#I think I copied it off a street I saw of san francisco

[ragingbookdragon]

The Daughter Of Superman, The Adopted Son Of Batman...What Could Go Wrong? PT. 2

Jason Todd x Kryptonian!Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2.8K Warnings: Angst

Author's Note: I should really post my other Kryptonian reader story. Enjoy the angst! -Thorne

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

She jerked backwards, eyes widening at the sight of the thick, crimson liquid running down her arm. A shudder ran through her, throat seizing up as she tried to suck in air, her other hand coming up to rub at her arm. Suddenly it was on both hands and she stared at them in horror.

A voice called from below her, pained, but firm. “Superwoman…it’s okay. Don’t—ugh—don’t panic. It’s alright.” The voice was soothing at first, but when she looked down to find its owner, the body next to him took up all she saw, a vicious, gaping hole where his heart used to be.

She peddled backwards, stumbling to the floor, apologies falling from her lips. “I’m sor—I’m so sorry. It was just—he was hurting you and I—I didn’t mean to do this, I swear—”

The boy reached out to her but grunted in pain, hand dropping to hold his side. “(Y/N)—”

Her eyes met his once more, and he could see the tears swimming in her gaze as she whispered, “I’m sorry.” She shot from the ground, disappearing in the sky in a blur of red and blue.

He reached for her calling out, “(Y/N)!” He lost sight of her as quickly as she left, and the other two ran up to him.

“Tim!” The taller boy stopped, looking down at the corpse next to him, jaw dropping in shock. “…Oh my god. Wh—what happened?” He looked at the other. “Tim?”

He shook his head, eyes meeting the shorter one. “Bart, I need you to get to Central and find Wally and Dick and tell them to get to the cave.” Bart nodded and spun, taking off in a flash of yellow lightning.

The other boy knelt, picking him up off the ground. “Tim, what happened?”

He groaned, hand moving to hold his side once more. “(Y/N) killed him on accident.” Tim looked at him. “Conner, I can get back to the tower on my own, but I need someone to get to Jason.” He sucked in a breath, reaching up and wiping the blood from his nose though it still bled despite him. “Kori and Roy will probably be with him, but right now, we need everyone who can search.”

Conner nodded, steadying Tim on his feet before rising from the ground; he looked down at him. “Do you know where she went?”

Tim shook his head, grimace crossing his lips as he muttered, “I don’t think we’re gonna find her for a long time.” He glanced up at Conner. “Go. Now.” The boy nodded, flying off, and Tim took a few steps forward before stumbling into a wall. He heaved a sigh, picking up his transmitter from his belt.

He pushed a button, and a few seconds later, a voice came over the line. What’s going on?

Tim frowned and asked, “What’s your E.T.A. to earth?”

Eighteen hours. What happened?

Tim glanced back at the body, the puddle of blood seeming to consume it. “It was (Y/N). She… she killed someone.”

The voice on the line was silent, then it said, Superman is on his way. Call me when he gets there.

The line went dead, and Tim sighed, sliding down the wall. He lent his head back, eyes staring up at the sky, waiting for (Y/N)’s father.

***Later In The Cave***

The group stood in silence, faces molded in a mixture of shock and pain. Tim yelped as Alfred pushed on his side. “Ow shi—Alfred!”

The man hummed, wrapping the cloth around his side. “Apologies, Master Tim.” He tucked an ice-pack between the layers. “With the broken ribs you’ve got, it would be best to keep ice close. I also advise against any harsh movements.”

Tim nodded, gaze turning to the man beside his oldest brother. “Clark.”

The man looked up from the ground, voice stricken as he lamented, “I can’t hear her. She’s…completely silent…” his eyes held a deep and sorrowed pain. “I can’t hear my baby girl.”

The others listened, then Jason stepped forward, expression grim and solemn. “Tim, what exactly happened in San Francisco today?”

The boy looked over at him before dropping his gaze to the ground, sighing, “What didn’t happen out there, Jason?”

Tim shook his head, clearing his throat. “It was a routine mission, patrol the area before getting back to the tower, but Bart called and said that he saw what looked to be a meta-human going on a rampage. We all met up and started fighting, and while it took some time, we managed to get him to an abandoned warehouse complex. Turns out, he not only had super strength, but he could also make copies of himself, and when I figured out that the original was susceptible to damage while he had copies, I sent Conner, Bart, and (Y/N) to fight the copies while I found him.”

He paused, picking at his nails. “What I didn’t expect was for him to throw me into a forklift and break three of my ribs. I tried to get up, but before I could move, his hands were around my throat, and he was lifting me up off the ground.” He absentmindedly reached up, fingers brushing the purple hand-prints around his pale neck. “Everything was happening so fast, and I couldn’t get my bearings in time. My vision started to get dark, and I could hear (Y/N) shouting from behind, and the next thing I knew, I was being dropped again. When I could see and breath clearly again, I looked up, and I saw (Y/N)…I saw her…”

A hand rested on his shoulder, and he glanced up, seeing Conner nodding firmly at him. He let out a breath and said, “And I saw (Y/N) standing there, and the meta-human lying in a pool of his own blood and he had…he had a hole through his chest.”

