramatized or it just makes no damn sense.

Characters

I could probably talk a great deal about the characters in this show. I have the most to say about Ginny (75% of it is criticism, honestly), so I’ll dedicate an entire section to her later. For now, I’ll start with these characters:

Georgia: Georgia, oh Georgia. To put it simply, Georgia is a psychopath hidden behind a large smile and a buzzing Southern accent. For the first 5 episodes, I was so fooled by her act (and her beauty) that I forgot she’s a literal murderer and most likely not a good human being. But I guess that’s, in part, what makes her very interesting to watch.

Hunter: I literally felt nothing but a mixture of boredom and pity whenever Hunter was on screen. For the first 8 episodes, he is just an extraordinarily boring character-- and his boringness is used as a justification by Ginny to cheat on him (that’s where the pity part comes in). I enjoyed how how he got more character in the ending episodes, and I could understand his struggles when he fought with Ginny (in that scene). But if he wasn’t dating Ginny, then he would’ve been a completely forgettable character.

Marcus: Marcus ALWAYS looks like he’s high. I don’t think there’s a single scene in the show where he doesn’t look like he just smoked something. He also has little personality, other than being the “bad boy.” I guess his hotness makes up for it, or something?

Maxine: While I enjoy Max overall, I think she can be really annoying, talkative and insensitive at times. Emphasis on the last part, because she does this irritating thing where she says something racist, and then asks if she just said something racist.

Abby: Out of the friend group, I feel like Abby is the most dramatic without being overdramatic. She experiences things that a regular teenager would. However, she can be a bad friend at times, and I don’t like how the characters gives her a pass on some questionable choices she makes.

Paul: I like Paul. It is a little bit hypocritical of me to say Paul is a good character when he basically has the same exact personality as Hunter, but I’m going to say it: He’s a good character.

Zion: Zion is smooth, and I enjoy his little wisdom bits with Ginny. But he was introduced too late into the show, and I can’t see him being a good fit for Georgia.

Joe: I love Joe. Just like some of the other characters, he is kind of plain. Kind of vanilla, daresay boring, but for some reason, I love him. Maybe it’s because of his adorable connection with Georgia. Maybe it’s because he offers some much-needed comedic relief in this overdramatized show. Maybe it’s because he has attractive qualities, like running a “successful” business, or maybe he’s just my type. For many, many episodes, I wanted Georgia to get together with Joe the most.

Austin: I forgot Austin existed for half the time. Like, I know the kid stabbed someone, but in the grand scheme of things, he’s just so forgettable.

Character: Ginny

Ginny. Ah, where do I even begin with Ginny?

First, I’m just going to say this: I know the writers intended to depict a biracial person’s experience in America through Ginny. I’m not biracial myself, and I don’t fully understand the issues that biracial people go through, so I’m not going to comment too much on how the authors managed to fuck up. I say “how” and not “if,” because a lot of biracial people have said that Ginny & Georgia is kind of a bad example of their life, and also because even I can see the problems with the show from a mile away.

Getting that out of the way, I’ll start with Ginny’s overall character.

One would think that a character who is depicted as-- for a lack of better words-- as “woke,”... as in, a character who is supposed to have better moral values than others (the definition comes from the word’s general connotative interpretation from leftist media), would be a good human being. But time and time again, we see that Ginny is everything but.

These are my biggest issues with Ginny’s character:

1) She acts like she’s better than everyone else, but also like she’s super oppressed. I know these two personality traits aren’t mutually exclusive, but they’re not a good combination either.

2) She thinks she’s the only person in the entire town who has real issues. Other characters confront her about this, and she eventually mellows down, but it’s astounding to me the amount of people she had to offend before she got the point.

3) She can be really ungrateful and rude towards her mom. I know Georgia is not a perfect mother-- not even close-- and she can be genuinely crazy at times, but Ginny is very rarely appreciative of her mom’s efforts.

4) Despite Ginny’s intelligence, she is not smart. She commits a bunch of dumb mistakes. Now, some of these can be attributed to her just being a teenager-- like having unprotected sex, sending nudes, being peer pressured into stealing, etc. Whereas other choices-- most notably cheating on her boyfriend-- are just a product of her shitty personality.

5) There is a really bad implication concerning Ginny’s views on race. I can probably talk a lot about race in this show, but true to my word, I’ll keep this short and talk about the one thing that really bothered me: Ginny ignores the black kids. There’s a line in the show where Ginny says she’s too white for the black folks and too black for the white folks... and she uses this to justify never having any friends or not fitting in. But when she gets to Wellsbury, she’s accepted by everyone, including black people, yet she chooses to ignore them. She only sits with them near the end of the show when her friend group kicks her out. And she looks miserable.

Ginny likes to complain a lot about her white side, but all things considered, I think she has an issue with her black side instead. I don’t know if this is representative of the biracial experience, but I imagine this can’t be a good thing to portray on screen.

I know it’s crazy of me to say this right after I just ripped Ginny apart. However, despite everything, I actually like Ginny as a character. Do I like her as much as I like Georgia or Joe? No, but she swings more good than bad. What can I say? She’s entertaining (in the same way that Cheryl from Riverdale is entertaining). She’s at least somewhat relatable, and I wouldn’t have watched the entire season if I truly found her to be unbearable.

That being said, Ginny does have a lot of potential to grow, and I sincerely hope the writers do her better in the next season.

Themes

*At some point in the future, I may add more to this section.

Family: Despite a significant portion of this show being terribly unrealistic, I appreciate the show’s overall depiction of family and separation. For one, the show represents families who aren’t stereotypically nuclear. Our main protagonists are a single mother-daughter combo. The Bakers next door have a deaf father and a mother who doesn’t fit into a perfect mold. There’s a biracial family (Hunter) who connects far more with their American side than their Taiwanese-- so much that Hunter and his sister don’t even speak a lick of Mandarin. The small details and nuances which are added into the show makes them far more representative of the general American population.

Conversations: This show gives conversations that are far overdue in media. While Hunter and Ginny’s fight scene is 98% pure cringe, the remaining 2% of it is an important reminder on being biracial (or a person of color) in America. Many of us struggle with our racial identity, and it’s unproductive to compare who has it worse.

Overall + Rating

To me, the first season of Ginny & Georgia is a 6.5/10. (Five being the average; so this would be a little better than average). While it showed a lot of potential at the beginning, the show eventually devolved to nothing more than a standard melodrama-- even on Georgia’s part. It tried hard to be another Gilmore Girls but ended up falling quite short. I am looking forward to its second season though; and hopefully, it’s much better than the first.

#shows #netflix #7 #ginny and georgia #ginny & georgia #ginny&georgia

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sams-sass · 4 years

Text

Hear Me

Hi! Here is something I thought of and wanted to write down for you guys. Thanks for all the love!

GIF not mine.

Summary: The case leads for Sam and Dean to find something out about you as Dean realizes something of his own.

Characters: You, Sam, Dean

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: None really, show level violence

You, Sam, and Dean busted back into the motel room. You had spent the whole day looking into the lives of the victims and couldn’t come up with a single connection. Without a connection, there really wasn’t much to go on. All of the victims were female and had their throats slit and vocal cords removed. Other than that, they really had nothing in common. Different jobs, friends, ages, races, everything basically. You, Sam, and Dean had split up and gone to all the houses, it was a long day of listening to sad stories. You sat down on the bed as Dean handed you and Sam a beer before cracking one of his own.

“Maybe this isn’t a monster. Maybe its just a bad person doing a bad thing.” Sam said after taking a long drag from his beer.

“I don’t know, man. The lack of evidence, the stealing of the larynx specifically, the way the bodies were just tossed and not cared about. Seems pretty monstery to me.” Dean said back, his tone unsure.

“Sorry, Sammy, but I gotta go with Dean on this one. After leaving 7 bodies behind and not leaving a trace of evidence, especially since it could care less about the victims. It seems too lucky to be a human.” You weighed in coming to stand next to Sam.

“Alright so, lets go over it again. Dean, what did you find out about Beth?” Sam asked.

“Nothing man, she was a good girl. She wanted to be a scientist, she was studying physics, she had a boyfriend, craziest thing she did was sing karaoke at the local bar on Thursdays with friends.” Dean answered.

“Wait, she sang karaoke?” You asked looking up at him.

“Yeah, friend said she was good and that she loved to sing. What does that have to do with anything?” Dean asked giving you a confused look.

“The two girls I asked about, Jen and Grace. They were both singers too. Jen was a lot more professional taking gigs at bars, but she was also older. Grace was in her church choir. I didn’t think anything of it because a lot of people sing.” You answered

“Wait, my two were also singers. Hannah and Wendy both sang whenever they could. I didn’t think anything of it because what monster cares about singing.” Sam said nodding.

“Yeah….yeah the other two I asked about, uh Kelly and Dana they sang too. I ruled it out as a coincidence for same reason as Sam, what monster cares?” Dean agreed with the two of you.

“Holy….jackpot.” Sam said staring at his computer.

“What?” You and Dean said at the same time.

“There is a charity benefit concert thing coming up on Saturday, locally, and 4 out of our 7 victims were registered to be in it.” Sam said looking at the two of you, turning his computer so you could see.

“Well, that’s not a coincidence.” You said looking over the webpage.

“No, its not.” Dean shook his head next to you.

“This is a problem.” You sighed standing up straight.

“What is?” Dean asked.

“Every girl who is still registered is in danger. I think we need to be backstage.” You said letting your hip rest against the counter and crossing your arms.

“So what your saying is…we need a girl who can sing to go undercover for us.” Sam said raising one eyebrow and tilting his head in your direction.

“Concerts two days away.” You answered looking away, deep in thought. “I’ll sneak in the back and pretend to be a contestant. That way I can keep an eye on all of the girls and also feed you guys information as you’re in the audience.”

“You can’t sing….what if you have to sing?” Dead was confused, eyebrows furrowed.

“I can sing, I just don’t randomly sing in front of people.” You explained. “Now, if you will excuse me. I have some shopping to do and you guys have some tux’s to look into.”

“Tux?!” Dean said, eyes wide.

“Did you not read the part where it said it was a black tie affair?” You said grabbing your purse and heading for the door. You had seen a little boutique on your way in and knew they would have a dress for you. “Peace.” You said giving them a smile as the door closed behind you. You walked to the boutique to find a woman with a friendly face and a large smile. She helped you choose several dresses that you tried on. You found the one. It was a gown that hugged your curves and let loose where you wanted it too. It was a classic dress. You bought it and walked out of the store happy.

The next day the three of you devised a plan. Dean got a hold of the blueprints for the building and you two created a plan on the best way for you to sneak in. You then helped Sam to research on what this monster could be.

“Oh my god…” You said looking at the webpage in front of you. “Well, goddess to be correct.”

“Goddess? What goddess?” Dean asked coming to stand behind you. He put his arms on the chair and leaned down. You could feel his breath on your skin, it was a slight distraction.

“Aoede, the goddess of voice and song. She was one of the original muses in Greek mythology. Said to collect voices of true song from those she deemed worthy.” You said reading from the page.

“Great. Another goddess.” Dean said pinching the bridge of his nose.

“How do we kill her?” Sam asked.

“According to this her only weakness is a gold blade dipped in the blood of a virgin.” You sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

“Why do these things like virgins so much?” Dean spread his arms out, annoyance on his handsome face.

“Don’t know.” Sam said shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders.

“I have a crazy idea.” You said biting your lower lip. “Well, out of the three of us, I have definitely had the least amount of sex. So, what about if we purify my blood and give it a shot?”

“It could work.” Dean said tilting his head to the side and raising his hands in a “whatever” gesture.

“I mean if it doesn’t we’re screwed….but we’re always screwed and I don’t have a better idea so, alright.” Sam said placing his hands on his shoulder and looking into your eyes as you smiled up at him.

The next day you spent getting ready, the concert started at 7 and you were nervous. You hadn’t sung in years and you picked a big song. You dressed in black slacks and a white button down with a black vest over it. You went to the concert hall two hours early and snuck in the back door. You waited for other staff members begin to arrive, then you quietly walked into the room and stood with the rest of the cocktail waiters and waitresses. People began to arrive and fill the room, you slipped away and grabbed your backpack out of the bathroom stall you locked it in and walked in the back towards the dressing rooms. You found an empty one and locked the door. You curled your hair and pinned one side back letting the others fall. You went for a bold makeup look, a dark smokey eye and bold red lips. Taking the gold jewelry that you kept from your previous life before you became a hunter, you added a necklace, earrings, and a bracelet. Then you slipped on your new dress and heels and opened the door as other contestants began to fill the halls. You needed to be quick to get to the band before people started taking their seats. You walked to the back and found the head of music, identifying him from the website you and Sam looked over. You quietly slipped him a 50 and whispered the song into his ear, placing your hand on his chest and looking up at him from your eyelashes. He nodded and licked his lips, letting his eyes linger on you for too long. You walked to the back of the stage with the other girls and waited.

People were now taking their seats as Sam and Dean looked around the room trying to find the seat with the best view to see the crowd. They walked to the back and took seats directly in the middle, looking around the room.

“Man, I hate wearing this thing.” Dean said tugging on his collar slightly. “I look like a penguin.” Sam smirked and looked at the crowd. The first few people came out and sang, they were all good, but neither Sam or Dean saw a reaction in the audience. Then you came on stage. Dean sat a little straighter in his chair as his stomach flipped. You were radiant, your dress was tight and showed off your figure. Your red lips were turned into a small smile as your heels clicked against the floor. The music started and Dean couldn’t look at anything but you. Your mouth opened and Dean heard the sound that suddenly made everything make sense.

Share my life, take me for what I am 'Cause I'll never change all my colors for you

Take my love, I'll never ask for too much Just all that you are and everything that you do

“Did you know she could sing like that?” Sam asked leaning in closer. Dean couldn’t form words at the moment so he just shook his head. I don't really need to look very much further I don't wanna have to go where you don't follow I won't hold it back again, this passion inside Can't run from myself There's nowhere to hide Don't make me close one more door I don't wanna hurt anymore Stay in my arms if you dare Or must I imagine you there Don't walk away from me... I have nothing, nothing, nothing If I don't have you

Your body was swaying along with the song and Dean couldn’t pull his eyes away, he was pretty sure he didn’t even blink. Dean was sitting there, mind swirling with images of you, quickly realizing he has been in love with you for years. Of course there was the playful flirting and smiles but this was something new. This feeling in his chest was growing in him and he couldn’t breathe. His arms were planted firmly on his thighs, holding him up. His green eyes gazing at you in a new light. You see through right to the heart of me You break down my walls with the strength of your love I never knew love like I've known it with you Will a memory survive, one I can hold on to I don't really need to look very much further I don't wanna have to go where you don't follow I won't hold it back again, this passion inside I can't run from myself There's nowhere to hide Your love I'll remember forever Don't make me close one more door I don't wanna hurt anymore Stay in my arms if you dare Or must I imagine you there Don't walk away from me... I have nothing, nothing, nothing...

You spread your arms out wide and looked through the whole audience. Dean knew you couldn’t see him, but God all he wanted was for you to look directly at him. His whole body was on fire and you were the only medicine. Don't make me close one more door I don't wanna hurt anymore Stay in my arms if you dare Or must I imagine you there Don't walk away from me, no Don't walk away from me Don't you dare walk away from me I have nothing, nothing, nothing If I don't have you

The entire audience was silent after you sang your final note before an eruption of applause surged through the crowd. People stood as they continued to clap, you took a small bow and waved as you walked off the stage. The trance Dean was in broke as Sam hit him in the chest lightly, getting his attention.

“Dude, black dress three o’clock.” Dean looked to where his brother was pointing, a woman with long auburn hair was exiting her row and heading for the backstage hallway. The two hurried from their seats and followed after her. When they walked into the hallway you were standing there, waiting.

“I saw her come this way.” You said as the brothers approached you. As soon as the words left your mouth Sam went flying towards the wall. Dean turned and grabbed his gold knife with your blood on it from the back of his pants. The woman walked out of the darkness and into the light. She was stunning. She had long auburn hair that cascaded in a waterfall of waves down her back, her eyes were a shining royal blue and her skin was a rich almond color with not a trace of impurities. As the two of you looked at her she waved her hand and Dean also went flying. Sam got up and charged at her with his knife, she quickly walked towards all of you and rammed Sam back to the ground.

“I just want your voice.” She said to you.

“Sorry, sis.” You said before you too were slammed into the wall. Dean charged at her and was able to land one blow in before she flung him across the room again. You tried to get up but couldn’t, there was something holding you to the ground. She continued to toss the boys around as you struggled against her hold. She pinned Dean to the ground and was holding her hand up, ready to strike when her head flung back as the gold blade entered her chest. She screamed loud and high, a light came from her chest and she burst into a ball of light that slowly dissipated. You stood there with the gold knife in your hand, panting slightly.

“Thanks, Y/N/N.” Dean said as Sam helped him to his feet. You nodded and the three of you quickly ran out the back door, someone must have heard something and was going to come and look. You all walked into the motel and Sam was the first to talk.

“So, Y/N.” Here we go. “Why didn’t you tell us you could sing like that?” He asked undoing his bowtie.

“What was I supposed to do? Be like oh, by the way guys: I’m a really good singer? Good morning, I can sing my little heart out, side note.” Sam laughed with you as you giggled.

“You’re amazing, Y/N.” Dean said, there was no joking in his face as he looked into your eyes.

“Thank you.” You tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear as you looked down and smiled, feeling shy. You licked you lips. “Hey, mind if I take the first shower?” You asked. Both boys said you could take it and you quickly stepped out of your heels. Undressing and getting under the warm water felt really good, it is always fun to dress up now and again, but you enjoyed sweat pants a little more. As the makeup washed off your face and the curls were rinsed from your hair you thought about Dean. He looked so good tonight in his tux and for a few moments you could have sworn he was staring. Your crush on him had been brewing for a long time and you didn’t know how much longer you could hold it in. How many more times could you see him pick up some girl who smelt like 5 dollar perfume? How many more times could you have him wink at you or kiss you on the head and not reciprocate? How many more times could you ignore the dance your insides did when he looked at you like he was tonight? You shook all thoughts from your head and got out of the shower, putting on sweat pants and a big shirt for sleeping. You walked into the room as Sam walked into the bathroom. You gave Dean a small smile and walked over to one of the beds. You both sat down and it was then that you noticed Dean seemed nervous. He looked at you and then quickly looked away.

“What is it?” You asked facing him and leaning your head, trying to catch his eyes.

“Y/N….I don’t know how to say this.” Your breath caught in your throat as your stomach twisted into a tight knot.

“What is it?” You asked, trying to sound calm as your palms got sweaty.

“I, well, I think I’m in love with you.” He said finally looking at you. “I mean it, Y/N, when you were on that stage tonight…I could hardly breathe. You are the first thing that pops into my head in the morning and the last thing that floats through my mind at night. I always thought we were best friends, but baby, you mean so much more to me than just friendship.” He moved so he was now kneeling in front of you. His hands resting on your thighs as he spoke. “Every time I hear your voice my day is instantly better, every time I see you after a case I automatically know its going to be ok. You’re the one Y/N, you’re the one for me.” His hands were now running up and down your thighs as his eyes held yours.

“I love you too, Dean. I always have.” Was the only thing you could think of to say. He laughed slightly and you did too he then leaned forward and pressed his plump lips to yours. Your mouths moved together in perfect sync, his tongue entering your mouth, you sucking lightly on his bottom lip. Everything about the kiss was more than you ever dreamed of. Sam clearing his throat is what broke the two of you apart. He gave an awkward nod as he pressed his lips into a hard line. He quietly grabbed his bag and mumbled something about getting his own room. As soon as the door shut Dean was on you again, his hand coming up to rest on your cheek as his lips found yours again. His fingers lightly brushed the back of your neck as you twisted your arms around him. You both fell into the passionate and warm bliss that surrounded you and succumbed to your feelings.

As Sam walked out of the office holding the key to his own room he whispered a ‘finally’ to himself as his mouth rounded into a smile.

Three years later

“Dean!” You screamed running through the halls of the bunker. You guys had found this place a few months ago and nothing felt as good as having something to call ‘home’, or so you thought. You ran into his chest as he grabbed your shoulders and pulled you away from him, checking you over for an injury.

“What is it, baby?” He said, worry etched into his face.

“I’m….I’m….I.” You tried but you couldn’t get it out so you just handed him the test. He took it from you and stared at the plus sign. Your fingers nervously twisted as he continued to stare.

“You’re pregnant.” He said matter of factly. “Oh my God! You’re pregnant!” He said lifting you in his arms and kissing you desperately on the mouth. “I love you so much, I love you, I love you, I love you.” He said as tears filled his eyes.

“I love you too, Dean Winchester.” Was all you could get out before his mouth stopped you from speaking.

#dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x female!reader #spn #spnfandom #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fandom #dean x you

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kittyanonymity · 5 years

Text

A Ladybug in Gotham #1

Marinette knows no peace

Ok fuck it, we’re doing it!!! Hang on to your pants guys! <3 Also, just wanna say, I have loved every single Daminette fic I’ve read in this tag. You guys are a bunch of talented folks; I hope you guys like this! Also feel free to send me asks, and ask questions! There are some things that happen in the six months before the trip that I just,,,,,, REALLY did not feel like writing lmao >.> There is an allusion to some heavy stuff, but we won’t be getting into that yet.

Ages are 17-18, and Lila has been back for 4 years by the time they get to Gotham.

Damian: 18, 19 in a few months ( like august)

Marinette (& crew): 17, (Mari’s b day is actually the month they’re in Gotham, so like april/may-ish??) Also Chloe is already 18

Tim: 22

Jason: 29

Dick: 35

Bruce: 48

Ao3

Part 1 :HERE: Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Enjoy my dears!! <3 <3

Marinette couldn’t stop the smile on her face as she leaned back in her chair, holding the acceptance paper over her head.

“We did it, Tikki! We got the trip!”

Tikki whizzed around, fluttering in front of her.

“Oh, Marinette, I know you could do it! Madame Bustier will be so happy!” Marinette smiled as her kwami nuzzled her cheek, and the girl laughed, cupping the little god close to her face.

“It’ll be just what I need for inspiration, Tikki! Gotham is beautiful in the spring I hear.” With a jolt, she sat up, her chair creaking under the sudden movement, “I have to go tell maman and papa!”

She left Tikki giggling as she raced downstairs to tell her parents.

It was one of the most exciting days of the last four years, truly.

With the fundraising done ahead of time, all she’d needed to do was write an essay on why her school deserved the trip. Despite how she personally had been treated by her class these last few years, the school still had them actively involved in the community; and while she may not like most of her classmates anymore thanks to Lila, they still took their responsibilities seriously. They had rightfully earned this chance, she thought. As the year rep, she had worked tirelessly with the other classes and their reps to arrange preparations in the event they got it, and Mme. Bustier had publicly assigned her the role of the essay; Lila had not been thrilled about that.

But she’d done it!

They were going to Gotham!

Telling Master Fu abou the possibility went well; her master trusted her judgement, and he understood her desire to go on this trip. To be safe though, he decided to send Kaalki along with her, in the event of an akuma; that way a speedy return was always possible no matter what.

She was excited; but it didn’t change the fact that the trip was still a good six months away, a good end of the year trip before graduation.

‘Just a little longer,’ Marinette thought, a rueful smile on her lips, ‘A little longer, and I’ll finally have a break.’

The four years since Lila’s return had not been kind, or even all that fun. She did her best not to dwell on her emotions, what with a madman running around praying on any and all negative feelings; but she couldn’t deny the apathy she felt at times in regards to her classmates.

Lila had made good on her promise, truly. None of her old friends cared about her anymore, bar Alix and - surprisingly - Chloe. Alya had even hit her before summer break, claiming that Lila had told her Marinette shoved her down the stairs again.

And Marinette had stared right at Adrien, her boyfriend, and he had done nothing.

And she felt nothing when she broke up with him later that same week.

Finding out he was Chat Noir over the summer had been like a slap to the face, and she was just glad he didn’t realize she’d put the pieces together; especially considering how often he visited her balcony as his hero self. He’d always flirt with her as Chat, whether she was Ladybug or Marinette; and at first, she’d almost found it flattering. Then it started to make her uncomfortable.

She’d reject him as Ladybug, only to have him come whine to Marinette while he also made passes at her, showering her in praise, and pushing her to get back with Adrien. She started avoiding her balcony.

It left her stressed and on edge; Adrien only talked to her as Chat now. He wouldn’t risk talking to her at school, and after they broke up, her parents had barred him from the bakery.

But still.

Six months.

Six more months of hell, and she’d be heading to Gotham to destress.