Quiet gasps were heard around the cave, and Tim looked up at Clark. “It was just an accident Clark, she didn’t mean to do it. She was trying to save me.” The man didn’t look at him, eyes glued to the floor as he swallowed thickly, obviously thinking about what he was just told.

Jason stepped up to Tim. “Do you know where she went?”

Tim shook his head. “No, she took off before I could stop her.”

“So, you’re pretty much saying that she could be anywhere.” Everyone turned their head at the sound of Dick’s voice.

Tim nodded. “That’s why I called everyone here. We need help trying to find her.”

Dick turned to Wally. “You and Bart comb Central.” The two took off, and Dick turned to Kori. “You should take Roy and go check around hideouts the Outlaws frequent.” Kori and Roy made their way to the stairs. “Tim, you sit out and monitor everything. Conner, you can help me and Jason check Gotham. Clark…”

Dick walked over and resting a hand on his arm. “You should go home and tell Lois about what’s happened, then check Metropolis.” Clark nodded, but made no move to go, and Dick squeezed his arm gently. “Clark.” He looked at Dick. “We will find her, I promise.”

Clark nodded again, this time finding his feet; he paused as he reached them and turned to Jason. “Jason?” He turned, waiting for Clark to continue. “I don’t really have any doubt that you’ll be the one to find her tonight…” His voice soft as he asked, “But when you do, will you tell her that I’m not angry at her?” Jason nodded, and they watched Clark leave.

Dick faced them, tone quiet. “Conner, you and I can take North and East Gotham, Jason, you should take South and West.”

They nodded at his words, each moving to the exit. Tim’s voice reached them before they could leave. “Jason! Can you wait for a minute?”

Jason nodded at the others, watching them leave before moving back to Tim. “What’s up?”

Tim hung his head and whispered, “It’s my fault, Jason. I should’ve been more vigilant when I was fighting. If I had gotten up sooner, none of this would’ve happened. I’m sorry—”

A hand rested on his shoulder and he looked up; Jason stared at him seriously. “Tim, it wasn’t your fault. And it wasn’t (Y/N)’s either.” He squeezed Tim’s shoulder gently. “Okay?” Tim nodded and Jason let go, though he saw the tears in Tim’s eyes.

***

Jason crouched atop the ledge staring down at the city, a frown crossing his lips. He didn’t bother to look up at the sound of someone’s boots hitting the rooftop, or when they stopped beside him. “Have you found her?”

He snorted, eyes following a car on the busy road. “Do you honestly think I’d be up here if I had?” He glanced up, seeing Dick slightly grinning at him.

Dick lowered himself on the ledge until he sat next to Jason, legs hanging freely off the edge. The two of them simply stared out at the streets, observing the cars carrying their passengers’ home.

After a few moments, Dick asked, “Where do you think she is?”

He watched Jason shrug and murmur, “I have no idea…I’ve searched everywhere that has any kind of meaning to us and I still can’t find her.” He looked at Dick, eyes filled with trepidation. “I’m worried about her, Dick…she’s all alone out there, thinking about what’s happened, and it’s eating me up.” He shook his head, letting out a sigh. “I shouldn’t have left San Francisco earlier. I should’ve stayed.”

Dick’s eyebrows shot up at his words. “Wait, you were in San Fran earlier today?”

Jason nodded. “Spent the night with her but left in the morning.” He thumped the heel of his armored boot against the wall. “I could’ve stopped that meta and she wouldn’t have done anything.”

“You’re really torn up about her killing someone, Jason.”

Jason turned to Dick, shouting. “Of course I am!” He placed a hand against his chest. “I kill bad people because they’re evil and they deserve it. I wouldn’t want (Y/N) or any of the people I care about to follow the path that I do.” He paused, voice lowering. “(Y/N) is…a good person. She’s kind and caring and she loves everyone with everything she has. She protects those that are innocent and protects those she loves even more fiercely.”

He sighed heavily, his voice lowering to a whisper. “I’d never want her to have to think about the people she kills like I do.”

“You’re telling me you actually think about the people you kill?”

Jason let out a mirthless laugh, his gaze returning to the city. “Contrary to popular belief and what you see when you look at me, I am not a heartless killer, Dick. I know the consequences of my actions, and believe me, I think about them every moment I’m alive.” He stood and looked down at his brother. “I’m going to hit my apartment and take a nap before getting back out there.”

Dick nodded, observing him as he started climbing down the ledge; he called out to Jason. “She’s really changed you in the year you’ve been together.”

Jason snorted, “Don’t tell anyone, I’ve got a reputation to keep.” He paused, hand gripping the ledge as he replied, “ But yeah she has… and only in the best ways, Dickhead.”

“Hey!”