She couldn’t wait.

~~~~~~~~

The flight had been rather dull, despite Chloe being her seatmate for the whole trip; they’d giggled over some awful american movie for the last half, and Madame Bustier had been kind enough to room her with Chloe at their hotel. The Grand Gotham Embassy building was massive, and Marinette couldn’t help but gape in awe.

Chloe snorted as she walked up next to Mari, her own carry on in hand as they stepped off the bus.

“Careful, DC, you’ll catch flies.” Mari snapped her mouth shut, and gave Chloe a flat look; the blonde only laughed, and linked their arms.

“Come on Mari-bear, let’s get our room key so our luggage can be taken up.” Marinette smiled, and nodded.

“Yeah, I wanna get settled in too.” She leaned closer to Chloe as they walked arm in arm into the hotel lobby, heading for Mme. Bustier, “Tikki is starving.” Chloe nodded.

“Pollen is too.” She said just as softly. Marinette saw Alix wave from where she stood talking to Kim and Max, and Mari waved back softly. She averted her eyes the second Max looked at her, and Chloe hurried them away once they had their keys.

Their rooms were breathtaking, honestly. Each of the suites her class was staying in had two rooms, each with their own single bed; there was a shared seating area between the two, and one bathroom, but it still had privacy. They each had a door out onto the connected balcony, and once Marinette sat her carry on bag on her bed, she threw open the balcony door, staring out over the cityscape in wonder. Paris was beautiful, the city of Love; but Gotham was gorgeous this high up.

With a thought of mischief, Marinette scoped out some good swinging spots for later before turning to see the bellhops unloading her bags. She offered them a smile and a sincere thank you as they left. She heard Chloe settling into her room through the door, and smiled as she heard her talking to Pollen. Master Fu had decided to send Pollen along with Chloe in the event that Ladybug had to come to Paris; she could bring another ally with her if needed, without having to search one out. And since Chloé had figured out her identity two years ago, she had been the best bet. Her new hero identity, Hornet, helped.

Tikki flew out of the purse at her side, and smiled.

“We made it, Marinette! We’re finally here! Do you think the Gotham university will be what you want?”

Marinette sighed as she flopped back onto her bed, staring at the ceiling, “I don’t know, Tikki; I hope so. The website was super promising, and the woman I spoke to seemed to think I’d have no problem getting in.”

Tikki hummed as she flew down and dug a cookie from Marinette’s purse, “Well, we’ll be here for a month, so it’s plenty of time to go and see the campus. I think you’ll like it Marinette! And once we defeat Hawkmoth, maybe we can start a new chapter here!” Marinette smiled at Tikki, sitting up.

“I think I like the sound of that. I’m worried about how… Adrien will handle it though.” Her smile fell as soon as it had come, and Tikki frowned as well. She floated over to her chosen and rested her paw on Marinette’s cheek.

“Marinette, his feelings are not your responsibility. You and Adrien broke up, and the fact that he was disrespecting your wishes as his superhero self was a major red flag. I don’t know why you were so upset when the Guardian took his miraculous.”

Marinette groaned, covering her face with her hands, and Tikki wove herself into her long hair, hugging the girl.

“I know he was your partner, Marinette, and you don’t want to replace him; but you have to know, Adrien isn’t the true Black Cat.”

Marinette went still.

“Tikki, what are you talking about?”

Tikki hesitated, before floating in front of Marinette’s face, “Well, for some of the miraculous, there are multiple people who can be Chosen, and some of them are better candidates than others. Adrien was the best option out of the people in Paris, so the Guardian Chose him; but he is not meant to be your Black Cat, he is just A Black Cat.” Marinette stared at her Kwami with wide eyes, slowly processing.

“So… you’re saying he’s not my other half?”Tikki shook her head, “No; and he was never meant to be. His actions have done nothing but prove that. I’m sure once we return to Paris, we’ll be sent to find the real Black Cat.”

And in a moment of clarity, Marinette realized she was out of Paris, far away from Hawkmoth; so when tears rose to her eyes, she let them come. She covered her mouth as she sobbed, and she bent over, resting her elbows on her knees as she breathed.

“Oh, Marinette, don’t cry! Please don’t be sad!” Tikki fluttered around her anxiously as she cried, and after a moment, Marinette laughed; it was a bit raspy, but it was happy. She spared a glance at her, where, in a secret pocket, she had stored Plagg's slumbering miraculous; she looked back at her own kwami.

“Tikki, I’m-I’m not sad, I’m… I’m so relieved.” Her smile was weak, but sincere, “I was terrified that he was an inevitability I’d have to just accept…” Tikki’s frown grew, and she hugged her chosen again, little tears leaking down her face.

“I’m so sorry Marinette, I wish you didn’t have to feel so much negativity all the time.”

A knock at her and Chloe’s shared door cut her off before she could reply, and Marinette looked over in time to see Chloe peek in. The blonde’s eyes grew wide when she saw Mari crying, and she rushed over, sitting on the bed next to her.

“What’s wrong, Mari-bear?”

And Marinette laughed, wrapping her arms around Chloe.

“For once, nothing!”

Chloe shared a look with Tikki while the kwami spoke with Pollen in hushed tones, but she just hugged her friend closer. They sat in silence for awhile, waiting while Marinette composed herself. With a final sniffle, Marinette leaned back and gave Chloe a grin.

“Since it’s a rest day, do you think they’d let us check out the surrounding boutiques? I wanna see what kind of fashion Gotham has.”

Chloe snorted, but it was in good humor, “Nothing they have here could compare to what you make, Mari-bear, or even what Paris has in general.” With a smile, Chloe reached over and tapped her nose, “But I’m sure Mme. Bustier will allow it as long as you’re with someone as amazing as me.”

Chloe had learned long ago not to pry into Marinette’s business, and since she’d split up with Adrien, Chloe had learned just how true that statement was; learning that the blonde boy was Chat Noir and that he’d been harassing Marinette on her balcony? That had been an accident, though Marinette had been the one to tell her.

Chloe could only watch Marinette flinch away from the Cat hero so much before she’d gotten concerned, and asked for an explanation. And Marinette hadn’t held back; she’d told Chloe everything, from the midnight visits, to how he constantly complained about Ladybug - herself -, and finally to how he flirted with her as Marinette, and kept insinuating that she get back with Adrien.

As the only one who knew, Chloe had doubled down on partnering with Marinette for everything after that; and now that his miraculous had been reclaimed, Chloe wanted to sigh in relief.

If you’d told either girl four years ago that they would be inseparable even at the end of lycée, they would’ve scoffed and told you you were crazy; and yet here they were, Chloe helping Marinette clean up her face before they went to see madame Bustier. It was only around 3 pm in Gotham, and dinner wouldn’t be until 8; and as much as Marinette wanted to enjoy the indoor pool, she would much rather see the city.

Once they were ready, Chloe led them down to the lobby, kwamis secure in their purses, and found Miss Bustier talking with one of the receptionists. Chloe - being, well, Chloe - walked over, and interrupted.

“Mme. Bustier, Mari-bear and I are going to look at the boutiques across the street. Call me if you need us.” And leaving their teacher spluttering and indignant, Chloe led them away, and out the doors. Marinette laughed a bit as they were out of hearing range.

“She’s going to kill you Chloe, you know that?” Chloe smiled while they stood at the crosswalk waiting to cross, and she flipped her blonde bob over her shoulder.

“Please. That woman wishes she could do anything to stop me.” Marinette watched as Chloe’s smile fell, and they walked as the walk sign lit up. “Besides, of course I’m not going to listen to a teacher who has let Lila just do as she pleases. She’s just as complicit in your abuse as the rest of the class is, Mari-bear, and I will not tolerate it. It's utterly ridiculous.”

Marinette felt her heart warm, and her smile softened before she hugged Chloe’s arm closer to her. “Thanks, Chlo. Though you know~” Chloe groaned, knowing where Marinette was going with this, “you also used to torment me pretty relentlessly.”

Chloe levelled her with a flat look as they walked into a store, “Yes, we’ve established that, DC, thank you for reminding me.” Chloe pinched Marinette’s cheek with a grin, “Such a goody goody, you know that?” Marinette laughed, and batted her hand away.

“Come on, let’s see what they’ve got, dork.” She ignored Chloe’s indignant squawk, and laughed as she started looking through the clothes.

Marinette and Chloe talked idly while they browsed, but found nothing of note in the first store other than a cute pair of bulky sneakers that Marinette couldn’t help but buy. Chloe had rolled her eyes and commented on how thin they made her legs look; which of course, made Marinette reveal the inspiration behind the choice. BLACKPINK was a pretty popular K-pop girl group, and Marinette had fallen in love with their style since day one. The baggy pants with big shoes they often used was something Marinette found herself enjoying more than she ever thought she would, but she just hadn’t found the right pair of shoes until now.

The next store was much better, in Chloe’s opinion; Marinette shied away from the Agreste line on display, and followed Chloe over to where her mother’s work was displayed. Audrey was a difficult woman, but neither of them could deny her talent in the industry.

Both girls ended up leaving with something to fit in their wardrobes. Chloe had chosen a deep purple blouse with ruffled sleeves; Marinette had giggled, telling her she reminded her of a witch, but the color was excellent on her. Marinette had gone more simple and fun, opting for a zip up hoodie inspired by one of Gotham’s own heroes, Robin. It may have been spring in Gotham, but being Ladybug, Marinette was very susceptible to the cold; she’d get sluggish and sleepy, and spring in the states was cooler than in France.

By the time they were bored of the shops, it was only five o’ clock. Chloe stifled a yawn, and Marinette looked at her.

“Why don’t you go ahead and head back Chloe? I’m gonna go sit in the park there, and try to design for a bit.” Chloe stared at her for a moment before she looked at the park. It was visible from the front of the hotel, and their hotel was in the better part of the city. Well, all that, and the fact that Marinette was Ladybug...

Chloe nodded, taking Marinette’s shopping bag for her since the girl had already put on her new hoodie, “That should be ok. But I swear, DC, if something happens, I am not letting you go anywhere alone for the rest of this trip.” Marinette laughed, and waved off her concerns.

“Don’t worry, Chlo, if anything happens, I can handle it.” Feeling playful, Marinette raised her arm, and flexed, “After all, these guns aren’t just for show.”

Listening to Chloe laugh hysterically was always a treat, and it warmed Marinette from her toes to her head every time. In some small way, she was grateful to Lila; if it hadn’t been for her, she and Chloe would’ve probably never become such good friends.

“Ugh, no one likes a show off, Marinette.”

The smile fell from her face instantly, and Chloe’s laughter cut off like someone flipped a switch. Mari turned to see Lila standing behind her with a smug smile, though it had been Alya who spoke, Alya who was glaring at her with disdain. Nino was behind them looking kind of uncomfortable, Adrien next to him, backed up by Rose and Juleka, and even Sabrina. Marinette flinched under the harsh stares, and felt herself shrink as she stepped back, but before she could say anything, Chloe was there, a snarl marring her lips.

“Funny how you say that Cesaire, given who you’re friends with.” She blocked their line of sight to Marinette, though it was only Lila’s and Alya’s, and Marinette could feel Adrien staring at her, “You think what Mari was doing was showing off? Then what do you call Lila bragging about all the fake shit she’s done, huh?” Chloe didn’t even give her time to respond before she scoffed, and rolled her eyes, shutting down Alya's retort, “Oh, wait, nevermind, I forgot. You’re such a terrible reporter you don’t even fact check anymore, my bad.” Chloe smiled at the end, before making a shooing motion with her hand, “Now begone. I don’t appreciate sheep breathing my air.”

Lila turned on the waterworks as Chloe turned away, and gently guided Marinette down the sidewalk to the park they’d been talking about; Alya was shouting after them, but they continued on. Once they were out of sight, Chloe wrapped her friend in a hug, and Marinette cried. It was how it happened every time, for the last three years, since Chloe had decided to stick to the girl’s side. She’d only known about her being Ladybug for two years, but even before then, she’d made efforts to befriend the girl she’d bullied; because Lila was somehow so much worse than even Chloe was, and it was plain for the blonde to see. It had become routine at this point.

Lila and Alya would gang up on Marinette, Chloe would make them back off, and then comfort Marinette. Mari had told her time and time again, she didn’t need to do that, but Chloe knew she did. Chloe had messed up too many times to count, and she knew Marinette still cared about some of their classmates, especially Alix since she was the only other one who would hang out with them.

But Chloe?

Chloe had never cared about sparing people’s feelings until she’d become Marinette’s support. She would tear them down each time they came for her best friend. Alix had told her she was ‘fierce’, and Chloe thought it was an accurate description nowadays. They were nearly adults for crying out loud; you’d think her idiot classmates would’ve caught on to Lila’s lies by now.

“Are you ok?” Chloe asked softly. She rubbed soothing circles into Marinette’s back as the girl calmed down, her cries giving way to sniffles. Marinette nodded, pulling back and wiping her eyes.

“I-I think so. Thanks Chloe. It feels… It actually feels so much better to just let it out, and not have to worry about getting akumatized.” Chloe nodded, brushing some hair out of Marinette’s face.

“Good. Cesaire is lucky I didn’t deck her. Like, seriously, what a hypocrite.” Chloe was fuming, but she softened when Marinette laughed, “Do you still wanna sit in here and try to design?”

Marinette cleared her throat, and nodded, “Yeah, I do. It’ll be nice, I think.” She rubbed at her face some more, wiping the moisture away, but her red eyes remained. “I just want to decompress for a bit, you know?”

Chloe nodded, “Ok, then I’m gonna go ahead and go back to our room.” She gave her friend a severe look, “And I’m serious, Marinette. If anything happens, you call or text me, ok?”

Marinette rolled her eyes, but smiled, “Chloe you’re not my bodyguard, you know that right?”

Chloe scoffed, “Bullshit, I am so. And I am totally the best at it, by the way.”

Marinette hugged Chloe tight, startling the other girl, “Thanks, Chlo. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Chloe’s mind flashed back to a dark night on the Seine from three years ago; of tears, and horrible wishes, and she wraps her arms around Marinette in a tighter embrace.

“Probably get lost, and then kidnapped, honestly. Your sense of direction is awful, Mari-bear.”

It worked, sparking another laugh out of her best friend, and Chloe wanted to sigh in relief.

“Now go and find yourself a nice spot to sit. I’m going to make sure Lie-la and her little goonies are gone.” Marinette nodded as they separated, and Chloe booped her on the nose, “I’ll see you back at the room, DC.”

With that, Chloe waved and walked back towards the entrance of the park. She needed to talk to Alix. Lila always planned something big when Chloe defended Mari, and she was sure this time would be no different. She needed to be ready.

And without the risk of being akumatized?

Well.

Chloe couldn’t help but laugh.

Lila wouldn’t know what hit her.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette found a soft patch of grass in the sun behind a wall of bushes, and sighed as she sat her purse on the ground, and flopped down. She could hear the rush of cars on the street over, and sirens in the far distance; there were birds singing in the trees around her, and children laughing over at the playground she’d passed. It was peaceful.

“Marinette? Are you ok?”

She smiled as Tikki nestled into her long hair, offering her comfort.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m ok Tikki. I just wish they’d stop. It’s lessened since Chloe became my friend, but it doesn’t change the fact that it hurts. Hearing Alya say such awful things to me, even now…” Marinette sighed, feeling her eyes tear up; nope, she was done for today, she could cry again tomorrow, “It still feels like a knife in my lungs.”

And she knew what that felt like; Sharpener had been an akuma from two years ago. She was a chef who’d gotten akumatized because her coworker had broken her best knife out of jealousy. Chat Noir had been distracted during the fight, and Ladybug had missed the akuma’s approach, taking the knife right between her ribs. Her Miraculous Cure had healed her, but Marinette still remembered the pain quite vividly.

She’d almost been akumatized after the fight was over, having been sent into a panic attack.

Shaking herself out of it, Marinette reached over into her purse and pulled out her sketchbook. She’d upgraded from her little clasp bag that she’d made to something with a bit more utility. It was a lavender shoulder bag with a cross strap, and it was large enough to hold her sketchpad, and a few other essentials while leaving plenty of room for Tikki and Kaalki, along with the pocket for Plagg's miraculous box.

“Marinette, I know their treatment of you still hurts. I’d be more worried if it didn’t. But remember,” And Marinette looked at Tikki, surprised to see the bright smile on the kwami’s face, “you’re Ladybug, with or without the mask, and if they can’t see how sincere and kind you are, then they never deserved you in the first place.” Tikki flew forward, and hugged Marinette’s cheek, “You’re the best Ladybug I’ve ever had, and you mean so much to me. I hate seeing people hurt you, and I’m sorry I can’t do more for you, Marinette.”

“Tikki’s right, Marinette.” Mari glanced down to see Kaalki poking her head out of the purse, a smile on her face, “You’re an excellent Ladybug, and you’ll be an excellent Guardian one day, we all know it.”

Mari smiled, reaching down and rubbing Kaalki’s head gently, “Thanks Kaalki, thank you Tikki. I love you guys. You hungry?” Both kwamis said yes, and so Marinette handed Tikki a couple cookies, while Kaalki dove into the small pile of sugar cubes Marinette gave her. Tikki and Kaalki conversed quietly in her purse, and Marinette finally turned her attention to her sketchbook.

Humming to herself, Marinette drifted off as her pencil danced across the paper. It was easy to get lost in the sounds of the park around her, and she was thrilled with what she was coming up with. Already, dresses and casual clothes filled the next few pages of her book as she worked. She was just about to ask Tikki something when an explosion rocked the earth.

Marinette yelped as the ground beneath her rumbled, and Tikki burrowed into her hair in a panic.

“What was that, Marinette?!” Marinette shook her head, getting to her feet, and putting her bag over her shoulder, reaching in, and patting Kaalki in reassurance. She crawled to the edge of the bush where all the commotion had originated from, and peeked out carefully. Most of the people were gone, but she could still hear crying somewhere.

Then the laughter started.

Marinette felt a chill go down her spine. While her and the other reps of the school had been planning this trip, she had researched about every danger Gotham had to offer, looking at pictures, reading articles, and watching as many videos as she could find; she knew that laugh now.

She was just about to hide again, when she saw the source of the crying. A little girl with dark hair sat in the dirt behind a trash can, holding her hands to her eyes while she sobbed. Mind made up, Marinette dashed from the bushes, keeping low until she reached the child. She wrapped her arms around her, and when the girl tensed, she smiled gently.

“Shhh, it’s ok, honey, I’ve got you. Where’s your parents?” The little girl shook her head, tiny hands clutching Marinette’s jacket.

“N-not- h-here! B-babysitter left m-me…!” Another sob wracked the little girl’s frame, and Marinette hugged her tighter at the sound of gunfire. She needed to get out of here, get this girl to safety, but she couldn’t transform. Idly, Marinette toyed with the metal yo-yo in her purse, a gift from Master Fu that could help her fight as a civilian. She could do this.

Focusing back on the girl, Marinette pulled her back until they could look at each other; the girl’s eyes were a vibrant green, almost neon even.

“My name’s Marinette, what’s yours sweetheart?” The girl caught her breath long enough to answer, wiping at her face.

“M-Mar’i Grayson, miss.” Marinette nodded, looking at the girl in reassurance.

“I’m going to get you out of here. Let me check the area, ok? Stay behind me.” Mar’i nodded, clutching the sleeve of Marinette’s hoodie, while she leaned out around the trash can to observe their surroundings; and she promptly cursed her rotten luck.

Joker was strolling through the park with about three henchmen around him; 4 on 1 odds were not in her favor, especially with Mar’i. Marinette glanced at the little girl who was crying silently next to her, trying to not think about how much worse Joker looked in real life. Marinette found she was terrified.

No.

She had to do something. She was Ladybug, with or without her damn mask, and she was going to protect this little girl with her life.

Marinette took a deep breath, and braced herself, “Mar’i.” The little girl looked at her with wide eyes, and Marinette smiled.

“Stay behind me, ok?” She waited until Mar’i nodded, and then they waited; and Marinette listened.

“Can’t seem to find her boss. She must’ve gotten out.”

“Oh hogwash! I saw that babysitter of hers scamper out of here without the brat, so Grayson’s daughter is here somewhere!”

Oh my god.

They were after Mar’i? Why?

‘Doesn’t matter, not gonna get her.’ Marinette thought aggressively. So she calmed herself, and she listened, and she waited until they were in range. And once they were, Marinette moved.

Leaping up out of her crouch, Marinette moved Mar’i behind her right as the group turned to look at them; but Marinette was already grabbing the trash can with both hands, and hurling it at the goons and their boss. It had the desired effect, and the group scattered, but it managed to take down two of Joker’s men, knocking one out from the sheer force while the other lost the grip on his gun, losing it in the bushes. Moving quickly, Marinette swiped Mar’i up with her free hand while she retrieved the carbon fiber yo-yo from her purse with her other.

Whipping it forward, Marinette snagged the gun of the third minion, yanking it away and to her; and then she ran.

“She’s got the brat! Get after her, you idiots!”

Marinette sprinted for the entrance of the park after throwing the gun away, running as fast as her legs could carry her; which admittedly, was quite fast. Years of being bonded with Tikki, plus the extra training she’d picked up in her free time made her formidable even out of her suit; and she was not about to let that clown get his filthy hands on this precious girl.

Marinette yelped as a bullet impacted the dirt next to her feet, and then she was bobbing and weaving, dodging bullets before she ducked behind the bathrooms.

“Get the kid, damnit! God, why are you all so useless!”

Marinette looked down at Mar’i, expecting the girl to still be terrified, but she was staring up at Marinette in awe.

“Wow, Miss Marinette, you’re like a superhero!” She said softly, and Marinette flushed, but gave the girl a small smile.

“You’re very brave Mar’i, but we’re not safe yet.” She could hear footsteps coming closer, light, matching the gait she’d heard from the Joker just moments earlier. With a small huff, she wrapped Mar’i around her again, and readied her yo-yo as she ran the opposite way. She stopped short for a moment as she came face to face with the other henchman, but thinking quickly, Marinette ducked his wide swing, and brought her head upwards into his chin, knocking him back and off balance; following up with a quick swipe at his legs, he hit the ground, and Marinette was running again.

‘Almost there, so close…’ “Merde.” She hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but seeing Joker grinning at her from the entrance did not instill much hope in her. He tapped the barrel of his six shooter against the palm of his hand, watching her. Marinette sat Mar’i down, and pushed her behind her further, grip on her yo-yo tight.

“Now, now, little lady, we don’t have to fight. If you’d just hand that little girl there over, I’ll let you leave. With a smile even!” The grin on his face told her he was lying, even though his laughter was a clue in and of itself.

Marinette’s eyes narrowed, and she lowered her chin, “That’s not happening, clown. Step aside.” Joker’s eyebrows flew up, and he began laughing; Marinette hated that sound.

“She’s got some fight in her then! How interesting! And a foreigner too? So fearless!” Marinette let the yo-yo swing from her hand, swinging next to her leg, as he pointed the gun at her. She felt Mar’i grip her pants tighter with a small gasp. Joker’s grin grew, “But are you so willing to die for her?”

Marinette snarled, “Of course I am!”

The lack of hesitation made the Joker pause long enough for Marinette to make her move.

With a precision that startled even her, Marinette flung her yo-yo out again, managing to grab the Joker’s gun this time, and yanking it from him. It careened away into the brush, and Marinette snapped her yo-yo back with a trained hand; just in time to see a man dressed in black land on him from above.

Holy shit.

That’s Batman.

Shaking herself off, Marinette turned and picked Mar’i up, running the other direction; no child should see a fight like that. She had to get her to safety, to her parents, or the police, someone safe. The bathrooms? No, she’d left that goon over there, and she wasn’t sure if he was down and out or not.

“Think, Marinette, think, come on!” There had to be another exit in this park, away from the chaos of the main path; big parks always had multiple entrances and exits.

“Go that way Miss Marinette!” Marinette looked to where Mar’i pointed, and followed the girls directions. Flashing red and blue lights lit up the street, and Marinette could’ve cried with relief at the sight of the police officers.

An auburn haired woman was standing at the front of the police line, looking around in a panic, and the second her eyes landed on Marinette carrying Mar’i, she rushed forward.

“Mar’i, oh my god, baby girl, you’re ok!” The woman was crying, and Mar’i smiled, reaching for the woman.

“Auntie Barb!” Knowing Mar’i knew this woman, Marinette allowed the girl to be taken from her arms delicately, but she lingered by them. An older mustached man walked up, and held out his hand to Marinette, startling her.

“Thank you for getting her out of there. What’s your name?” Marinette flushed, reaching out and shaking his hand.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, sir. Please don’t thank me. I couldn’t have left her in there. Not with him.”

“I’m Commissioner Gordon. You don’t sound like you’re from around here, Miss Dupain-Cheng.” Marinette shook her head as she stepped back from him.

“No, sir; I’m from Paris. My school is here on a field trip.” The commissioner nodded.

“You’re the school Bruce Wayne sponsored.” Marinette offered him a tired smile.

“Yes, sir.”

“Miss Marinette!”

Marinette turned in time to feel tiny arms wrap around her legs, and she looked down to see Mar’i smiling at her, despite the tears on her face. Marinette crouched down to her level, and blinked when Mar’i wrapped her arms around her neck; she was quick to return the hug, even as she saw ‘Auntie Barb’ walk over.

“Thank you for saving me, Miss Marinette! You were really cool!” Marinette’s smile was small as she squeezed the little girl tight.

“Oh little one, you don’t have to thank me. I would do it again and again if need be.” She hummed contemplatively, “Though I think I’ll talk to your mama or papa about that babysitter; who leaves a little girl alone in this city?”

‘Auntie Barb’ scoffed, “When Dick hears about that, he’s gonna lose it.”

“Mar’i!”

Marinette looked over in time to see the police part like the red sea, and she was treated to seeing nearly the entire Bat pack escort a dishevelled looking dark haired man through the crowd. Mar’i broke away from her to run to the new arrival.

“Daddy!”

And Marinette smiled as she stood up, watching the two hug. Her father was patting her down, holding her close by the head, obvious relief in his eyes. It was a beautifully heart wrenching thing.

“Miss.”

Marinette jumped, looking to the side to see Batman staring down at her. She yelped, flushing.

“Y-yes, sir?”

My god, this man was intimidating! Was he going to lecture her? Bar her from the country??! Oh no, what if-?!

....Why was he holding his hand out?

Marinette blinked stupidly before she took his hand and shook it.

“What you did tonight was very admirable. You put yourself at great personal risk to protect the life of a child you’d never met, and managed to thwart a kidnapping by one of the most dangerous men in the city. You have my respect.”

Marinette’s cheeks grew more red, “Please, I-I’d do it all again, you don’t have to say any of that. It was the right thing to do; anyone would’ve done it.” Batman simply shook his head.

“No, Miss Dupain-Cheng, they wouldn’t. I’d like to get a statement from you, if you’d allow it.”

“Before that...”

Marinette and Batman both looked over, and she was surprised to see Mar’i’s father next to her. He gave her a smile.

“I would like to thank you for rescuing my darling, Miss… Marinette, was it?” Marinette nodded, fiddling with her hands; her anxiety was starting to peak with this many people. “If anything had happened to Mar’i, I… I don’t know what I would’ve done. Thank you. From the absolute depths of my heart, thank you for protecting my little girl.”

Marinette’s face grew impossibly redder, “Y-you’re welcome! It was no problem! She’s a wonderful girl.” She smiled at Mar’i as she sat in her dad’s arms. Shifting the girl to one arm, he held out his free hand.

“My name is Dick Grayson. I hope to see you again, but for now, I need to get Mar’i home before her mother gets any more anxious.” Marinette nodded as they shook hands.

“If I may, mister Grayson?” The man smiled, and despite the situation, it was shockingly cheery.

“Please, call me Dick.”

‘Auntie Barb’ snorted in amusement somewhere next to Marinette, but she tuned it out.

“Please speak to whoever was babysitting Mar’i today; they left her behind.”

Dick stared at her for a moment, maybe processing, before he nodded, a steely look in his eyes.

“Thank you for telling me, Marinette. We’ll take care of it.” Marinette smiled, before she dug around in her purse, and pulled out one of the many cookies she had for Tikki; she handed it over to Mar’i who took it with a smile of her own.

“You be safe, ok?” Mar’i nodded, giving her a bigger smile.

“I will! You’re the best, Miss ‘Nette!” Smiling at the nickname, Marinette waved to the little girl as the police escorted the family away; she realized Batman was still next to her, and snapped her attention back to him.

“S-sorry, sir. I’ll give you that statement now.”

The man seemed less intimidating for some reason, like he was quietly amused.

“You’re surprisingly humble in the face of all this, Marinette.”

‘Calm down, calm down, you’re fine.’ She thought, gripping her bag.

“I didn’t do this for attention, sir. I’m… not exactly comfortable being in the spotlight like this.”

The masked man nodded in understanding, and once he was ready, Marinette began her retelling of what had happened.

Distinctly unaware of the several pairs of ears listening in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Holy shit, you’re telling me pixie stick here threw a metal trash can at Joker?! Like a full on throw?!” Red Hood wasn’t buying it. The girl was so tiny, despite the toned muscles of her legs; she looked like she weighed ninety pounds soaking wet!

“That’s what the cameras in the park are showing, Hood.” He heard Red Robin typing away at something, before- “Holy shit.” Hood stood back by the police, flanked by Robin, and he turned his attention back to his comm line.

“What is it, Red?”

“That girl took them down with a fucking yo-yo, Hood. What the hell?”

The comm fell silent again before Jason heard all the air whoosh out of Tim over the line.

“Red? What now?”

“The… The audio. Hood, she was fully prepared to lay down her life for Mar’i. You can hear it in her voice; it’s like she’s a completely different person to who Bats is talking to.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed behind his mask as he frowned; he didn’t like the sound of that. Red Hood noticed the change in his brother’s demeanor, frowning to himself.

“What do you mean, Red?” He asked, and he heard Tim sigh.

“Look, just… wait till you get back, and I’ll show you. That girl’s good though; she’s got guts.”

A shrill call of the girls name had Jason turning, just in time to see a blonde girl tackle Marinette. She was speaking rapidly in French, checking her friend over thoroughly before she turned sharp eyes on Batman. Jason couldn’t help but grin as he watched Bruce’s eyes widen behind the mask, his eyebrows raising a little as the blonde started on a tirade.

Red Hood snickered, “Now this is funny.” He watched his father get berated by the blonde before she started guiding Marinette away; the poor dark haired girl was red all the way to her ears in embarrassment.

“Find something funny, Hood?” Jason looked at Batman as he walked over, and wished his old man could see the shit eating grin on his face.

“Course I did. It’s not everyday I get to watch a teenager yell at you.” Next to him, Robin snorted. Hood and Robin waited until Bats had given Gordon the girl’s statement before the three of them left as one.

They met on a nearby rooftop, far enough away from the scene to be able to talk freely. Batman turned his comm back on, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Red, what do you have on her?” There was a sigh over the line.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, 17, nearly 18; she’s in her last year of lycée at Francoise Dupont in Paris. She’s the one who put together the essay that won her school the trip to Gotham. Her parents own a bakery, but her mother has a vast history in martial arts it looks like. Her grades are excellent, and I’ve found records of literally so many charities I’m not gonna bother listing them.” Bruce could almost hear Tim shrug, “She’s clean, Bats.”

Damian rolled his eyes, “You said she took them down with a yo-yo, Red. That’s not a standard weapon.”

“There’s records of her enrolling in gymnastics several years back; it’s probably a skill she picked up back then; maybe from the ribbon dancing? I’ll see if I can find anything else.”

“Red, just remember,” Everyone paused at the tone of Bruce’s voice, “This is not a malicious search; she saved Mar’i’s life; I don’t want to make problems for the girl.”

“Got it, Bats.”

Batman turned to Robin, and Damian sighed.

“Let me guess, stake out her hotel, make sure she stays safe?”

Batman nodded, “She managed to stall Joker and his goons long enough for us to get there, and she put her life on the line for Mar’i. The story’s already broke the news, along with her face and name. Harley and Ivy won’t give us any problems with this, but Joker has been working on something with Scarecrow for the last couple of months, and I don’t think he’s going to appreciate the hiccup in their plan.” Damian sighed, while Jason cackled, elbowing him in the ribs.

“Oh wah, Demon spawn, you get to go protect a cute girl for awhile; who knows, maybe you’ll get a date.”

Tim snorted over the comm line before he started laughing, and Damian flushed, his cheeks pinkening a bit.

“Go die, Hood.”

“Already did that, thanks, but no.”

With one last glare sent Jason’s way, Robin walked over to the edge of the building, preparing to make his way back to the hotel they’d seen the girl enter; then Jason just had to speak again.

“Oh yeah, did you see she was wearing your merch?”

Father probably wouldn’t let him kill Jason, right?

….

It didn’t stop him from trying.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh my god, Mari, you made it onto the news!” Chloe laughed as she lowered the volume on the broadcast. The cameraman had gotten a good shot of when Marinette had sprinted out of the park, and as she was speaking to the various people who had come up to her; though they mostly replayed her shaking Batman’s hand as he spoke to her.

“Tonight, the attempted kidnapping of Bruce Wayne’s granddaughter was thwarted by a passing teenager from Paris by the name of Marinette Dupain-Cheng, who managed to stall the Joker until Batman could arrive, while protecting miss Mar’i Grayson. This is not the first time the Joker has gone after a member of the Wayne family…”

Marinette groaned and flopped on the couch, covering her eyes with her hands.

“God, turn it off please, Chlo. It was mortifying explaining this to Mme. Bustier without having to hear more of it.” Chloe rolled her eyes, but turned it off anyway. They were lounging in the shared space of their suite, curtains thrown wide to provide a good view of the skyline as the sun set. Tikki, Pollen, and Kaalki were all sitting on the coffee table munching on their respective treats. Tikki flew up, hovering over Marinette where she lay on the couch.

“You were amazing Marinette! I was blown away!” Kaalki nodded as she swallowed a sugar cube, and then her face widened into a grin.

“That’s right, Mari! Your civilian side is super strong just like Ladybug is!” Marinette moved her hands, offering both kwami a smile.

“Thanks you two.” Chloe rolled her eyes, and plopped harshly on the couch next to Marinette.

“I’m glad you’re ok, Mari-bear. I wish I could’ve seen you in action.”

Marinette thought back to how she felt when she heard the Joker laugh, when he was pointing that gun at her. Knowing that without her, Mar’i could be killed, or worse yet.

“Chloe, I’m sorry, but I’m… I’m so glad you weren’t there.” She wasn’t going to cry again, damnit, she was nearly eighteen, but she still felt her throat close up at the force of her emotions, “The Joker is nothing like Hawkmoth, Chlo; he’s not even like the akuma we deal with. He’s in a category far removed from us. I got in a lucky shot because he hesitated.”

Chloe raised an eyebrow, and turned herself on the couch so she was facing Marinette, “What do you mean, Mari?”

Mari swallowed as she sat up, turning herself to the side so she was mostly facing Chloe as well.

“He… He asked me if I was so willing to die for her. And I didn’t even hesitate. I think it threw him off, because he just stared at me; it gave me the opening I needed to use my yo-yo.” She was starting to tremble, Chloe noticed, “I… I was so scared, Chloe. He was after that little girl. I couldn’t let him get his hands on her, I’ve heard about the things he’s done, and I couldn’t let that happen to a child.”

Chloe reached over, and gripped Marinette’s hand in hers, a look of concern on her face.

“That’s not all of it though... is it?”

Marinette shook her head, “I… I was so ready, Chloe; to accept that I was going to die. I forgot that I wanted to live until I saw that opening.” Marinette soon found herself buried in the cloth of Chloe’s sleep top, and she felt the hugs of the three kwamis too.

“Take a deep breath, Mari. You’re here. You lived, and so did the little girl. You did amazing, but not even you can be strong all the time. You can be upset while you’re here, Hawkmoth can’t get us.” Chloe tightened her hold on the girl as she finally cried her heart out; she’d been fighting it so much, for so many years. There was just... so much she’d repressed.

And Chloe held her through all of it.

~~~~~~~~~

Robin was many things. To his brothers, a nuisance, demon spawn Jason called him; to Gotham, he was the stoic boy wonder, both in costume and out. Damian Wayne was generally a cold young man, uncaring for most of the people outside of his own family for a long time. Yes, he cared about the innocents of Gotham as Robin, but as Damian? That was more difficult.

Yet as he sat concealed on the roof across from this girl’s - Marinette’s - hotel room, he felt an odd kind of weight settle in his gut. He couldn’t really read lips or hear anything from this distance, but he could tell she was crying. For some reason, it discomfited him. It was like a longing he'd never felt before, and it was very unusual for him.

And that wasn’t even mentioning the three strange creatures that were flying about the room.

This girl was… odd. Tim had said she was nearly eighteen, so she wasn’t much younger than him, but she was so… expressive. When she’d been talking to Batman, she’d clearly been anxious, but Damian had noticed her constantly sneaking glances towards Mar’i; like she was taking precautions. The girl obviously knew how to fight, as she’d been able to take down Joker’s thugs without taking a single hit.

That was honestly the weirdest part, he thought.