***

The apartment was quiet, just as he’d left it the day before, and he shucked his helmet and jacket off, placing them on the table. He bent over, undoing the laces from his boots, kicking them off before reaching up and pulling his domino mask off, raising a hand to rub the fatigue from his eyes. It was a futile attempt to delay the inevitable, and as he made his way to his room, he mentally took note of how long he needed to sleep before getting back in the field to look for her.

As he walked through the hallway, a quick intake of air sounded through the apartment, and Jason reached to his hip, pulling a pistol. He stepped carefully through the hall, checking the rooms before he came up to his bedroom. Sucking in a quiet breath, he stepped into the room, gun following his gaze as it landed on a huddled mass beside the window.

He walked silently over to it, and upon closer inspection, his eyes widened, voice laced with disbelief as he questioned, “(Y/N)?”

She raised her head, eyes red rimmed and bloodshot. “Jason?” she whispered, unsure of herself.

He lowered the gun, placing it on the nightstand before moving to her, hands grasping her upper arms. “(Y/N), we’ve been looking everywhere for you.” He shook his head. “Why didn’t you call one of us and tell us where you were?” She didn’t respond to him, simply looking down. Jason let go of one of her arms, gently cupping her cheek. “Doll?”

He felt something wet drip onto his hand, and finally, she sat up straight and stared at him. The blanket she’d been covered with fell away, and his gaze dropped to her arms. His eyes widened at the sight of the faint red smeared across her arm. “(Y/N),” He breathed.

“I kept scrubbing and scrubbing, but no matter how hard or how much I did, it wouldn’t come off.” The tears were rolling down her cheeks now, and she lowered her head. “I didn’t mean to do it Jason. I just…”

Jason reached for her, pulling her into his arms and hoisting her up. He reclined against the headboard, arms wound tightly around her. “Shh…it’s alright…”

“I killed him, Jason.” (Y/N) pulled back enough to look him in the eyes. “I kept yelling for him to let Tim go, but he wouldn’t. I could hear Tim’s heartbeat fading and I just reacted.” She gazed at her arm. “I put my arm through his chest, Jason!” (Y/N) stared at her arm as if it didn’t belong to her body, an alienated limb, then she felt herself being lifted again. “Jason what—”

He said nothing, maneuvering her into the bathroom where he sat her on the sink. She watched as he pulled a rag from the cabinet and reached below the sink for a bottle. He poured the solution into the rag, then gently took her arm, wiping it. His gaze was unreadable, but it was anything but hard; in fact, it was soft, and before she knew it, the remaining blood had been wiped away.

Jason threw the towel into the hamper and turned back to her, cradling her face in his hands. “It’s all gone, (Y/N)…it’s not there anymore.” Her eyes lowered to her arm before they rose back to his, and he pressed his forehead against hers. “You don’t have to think about this anymore, doll.”

“I killed him though, Jason.”

She felt him shake his head and he asked, “What would’ve happened if you hadn’t?” She went silent, and Jason asked again, “(Y/N), what would’ve happened to Tim if you hadn’t protected him?”

Clearing her throat, she whispered, “He would’ve died.”

“No, he would’ve been murdered.” Jason looked in her eyes. “(Y/N),you saved Tim’s life.”

“At the expense of another’s.”

Jason let out a sigh and nodded. “Sometimes that’s the only way…but (Y/N)?” She looked at him and he insisted clearly, “What you did today…does not make you a killer, and it doesn’t make you a murderer…do you understand that?”

(Y/N) blinked at him before looking away and muttering, “…You should call everyone and tell them where I am.”

Jason reached down and picked her up from the sink, flicking off the light and moving to the bed. He lowered her down before crawling under the covers beside her, pulling her to him and raising the covers to their chins.

“I’ll call later.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Right now, the only thing that matters is you.” (Y/N) bit her lip to keep from crying, and a moment later, Jason quipped, “Remember that time that you threw me out of a third story window?”

(Y/N) let out a watery laugh, burying her face in his chest. “You’re never gonna let that go, are you, Jason?”

She glanced up at him, and he leaned down, pecking her nose. “If I keep getting a reaction out of it, probably not.”

(Y/N) searched his eyes for a moment then whispered, “I love you, Jason.”

He nodded, pressing his lips to hers. “I love you too, (Y/N).” He curled his arms around her, caging her to his chest. “Get some sleep…I’ll be here when you wake up.”

She did as he said, tucking her head under his chin. “Promise?”

“Cross my heart, doll.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader imagines #jason todd x reader imagine #jason todd imagines #jason todd imagine #red hood x reader #red hood x reader imagines #red hood x reader imagine #red hood imagines #red hood imagine #batfamily x reader #batfamily x reader imagines #batfamily x reader imagine #batfamily imagines #batfamily imagine #batfamily #bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #clark kent #superman #conner kent #superboy #bart allen #impulse

[bright-eyes-strawberry-lies]

The Weather In PJO (brought to you by gods and demigods)

*alternating colors for ease of reading

**page numbers look weird because they're copied/pasted from ebooks

“Overhead, a huge storm was brewing, with clouds blacker than I’d ever seen over the city. I figured maybe it was global warming or something, because the weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas. We’d had massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn’t have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in.” - TLT pg 33

“One night, a thunderstorm blew out the windows in my dorm room. A few days later, the biggest tornado ever spotted in the Hudson Valley touched down only fifty miles from Yancy Academy. One of the current events we studied in social studies class was the unusual number of small planes that had gone down in sudden squalls in the Atlantic that year.” - TLT pg 65

“Outside, it really was storming, the kind of storm that cracks trees and blows down houses. There was no horse or eagle on the beach, just lightning making false daylight, and twenty-foot waves pounding the dunes like artillery. [...] Long Island never sees hurricanes this early in the summer. But the ocean seemed to have forgotten.” - TLT pg 156

“There was a blinding flash, a jaw-rattling boom!, and our car exploded.” - TLT pg 176

“I was still in bed in cabin three. My body told me it was morning, but it was dark outside, and thunder rolled across the hills. A storm was brewing. I hadn’t dreamed that.” - TLT pg 491

“It started to rain. Volleyball players stopped their game and stared in stunned silence at the sky.

I had brought this storm to Half-Blood Hill. Zeus was punishing the whole camp because of me.” - TLT pg 520

“BOOOOOM!

The windows of the bus exploded as the passengers ran for cover. Lightning shredded a huge crater in the roof, but an angry wail from inside told me Mrs. Dodds was not yet dead.” - TLT pg 629

“The weather had completely changed. It was stormy, with heat lightning flashing out in the desert.” - TLT pg 988

“In the distance, Los Angeles was on fire, plumes of smoke rising from neighborhoods all over the city. There had been an earthquake, all right, and it was Hades’s fault.” - TLT pg 1191

“I was standing on a deserted street in some little beach town. It was the middle of the night. A storm was blowing. Wind and rain ripped at the palm trees along the sidewalk. Pink and yellow stucco buildings lined the street, their windows boarded up. A block away, past a line of hibiscus bushes, the ocean churned.” - SOM pg 10

“After a few more minutes, the dark splotches ahead of us came into focus. To the north, a huge mass of rock rose out of the sea-an island with cliffs at least a hundred feet tall. About half a mile south of that, the other patch of darkness was a storm brewing. The sky and sea boiled together in a roaring mass.” - SOM pg 598

“A storm raged that night, but it parted around Camp Half-Blood as storms usually did. Lightning flashed against the horizon, waves pounded the shore, but not a drop fell in our valley. We were protected again, thanks to the Fleece, sealed inside our magical borders.” - SOM pg 1045

“Sleet and snow pounded the highway. Annabeth, Thalia, and I hadn’t seen each other in months, but between the blizzard and the thought of what we were about to do, we were too nervous to talk much.” - TTC pg 11

“Old spirits are protecting the bad boat.”

“The Princess Andromeda?” I said. “Luke’s boat?”

“Yes. They make it hard to find. Protect it from Daddy’s storms. Otherwise he would smash it.” - TTC pg 210

“Clouds seemed to be swirling around its peak, as though the mountain was drawing them in, spinning them like a top. “What’s going on up there? A storm?”

Zoë didn’t answer. I got the feeling she knew exactly what the clouds meant, and she didn’t like it.” - TTC pg 751

“I will do my best to destroy his boat with storms, but he is making alliances with my enemies, the older spirits of the ocean. They will fight to protect him.” - TTC pg 886

“We were standing at the dining pavilion, just where we’d last spoken before I went on the quest. The wind was bitter cold, even with the camp’s magical weather protection. Snow fell lightly against the marble steps. I figured outside the camp borders, there must be a blizzard happening.”- TTC pg 915

“The wind whipped cold off the bay. In the south, San Francisco gleamed all white and beautiful, but in the north, over Mount Tamalpais, huge storm clouds swirled. The whole sky seemed like a black top spinning from the mountain where Atlas was imprisoned, and where the Titan palace of Mount Othrys was rising anew. It was hard to believe the tourists couldn’t see the supernatural storm brewing, but they didn’t give any hint that anything was wrong.

“It’s even worse,” Annabeth said, gazing to the north. “The storms have been bad all year, but that—” - BOTL pg 359

“I had no choice. I called to the sea. I reached inside myself and remembered the waves and the currents, the endless power of the ocean. And I let it loose in one horrible scream.

Afterward, I could never describe what happened. An explosion, a tidal wave, a whirlwind of power simultaneously catching me up and blasting me downward into the lava. Fire and water collided, superheated steam, and I shot upward from the heart of the volcano in a huge explosion, just one piece of flotsam thrown free by a million pounds of pressure. The last thing I remember before losing consciousness was flying, flying so high Zeus would never have forgiven me, and then beginning to fall, smoke and fire and water streaming from me. I was a comet hurtling toward the earth.” - BOTL pg 618/619

“Mrs. O’Leary howled. I patted her head, trying to comfort her as best I could. The earth rumbled—an earthquake that could probably be felt in every major city across the country—as the ancient Labyrinth collapsed. Somewhere, I hoped, the remains of the Titan’s strike force had been buried.” - BOTL pg 1005

“I remembered what Tyson had told me at the beginning of the summer. “The old sea gods?”