She’d come out without a scratch on her or Mar’i, both of them completely unscathed.

And then Tim had sent him the video he’d grabbed from the cameras, and Damian still couldn’t get it out of his head.

Marinette snarled, “Of course I am!”

When Tim had said it was like she was two different people, he hadn’t been kidding; and though at first, Damian had felt suspicious, now that he was observing her more naturally, it was rather obvious that the young woman had some self esteem issues. He’d seen the confidence in her during the video, but around so many people, it had gone out as easily as a candle. Which honestly, was a true shame.

Damian watched as another girl was let into the room by the blonde; this one had short, cropped pink hair. She looked like she’d get along with Beast Boy pretty well, a thought that made him grimace. The pink one crouched in front of Marinette, and even as far away as he was, he could see the concern on her face as her friends talked her through what he guessed may be a panic attack; but he had noticed that once the new girl had come, the three floating… things had scampered away, and out of sight. So she was keeping secrets then.

He sat there for a couple hours, watching the three girls as they spoke, and finally Marinette calmed down. He was just about to settle in for more observations when he noticed a shadow drop onto Marinette’s side of the balcony; before he could move though, he heard another body land behind him, and Damian came up swinging.

“Whoa there, demon spawn, it’s just us.” Jason dodged his hit gracefully, and Damian snarled.

“Damnit, Hood, don’t sneak up on me. And who’s on her balcony?” Jason sat on the edge of the building Damian had once occupied, and nodded towards the hotel.

“Don’t worry, it’s just Red. He’s setting up a listening device since we knew you wouldn’t be able to hear anything; Grayson is wanting us to take no chances with her safety.” Damian couldn’t fault his older brother’s logic; the girl had saved his daughter. Soon, Red Robin landed beside them, and took up a seat, pulling a speaker from his belt. Damian raised an eyebrow.

“Why the listening device now?” Tim shrugged, accepting the bag of chips Jason handed him.

“Bruce wanted to know if she’d tell anyone how she took the Joker down. We found a couple leads, but we don’t wanna push her too far.” Damian thought back to the three creatures he’d witnessed, but decided that was not his business to share. Besides, if his brothers lingered long enough, they’d see them themselves. So with a sigh, Damian sat back down next to Red Robin, and grabbed a handful of chips.

And they listened.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I CANNOT BELIEVE that asshole!” Alix shouted as she paced the floor. She whirled back to face Chloe, who had one of her arms around Marinette as the girl leaned into her, “You’re telling me Agreste and you dated for two FUCKING YEARS and he wouldn’t even let anyone know!!? What the FUCK!” Marinette nodded, while Chloe frowned.

“Keep your voice down, Alix, we’re not telling you so you can tell the whole hotel.” Chloe said while she rubbed Mari’s arm in comfort. Marinette sighed, looking up at Alix.

“He… He didn’t want anyone to know because his father had told him to make sure he kept Lila happy in class. Chloe knew, she was the only one I told. He-It-I mean, it was fine for awhile-.” Alix crouched in front of Marinette’s knees, and took hold of her hands, giving her a compassionate, but serious look.

“Marinette, no,” She said, “It’s not fine. For two years, he let Lila hang off of him, kiss him, and generally torture you during school, only to, what? Come and comfort you afterwards?” Hesitantly, Marinette nodded, and Alix swore steam was going to come out of her ears. “Marinette, when someone loves you, they love you all the time, not just when it’s convenient for them.” Alix managed a rueful smile, “It’s too bad you’re straight, or I’d totally take you out and show you how you deserve to be treated.” It worked, and Alix smiled as Marinette laughed, rubbing at her eyes. Chloe scoffed.

“Get in line, Alix; if any woman is taking my Mari-bear out, it’ll be me, thank you.” Alix gave her a grin, winking at the blonde and Chloe laughed.

“You can come too, Chlo. We’ll take our girl out and treat her special.” Alix looked back at Mari who was still laughing, and Alix softened a bit, “I know there are things you still can’t tell me, DC, and that’s ok. I’ve nearly got Kim and Max seeing reason finally. It’s gotten easier now that I just google whatever Lila says, and show it to them.” Her grin was bitter as she shook her smartphone for emphasis, “I’m sorry for how everyone’s been treating you these last few years. It’s like they’re just letting themselves be blinded by that little skank.” Alix wouldn’t lie, she was furious with the rest of their class for just letting these things happen; it was a testament to how exhausted Mari was that she didn’t even reprimand Alix on her words.

Marinette squeezed Alix’s hands, and she looked up at her. Marinette gave her a smile.

“Thank you Alix, but you don’t have to, you know. We’re almost done with school, and then we’ll be off to university. It doesn’t matter that much anymore.” Alix frowned.

“Marinette, you deserve to have the truth known. I don’t really care if they wanted to go their whole lives believing that witch, but it’s hurting you. You were always there for us, hell, you still keep spare clothes for all of them in case they need them! You deserve to have your good name cleared.”

Marinette smiled, but it was sad, and Alix wanted to rage against the world at the sight of it; her friend deserved nothing but the best, and she had been treated so poorly for so long. Alix had learned it didn’t matter if you spoke out, told Lila and Alya what they were doing was wrong; telling Madame Bustier didn’t do anything. Everyone just ignored it, unless they were actively participating.

“Alix, I have you and Chloe, and yeah, it would be nice to be friends with Kim and Max again; but I’m used to this by now. It’s… It’s been 4 years, and while the first one was… rocky, to say the least…” Marinette shared a grimace with Chloe, whose frown deepened at the memory, before she looked back at Alix, “I’ve gotten stronger for it. And if it hadn’t been for Lila, Chloe and I may never have become such good friends, and for that alone, I’m grateful to her.”

Alix grit her teeth as tears welled in her eyes, “But Mari! Alya has hit you! Adrien did nothing! They’ve ruined your sketchbooks, trashed your site, and tried to sabotage your university applications! How could you possibly be ok with any of that?!” Alix was surprised when Marinette’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m not, Alix. It hurt every single time. But what’s done is done, there’s no changing that, and there’s no going back. I can only keep moving forward.” Marinette sighed, giving her a pleased smile, “And I’m not alone, I never am. I have two of the most amazing, trustworthy friends I could ever have at my side, and an invitation to see one of Gotham’s most outstanding universities. Things haven’t been good, or fun, but they won’t stay that way.”

Alix stared at her in shock, and the tears rolled down her face while she hung her head, “We don’t deserve you, Marinette… I’m sorry.” Marinette pulled her up to the couch, and pulled her closer to herself and Chloe.

“Don’t be sorry, Alix. You and Chloe have stuck with me through it all; you’ve spoken out against Lila to defend me countless times. You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

Next to her, Chloe snorted, “Except for that t shirt, oh my god, where did you even find that horrendous thing?” Alix laughed, and gave Chloe the finger, which caused the blonde to huff.

“Rude.” But Chloe was smiling, and Marinette finally felt peace settle in her heart. Soon, she’d be gone from Lila for good, and everything would be nothing more than just a distant memory. She was fine; she was in a much better place than she used to be, even with her small slip up tonight in the park.

They were going to be ok.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t know french, what are they saying?”

Damian had a scowl on his face as they listened, but Jason had noticed how Tim had frozen; his two brothers were the ones who spoke french, damnit, why weren’t they translating? Finally Tim moved, and he buried his face in his hands.

“We shouldn’t have heard this…” Tim said softly, and now Hood was looking between the hotel, and Red Robin in concern. With a sigh, Tim raised his head, staring at the girls in the hotel room who were laughing now. “From what I can infer based on their conversation, Marinette is being bullied, and ignored by most of her class. Based on what these girls are saying, two girls, Lila and Alya, have been terrorizing her in class for - four years, I think they said? Not even her boyfriend would let anyone know they were dating, and he just stood by when this Alya girl hit her.”

Damian’s scowl deepened, and his hands clenched at his side, but Tim wasn’t done.

“And he’d go and comfort her after school, but the only one who knew is the blonde one there, Chloe. Apparently he’d let this Lila girl hang on him during school, and kiss him and junk. These girls have shredded her sketchbooks, trashed her site - whatever that means-, and tried to sabotage her university applications.”

Jason whistled low, “Damn, that’s harsh.” Hood frowned as he looked at the girls having a good time despite the heavy conversation they’d just had. She didn’t seem like the type of girl who deserved all that animosity. “How are we gonna help then, Red?”

The three of them paused as their comms crackled to life, and Bruce’s voice came over the line.

“I’ll take care of it. Come on home; Nightwing will take watch the rest of the night.” Damian watched as Chloe whacked Alix with one of the couch cushions, and an all out war broke out between the girls.

Next to him, Tim sighed, “Got it, Bats. Coming home.”

Jason turned first, and Tim lingered for a moment longer, but Damian was still staring at the girl. She was laughing as she beat her friend over the head with a pillow, the pink one - Alix - retaliating instantly. She looked… happy.

“Robin? You coming?” Damian nodded, and finally he turned away.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

@uGH_WHYME

OH MY GOD GUYS did you see the girl on the news??? Looks like there could be a new Wayne! #onlyinGotham

#darkhair #blueeyes #mustbeaWayne #gothamites

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Holy shit, and that is chapter one y’all! Just a quick rundown on a couple things. Chloe and Alix are gonna be hella gay, and I can’t wait for you guys to find out who their GFs are gonna be >:3 It’s gonna be GREAT. There will be some minor Adrien bashing, but he will ultimately learn from his fuck ups; mostly cause I love my dumb ass boy, but BOI is he dumb sometimes. Alya bashing will hopefully be minimal cause I DO love her to death.

Also, Chloe is totally getting/got the redemption she deserved GDI. Zagg can shove that S3 finale right where the sun don’t shine. Oh, did I mention there will be salt??? Like TONS OF SALT probably. Also, I probably won’t post super often on tumblr; I’m primarily use Ao3, so things may end up going up faster over there.

Hope you guys liked it! <3

Part 1 :HERE: Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

#maribat #mlb x dc #daminette #maridami #fanfic #YOOO I DID IT #can't promise frequent updates though y'all #being an adult sucks #plus like #my naruto fanfic is languishing away in my drafts and i've neglected it for so long #but I hope you guys liked this!#next chapter will be a bit shorter I think? Not sure what the word count is chapter to chapter #A Ladybug in Gotham

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throwitawayokay · 4 years

Text

Predators around every corner

This is confusing. A lot of your favorite fandom creators, out of nowhere, are being accused of endangering minors and others for making nsfw content or following/being-friends-with people who do; that is a serious claim, and a frightening one, and no one would say such a thing if they weren’t 100% sure they were correct about it, right? After all, to say something about someone is an awful thing to say, and needs proof and reason, or else it is libel and grounds for a defamation lawsuit and would, morally, be an absolutely terrible thing to accuse a person of if it was not true.

Obviously, they must have reason. Obviously, these accusations are founded and must eventually prove to be true, even if they cannot now, or maybe they can, maybe the accusations would hold up in a court of law, but for some reason the same people making these accusations... won’t come out directly and accuse these people and don’t have any evidence besides what they ‘think’ this other person is thinking.

Someone has made an argument, somewhere, that writing nsfw of aged up minor characters in atla is predatory behavior and endangering to minors. Is it?

1. Is it legal?

Easy answer, yes. It’s legal. By definition it is smut of adult characters, regardless of where it originates. None of it is on tumblr, where it would not be allowed, but instead on a web site where it is clearly tagged and behind an age limit. In fact, this argument would be laughed out of court. Because no law is protecting the nsfw depictions of fictional characters, who are not real, regardless of age, besides potentially copyright.

If the stories are about underage fictional characters? It still, at least by USofA law, still not illegal. Yes. That’s correct. Stories depicting underage fictional characters in sexual situations does not follow under the definition of child porn and is allowed in publication and law. To see proof of that, besides reading the actual law which you are free to do, simply note the fact that Stephen King’s It is not only still in print but recently had two film adaptations.

So that, would in fact, be allowed; however what is being called into question is depicting adult fictional characters in nsfw situations. A completely different thing that is, actually, very different from the other. But, to simply answer the question of legality, it’s all legal.

2. When is it endangering to minors?

This content can, in fact, be endangering to minors when they are exposed to it either without warning, in a search, or if they are sent this content by another person. Ways that this could happen are if nsfw images appear google searches (where such content can be reported and taken down) or if nsfw writing is not properly tagged or accompanied by archive warnings (posted on ffnet for example or not properly rated on ao3). If this is happening, it is a good idea to go to the website to report it properly, or have someone contact the artist/author about the lack of tagging - the content itself is irregardless, the problem that exists here is the lack of warning.

Nsfw art is also not allowed by the tumblr guidelines; feel free to report it if seen. Please, however, take a step back to remember than an image of a person in their underwear is not, in fact, pornography. If you’ve ever walked past a billboard for a clothing company or seen a Victoria’s Secret catalogue you should know this. There is, in fact, an actual parameter for what sets apart sfw and nsfw.

If this content, however, has been properly tagged and is behind a proper age limit, with warnings and the like, it is not endangering toward minors. Clicking on a nsfw art or writing with clear warnings for what it is does not make the creator of that content responsible; a porn star is not responsible for endangering minors if a minor answers falsely to a website agreement stating they are 18 and views their content. The responsibility lies with the minor as well as the guardians of that minor for not teaching them how to responsibly search the internet and recognize what they should or should not be viewing.

If you are not mature enough to recognize this, you should not be online.

3. But I disagree?

You are within your rights to have a difference of opinion or feel uncomfortable if a person posts links to their nsfw content, or mentions that they make nsfw content. In fact, nsfw content makes many people uncomfortable. There are many ways to avoid seeing this.

First, go to the filter on your blog and filter all nsfw related tags you can think of, some starting points I would suggest are: nsfw, nsfw tw, nsfw mention, adult content, adult content tw, adult content mention (feel free to keep going, be as thorough as makes you comfortable). Next, block the blogs you do not personally like; feel free to block as many blogs, for any reason, that you like. This is absolutely fine and no explanation is needed. If you feel uncomfortable having your blog followed by any adults at all, you can also take steps to make the blog unsearchable and only follow as few people as you like.

What you should not do is harass people for making content that you personally do not like. This includes nsfw content. Making such incredibly serious claims as to state someone is a predator who endangers minors for making nsfw content in your fandom is unfounded, dangerous, and entirely irresponsible. Adults participating in this rhetoric need to take a very good look at themselves, and minors who have been experiencing anxiety as a result of this claim, I am very sorry.

4. What was the aunt-suki thing?

Where did this whole thing start? No one was making this point only a few months ago, did it just pop up out of nowhere?

^ this blog, since deleted [also goes formerly by tumble-dump (nowlil-baby-man) as well as jetru(deleted) safe-for-atla, and dennis-quaid] spearheaded this opinion after accusing one of the largest creators in the fandom, an adult poc, of endangering minors for an image posted to tumblr with possible suggestive themes (Tumblr does not allow nsfw art, it was not nsfw). Aunt-Suki is a 23 year old, self-described “titanium white” woman. She stated directly that anyone who posted nsfw content behind age limit barriers was predatory and that nsfw artwork of atla characters was rampant on this website without evidence.

After curating a blocklist, and admittedly receiving hate for doing so (despite oddly enough asking for anon hate on several occasions) aunt-suki did in fact create a first draft blocklist including fandom creators who make nsfw content, who are follow or are friends with those who make nsfw content despite not doing it themselves, and people who specifically asked her to be on the blocklist. This, in itself, was fine. A list of creators making nsfw content could, in fact, be helpful and good for those who do not want to see such content to have a handy resource of who to block and avoid. Unfortunately, the rhetoric of “they are all predators” was something aunt-suki fostered and continued to repeat, getting a lot of people to also feel the same way. This invited harassment, much of which directly done and targeted at others by aunt-suki. She repeatedly stated on her blog ‘I am safe, no one else is unless I say so, in order to keep yourself safe you must ask me who is bad [paraphrase, not direct quote]’ insisting that anyone who wished to know who was a predator on the website had to privately DM her for the information. Aunt-Suki used this to gain followers of minors and to specifically foster friendships with them.

We know this because aunt-suki made a post exposing herself. An anon asked her to defend the way she interacted with minors and she defended herself with phrases such as “I love kids so much more than grown ups”[quote], stating she runs a server of 13+ wlw and they all “care a lot about each other”; she also admitted she takes it upon herself to “expose kids to [heavy topics]” including race, sexism, queer issues, mental health, politics, etc. Aunt-Suki is not a trained professional for these issues and admits in the same post that she does not understand there could be any difference in power dynamics between her and these teenagers.

In addition, while defending these close relationships with minors that she specifically admits to reaching out for, Aunt-Suki also divulged her past at 18 years old of saying the n-word (excused by explaining she has a black friend); saying that this is the reason why she should, as a 23 year old white adult, be allowed to discuss “heavy topics” with minors.

This most certainly calls into question the fact that it was, with one exception, non-white creators that aunt-suki chose to publicly call out by name.

After being asked to defend herself for these actions she admitted to, Aunt-Suki deleted her blog but has continued to go online on her others blogs and discords, dm’ing others and making posts accusing people who called her out of being predators, asking for sympathy, blaming her actions on her adhd, and refusing to answer any of the messages sent to her. Other large creators have made posts about this, very rarely using her name to allow her some anonymity or time to explain her actions which she has not done. She choose instead to send anonymous messages further accusing these creators.

5. Why did you tell me that?

This directly illustrates the problem with presenting an issue such as nsfw art/writing in the fandom without pointing out why others might disagree with it; and jumping past logic to decry those who don’t agree with extremely serious accusations. Someone with actual ill (or misguided) attentions may take advantage, deliberately isolating minors and portraying themselves as ‘good and safe’ while slowly whittling down who the minors can and cannot follow until no one able to call them out when they are the one participating in actual behavior that is inappropriate to minors.

6. I still don’t agree with the first points.

That’s fine. Please call out actual predators if you see them. Do not, however, do so without any evidence or for reasons that simply are not, and never would be, considered basis for doing so in any legal or reasonable capacity.

#zutara #zukka #kataang #atla #atla fandom #drama #discourse

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kentthewolf · 4 years

Text

8 Steps: How To Do In 2 Hours, What Most Do In A Week

Regardless if you work from home or commute to an office, many discover it can be a battle to focus, be productive, and finish every one of their assignments.

Since becoming a self-employed marketing specialist (on February 16th, 2020), I've constructed an effective full-time business, launched various side hustles, finished numerous enormous tasks for a few clients without a moment's delay, and worked far less than 40 hours per week while venturing and spending much more time with my family than I ever had before.

Yet, my secret isn't earplugs, espresso, "more self-control," or an enchanted time-management application. (Truth be told, I don't utilize one single efficiency apparatus by any stretch of the imagination.)

In this article, I'll show you the specific, exceptionally intense techniques that caused me to soar my efficiency and get magnificent outcomes without depending on “willpower”.

It's entirely conceivable and regardless of whether you're self-employed or an employee, these tips will help you as well.

1. Stay away from productivity killers

Regularly, individuals attempt to help their efficiency by adding a wide range of assets:

Time management app, calendars, site blockers, productivity books, and so on

Yet, making an inadequate framework more proficient doesn't prompt greater productivity.

Before you add more, start by deducting things that kill your productivity.

It’s not the daily increase but daily decrease. Hack away at the unessential. — Bruce Lee

Rule Number One: Never check your email or messages first thing in the morning.

55% of Americans check their email before they even go to work.

The problem with checking your emails or messages so early is that it puts people in a state of reaction: It fills their head with tasks, stressors, and mini-fires they need to put out before they even had a chance to do all their top priorities.

And since they see their emails before they’re at work, they can’t even do anything about it yet! So, it stays in the back of their mind all morning and they can’t be fully present.

(Later in this article, I’ll show you how to check your email in a more productive way.)

Rule Number Two: Limit all notifications.

Loads of individuals' phones are an interruption factory — with a wide range of alarms, messages, updates, and notification, it resembles having an infant in your pocket.

However, it's unimaginable for you to focus like this.

To start with, people are awful at performing various tasks. Regardless of how hard you attempt it, in the event that you get a notification like clockwork, you can't zero in well on the thing you're doing.

Second, if a notification pulls you away from your work, when you return, you'll burn through a great deal of time as your mind has to readjust to what you were doing, and returns to a similar level of productivity before the interruption. (You lose throughout 23 minutes each time, really.)

Third, checking your notifications resembles a drug:

Each time you check a message, email, alert, and so forth, your cerebrum discharges dopamine, a compound that causes us to feel better.

In the long run, your body gets dependent on these chemicals and you begin wanting it — and the best way to fulfill that hankering is to check Gmail, Instagram, Facebook, and so forth

An exceptionally basic arrangement is simply to set your phone on flight mode or "do not disturb" during explicit times, particularly toward the beginning of the day.