“Indeed. The battle came first to me, Percy. In fact, I cannot stay long. Even now the ocean is at war with itself. It is all I can do to keep hurricanes and typhoons from destroying your surface world, the fighting is so intense.” - BOTL pg 1066

“Then the entire sea grew dark in front of us, like an inky storm was rolling in. Thunder crackled, which should've been impossible underwater. A huge icy presence was approaching. I sensed a wave of fear roll through the armies below us.” - TLO pg 153

“I saw a bank of storm clouds rolling across the Midwest plains. Lightning flickered. Lines of tornadoes destroyed everything in their path— ripping up houses and trailers, tossing cars around like Matchbox toys. “Monumental floods," an announcer was saying. "Five states declared disaster areas as the freak storm system sweeps east, continuing its path of destruction." The cameras zoomed in on a column of storm bearing down on some Midwest city. I couldn't tell which one. Inside the storm I could see the giant—just small glimpses of his true form: a smoky arm, a dark clawed hand the size of a city block. His angry roar rolled across the plains like a nuclear blast.” - TLO pg 216-218

“Over the city, a thunderstorm boiled—a wall of absolute black with lightning streaking across the sky. A few blocks away, swarms of emergency vehicles gathered with their lights flashing. A column of dust rose from a mound of rubble, which I realized was a collapsed skyscraper. [...] Wind whipped her hair. The temperature was dropping rapidly, like ten degrees just since I'd been standing there.” - TLO pg 468-470

“She faltered as a mighty groan cut through the sky. A blast of lightning hit the center of the darkness. The entire city shook. The air glowed, and every hair on my body stood up. The blast was so powerful I knew it could only be one thing: Zeus's master bolt. It should have vaporized its target, but the dark cloud only staggered backward. A smoky fist appeared out of the clouds. It smashed another tower, and the whole thing collapsed like children's blocks.

The reporter screamed. People ran through the streets. Emergency lights flashed.” - TLO pg 470-471

“Listen to me!" I said. "Kronos's army is invading Manhattan.'"

"Don't you think we know that?" East asked. "I can feel his boats right now. They're almost across."

"Yep," Hudson agreed. "I got some filthy monsters crossing my waters too."

"So stop them," I said. "Drown them. Sink their boats."

"Why should we?" Hudson grumbled. "So they invade Olympus. What do we care?"

"Because I can pay you.” - TLO pg 654

“Water sprayed his face, stinging his eyes. The wind picked up, and Hyperion staggered backward.

"Percy!" Grover called in amazement. "How are you doing that?"

Doing what? I thought.

Then I looked down, and I realized I was standing in the middle of my own personal hurricane. Clouds of water vapor swirled around me, winds so powerful they buffeted Hyperion and flattened the grass in a twenty-yard radius. Enemy warriors threw javelins at me, but the storm knocked them aside.

"Sweet," I muttered. "But a little more!"

Lightning flickered around me. The clouds darkened and the rain swirled faster. I closed in on Hyperion and blew him off his feet.” - TLO pg 903-904

#pjo #riordanverse #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson series #percy jackson #percy is like 'i will pay you to drown these kids who want to live better lives' #percy is like 'look i blew up most of them and i'll crush the skulls of the rest but you need to drown some for me' #poseidon is out here like 'these powerful old gods are fighting me but i'm going to fight harder you know to keep the mortals safe' #poseidon be like 'i have never drowned anyone in my life' #poseidon: unless you're into that son. then i've drowned a lot of people. and you can too. #i love my evil callous son percy jackson #go kill everyone darling as a treat #dark percy is canon you guys are just cowards with selective reading skills #also nico made a blizzard outside of camp half-blood and made it snow inside of chb #that's pretty impressive since only zeus has made weather inside of cbh borders #zeus fighting typhon like 'i am going to level this fucking city' #calling it kronos army really is such a clean and sterile way of referring to it #all of the hundreds of demigods that wanted better lives #who are willing to die for better lives and who do die #mainly by percy's hands #nevermind monsters who used to be demigods or were unfortunately born that way #no souls. constantly craving eating the things that want to kill them. #going through torture until they die and wind up in hell then crawl out of hell for it to start all over again #forever. there's no end to this. they didn't ask to be monsters. the gods are responsible for a lot of them. all of them. #the complete and utter disregard of mortal lives by the olympian side #at least with mount orthys the mortals had no idea there were storms #zeus threw a bitch fit that lasted for six months and killed thousands of people #but yeah the olympians are the good guys #it really is the story of a villain told from the winner's side

[chromium7sky]

Four eyes/ ObsureD | second shot

A/n: wtf, the second part for four eyes. Still can't believe this. You may follow #damirae and #foureyes

Not long after they were having chat at the kitchen, the alarm suddenly blaring intensely. Damian and Raven jolted and quickly sprint towards the control room.

"What do we got?" Raven looked at the screen as Damian typing on the keyboard looki g at the coordinate where the alarm set off. It seems there's a group of mage call the Riot terrorise at north region of San Francisco city.

"The Riot. Again with their agenda." Damian sighed as he looked at their information. The Riot consist of three ameteur mage who decided to use their power to proven they are worthy. Instead doing good deed they decided to be scoundrel as they wanted to fight the mage based hero like Raven to measure their capacity.

The member of the group are Mimic, Psyche and Mirage. Mimic has the power to copy, Psyche has the power to take over the enemy body while Mirage has the power to project item out of thin air.

Damian still remember where his body controlled by Psyche to do reckless thing such as stealing Raven's cloak or switching both of their cloak. There were the time where both of them body swap which is a very very bad day.

"Ah, the three idiot again? What did they want this time?" Raven stared at the screen with the face of three mischievous rascal.

"A showdown." Damian quickly to his equipment room picking his best weapon and his costume. As soon as he's fully equipped, he went to the launching pad toward the Robin's airbike.

As He flip on the switch and pushed a couple of button, the engine start to hummed and and it start to warm up. Putting his helmet, and twisting the accelerator, the propeller start to spin blowing the debris near by away including it's cloth cover.

The bike has levitate and Damian balanced it by controlling it's handle.

"Arm and ready, Robin." Raven casually sit behind him, riding the air bike.

Damian almost jolted but he manage to calm down and look at her by the shoulder. "Hold on tight." He pressed the valve as the propeller spin more faster. "Lead the way, Raven."

Raven activate her power as her eyes went all white. She held her hand past his shoulder as the purple energy surrounding it. A door, a worm hole like door open, without wasting any time, Robin dive into the portal door with his bike.

--------------

" Why not we make this road more, alive?" Mirage waving his hand towards the road nearby and suddenly the road turn into gigantic snakes as it began to curled and gliding. People where shouting in fear, some run towards the other street.

Then came a girl with light blue hair, crackled haughtily as she saw people start to get away. " Freeze!" She lift both of her hand, light turquoise line start to come out from her finger and attached to a couple of people. They movement start goes to restriction then froze up. "Sorry, no sorry. Guess you guys are now riled up!"

As she moved her hands, the people who has been attached by her string start to picking up some pipes or wood lying around, start to do vandalizing.

One of the group, a boy just found the lighter. The unwilling victim had been forced to pick it and light up. Before the boy throw the lighter toward a store full of cooking utensils, the lighter has been suspended in mid air with purple aura surrounding it.

Before Psyche, the girl with blue hair, questioning what happen, then came the rain of batarang towards them which makes Mirage forming a shelter out of water from the water supply nearby.

The engine noise start to deafening them along with wild blown debrises that makes them closed their eyes. " What is this??!" Psyche shouted and has lost her concentration towards her puppet victim.

Without their knowing, all three of them has been bind by dark tentacle that come from the floor. Mirage shouted " Mimic! Do it!!"

Mimic smiled as he move his hands, another set of tentacle appeared pulling out the tentacle that bind them. " This is easy."

"Try it again." This time came in a batarang along with hard steel string circling the three amateur mage lower limbs. With a hard pull all three of them stumbled on the ground along with the purple tentacle embracing them, preventing their further movement.

"Shit!" Mimic curses as they have been captured.

"Guess we have gone through Lovecraft alpha plan well, Raven." Damian walked out of nowhere with hooded cloak as he bring his sword.

"I'm surprised it went well," Raven appeared behind the shadow of black bird.The Riot all shudder as they met the two demonic duo hero, Robin and Raven.

"Wrong timing for making a fuss at San Francisco city, Riot." Raven levitate display her eerieness.

"Shit." Mimic cursed under his breath. "Psyche! Use it! Use it now!" He shouted.

The way Mimic shouted makes Raven grew anxious about what about to happen. As Psyche successfully let one of her hand out Raven quickly step in front of Robin.

"Raven! Wha-" before Robin continue his sentences, a bluish flame blasted from Psyche hit the Witch girl.

The fire didn't burn her clothes and her skin but Raven scream as she crouched holding her face.

"Raven!!" Damian try to grab her but Raven went out of control as she unleashed violent shadows as she scream.

Her gem on her forehead glows dangerously red and the shadow whipping through the air. The Riot tried to escape by using the dirty tactic failed as the shadow start to suffocated them.

"H-hel...." Psyche drown in those shadow as she held her hands towards Damian.

Damian without thinking much he hold Raven from behind. "Raven! I'm here!"

Raven still screaming as the pain still burn.

"Raven!" Damian scream as wrapped his arms around her, embracing her. "I'm here. Nothing will hurt you. Not when I'm watching." He cooed her as his whispered.

Raven as if awaken from nightmare slowly landed her head on his shoulder. "R-robin?" Her voice similar to a girl who has been scared by her nightmare.

"That's right. I'm here." As he rub her back up and down. The. He could feel wet sensation on his shoulder. Is she crying?