For the individuals who need to take this to the next level, I energetically suggest disabling all unimportant notifications from all applications on your phone.

Rule Number Three: Don't sit in front of the TV, read the news, or check/utilize social media before anything else in the morning.

Productivity is tied in with achieving your most elevated priorities, efficiently and effectively. (Take it from a marketing professional, who’s predominant chunk of work ties back to social media at some point)

Activities for your boss. Building your business. Making a side business. Composing the book you've for the longest time been itching to compose. Preparing for a long-distance race. Getting a degree.

Odds are, be that as it may, your most elevated needs are not Instagram, messages, and viewing SportsCenter.

The issue is, when individuals start the morning by consuming data, they haven't stepped toward their main objectives and they're as of now filling their brain with (generally) pointless, distracting stuff.

None of it will assist them with achieving their greatest errands. Furthermore, more regrettable, things like the news cause individuals to feel more negative, stressed, and pessimistic, further influencing productivity.

Yet, there's a reason behind why such a large amount of this is centered around your mornings…

2. Overcome the most important time of the day

The secret to soaring your efficiency is exceptionally straightforward:

Overcome the initial three hours after you awaken.

This is the point at which you're generally innovative, engaged, ready, gainful, and stimulated.

That is the reason it's essential to secure your mornings and try to benefit from those hours.

Here's how:

To begin with, require a couple of moments at the very beginning of your day to do an amazing morning schedule.

It may appear to be strange to invest energy in the first part of the day not to work, but rather to prepare yourself to work. However, I guarantee those couple of moments will change your productivity.

If I had eight hours to chop down a tree, I’d spend the first six of them sharpening my axe. — Abraham Lincoln

A few plans to "sharpen your axe:"

Meditate. Go for a stroll. Eat healthy. Peruse something motivating. Compose your objectives on a handy-dandy journal. Stretch. And so forth

It doesn't need to be muddled (or long), however plan something to help you feel 100% prepared — mentally, physically, and emotionally — so you're engaged, inspired, focused, and driven.

At that point, when you begin working, you'll have a huge load of momentum to take out the entirety of your assignments.

Second, try not to settle on an excessive number of insignificant choices and, instead, do the same routine consistently.

That is really the mystery of world class level competitors/athletes:

They do the exact same ludicrously, exhausting, boring schedules throughout each and every day.

They eat the same healthy foods. They do the same exercises. They do the same warm-ups.

Once more, mornings are the point at which you are generally beneficial and focused. Try not to squander your psychological energy on minor choices. "What am I going to eat? What am I going to do? What am I going wear? Where am I going to go?"

In all actuality we just have a restricted measure of significant level for mental execution every day.

By doing the same things consistently, you can utilize that elevated level of cognitive energy on the things that matter since all the minor task of your day are on auto-pilot.

Third, accomplish extraordinary work.

After your morning routine, you may have somewhere close to 2–2.5 hours remaining from your initial three hours. That is the point at which you will accomplish your best work.

The remainder of this article will show you how.

3. Why you need to make teeny-tiny assignments

Many individuals think they battle to complete their assignments on account of laziness or an absence of willpower, inspiration, or determination.

In any case, frequently, the explanation is undeniably more straightforward!

For instance, somebody's plan for the day may resemble:

Compose blog article

Build a website

The genuine issue is each task is so overwhelming!

To compose a blog article or construct another site, it could take somewhere in the range of 3 to 30 hours!

Each errand is so huge and inconclusive, there's no foreordained length or approach to quantify its fulfillment — but to complete the entire damn thing. (I speak from experience; can’t you tell my frustration?)

Also, in the event that it winds up requiring 30 hours, it'll remain on your to do list for a few days, if not weeks.

Instead, break them into explicit, noteworthy errands that can be executed in less than 60 minutes.

For instance, rather than "compose a blog entry," it very well may be "compose an outline," "make a draft for the intro," "compose 10 ideas for the title," "compose 200 words," and so forth

These are explicit, significant, and quantifiable.

Much like with sweets, teeny-tiny is better:

With smaller tasks (ex. 20-minute long), you have certainty you can complete them. In any case, if your assignment is to assemble a site (which can require days, weeks, or months), the finish line might as well be in the North Pole.

When you make your errands "teeny-tiny," you'll finish a greater number of assignments in less time than previously. By observing yourself finish more things, you'll pick up momentum and certainty.

When you have a significant plan for the day, it's an ideal opportunity to orchestrate them the correct way…

4. Prioritize like a pro

One of my most extraordinary lessons came from the "80/20 Rule."

Otherwise called the "Pareto Principle," it clarifies that about 80% of your output comes from about 20% of your input.

For productivity, that implies 20% of your work makes 80% of your outcomes.

A few people, however, simply do their daily agenda in any order. So, they may complete a great deal of errands before their day's over, yet get little outcomes (assuming any).

Actuality is, in everybody's plan for the day, there's only a couple of things that have the "greatest value for your money."

So, pick the 3 most significant things — no more than 3 — and put those at the top.

At that point, do those 3 things each in turn and don't do whatever else on your list until you finish those 3 things.

By doing these basic things first, you get the most outcomes every single day.

Once more, you have the most inventiveness, focus, and mental energy in the mornings; so, devote your best time of day on your highest priority tasks.

To figure out your best 3 tasks, try asking yourself:

What three things totally can't stand by until tomorrow?

What are the three things that on the off chance that I finished, but did nothing else, would have the option to get by with?

What are the three things that will have the greatest effect on my life?

Assuming, in any case, you have 5 basic assignments that all should be done today, locate the two things that, in the event that you don't do them, have the slightest repercussions.

At that point prioritize the other three.

(Figuring out how to prioritize will change your productivity, and in addition your life.)

5. Why limiting your time can zap your speed

Have you ever had a whole month to do something minuscule — and that "miniscule thing" winds up requiring the whole month?

There's a law for that.

It's designated "Parkinson's Law": Work expands to fill the time necessary for its completion.

In other words, whatever time you give yourself to finish an errand, it'll take that measure of time — regardless of whether it's 30 minutes, three hours, or three weeks.

Along these lines, to help your efficiency, don't give yourself more time to complete something:

Give yourself less.

Make a forceful time limit and perceive how quick you can do it. Clearly, you need to do a good job, but try to push yourself in terms of speed AND quality.

You'll see that the errands that once took "quite a while" really complete significantly quicker.

More, frequently, you'll really make a superior showing since you're giving your full concentration and focus to hit a pressing time limit.

This is the way you utilize Parkinson's Law for your own benefit.

6. Take interval mental breaks

It gives you stretched intervals to be super-engaged and undistracted while additionally giving you breaks to recuperate and reenergize.

Regardless of whether you're working, composing, or learning, taking regular breaks is essential.

It resembles working out at the gym: You need rest between practices so you can do it again and still have perseverance, strength, and force.

You can do a work duration of 25 minutes — with a brief 5 min break — I for the most part complete 50 minutes with a 10-minute break.

Throughout this break, however, it's essential to really "take a break" and not simply browse email, check social media, or occupy yourself.

Normally, I'll go for a stroll to walk my dog, do yoga stretches or even basic calisthenics to stimulate blood circulation throughout the body; at that point, I reset the clock and go once more.

7. Improve your performance with music

You did your morning schedule. You have your organized daily agenda. You haven't browsed through your emails or messages. You set 50 minutes on your clock and are prepared to tackle the day.

Now what?

Here's a simple tip to help you take your working capacities to the next level:

Tune in to the same music on repeat.

Here's the reason why it’s so effective:

Instead of continually hearing different songs, which urges you to tune in to the words, by tuning in to the same one, you melt into the tune, quit zeroing in on the words, and simply feed off the energy.

My secret sauce is to listen to Binary sounds. Search “Binary Work/Study Music”, it’s far less distracting and gives you more focus to work. (I’m doing it as I compose this article piece!).

8. Conquer the last challenge

The past productivity systems are incredibly amazing and intense.

Yet, here's a severe truth:

Regardless of how well you plan your day or the number of productivity systems you use, in the event that you hate what you’re doing or don't know enough about what you're doing, you won't be productive.

So, on the off chance that you attempt these tips and still battle to complete things, ask yourself:

Do you really want to do them in the first place?

Is there something you're anxious about or afraid of?

In any case, while there are times you need to beat internal opposition — particularly when attempting to transform yourself — some of the time it's an indication of a more profound issue.

Possibly your body, brain, and gut are attempting to reveal to you something.

Talking from personal experience, the last time I opposed accomplishing work, it was on the grounds that I was in an occupation I hated and I wound up quitting (which additionally fixed my depression and allowed me to educate myself more on the thing that mattered most to me).

I can’t tell you for sure, but I do recommend taking some time, digging deep, and seeing where that opposition is coming from. You might just discover a whole new your

I can’t wait to see the greatness you will accomplish.

#productivity #self improvement #efficiency #brain #motivation #inspiration

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nemesyis · 5 years

Text

The Mansion - Prologue

@noonachronicles

A/N The first posting didn’t go as planned. This is the second attempt. I’m entirely not sorry you all are being dragged along on this adventure

Warnings: Eventual smut, implied alcohol usage, sorry not sorry

Part 1

General Rules

1. The mansion and its staff do not discriminate against race, sexual orientation, gender identity, political affiliation, or religion.

2. No will always mean no, regardless of sexual orientation, gender identity, race, or religion. Consent is important.

3. The use of hard drugs and excessive alcohol consumption is strictly prohibited.

Applicant rules

1. All Applicants must present a current health screening for STDs, obtained from one of our recommended doctors before membership will be considered.

2. All Applicants must submit to a drug screening before membership is considered

3. All Applicants must submit to a thorough criminal background check before membership will be considered.

4. The Mansion reserves the right to deny or revoke membership at any time.

5. A waiver must be signed and notarized before the owner and their legal team before applicants are granted membership

Member rules

1. Members caught violating consent or discriminating against a person’s race, religion, political affiliation, gender identity, or sexual orientation will be banned from the prememsis pending investigation with possible termination of membership.

2. All current members must keep STD test results on file and updated every 6 months.

3. While alcohol consumption is allowed in moderation, excessive drinking or drunkenness is strictly prohibited and may result in expulsion from the premises and/or termination of membership.

4. Drugs such as cocaine, meth, heroin, abuse of prescription medication, lsd, rohypnol, ghb, pcp, ecstasy, or ketamine is strictly prohibited. Members caught using these substances will have their membership immediately terminated with possible legal action.

‘What the hell were you thinking?’, you thought as you stared at the home page of the website in front of you. Really? Is this what 3 years of no action had come to? A swinger’s club called The Mansion of all things?

You looked at the membership fee, annually it would be a lot cheaper than replacing vibrators and batteries once or twice a month. $50 per year wasn’t bad at all. You looked over the rules and inwardly argued with yourself some more. Ok, so the rules were really strict, but you understood why. A club like this would have to be extremely careful, otherwise it could open itself up to a slew of legal problems.

You sighed to yourself as you closed your laptop. Was this really a good idea? The club was having an open house tomorrow night. Should you go? You continued to mull it over while you got yourself ready for bed. You had read that new member prospects were not allowed to engage in play until background checks and health screenings were completed. Crawling into your bed, you thought it over some more. What exactly did you have to lose?

The next night

You had taken a solid 4 hours to get ready. The majority of the time was taken up by deciding what to wear. Having settled on a simple but curve hugging black dress with a high neck, black tights, and black flat riding boots. Might as well be comfortable while you were inwardly screaming and your anxiety was trying to make your stomach crawl out of your throat.

A half hour later, you were dropping your vehicle off with the valet. The Mansion was huge… no huge didn’t cover how large it was. To put it simply, it was immense and sprawling. Built in the Georgian style of the old European estate homes. You gulped as you were greeted at the front entrance by an attractive female attendant. “This way please, Miss Y/L/N. The party will begin in the Library in 15 minutes. My name is Jisoo, may I please take your coat?"

When you entered the library, you were met with a room filled with people of all shapes and sizes. True to its rules, all people regardless of gender identity, sexual orientation, and race were accepted. Members and non-members sat around the large, well decorated room. Dark wood paneling, floor to ceiling bookshelves, rich oriental carpets, huge fireplace, and leather furniture. Taking a sip from a crystal tumbler that was offered to you by an attendant, you noticed a beautiful man with soft brown hair, and equally soft brown eyes staring unashamedly at you.

You blushed deeply, downed your drink, and choked as it went down the wrong way. The man hurried over to your side and rubbed your back soothingly. "Are you alright?”

You took an offered glass of water and nodded. “Yes, thank you. I’m y/n, thank you for checking on me.”

He smiled broadly, “Daesung, you can call me Dae. You must be new here. Are you considering membership?”

You nodded and took another sip of water. “Yes, it’s my first time here, or anywhere like this. It’s a bit overwhelming.”

Daesung laughed softly and motioned for one of the attendants to refill your glass. “It’s really a nice place. The people are friendly, it’s a laid back atmosphere. No one pressures anyone into anything. Even if you do join, you don’t have to play with anyone. We have plenty of people who don’t, they just use it as a social club.”

“And all the rules are followed?” You asked, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly.

Daesung caressed your arm, “ Of course, anyone caught in violation of the rules are immediately expelled and if serious enough, have their memberships revoked or in some cases, sued. The owner doesn’t mess around with anyone’s safety. There are even cameras in every room. There are no blind spots.”

“I’m just nervous, I’ve never considered doing anything like this. It’s a little bit overwhelming.” You said softly.

He laughed, his luscious lips splitting into a wide smile. “I remember being just like you. The best thing about this place? Being able to embrace a side of myself that I have to hide in my everyday life.”

Smiling back at him over your drink you thought to yourself, maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

#kpop fanfic #kpop smut #i love hurting my friends #kang daesung #daesung #bigbang

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crystalninjaphoenix · 4 years

Text

Weight of Their Worlds

Switch AU

I’ve been neglecting JJ in this AU. Ironic, considering he’s my favorite out of the normal boys fjhaskld So he gets his own story! That’s great! There’s also a little bit about Schneep in here, but it’s mostly JJ. Let’s check in on him, see what’s been going on with him in this AU, how he’s interacting with other people and going about his life. This one is a long one, boys and girls and other, but I really like how it turned out.

More of this AU found here

The alarm went off at eight o’clock am. The beeping had been ramped up in volume, something that Jameson suddenly very much regretted. He also regretted that he’d set his alarm clock on his bookshelf across the room, instead of the nightstand right next to him. He groaned and rolled over, briefly considering throwing a magic bolt at the clock to shut it up, but instead stood up and walked over to turn it off. He sighed. Well, he was awake now.

Normally, JJ was more of a morning person than a late waker. But he hadn’t been sleeping well lately. Last night, the last he’d glanced at the glowing digital numbers of the clock, it was 3:45 am. And he remembered waking up a couple times, too. He was probably nervous about what he had planned today.

Which reminded him. He needed to get ready. He went through the drawers and found a set of clothes for the day, then went downstairs. While heating up a cinnamon roll for breakfast, he jotted a note down for Marvin, explaining where he would be all day:

Sorry, I won’t be around all day. I have that meeting with another magician at nine, that one I told you about a few days ago. Then I’m going to go visit a few people and study at the library. I have rehearsal starting at 4:30, you can come watch if you want. See you later! -JJ

He hoped that would help. Marvin hated being out of the loop.

After that, it was a half hour to get ready, and another half hour to take the car and drive to the park, where he’d be meeting...someone. He wasn’t sure what they would look like. About two weeks ago, he’d reached out to the ABIM—the organization that functioned as a loose government for magicians. He didn’t know much about them, having only interacted with them maybe once or twice. But...well, things were starting to look bad. Jackie had been missing for six months. He hadn’t had any luck scrying for Jackie’s location, and there were no signs of Distorter to go off of, either. He hadn’t seen Anti in person in a few weeks, Schneep was being evasive as well, and Marvin...well, he wasn’t exactly talking about what was going on with him, but Jameson could hear him and his nightmares through the floorboards.

So of course, Jameson had to do something about this. He couldn’t just let everything fall apart. He had to make sure the others were alright, had to find some way to help fix everything. But at this point, he couldn’t do it on his own. Which is why he reached out to the ABIM, hoping other magicians would have some sort of advice. A week ago, they’d gotten back to him, saying they would send a representative out to talk.

Which was why he was in the park right now, walking around the perimeter of the small pond, looking for someone. The park was pretty empty at nine in the morning, on a cloudy weekday, so it was easy to see the only other person around. She spotted him at the same moment, waving him over to a bench sitting by the pond’s shore.

“So. You’re Mr. Jameson Jackson, then?” She asked, eyes scanning him as he approached.

“Yes. And who are you?” He scanned her in turn. She wasn’t too unusual, he supposed. Well, she stood out a bit because of her red hair and green eyes, a rare combination. But her jeans, T-shirt, and zip-up hoodie didn’t seem too magical to him.

“My name’s Aoife Kelley,” she said. “I’m part of the Magi, which is a subdivision of ABIM. How’re you doing?”

“I’m fine, I suppose. You?”

“Good. Here, let’s sit.” Aoife gestured to the wrought-iron bench. Once JJ sat down, she did as well. “Now, then. To business.” She muttered a few words, and reached forward. Her eyes flared golden yellow, and her hand disappeared, like she’d slid it into a pocket in the air. JJ jumped in alarm, then stared in fascination. He’d never seen a spell like this before. Aoife’s hand pulled back, suddenly holding a blue binder. She flipped it open. “I’m going to just ask you a few questions, see if we have your information right.”

JJ nodded. “Alright.”

“Your name’s Jameson Daniel Jackson. Male. British nationality, Caucasian race. Twenty-seven years old, birthday October 31st, 1990.”

“Yes, that’s all correct.”

“Elemental magic with an ice/water focus, as well as a lesser healing ability. You work as a stage magician?” Aoife raised an eyebrow at that last part.

“Yes.” JJ tried not to squirm. Ironically, he didn’t like being the center of attention. At least, not on such an...individual level. “If you’re going to lecture me about the dangers of using magic on stage, I’ve already heard it from one of you. I’m being cautious.”

Aoife grinned. “Well, alright, if you’re sure.” She looked back at the file. “There’s no history of magic in your family, nor is there a history of mental illness in you or your bloodline.”

That last part was a bit odd. “Yes, that’s right.” JJ coughed awkwardly. “Are...can we get to the purpose of this meeting? I’d planned to meet up with someone else after this.”

“Oh. Yes, right.” Aoife flipped the binder close. “Sorry to keep you.”

“No, it’s fine, it’s not too pressing.” JJ shrugged. “I just...this is a...rather pressing situation I’m in, and I would really appreciate any advice you have on the matter.”

Aoife’s brows scrunched together. “Well, y’see. That’s the problem.”

Jameson felt his heart stop. “What do you mean?”

“This...creature, that you say is following you. That took one of your friends...” Aoife bit her lip. “We...don’t have any records of something like it.”

Jameson could only stare at her. “I’m sorry?”

“We don’t have any records of it.” She opened the binder again, pulling out a piece of paper. Jameson recognized it. It was a printed-out copy of the letter he’d sent to the ABIM online. Because surprisingly enough, the magical organization had an official website. Aoife scanned through the typed words. “It’s something that appears to be human, but with that head injury, it can’t be a living human. And its array of powers...being able to confuse people, sometimes directly control them, and otherwise make it so the mind doesn’t register it as existing...” She tucked the letter back in the binder. “...we don’t have anything like that in our files.”

“Tha—that’s impossible,” Jameson said softly. “You must have something in there. Maybe something buried deep—”

“Yeah, I checked all our records,” Aoife said firmly. “My permissions are pretty high-up, I have access to everything. And I couldn’t find anything like this. Oh sure, there are records of undead that fit the physical description, and some creatures with similar powers, but nothing that fits.” Aoife paused. “I have to ask...are you sure this thing is really out there?”

“Am I sure?” Jameson asked, incredulous. “Am I sure?! He kidnapped one of my friends and poisoned another! Convinced one of them to walk out into moving traffic! My housemate has nightmares about him that wake him up screa—” Jameson took a deep breath, clenching his fists in an effort to calm down. “We’ve all seen it. Of course we’re sure.”

“Alright. Alright.” Aoife raised her hands, as if in surrender. “I believe you. But, well...some of the others don’t.”

“Some of the others?” Jameson repeated, eyes narrowing.

“Yes,” Aoife confirmed. “It’s a big group, and your request for aid got passed around a lot, looking for someone to help. Some of them think you’re making it up, some of them think you’re mistaken...a few of them think you’ve lost your marbles.” Suddenly the question about history of mental illness made more sense. “But the fact of the matter is, we just...we’ve never heard of anything like this before.”

“Why would I make it up?” Jameson asked quietly.

Aoife shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think you are. But not everyone does. If you could show some sort of proof, it would be helpful.”

“Oh, do you want me to take a picture of him, next time I see it?” JJ drawled. “In between the moments of me fighting for my friends’ lives and free wills?”

“I don’t know,” Aoife said quietly. She stood up, tucking the binder under her arm. “Look, I’m sorry, but until there’s some sort of evidence...we really can’t help you.”

Jameson shot to his feet as well. “Then why did you even agree to meet with me in the first place?”

“Well, it would be rude to just dismiss you in an email,” Aoife said calmly. “Impersonal, you know?” Her voice softened a bit. “Look, I want to help, but I can’t as long as we don’t know what this is. We just need something to show that this...what you’re saying it is. And if it is, then...well...” She pauses. “Then we’ve never seen anything like this before. And we’ll need time. And information.” She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a small, rectangular piece of wood. She held it out to JJ, who took it silently. Looking down at it, he saw a phone number burned into the wood surface. “This is my personal cell, call me when you’ve...got something. Okay?” She waited for him to nod, then smiled. “Be seeing you.” And without another word, she left.

Jameson stared down at the wooden card, then tucked it into his pocket. He watched Aoife walk away, until she was out of the park and out of the sight. Then he turned, let out a cry of frustration, and kicked a rock out onto the surface of the pond. Where it landed, ripples turned the water a bright, glowing blue that slowly faded away.

He shook his head, making an effort to breathe slowly and deeply. If they’ve never heard of anything like Distorter before, it made sense that they needed proof. Just to make sure he wasn’t pranking them or anything. But god, was it frustrating. What was he supposed to do?! When and how was he supposed to get evidence that Distorter existed?! The gray man hadn’t been seen in months! Not to mention, part of him wondered how much help the other magicians could really be, if they’ve never seen anything like Distorter before. All that meant...all that meant was that they were dealing with a threat unlike anything before. Jameson shivered.

No, he’d...he’d figure it out. He had to. Maybe he could modify some of the mind protection spells he found, so they could ward a specific place? Maybe work them into some sort of offensive spell? Or he could put a little more effort into the tracking spells, if he just tried a little more he was sure he could find Jackie.

JJ headed out of the park and back towards his car. He’d planned to do the studying after he got all his visits for the day done, but his mind was already brewing. He could adjust the schedule a bit. Time to head to the library.

———————

The clock read 9:34am, a fact which surprised Schneep when he looked at it.

Didn’t it say 12 just a few minutes ago? No, there had been a 3:40 in that interim somewhere. Or was it 6?

You really should go to sleep.

Schneep shook his head. “No, I’m fine. Shut up.”

There was a figure hovering in the corner of his eyes. You’re going to kill yourself before you get anything done.

You weren’t supposed to acknowledge it. Schneep knew this. But it was a little hard to ignore it when it looked like one of your friends. Still, he didn’t answer this time, instead backing up to get a full view of the map he’d taped up on the wall. He used to have this entirely digital, but he’d tried printing in all out on paper, see if that helped. The map was littered with push pins, strings tying together locations to newspaper articles he’d found and taped to the wall. He was aware this looked like a crazy conspiracy board, but it was sort of helping.

The figure hovered closer. It looked close enough to reach out and touch, peering over his shoulder. Is it going to help? You look terrible. Is it really worth it?

“Yes,” Schneep breathed, leaning on the back of the couch. “Yes, if I can find you. It’s worth it.”

There was a knock at the apartment’s door. Schneep jumped, trying to back up but somehow managing to fall over the back of the sofa instead. Who was at the door? Who came to see him? Was it him, the gray man, coming to finish the job?

Another knock. “Dude, I can and I will pick your lock, let me in.”

He knew that voice, he realized, standing up. But was that proof? What if it was someone pretending to be him?

Oh, too late, the handle was rattling. The door opened to reveal Anti, who entered and closed the door behind him. He looked around the apartment, whistling. “This place is bigger mess than the room of a nine-year-old who refuses to clean. What’s up, Volt?” He paused. “You look terrible.”

I told you.

“Thank you,” Schneep muttered. “What are you doing here?”

“Um, I just...” Anti looked around the area again. “I was in the neighborhood. Why do you have a serial killer board up on your wall?”

“Shut up,” Schneep snapped. He put his hands on his hips and looked over the wall. “I am trying to figure things out. It is a new approach.”

“Uh-huh.” Anti’s eyes darted over the wall. “Figure what kind of things out?”

“You know what I mean! Anything, everything!” Schneep began pacing the length of his living area. On the edges of his vision, there was a shadow of a red hoodie, of big round glasses and brown hair. Is it worth it? Is it going to work? “It will work,” Schneep insisted. “I-I can find you.”

“Um...” Anti glanced around the apartment. “Who’re you talking to?”

Shit, no. Anti couldn’t know. Not now. Schneep really didn’t feel like being analyzed by Mr. Psychology-Is-My-Hobby. He whirled around, pointing at the wall. “I am keeping track of everything, everything odd in the last few years. Is very strange, you see? There are a high number of disappearances, and of accidents in the city. More so than in other cities.” He felt his eye twitching, a tiny pulse in his lid. He ignored it. “It is no wonder the police have been no help in finding him, they are useless at this!”

“Really?” Anti looked over the newspaper articles, taking in all the headlines. “You think maybe it’s...you know, all been him?”

“Possibly, possibly.”

This isn’t going to work. The shadow was whispering in his ear. You’re slowly dying over this, and it’s not worth it. Can you really find me? You haven’t had success so far.

Schneep waved in the direction of the shadow, as if trying to clear it. “Shut up.”

“I wasn’t saying anything,” Anti said, looking at him skeptically. “You...did you go to sleep last night?”

Apparently not. Or maybe the clocks were lying to him. Schneep almost sat down on the sofa, but he knew if he did that, he wouldn’t want to stand up and keep working. And that was the most important thing. Keep working. He had to succeed eventually. “Anti,” he said. “Can you do something?”

“Uh, depends on what it is.”

“Where have you been?” Schneep asked. “I have not seen you in, mmm, a couple of months now. Not outside of text.”

Anti shifted uncomfortably, rubbing his neck. “Well. Y’know. Been busy. Is...is that what you wanted me to do? Answer the question?”

What question? Wait, what? What was happening? Schneep shook his head. “No. I am sorry, I got distracted. I wanted to know if you could...I do not know, do something to keep me thinking.”

Anti took a step back. “Um, what?”

“Like one of those stories you like,” Schneep said. “Those spooky ones you tell. Tell one of those, I want to think about something else for a while.” The shadow stood beside him. “But I do not want to think of nothing.”

“Uh. Sure, I guess.” Anti flung himself down on the nearest armchair. “I can think of one you haven’t heard yet. You gonna sit down?”

“No.”

“Well, uh. Alright, then.” Anti bit his lip, thinking. “I could tell you the story about the house on Aspen Street.”

Schneep blinked. “I think you have mentioned that before. But I do not remember it.”

“Yeah, I think I’ve talked about it.” Anti flashed a grin. “But I always got stopped from talking about it, by Jackson and Jac—” He cut himself off. “Well, I can do it now.”

“Why would they stop you from talking about it?”

“I guess it could be kind of freaky. I mean, it starts with a true story.” Anti sat up straight. “Five years ago, we all turned on the evening news to a shocking story. A family of four had been found dead. Tragic enough in itself, but things start to become even bleaker once you heard the rest.”

Schneep sat down on the sofa. He gestured for Anti to continue.

Anti’s eyes lit up. “The house was 68 Aspen Street. For years, it had been home to a mother, a father, a son, and a daughter. It had been a happy place, a haven. But things started to crack and fall apart. The parents began arguing. About what, we don’t know. Maybe it was money, or bad habits, or the kids, or anything else that could drive two people apart. But drive them apart it did. And eventually the mother couldn’t handle it anymore. She took the kids and left, filing for divorce. It went through, of course, and the father was left alone in the house that had once been full of loved ones.”

“Now, the details of what happened next are hard to fudge out. We know that the kids visited their father on the weekends, and that they were the only people he saw regularly. The father was fired from his job, and had no luck finding anything new. The neighbors stopped seeing him, as he stayed in the house almost every day. He became a recluse who only really lived for his family. A family that was seeing him less and less.”

“One spring day, the kids and their mother disappeared. The police investigated the father, of course, but they found no evidence that he was involved in any way. Until a week later. A neighbor called the authorities, saying she heard gunshots. Four of them, to be precise. Three close together, and one a little bit after. It came from the house on Aspen Street. When the police arrived, they found the whole family. Dead. The father was still holding a handgun.”

Anti paused. “And from there? Well, stories like that tend to linger. Sad spirits refuse to leave. They say the house on Aspen Street is haunted by the family. People who live there tend to get in accidents. And those who get out before the accidents kill them, they always report hearing voices, having things move when they aren’t there...and seeing the figures of the family. Watching. Waiting.”

The apartment was silent. Then Schneep suddenly took a deep breath. “That is a...that is a very sad story,” he whispered.

“Yeah. It is.” Anti said nothing else. The events spoke for themselves.

“You are very good at scaring people, Anti, your voice can be quite...eerie,” Schneep said.

“Thanks.” Anti grinned. “Now. You should go to sleep.”

“Maybe I will. But not if you are here.” Schneep stood up, and pointed at the door. “So, out.”

“Okay, fine.” Anti started to leave, but paused just before reaching the door. He turned around. “Are...are you doing...?” He seemed to have trouble asking the question he really wanted to.

“I am fine,” Schneep insisted.

“You’re going to go to sleep now, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re...you feel...you’re...?”

“Yes, I am fine. Now leave.”

Anti seemed to hesitate, but he opened the door and left, closing it behind him.

Once he was gone, Schneep sighed. He turned to look back at the wall. Something about that story...something was niggling at his mind. He walked up to the map, grabbed a spare push pin, and pushed it into the paper, right at 68 Aspen Street.

You really think this’ll help? It won’t.

“Shut up,” Schneep muttered. “You are not here now, Jackie. You are somewhere else. And I will find you, and bring you back. I...” He leaned his head against the wall. “I promise.”

———————

JJ lost track of time in the library. He meant to only stay there until twelve, but when he next checked the time on his phone, it was 1:30. He immediately cleaned up, reshelving the books. He had to be sure to do it himself. After all, these weren’t normal books. They were spell books, hidden in part of the library’s reference section for any magician to use if they wished. Well, as long as the magician was registered with the ABIM, since they were the people who allowed someone to see through the concealing ward around the books.

He was...tired. He’d spent about of of his time practicing the spells he read about, hidden in a nook on the second floor of the library. And four and a half hours of consistent magic use was...draining. But it didn’t matter. He had more to do.

A short drive later, JJ parked in the driveway of a familiar house. He grabbed the tupperware container he’d had sitting in the car since he left that morning, climbed out, walked up to the threshold, and rang the doorbell. A short while later, the door was opened...by seemingly nobody. JJ looked down. “Oh. Hello, Michelle.”

“Hi Uncle JJ,” Michelle said. “Are you looking for Dad? He’s not here.”

“No, I-I know.” JJ tried to smile. It came out smaller than he intended. Of course Jackie wasn’t here. “I’m looking for your ren.”

“Oh. Okay.” Michelle darted back into the room, leaving the door open. “Ren! Uncle JJ is here! He wants to see you!”

JJ walked inside. The living room looked the same as ever. Except for the coat rack by the door. The white coat hanging from one of its hooks had a bit more dust.

Rama appeared from down the hallway. “Thanks for getting the door, Michelle,” they said, ruffling their daughter’s hair. Then they looked up at JJ. “Good to see you again, Jameson.”

“Good to see you too,” Jameson nodded. He showed off the tupperware container he was holding. “I made cake. Thought you’d want some.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Rama brushed a strand of their hair behind their ear. They hadn’t been wearing the red beanie they used to lately. “C’mon, let’s go in the kitchen.”

Jameson nodded. He shut the door behind him and followed Rama to the house’s kitchen. He set the container on the counter while Rama pulled open the silverware drawer and took out a couple forks. “Here,” they handed one to JJ.

“Oh, no, I mean thank you, but I-I already have some at home,” Jameson stammered. “This is for you.”

Rama nodded, putting one of the forks back. They peeled the lid off the tupperware and took out one of the slices inside, putting it on a plate already sitting on the counter. “So. Is this the part of the visit where you ask me how we’re doing?”

Jameson paused. “It can be.”

“Well...I guess we’re as okay as possible.” Rama plunged the fork into the cake slice. “Nothing much has changed since you last visited. Which I appreciate, by the way, you checking in.”

“It’s no problem.” Jameson smiled sadly.

Rama chuckled. There were dark bags under their dark eyes. “Does Michelle still say the same thing when she opens the door?”

“Yes,” Jameson said softly. ‘Are you looking for Dad? He’s not here.’ “How is she?”

“I don’t know.” Rama shook their head. “I’m worried about her, you know. The effect this could have on her, especially if...” They stop. They’d been toying with a part of the cake slice, and they finally put it in their mouth. They swallowed visibly. “The police aren’t giving us updates anymore. The last time they showed up, the detective lady said that, statistically, the longer someone is missing, the more likely it is that they’re...” They trailed off. Then they shook their head, a determined set to their face. “Jackieboy is a fighter. He’s always been tougher than people give him credit for, including himself.”

“He really is.” Jameson nodded in agreement. “People often mistake kindness for weakness. But he’s not weak at all.”

Rama looked...reassured by that. They looked down at their cake slice. “Did you know...that his birthday was last week?”

Jameson was silent for a moment. “..yes,” he whispered. July 10th.

Rama nodded, as if that’s all they wanted. “Well, thank you for the cake.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’m sure you have much else to do today.”

He did, but that didn’t matter. “I can stay longer, if you want.”

“No, no, you go ahead,” Rama waved. “This has been nice, and...and thank you.”

“Alright, if you’re sure.” Jameson headed for the door. “Anything else you need?”

Rama smiled. “No. That’s enough.”

Jameson nodded, and without anything else, he left.

Once outside, he leaned back against the closed door and let out a long, long breath. It felt like there was something pressing down on his spine, making his head want to dip forward. Or maybe it was on his head itself. Or somewhere inside it. But he couldn’t let it happen. He had more to do. It was 1:52, he only had three and a half hours left before rehearsal. Plenty of time for his last visit, but maybe once that was done he could squeeze in another bout of studying. Maybe he could find some sort of spell that would lighten someone’s mood, if only for a little. Or a potion, that would be better. He could learn how potions work, if it could help them. He could do it. He could do it.

Jameson bit back a yawn as he got back in the car. It wouldn’t be too far a drive.

Fifteen minutes later, JJ was knocking on the door to Schneep’s apartment. There was no answer. He waited for another minute, then knocked again. He heard something fall over. “Um...Henrik? Are you doing okay in there?”

The door opened. Schneep was standing in the doorway, his hair wild, his shirt rumpled and with some sort of spill staining the blue material. He was wearing one of his electrical gloves, the ones that would shock someone upon contact, and judging by the wide-eyed look on his face, he was prepared to use it. But he relaxed a bit upon seeing Jameson. “Oh. Is you.”

“Yes, it’s me.” JJ tried to peer around Schneep into the apartment. “Can I come in?”

Schneep muttered something, but stood aside, letting Jameson enter.

JJ paused, taking in the map and pins on the wall. “That’s...new,” he said slowly.

“I am trying a new approach to finding things,” Schneep explained. “What are you doing here?”

Jameson spun to look at him. “What do you mean?”

“What are you doing here? Why are you here? What is your point?” Schneep pressed. “I am having many visitors today, first Anti, then you. What is it? Are you two having a plan?”

“Whoa, hang on, slow down.” JJ raised his hands. “I just wanted to check on you. I haven’t seen you in...in a while, now. I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Well. I am doing fine, so you can go now.” Schneep turned his back to Jameson, walking up to the map. “Shut it.”

“I...I don’t think I said anything?” Jameson said, confused.

Schneep shook his head. “I know. Anyway, you can go now.”

Jameson stayed where he was. “Henrik...” His voice was soft. “Did you sleep...at all, recently?”

“What is with you people asking me that?!” Schneep suddenly yelled, pounding his fist against the wall. “I am fine!”

“That wasn’t my question.” Jameson approached Schneep, stopping within arm’s length. “You...you don’t look good.”

Schneep blinked idly. Dark circles, pale skin, a bit thin...it wasn’t a pretty picture. “Wie spät ist es?” He asked.

“I...I don’t know what you just said,” JJ confessed. “What is spät?”

“What time is it?” Schneep clarified.

Jameson looked at the wall-mounted clock. “It’s ten past two.”

Schneep’s eyes widened briefly, but then he covered it up. “I see.”

“Did you wake up early?” Jameson pressed. “Or...did you not go to sleep at all?”

“You also look like you did not sleep well, what does it matter?” Schneep’s eyes flicked to the side for a moment. “Nein.”

“We’re not talking about me right now, that doesn’t matter,” Jameson said dismissively. “Schneep, are you okay?”

His eyes flicked to the side again. “I am fine, you do not need to keep asking. Perhaps I am tired, but that is all. I have been drinking coffee, it is fine.”

“Of course you have,” Jameson muttered under his breath. “Henrik, you should really go to sleep. Take a nap.”

“I can’t.” Schneep looked at the map. “I am working on things.”

“They’ll still be here when you wake up.”

“You do not know that.”

That was...an odd reaction. “Of course I do.” JJ tried for a laugh. “Things don’t just disappear.”

Schneep didn’t answer, his eyes scanning the map while occasionally flickering to the side, as if he was seeing something move in his peripheral vision.

Jameson stepped forward and placed his hand on Schneep’s shoulder. “Henrik—”

Schneep suddenly screamed. He grabbed Jameson by the wrist, still wearing his electric glove. The shock it sent through Jameson’s body was enough to stun him, so he couldn’t react when Schneep then flipped him over. He landed on the ground with an oof-inducing thump, his head solidly hitting the back of the sofa. He slumped, dazed.

“Mein Gott, Jameson, I-I am sorry!” Schneep was still standing, hand covering his mouth. He pulled off the electric glove and threw it over to the desk, where it landed. “I-I did not mean—! I thought—Jackie—”

“Jackie...?” Jameson sat up, rubbing the back of his head. “What about Jackie?”

“I-I-I—” Schneep was shaking. “I thought he touched me! I thought it was mehr als ein Schatten! I—!”

“Henrik.” Jameson climbed to his feet, using the sofa as support. “Jackie’s not here.”

And Schneep suddenly started crying. “I know that! I know he is not here, but he is! A-and I do not want—! I do not want to stop seeing him!”

Jameson shook his head, bewildered. “Henrik, what are you talking about?”

Schneep buried his face in his hands. “I have been forgetting medication recently, it is making everything confusing!”

“You’re on medication? Hey, it’s okay.” Schneep had fallen to the floor, landing hard on his knees. Jameson knelt beside him. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll help. What’s wrong?”

Schneep grabbed Jameson’s arm. “I did not tell you,” he gasped in between tears. “I d-do not tell anyone. I told Marvin one time, I-I thought he would understand. I do not want anyone to thi-think the worst of me. I would never hurt anyone! Th-these things I see are not dangerous! He knows, the Distorter knows, he pokes fun at me, likes to make his illusions because he knows reality is alrea—sometimes I cannot tell—!”

“Hey, calm down, take deep breaths. I’ll do it with you. In for four...hold for seven...out for eight...in...hold...out...in...hold...out...” It took a few minutes for Schneep to get calm. Once he was fine, Jameson asked, “So...you take some kind of medication?”

Schneep nodded.

“And without it, you see things?”

Another nod.

“And you’ve been forgetting it, so you’re seeing Jackie?”

And another.

“Alright. I understand now.” Jameson nodded. “Henrik...there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I know,” Schneep whispered. “But I am worried others do not know that. That they will think I am...” He trailed off.

“Well, I think you’re a good person. You’re smart, and stubborn, and sarcastic, and...other adjectives that begin with S.” Jameson smiled when that got a laugh out of Schneep. “And this doesn��t change any of that.”

Tears started to gather in Schneep’s eyes again. He buried his face in Jameson’s shirt.

“See? It’s okay. It’s all okay.” For a moment they were silent. Then Jameson said, “I think you should go to bed now. But not before taking that medication you’ve been missing.”

Schneep nodded. “Stay with me, a while?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll stay with you.”

He had time to.

———————

Jameson arrived at the theatre for rehearsal. He had not been expecting to spend an extra two hours at Schneep’s apartment, but he wasn’t about to leave while his friend was upset. Even if that friend had fallen asleep within fifteen minutes and hadn’t shown any signs of waking up in all the two hours he was there.