The shadow slowly start to dissipated freeing those smothering ameteur mage who are now gasping for air.

Before they managed to escape, Damian quickly throwing three set of Bolas towards them, tying them down.

The Riot try to escape with magic but to no avail the Bolas were unaffected as it has been set by Raven to be anti magic properties.

"Raven, look at me." Damian hold on her chin as he cast his eyes on her face. Her eyes are gone!

"Damian." She whispered. "I can't see." She rest her face on his chest, holding onto his shoulder. Damian cursed then look at the Riot.

"Follow my lead. We're going back to the tower." As the young Robin lead the witch towards his Air bike. As he seated her, he glared at the culprit then at Raven and back to them. "Damn it." He cursed.

He walked towards them. "What did you do to her?" He pull out expandable blade from his glove. "Spill it out or your guts will."

The Riot were silent then mumbling each other. After a few exchange look and nod, they look at him. " We were..." The girl swallowed her saliva then proceed. "Stealing from one of the old shop down town." She shown the pendant. The pendant that has the lotus flower shape with each of the petal has eyes.

" We felt some huge energy from this pendant and it seems we have contact to it." Mirage explain. "They say the will help us by offering a pair of two eyes of thy enemy."

"We thought it might be fun prnak but turns out something else." Psyche bit her lips as she recalled what happen.

Damian got nearer as he inspect the pendant. With the blade he pulled the necklace, torn off from the light blue hair girl. "I need to go to the tower to find the book about this. I think I have seen it before." As Damian inspect the cursed artifact. Quickly he pulled the back zipper from his utility belt and put the artifact in it then stored it back on the other side of his belt.

"All three of you better come with me. We need to track down the source and gives the eyes back to Raven." As he pointed towards Raven who is seated, sighed, holding out her hand in front of her face trying to test her vision which to no avail.

"Please have mercy on us." Mimic beg some sympathy for them.

"Not until we solve this mystery or else." Damian walked towards raven who sit on the bike, silent. "Raven."

Raven jolted then turn her head towards them. "Yes?"

"I don't know if this is possible but can you teleport us towards the titans launching pad?"

"Us?"

"I found something that stole your eye sight."

"A curse?"

"Curse artifact I pressume."

"...okay then. I'll try." Raven take a deep breath, gathering her thoughts and concentration. "Azarath Metrion Zinthos!"

In a blink of an eye, they were teleport back to the teen titans launching pad along with captured The riot.

Mirage was astounded." What level is this sorcery?"

Raven turned her head to the pressumed direction."Way better than you."

Damian went to the control centre picking up three mysterious devices from the drawer. In a quick move, he threw three of them towards Riot's arm and they quickly wrap around it. "As a safety measure, incase you guys were up to something." Damian pulled the Bolas releasing them.

The mages up on their feet. Mimic as mischievous try to cast a spell but it died before it be able to execute. "The band are anti magic too and..." Damian unfinished his sentences.

Mimic jolted by surge of electricity which made he landed on his knees. " It absorb your magic energy and turn into electricity." Damian continue after the demonstration. Mirage and Psyche look at him with horror.

"You can't do this to us, you bastard!" Psyche screamed at him.

"It's a perfect punishment for three of you." Damian shrugged. "Hope you learn your consequences for doing such damage by banishing my friend's eyes!" He pointed at Raven. "Since you're here with us, it is the time for your atonement by helping us to break thecurse."

"What if we decided not to cooperate?" Mirage raised his eyebrow.

" I tell you, if I didn't stop her, Us and this world would probably end up in hell." Damian glared at him. "Be grateful with your spared life."

The riot shivered. " Okay, we'll do it."

"Good. All we need is a book And a real mage." Damian walked toward his airbike. Raven still there standing as she lost in here thought.

"Hey."

"Damian."

"You okay?"

"It didn't burned anymore but I still can't see." Raven sighed. As Raven tried to walk, she goes wobbled and quickly Damian grab her by the waist.

"Don't get hard on yourself. Come, let me be your eyes." His voice goes soft as he put her arm around his shoulder. "You three, follow me."

"Yes, sir!" All three of them quickly followed Robin and Raven.

#damirae #damian wayne #raven #demonbirds #rachel roth #art #dc #fanart #fanfiction #four eyes #another one shot #robin #robrae #teen titans #the riot #psyche #mimic #mirage #batling #damirae fanfiction #damian x raven #raven x damian #artist on instagram #artist on tumblr #artist on twitter #enjoyy #mage #obscured #the curse artifact #airbike!!!

[gayenerd]

This is another article I found during the internet k-hole I went into while looking for information about Adrienne’s ex-fiance, saved in a document, and now can’t find online anymore. I think it was originally featured in the Mankato Free Press, but the author apparently had a blog detailing her 2009 efforts to get in contact with Adrienne and campaign for Green Day to play in Mankato again. There’s some more interesting tidbits about the Mankato punk scene and an interview with Adrienne there. 