Jameson paused before entering the theatre, leaning against the wall. A few deep breaths. He was tired. God, he was tired. The weight was pressing down, not on his spine or his head, but directly on his mind. But he had to go to rehearsal. Everyone was expecting him. He couldn’t skip one. He couldn’t let down all the crew members that needed to run through everything. And if they missed one, that could delay the show and disappoint the audience. He couldn’t do that. He had to show up. Run through the show. It was only another three hours. He could do it.

It was not encouraging when his stage manager Darla greeted him with a “Where have you been?! You’re ten minutes late!”

“Things came up,” Jameson said. “Now are we ready to start?”

“Yeah, of course.” Darla nodded. “You left your cape and mask here last time, we brought them out, check with Ryan.”

“Got it.” He...hadn’t actually realized he’d left his mask and cape at the theatre. Well it was a good thing the others had found it, and he hadn’t had to drive back home, look for it, not find it, only to drive back and find his stuff already here. He would hate to waste everyone’s time.

Things went smoothly for the first hour. But it was when they all reconvened after a ten-minute break that things started to turn for the worse. For whatever reason, the lights wouldn’t work, and the techies took twenty minutes to figure out the problem. Just when they thought it was fixed, the main spotlight flickered and died. “It’s fine, we’ll just run it without that one,” Jameson said, sighing. He blinked, lingering in the darkness for a while, before opening them and returning to the busy world.

Then he was having trouble remembering his planned lines. True, being a magician didn’t involve nearly as much memorization as being a stage actor, but it was still more than most people thought. Not to mention, it often involved more timing, as you had to get the line to match up perfectly with the trick or it loses all dramatic effect.

Oh yes, the tricks. Jameson’s tricks were a clever combination of real magic and stage magic, a fine balance between the two. Of course, the crew didn’t know about the real magic. They just thought it was some wonderful light tricks and digital effects. So when they magic came out strained, because Jameson had spent three hours trying out new spells earlier that day and was a little lower on energy, that meant the rehearsal was delayed for an entire half hour while the crew tried to fix technical devices that didn’t actually work. Guilt was curdling in Jameson’s stomach. He was making everyone stay late.

And indeed, the time was 8:23 pm and it didn’t look like the rehearsal was anywhere close to being finished. Jameson squeezed his eyes shut, feeling tears start to well. No, it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. Sure, he was tired and his head felt heavy with the events of the day. It didn’t matter. These things weren’t important. What was important was everyone else’s thoughts and feelings. Not his.

“Alright, one more time!” Darla called out. “Start from the levitation trick!”

That trick was...well, tricky. Levitation magic didn’t come naturally to him. Jameson took a deep breath, adjusted his mask, and shouted, “Ready!”

The objects he was levitating—just wooden cubes for now, probably to be replaced with something else in the actual show—were placed on the tables around the stage. Jameson blinked sweat out of his eyes, trying to focus. He chanted the words under his breath, feeling the strain of magic. Like trying to stretch a barely-used muscle after you’d already been working out for half an hour. Focus. Concentrate. Watch the blue magic float around the target, watch them wobble, then lift, slowly, trembling in the air—

“It snapped!”

“Backdrop’s coming down!”

“Watch out!”

The shouts snapped him out of concentration, sending the cubes crashing to the ground. Jameson whirled around to see the painted backdrop crashing down as well, landing just a few feet from him. He stared at it where it landed. The shouts of the crew members faded into buzzing background noise.

He could fix this.

He could fix it, he could help.

It was alright.

It was fine, he could help.

He could—

He felt his heart burning cold.

Tears slipped from his eyes, from under his mask, only to freeze the moment they left his face, shattering on the floor.

The buzzing background noise was growing louder, louder, it was a storm inside his head, thoughts whirling in a whiteout of feelings he couldn’t name, he was tired, he was so so tired, tired of this, tired of everything—

A blizzard exploded on the stage.

Wind howled, blue chips of cold magic swirling around him in a storm, a storm, a storm. Beneath his feet the wood of the stage groaned as the temperature dropped, glowing icicles of freezing magic jabbing from the ground. He’d fallen to his hands and knees. All he could see was blue and white and blue and white and blue and white—

Someone was shouting. He was vaguely aware of the sound through the screaming gales in his mind. The magic storm swirled taller, reaching the lights above and freezing their bulbs until they burst.

Someone was in front of him. He could see their shape in the fog of the magic flakes. They grabbed him by the arms, started shaking. He didn’t respond. Just stared. Tears were still slipping down, freezing his mask to his face.

Slowly, a voice started to pierce the winds. “—Jems! You can’ keep t’is up, you’ll hurt someone! Yourself, too! Jems! Look at me!”

Jameson’s eyes focused on the someone in front of him. A familiar face. Marvin. “Are you alrigh’, Jems?” he asked.

And Jameson shook his head.

“What’s wrong? Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

He shook his head again. How was he supposed to say so much? How was he supposed to explain about how he was being crushed? Crushed first by Jackie going missing, by Distorter being out there and ready to fuck with them at any time, and the other magicians wouldn’t or couldn’t help, so he had to do it on his own, he had to make sure his friends were safe from this creature, he had to learn some way to keep him at bay, and he had to be there for everyone else, had to listen to all their problems, had to make breakfast in the morning after Marvin had another nightmare, had to bring food and anything that could help to Rama and Michelle who’d just lost a husband and a father who might not come back, had to figure out what was wrong with Anti, had to check on Schneep because he was in danger of working himself to death while being attacked by his own mind, he had to do all this and it was crushing him, it was killing him, he couldn’t handle everyone’s problems as well as his own, couldn’t hold their grief and his too, but it didn’t matter didn’t matter shouldn’t matter should it matter? couldn’t matter in the face of all—

Oh. Oh, Marvin was hugging him. He was shivering, in the face of this cold storm coming from Jameson, but he was still hugging him. There was frost forming on his jacket, but he wasn’t leaving.

Jameson leaned his head on Marvin’s shoulder. He wrapped his arms around his friend. His shoulders started to shake. But the storm died down, ice covering the stage melted into nothing. Things were warm again.

“We’re goin' to go home,” Marvin said in a voice that left no room for argument. “We’re goin' to go home. And we’ll relax tonight, and tomorrow, too.”

Jameson started to shake his head. He couldn’t let Marvin worry about him—

“Yes, we are.” Marvin stood up, still holding Jameson close. “You do a lot for others, Jems. Let someone else do somet’ing for you.”

That...that sounded really nice. Jameson grabbed the fabric of Marvin’s jacket, clinging to it. He nodded.

“Alrigh’. Let’s go. C’mon, one step at a time.”

One step at a time.

They took the bus back, since Marvin wouldn’t let JJ drive. Once home, Marvin tried to cook. He did better than expected. They turned on the television in the living room, with Marvin in his usual chair and JJ lying on the sofa, underneath a blanket. The cat took the opportunity to fall asleep on him. And eventually, JJ found he was drifting off as well.

Maybe...maybe it did matter.

Maybe he should let it matter.

JJ fell asleep, feeling warmer now knowing that there would be others still there when he woke up.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #septic egos au #jameson jackson #the jaunty jackson #dr schneeplestein #von voltage #antisepticeye #programmer anti #marvin the magnificent #1920s marvin #brigid writes fanfiction #septicswitchau

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fabfrnkie · 5 years

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The big forum interview with My Chemical Romance [2005]

Reporters: Imre (poison amy) and Lisette (Lica) Band members: Frank, Bob and Mikey Place: The Melkweg (Milkyway), Amsterdam, the Netherlands Date: Wednesday August 31st, 2005, 3.30pm After a lot of stress and the prospect that the interview might be cancelled, it was finally time to go upstairs and meet the band. Two hours later than scheduled, but hey, they were there so we’re not complaining! Our palms were sweaty and our hearts were racing, but we managed to remain calm and behave like proper journalists instead of squealing fangirls.

LINK or keep reading below

Of course the first thing we asked after introducing ourselves was if they knew and had ever been on the forum.

Frank: I’ve been shown it by friends, but we’re not really able to go online when we’re touring, unfortunately.

Lisette: Ok, what we did was we invited all the users on the forum to post questions they had for you guys and we will ask the best of those today.

F: Oh man, that’s really cool!

L: We brought a book with us with all the questions.

F: You did? *takes book from Imre* Geez!

L: If you’re bored on the tourbus you’ll have something to read.

F: I can’t believe how big this is! Alright, cool. I’ll tell you what, in addition to your questions, we’ll just like flip through this and do two more.

Imre: Great idea! I have just one question before we start off with the list: did you guys have an official messageboard?

F: We did! We used to have an official messageboard on our site, but it got to the point where it wasn’t really a community, it was more like people talking down to other people that were coming later… It was hard to police it and you know, to take down certain things that maybe were offensive to other people and it just got to this point where we said; if they’re not gonna treat it as just a forum for everybody to be accepted and everybody to be a fan of music in general, than we don’t wanna have it.

I: We don’t accept everybody, we have an age restriction of 15.

F: Gotcha.

L: There are some really sensitive issues also on the board and we don’t want teenies to be influenced by other people who maybe do it…

F: I understand. I mean, it’s hard to keep some people out and you know it’s a fulltime job, it really is.

I & L: We know!

F: And for us it’s too much, we can’t really…

I: Yeah. We have a team of seven moderators who help us out.

F: Oh wow. Well thank you very much, you’re doing a great job! L: Let’s start with our list! We’re already talking about messageboards so lets continue on that. Some people sometimes claim to be one of you when they are on forums or other websites, what do you think of that?

F: I don’t understand it really, to me it’s kind of like that game the Sims, they’re spending so much time leading this fake life while they could be doing their own thing, and if your dream is to be in a band you should go out and practise instead of playing a video game or pretend you’re somebody else. It gets really creepy when those people do that and put out pictures of you and say a loved one or your dog. When they do that and then talk to other people on your behalf, that really angers me because we don’t know what they’re saying to other people and they might give advise and others might believe it. Internet can be a great thing, but it can also be a really evil thing.

I: We have a rule against talking about your private life.

F: Thank you. I appreciate that.

Mikey: That’s a big problem with MySpace, because some of my friends actually are on MySpace and they get messages, I don’t know how they knew that my friends are on there, but these are people that aren’t even in bands and they would get messages from ‘me’ on MySpace. It’s really weird.

I: They know everything. Trust me.

Bob: That’s ridiculous.

F: I’m still a huge fan of music, but when I was a fan of a band I would never ever be that intrusive. You know what I mean, to go as far as walk on someone’s bus and sit down and go through someone’s things, or try to steal something…

I: There was one girl last week, she was at one of the shows in London and she was proud that she ripped something off your arm!

F: [sad tone] Yeah, yeah…

I: She was bragging about it all over the internet.

F: I know…

L: How do you feel about these things?

F: You know, it’s weird. *thinks* I don’t know how I feel about that. I definitely know that when I was at shows I would bring a souvenir home, but it wasn’t someone’s personal property, it was a flyer or something like that. It’s weird if you wanna go into the crowd thinking ‘am I gonna come out with everything?’

L: Are you nervous when you see a large crowd? Are you worried then?

F: No! Well, no, I mean, it depends. There’s a bunch of different type of fans. You know, there’s people who just wanna say I love you, love your show, and that’s awesome. They respect the music and the art form. And then there’s some people that need to have that souvenir, that need a signature or a picture and there’s some that just scream and try to pull your hair out and that’s ridiculous and then there’s the drunk fan that wants to be the one that punched you. Unfortunately for the people that just wanna say hi or the people that just want an autograph, sometimes they get flooded because the bad apples are so loud or with so many. It sucks to make people wait outside for hours before you leave because I don’t wanna weed out the bullshit, you know what I mean, the teenie ‘oh wow the new N’Sync is an actual band’ you know that’s a terrible thing, but you try to do more good than bad. L: How was it for you Bob, when you joined the band they were already on their way to become very successful, how was it for you to step into a band that was already on their way?

Bob: When I first started it wasn’t really sure that… Well, I don’t think anybody thought that it was gonna be this successful. When I first started it was still in the van, playing shows for like a hundred people. It wasn’t like this when I first started. As far as the kids being crazy, obviously they *nods towards Frank and Mikey* get it a lot more, but it’s just strange for me.

L: Well, you’re completely accepted on the forum, everybody loves Bob, they have it in their signatures. *grins*

F: How could you not love Bob?!

I: When you started out, did you ever imagine being nominated for 4 VMA’s against Green Day?

F: No, not at all!

I: How crazy is that?!

F: Pfff! It’s flattering.

M: It was a great experience. The whole thing.

F: I’m still reeling from it. I’m really glad it’s over.

I: Were you nervous?

F: Oh god, yeah. I definitely threw up before.

M: You can see me biting my nails on camera. Every time they were showing Jamie Fox you can see me right behind him biting my nails a lot. I was really freaked out.

F: It’s one of those things where.. Growing up I didn’t get to watch them all the time, but I saw bands like Nirvana play it and Guns’n’Roses. So just to be there and think of all the things that happened on that show and to actually play it, it was ridiculous.

I: Because of the MTV awards you had to do the two festivals in England on the same day, how was that? Were you nervous doing those shows?

B: It was tiring really.

F: It was very tiring, yeah. And again, we kept like thinking of people that played it before. You know what I mean. I’m definitely keeping the two passes and I’m gonna frame them. It was rad. To do Reading and Leeds and especially on the same day, it was crazy!

B: We were supposed to fly to Leeds and we couldn’t get on a bus and go to Reading, because we wouldn’t have enough time to set up, so we were supposed to take three helicopters and I was so psyched about that! I was so excited! It would have been so awesome to fly on a helicopter! But then something happened with the weather at Reading and they wouldn’t let the helicopters get that close to so many people, so we just took a plane.

L: So the helicopter experience still has to take place.

B: Yeah. We’re gonna do it one of these days. I don’t care, even if it’s on a day off, we’re taking a helicopter ride!

L: Are you a thrill seeker?

B: I … *thinks* Kind of. I guess so.

F: As long as it’s got something to do with helicopters or motorcycles or black vans, that kind of stuff.

I: You wouldn’t go horseriding on the beach.

F: *laughs* I don’t think he’s that horseriding-on-the-beach type of guy.

B: No. I wanna go skydiving one of these days.

F: I’m not!!!

I: Why not?

F: If you’d asked me a couple of years ago to do it, I’d go ‘yeah, fuck it!’ but now I’m just too happy. You know what I mean?

I: You don’t need that.

F: Yeah! I don’t need to do that. Then suddenly Bob exclaims: What is wrong with these people?! *reads from book* What would happen if you saw Mikey walk into the bathroom with another toaster? Signed: Bob Bryar’s official bitch.

M: It wasn’t a toaster, it was a heater. I was putting a space heater in the bathroom when I was sick or something. I brought this heater into the shower so it was warm when I got out. It’s not the smartest thing in the world to do, but I was like ‘whatever, I’m fucking freezing’, but apparently they turned it into a toaster..

L: But you were fine.

M: Yeah, I’m here right now.

*all laugh* L: For the video from The Ghost of You, you guys have your hair really smooth. We understand how you get your hair like that, but we were wondering how did they get Ray’s hair totally smooth? How much stuff did they put in there?

F: You’ll see it on the making of the video, he has like these two little buns.

B: Did they flat iron his hair too?

F: They did something. It was all flattened out. It was all bundled together in this little fist of a bulb, so they could only shoot him from the front and part of the side. It was crazy. He was gonna cut his hair and we were all like ‘no don’t do that!!’.

I: Did he ever tried to hide objects in his hair? To smuggle them inside?

F: Hide objects in it? He might.

B: *thinks* I don’t think so.

*All giggle* I: Another question they asked is: if your tourbus driver got ill, who would you trust to drive it?

F: Bob.

I: Yeah? Why?

F: Cos he’s done it before.

B: It happens a lot when you have to move a bus. When I used to tour with other bands, our drivers would just be like ‘hey, you wanna drive?’ and then I’d drive for like 1000 miles.

L: It’s cool to drive something that big, isn’t it.

B: Yeah, I like to drive and being on tour you never get to drive anywhere. If you’re not in a bus you’re in a cab or if you’re not in a cab you have somebody else driving you, so you know I take every opportunity I get to drive. L: If you could describe your life so far in 5 words, what words would you choose?

M: Tiring, wonderful…

F: Surprising, uhm, definitely tiring…

B: Red Bull.

I: Hey, that’s two words!

B: Oh sorry! *laughs*

F: Coffee.

B: There you go, coffee. Fun!

(All at the same time): Proud.

F: Prun! *grins*

M: Yeah.

B: How about proud-fun?

I: We’ll make that a new forum-word!

B: Prun. I: Have you ever read any of the fanfictions people write about you? *guys laugh*

M: My friends sent me one once. It was creepy! My friends are interested in all that stuff, so they all sit online and send it to each other and laugh. And then one of them emailed one to me and it was something really fucking out of hand.

F: I heard Mikey’s hot for me.

I: The hottest couple is you and Gerard actually.

F: Oh really? We’re the hottest couple?

B: That’s amazing.

I: That’s actually one of the most active parts of the forum, the fanfiction section.

F: Wow! That’s crazy. My god… (kind of unsure) Well, if that’s what gets you hot, go for it. L: Do you have something with you when you go out on stage, like a lucky thing?

B: High fives.

F: Yeah we do, like high fives before we go on stage. I don’t think there’s any charm I have.. I think it changes like I’ll have something for a time that I feel is lucky, but then it’ll probably break or something and you get something new… Like these shoes *everyone looks at Frank’s feet* are lucky I think. None of it’s really lucky at all of course. *thinks* I have these dogtags that I wear a lot, but I can’t wear them on stage because it hurts my neck.

I: Yeah and someone might steal them!

F: Yeah that’s it, but I wear them all the time, except when I’m playing.

L: Yeah, you go crazy on stage and sometimes you’re lying on the floor, how are you able to play like that?

F: You get used to it, like with anything. When we’re playing a new song, like right now we’re playing a new song. Well, not new new, but new for us because we haven’t played it in so long, so ah, we’ll play eh *looks at Bob* should we tell them? *Bob nods* Alright, we’re playing Jetset tonight and I’m not used to playing that song, so I’ll just stand there and make sure I hit every chord.

L: So you’re not going crazy.

F: *laughs* No, but you know what I mean like it’s hard because I get into it and I would do it, but at the same time if it’s so new I can’t. Once I’m comfortable with it I can do whatever I want.

I: Is there a favourite song when you play?

All: Prison!

F: Yeah, Prison is like a band favourite.

B: Yeah we like to play that. It’s become the song that when we need to play something for a soundcheck we pick that. I really like playing Jetset too though.

I: Why didn’t you put it in the set before?

F: We’ve never played certain songs, I mean like never ever played them. I think Jetset was one of those until we were like ‘yeah lets finally get this out’. We had about five songs to pick from for the headline tour, some older stuff that we haven’t played in a really long time and there’s this song called Cubicles that we’ve never played. I think you guys played it (to Mikey)…

M: Yeah we’ve played it on a couple of shows.

F: But I’ve never actually played it.

I: It must be nice to do a different set.

F: Yeah! You know it’s fun to be doing something that you haven’t played in a really long time because it puts a spin on things and it kind of challenges you. L: Most places have a very active local music scene, do you ever go to a band of the local music scene when you’re in a city?

F: I would love to if we had a second off, but we never do.

L: And back home in New Jersey, do you go there to local shows?

F: Yeah, if we’re home for a while and there’s a show going on, I’ll go see it. But it’s hard because we do this for a living and I mean we love what we do and we love music, but sometimes the last thing we wanna do is go to a show. It has to be a really good show, you know what I mean.

I: Yah, but it must also be part of your job to keep up to date about new bands.

F: Yeah, well we tour so much and we hear so many things from different people, I mean I found out about a lot of different bands from just kids. It kind of keeps you in your favourite scene, you know. And we get demos all the time.

I: A few weeks ago I interviewed the singer from HIM, Ville, and he told me he had been talking to you guys about maybe touring together.

F: That would be cool. Yeah. He’s a great guy. He’s really nice.

I: I know! *grins*

F: I think that would rule. To me, HIM are kind of like the European Bon Jovi. That’s what I get when I listen to them. Sadly the girl from the record company interrupted us by saying it was nearly time and we could ask one last question. Lica asked it.

L: About the second I’m Not Okay video; it starts off with Ray and Gerard sitting there and Gerard says: I don’t wanna make it, I just wanna… What does he wanna do?

F: Ok, the original line was: I don’t wanna make it, I just wanna rock! And we didn’t like it. If you keep an open end you can make it whatever you want it to be, you know. The rest of that, the whole opening scene, was written out. It was scripted and we were like ‘this isn’t really working’ so Ray actually re-wrote everything. Everything you hear in the video, other then ‘I just wanna’ is something that Ray wrote maybe ten minutes before we shot it! Then the girl from the record company came back inside to tell us we really needed to wrap it up and Frank practically begged her to do two more from the book, like he suggested when we started out. Bob flips through the book.

B: Bam! *points* All time favourite sad song?

M: the Smiths – Asleep. That’s the fucking saddest song ever.

B: That Jimmy Eat World song off of that show..

F: Angel song?

B: Yeah.

F: Oh yeah. Ah, geez, Angel Angel. Oh, right, ready?

*flips through book again*

F: When you guys stop and think about how you ended up where you are now, do you feel really lucky and jump for joy, or do you don’t give a damn at all? *laughs* I think we are the luckiest people in the whole fucking world.

B: We’re very proud of ourselves!

F: To be able to say that, you know, you’ve accomplished goals, that you set for yourself so long ago and this is awesome you know, like to be on tv or on the radio – fuck the radio and tv! To hear kids in different countries or different states sing along to songs that you wrote in your basement is the most surreal experience that you’ll ever have. And to have it mean something to people you never thought you would ever meet. That right there is the most amazing thing. We had a minute to go on a picture with them and say goodbye.

Frank told us that he really appreciated what we are doing for the band and thanked us for everything by giving us both a very tight hug. As you can probably imagine, we high on adrenaline for the rest of the day. The guys were lovely and very happy to see that all of you had posted so many questions for them. Thank you forum members, and thanks My Chemical Romance for making this all happen!

#my chemical romance #mcr journal #fab.png #my chemical romance forum #interview

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saltyslack-toast · 4 years

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#Knock The Book 2: The Devil All the Time

WELL, I MADE IT TO THE 2nd BOOK REVIEW OF MINE, MEANS THAT I’M A PASSIONATE AND PERSISTENT BITCH, PERIODT. No actually I’m just bored and got really nothing to do, so here I am making judgmental, invalid and uncritical book review just to ease my guilt for doing nothing at home (just so my mom see me working through my laptop).

Okay The Devil All the Time is actually my first English book. The story of how I got this book as a matter of fact is quite irritating and funny at the same time. My uni friend, she saw this book in a modest book bazaar near her hometown. She was reading the title and the word ‘devil’ just remind her of me, she bought it and just gave it straight to me…... I’m sad but like thankful???

It’s a secondhand and hardcover book but I don’t really mind, considering the fact that the quality is still very nice though, except the worn spots stained all over the cover that make the book looks very old. My friend bought this only for RP 25.000, yes dude you’re not misread this shit, it was THAT CHEAP (whoever sell and own this book before me, I really appreciate it). Although if you want to buy the new one, you can get this book for USD 26.95 which converted in rupiah would be RP 407.500, yeah its cost pretty fancy for broke students like us and I don’t know if the book’s supposed to be available in your local bookstore but I think you can find it in worldwide shipping online store like amazon or any other shop perhaps. The book’s cover illustrate a dying white mutt hanging on the ‘log’ and bunch of cross everywhere, the cover is actually make sense when you read the book. It published in 2011 by doubleday in United States of America. The Author is Donald Ray Pollock, and you can find the sum information about his background written on the cover, but based form the book’s cover you can also check his website in donaldraypollock.com but when I checked, I’m not sure if it’s really his website since it just like pest control website (LMAOO I HAD NO IDEA FR). Anyway,

Let’s go breaking down the book!

“… Too much religion could be as bad as too little, maybe even worse, but moderation was just not in her husband’s nature”

The whole story in this book, basically give you portraits regarding the life of lunatics in the time after WWII. Nope, there is no sums up about the events happened in that moment so chill y’all non-historical enthusiast bitches. This book gonna give you a bizarre experience reading it, the first 10 pages of this book was already psychedelic, I assure that shit. Have you watched Games of Thrones series on HBO? It’s chilling right how Ned Stark, the protagonist of the main series died in the first season???? EXACTLY that was the vibes u got after reading the first chapter and get crazier every time u read forward. By the way, this book embodied 7 chapters and 55 sub-chapters, the chapter in odd and even numbers has 2 different main focuses on each characteristic exist, here I sum it up for you:

On the odd numbers chapters (1, 3, and so on), the central story of these chapters is circling among the family of Willard Russel, his Mom Emma and Uncle Earskell and also those 2 insane peeps Roy Laferty and Theodore. Willard Russel used to be a navy army and a bit skeptical dealing with religion issues just like his uncle, but his mom has always been a devoted worshiper. Willard married to the beautiful and kind-hearted women named Charlotte and they was given a son named Arvin Eugene Russel, everything was normal until Charlotte got sick and Willard gone crazy praying to god for his wife’s recovery and poor little Arvin has to suffer the predicament by his own self. Their stories always give me religious-fanaticism-gloomy vibes (is that even make sense??). Don’t even get me started with the life stories of the two brutes-ass man, Roy Laferty and Theodore they were used to be ‘preacher’ in Emma and young Willard’s Church. Nothing I could say further because it’s gonna be a major spoiler for you, but their stories really giving you insights of how frustration and fanaticism allow people to do something beyond their common sense.

“You remember what I told you the other day?” He asked Arvin

“About the boys on the bus?,”

“Well, that’s what I meant, you just got to pick the right time”

On the even numbers chapters (2, 4, and so on), the main tales is pertaining on the journey of Handerson couple, Carl and Sandy. They were like the Bonnie and Clyde but sad and exploitative version in this book. Carl is a ‘photographer’ and sandy working as a waitress in a café called Wooden Spoon (Which the place where Charlotte used to work as a waitress and the place she met Willard for the first time as well). During summertime they got this ‘ritual’ ((but not in a religious way)) where they drive to different states and give a ride to the hitchhikers found on the way, then Carl forcefully offer them to fuck Sandy for free (HIS OWN WIFE) while he took pictures of them fucking and after that Carl kill them and take all the money those hitchhikers got in their pocket (dude I can’t even judge anything). But to be honest, I’m not a fan of these two characters because they were all so ANNOYING to death. And then there is Bodecker Lee who’s a police and also Sandy’s brother, ok that’s it, I’m not gonna give you any spoilers.

“… He went down the street and sat on a bench in a park the rest of the day thinking about killing himself instead. Something broke in him that day. For the first time he could see that his whole life added up to absolutely nothing…”

You might be confused since there are quite a lot of keen characters in this book but there’s a point where all these bitches are relating to each other, so chill y’all impatient gripe-ass. Overall, the flow of the story is undoubtedly interesting for you to keep going throughout the whole story, because every phase gonna make you wondering about next things happened to them. But, the transitions among every chapters is quite uncomfortable for me, because sometimes when the story has reached its climax there is no resolutions coming to solve the problem immediately, and you’re faced to read the new chapter with a whole different setting and characters so it’s kind of ruining the vibes and emotions the book has made me, but again this just my personal preference so please don’t judge (while everything I did right now is judging inaccurately).

“He realized that he would never preach again, but that was all right. He’d never been much good at it anyway. Most people just wanted to hear the cripple play”

However, what I like the most from this book is the deepening of every character exists is so fascinating, even for just the side or supporting character (for god sake I’m sorry idk what to called a character that isn’t the main one), for example a bus driver in Meade, Ohio which Willard talked to when he was on the way home after the war ended, the narration wrapped and portraits the driver’s life perfectly without make us bored, and there’s still a bunch of interesting narration about the life of the side characters in this book that also as odds and intriguing as the main character’s background (jesus, everything happened and everyone in this book is just so strange and peculiar I swear to god). The story finished in a most tragic-beautiful but still gloomy way, even though it’s quite predictable but still a very good closing for me personally. To be noted, on the way to the end of the story, there will be emerge another asshole priest character named Preston Teagardin, ready to shake you up until you finish the book. But still, let’s said this particular ‘last minute character’ has proving that the author is paying so much attention of how the story ended isn’t leaving any 'rush-made' impression (this shit might confused you I’m sorry my English hasn’t got any better *sorry hand sign* *sorry hand sign* *sorry hand sign*). # hashtag attention to the detail bro.

Holy crap, that’s the first time I’m almost able to cut all the bullshit I intend to bring it up here.

This book is one of my top 5 books that you have to read once in a life time (although I haven’t discover the other four, omg im sorry y’all). Little information for you that the first time I read this book (yeah I read it for quite few times) is when the campaign of presidential election era, which in Indonesia the religious are pretty sentimental issues, some of the people in my country suddenly became those annoying fanatical preachers, man I can’t stand it. And this book is just precisely relating to that condition and I get to know at least a glance of what the heck odds things happened in their minds, since you know fanaticism and stupidity doesn’t hit only on particular group of religions, race, gender or anything, we can all be stupid and brainless (especially me because I basically have no brain). There probably quite many scenes that is pretty disturbing to read (I don’t know if people could be triggered by it???? But I guess so) so yeah a bit warning. Overall, I genuinely recommend this book for you guys because every element in this book is almost perfect, the storylines, bold characters, and the RARE AND STRANGE AND SENSITIVE topic promote by the author in this novel is totally a BOOM. Don’t worry reading this book not going to give you those agnostic and atheist vibes HAHA chill I still consider myself a devoted Muslim tho (hashtag masyaallah ukthi).

By the way before I wrapped it up, I hear that this book will be made into a netflix film. WELL, of course I’m excited because the casts are so amazing, and I love Netflix adaptation and I enjoy watch movies as much as I read books (again, unnecessary information of mine *sorry hand sign*). I found that the release date is postponed from the origin plan in 15th May (which is three days ago from I posted this on my page) due to I don’t know perhaps corona because that bitch has ruined everyone in the world’s schedule, but for real I can’t find the exact information regarding to the updated release date, so while you wait the film to launch, why don’t you just go read the book first? I assure you this one not gonna give you any disappointment.

I think that would be it for this 2nd rubbish book review of mine. Although, I think I made a little progressive from the first one (OR MAYBE NOT???? I’M SORRY Y’ALL) but of course there’s still much deficiency I served. Still, I hope my writing get better in the process of making this whole novel of reviewing book inaccurately. To be honest, I wrote this shit not for getting any engagements or audience but for my own satisfied HAHA. So yeah I’m literally comfortable writing for nothing. But bitch guess what I’m just gonna keep going, until I could professionally writing and make it for a living? Well, amen for that.

Xiao, See you in Advance!

#book #book quotes #bookaholic #booknerd #book review #the devil all the time #donald ray pollock #religion #review #novel #thriller #psychological #tom holland #robert pattinson #bill skasgård #sebastian stan

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Architecture under Biden Presidency

Biden Presidency Architecture, US Building News, Social Housing Shortage, American Election

Architecture under the Biden Presidency

Historic US Election Review of Architectural Aspects: Architectural Column by Joel Solkoff, PA, USA

Nov 12, 2020

US Architecture under the Biden Presidency

The steeple of Independence Hall was the masterpiece of 18th Century architect William Strickland. Photograph in the public domain by Captain Albert E. Theberge, NOAA Corps (ret.).National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.

Independence Hall is the birthplace of the Constitution of the United States–ratified in 1788; in operation since 1789. If nothing else, the big victor in the US elections of 2020 is the Constitution of the United States.

Despite fears of violence and foreign interference, over 100 million US Americans cast their votes safely and without significant problems in the midst of our worst health crisis in over 100 years.

Joe Biden clearly won the Presidential election by over 4.4 million popular votes. Biden also won the electoral college vote—that aristocratic relic difficult to explain; likely to be reformed—. by a comfortable margin. It is with the considerable emotion that I recollect and write with pride that twelve times I have sworn to uphold the Constitution of the United States and “defend it against all enemies foreign and domestic.”

https://ift.tt/2iaNIlE

This is the complete text of the Constitution from the U.S, Senate website, I will be writing and talking about Independence Hall and the Constitution a lot–perhaps, not all today.

To contain Covid, architects must build cities

The first rule of writing is know your audience. You, my readers, are architects and members of the AEC community. If taming the deadly virus is to be achieved, the AEC community must build cities on an order of magnitude far greater than in the 1950s when Levitowns dotted the US countryside.

In the wake of World War II, soldiers returned to have children as the massive Baby Boom generation (my generation) converted the US from a nation of urban dwellers to one of suburbanites.

Aerial view of Levittown, Pennsylvania circa 1959 (when I was eight years old). Wikipedia: “Levittown is the name of seven large suburban housing developments created in the United States by William J. Levitt and his company Levitt & Sons. Built after World War II for returning veterans and their new families, the communities offered attractive alternatives to cramped central city locations and apartments. The Veterans Administration and the Federal Housing Administration (FHA) guaranteed builders that qualified veterans could buy housing for a fraction of rental costs.”

Right now, architecture commissions in the private sector are drying up. Massive public spending will begin shortly as housing our most vulnerable children, women, and men is required to prevent death and contagion. Urgently, architects must learn a skill rarely taught in architecture school: Politics. Architects must become, as the expression goes, “political animals,” a subject on which my future columns will descend on you with passion and this is what you must do next information.

Before the pandemic, the Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) had a waiting list of 3.5 million low income individuals who are in danger of contracting corona virus because of the unsafe housing where they live.

Breadcrumbs demonstrating what we can expect from Biden when adults return to govern

“Infection Control Deficiencies Were Widespread and Persistent in Nursing Homes Prior to COVID-19 Pandemic” is a report from Congress’ General Accountability Office (GAO) on the failure of US nursing homes, where most corona virus deaths are taking place, to protect its residents–people like me who are elderly and have considerable health issues.

One of the number of places in the US government (where I worked in Washington DC for nearly 20 years) is the General Accountability Office (GAO). Here is a report the GAO released on May 20th of this year: “GAO analysis of CMS data (content management system data from Medicare and Medicaid) shows that infection prevention and control deficiencies were the most common type of deficiency cited in surveyed nursing homes, with most nursing homes having an infection prevention and control deficiency cited in one or more years from 2013 through 2017 (13,299 nursing homes, or 82 percent of all surveyed homes).

https://www.gao.gov/assets/710/702638.pdf

Hail to the Chief

Even before the election results where confirmed by the widely-respected Associate Press, a serious-minded President-to-be Biden had already begun the process of preparing to fix the problems of nursing homes, inadequate housing, and Covid virus specifically. Within his first week as President elect, Biden had already appointed a panel of distinguished and credentialed scientists to make suggestions regarding the pandemic. “Covid, covid, covid, covid,” President Trump repeated sing song like in his re-election rallies which because of the absence of social distancing and laissez-faire mask use have been spreader events.

All Architects Today Must Be Covid-19 Architects

Joel Solkoff’s Column Vol. VI, Number 4

West front of the Capitol of the United States where Joseph Biden will take the oath of office to “preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies foreign and domestic” on January 20,2021 at noon. Photo in the public domain.

The annual budget of the U/S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) is $44.1. billion.

Secretary of HUD Ben Carson tested positive for Covid-19 after results of the Presidential election were announced by the authoritative Associate Press. One reporter suggested Secretary Carson may have contracted the disease at a Michigan rally for President Trump where Secretary Carson did not consistently where a mask.

Yesterday, the US death toll from the corona virus was 2.7 million children, women, and men.

DATELINE Thursday, November 12, 2020. Williamsport Pennsylvania, a town of 28,000 people (a treasure trove of architecture) 178 miles southeast over rotten roads to Philadelphia’s Independence Hall where my fathers (mothers did not apply) ratified the Constitution of the United States.

The biggest of the big news from this month’s election is that President Donald John Trump will no longer be President of the United States even if it means the Marines have to drag him out of the White House kicking and screaming. An ongoing question is whether the United States will ever recover from the Trump Presidency. On this issue, I take the long view. Maybe. It is the forthcoming Presidency of Joseph Robinette Biden, Jr. on January 20, 2021 that gives me some hope. Biden has run an excellent campaign. His choice of Kamala Harris, Senator from California, former attorney general of the state of California was sheer genius–a word I seldom use.

Senator Harris was my first choice for President during the crowded Democratic nomination process. Senator Harris mopped the floor with candidate Biden during one debate. This debate

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S6-UC8yr0Aw

Embedded in accordance with the terms of YouTube’s licensing agreement

When I heard that Biden had selected Harris, this bumper sticker came to mind. “It takes brass balls to play rugby.” This is a time for US and global architects to understand that politics is about power. In your case, it is about exerting your power to design housing for the most vulnerable to Covid 19. Here is Kamala Harris questioning Bill Bahr who in 69 days will no longer be the Attorney General of the United States:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bHd_UlebyoM

The press’ failure in covering the election results

“Counting inches forward in Pennsylvania, and both sides predict victory.” asserted the New York Times inaccurately on November 4th.

Before Hillary, Pennsylvania consistently cast its electoral votes for Democratic Presidential candidates even ones who lost the election. If it were for Pennsylvania, John Kerry would have been President of the United States. Pennsylvania has voted for Democratic candidates consistently because there are a lot of voters in Pittsburgh and Philadelphia at each end of the state and few voters in the center, in the burned out Rust Belt where the existence of a Donald Trump was the inevitable result of the failure of Democratic and Republican Presidential Administrations from preserving and protecting this rich beautiful land between the two oceans.

My condemnation is considerable of the New York Times, the US’s newspaper of record, for dangerously pretending that the king-making electoral vote in Pennsylvania was a close vote. The only reason former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton lost the 2016 election, was because she ran an incompetent campaign. That is putting it mildly.

Following election day when I voted for Joe Biden in a Trump county in Pennsylvania e-architect Art Critic Sarah Schmerler drew the following rough approximation of reality. The New York Times, leading the world, kept us all on the edge of ours seats unnecessarily. New York Times reporters were incapable of telling the difference between big and little.

If you have a large number of votes in one place and few votes in another place and if all votes are equal, then you do not have a close race.

Joel votes. Photo reproduced with his permission by my health aide Frank Rasole, Jr.

As you can see, the parking lot was not crowded. There were no lines. Few voters. A mile away at the Williamsport Regional Airport on Friday evening, Air Force 1 arrived and Trump conducted a large super-spreader event where his fervent followers promised the President they would vote for him. My polling place: Loyalsock Twp Building, 2501 East Third Street Wi lliamsport PA17701.

I have not yet had the chance to examine the vote count there/here four years ago, but I would be surprised if in 2016 the Loyalsack polling place had fewer voters than poll workers as I experienced. Meanwhile, while the entire process of my voting took fewer than 15 minutes, in Philadelphia potential Biden voters were spending hours in line. I do not understand why the alarmist press was unable to see that Biden would obtain my Commonwealths’ 20 electoral votes handily.

++++

Off to New York City to save my life

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4YEs2rVINpU

I have been hopeful of moving to the Peter Herdic Park Hotel completed 1865. Williamsport’s best architect, Anthony Visco, Jr took my amanuensis Frankie Resole, Jr. and me on tour of the hotel which was an alluring rural attraction.

Sadly, while I am hoping to maintain a legal residence here in the Appalachian Mountains, now is the time to head Noah’s call and move to New York City. As an elderly man with significant health conditions, Remaining in Lycoming Country–with its failure to test physicians and nurses in the emergency room of its largest hospital, its failure to test at all my primary care physician, and its failure to socially distance or wear masks consistently–may very well be a sentence of death.

The most dangerous spot on the planet from this deadly disease is South Dakota–beautiful South Dakota. Lycoming Country, Pa has all the characteristics of South Dakota’s danger. Within the next two weeks, the infection that has closed down London and Paris will be coming to the US with a wallop. Now is the time to get out.

New York City, once the epicenter of the pandemic, is now the safest place to be in the US.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=krm2VwxdOjM

Embedded in accordance with YouTube’s licensing agreement

My editors beckon: “All right, stop writing, Joel.”

Isabelle Lomholt and Adrian Welch, Editors at e-architect

“Good night and good luck,” as Greensboro, North Carolina born Edward R. Morrow, my hero, used to say. My hero Edward R.Murrow broadcast this 1960 example of classic investigative reporting.This documentary was broadcast on Thanksgiving Day where I watched it at my maternal grandmother’s apartment in Brooklyn. I was 12 years old at the time.Murrow’s documentary shaped my future career in measurable ways. Note the hideous conditions of farm worker housing. Little effort would find in Florida and Canada- where inadequate housing for migrant workers in danger of spreading the Corona virus have been reported. Think Black Lives Matter when you hear the words of a grower Murrow quoted: “We used to own our slaves. Now we just rent them.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yJTVF_dya7E&t=9s

Embedded in accordance with YouTube licensing

Joel

Selfie, Lycoming County, Pennsylvania, USA

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