Campaign Green Day: Reflection

By Amanda Dyslin

Free Press Features Editor

June 10, 2009 11:29 pm

— It was dark in the middle of the southern Minnesota countryside, somewhere by St. Peter in the summer of 1992.

On a farm with a barn and not much else, there was one light pole casting a shallow glow on three guys standing atop 6-foot wide, 5-foot tall wire spools — a makeshift stage to gain high ground over 200 or so people watching. Next to them was a big, old, beat-up beast of a car pulled up by the owner so 15 or so people could stand on top and gain a better view. One of them had a video camera.

Ben Gruber, then a sophomore at Loyola High School, was there. In fact, he and a buddy had helped haul equipment for the band, and even gave the drummer, Tre Cool, a ride before the show in Mankato. The music was good, he said. A lot more polished than other punk bands he’d seen in Mankato.

He was aware of the five-year-old band, born in Berkeley, Calif., he said. They’d put out a couple of smaller recordings, including their full-length debut “39/Smooth” on Lookout! Records. But they were two years from their breakthrough record, “Dookie,” which would have pretty much everyone at the show that night in awe of what they had experienced — maybe one of the last stripped down, small-scale punk shows Green Day would ever perform.

Mankato punk

The Libido Boyz are often considered the anchor of the Mankato punk scene in the late 1980s/early 1990s. It was a time when the city was rich with garage and basement punk bands, drummer Chad Sabin said before a reunion show in 2007. PSD and Plain Truth were a couple of other bands that got a lot of attention at the time.

Marti’s All Ages Music, located where the Vietnamese restaurant Tonn is now on Front Street, was an open building with a bathroom and a couple of booths where kids could put on shows. A couple of bands went on to the big time after playing there. The Offspring was one of them.

Many claimed having heard of friends who had seen Green Day play at Marti’s. According to a former talent booker, the closest Green Day ever came to playing the venue was when frontman Billie Joe Armstrong and his girlfriend, Adrienne Nesser, walked in and left right after The Offspring’s set in 1994. Marti’s tried to get Green Day to play the venue numerous times, but it was way too small for even the moderate level of fame they’d already gained pre-“Dookie.” Marti’s had the same trouble with the punk band Fugazi.

“It was pretty much no frills,” Gruber said. “There wasn’t much to do there.”

The bulk of the punk scene was made up of high school and college-age punk-rockers who would play anywhere, Sabin said. Like a lot of kids at the time, the Libido Boyz just wanted to play loud, chaotic music, which also is what people seemed to want to hear. Kids would cram into basements for concerts or listen outside garages.

“On any given week or weekend, there would be a show with anywhere from two to 10 bands playing,” Gruber said. “There was a really good crop of musician-age kids who were into (punk) for a while (before) grunge became very popular.”

During the next few years, the Libido Boyz got big. They played in the Cities and toured the state and eventually started playing shows across the country, including New York and San Francisco. Out West is where they met Green Day, who would become the biggest punk band to come through Mankato.

“They were just dirty punks like us,” Sabin said.

Former Libido Boyz bassist Dave Begalka said they played punk shows with Green Day from time to time while on tour. Mike Dirnt, Green Day bassist, actually did Begalka a big favor once when they played a show in Cleveland together.

Some of Begalka’s bass gear went missing, and a couple of months later he saw Dirnt when they both were playing shows in the California Bay Area. Turns out, the bass gear was mixed up with Dirnt’s equipment that night, and he’d been keeping it safe for him the whole time.

“I thought that was just downright a swell thing to do,” Begalka said. “As I recall, I think we couch surfed at Billy Joe’s that night. ... By the way, I still use the lost guitar strap that went around the U.S. with Green Day.”

The Libido Boyz and Green Day crossed paths in another way as well, through Adrienne, who was a student at Minnesota State University and living in Mankato.

The first lady

Adrienne (Nesser) Armstrong, now 39, was born in Minneapolis and started at MSU in the late 1980s, graduating with the class of 1994 with a degree in sociology.

She met Billie Joe on Green Day’s first tour in 1990. Some report it was a show at First Ave in Minneapolis, and she is quoted at greenday.net as saying only about 10 people were there. She asked Billie Joe where she could get a copy of the band’s CD, and the two hit it off.

While on tour, Billie Joe kept in contact with Adrienne by phone. Their first kiss inspired an early Green Day song, “2,000 Light Years Away.” Their relationship caused Billie Joe to arrange two tours around Minnesota so they could see each other, a relationship which lasted about a year and a half.

Although it’s unclear, witnesses who saw Billie Joe and Adrienne around Mankato during that time say the reason Green Day played shows in the area at all was simply because she was here. The shows weren’t a part of any tour, but rather impromptu ways to pass to the time.

The relationship fizzled after they decided the distance was too much of a strain. Adrienne got engaged to Billy Bisson, the frontman of Libido Boyz, the following year. Reports differ from either side, with some saying the relationship dissolved on its own. Bisson has been quoted as saying Billie Joe stole her away.

While in Mankato, Adrienne worked at various places, including the Piercing Pagoda in the River Hills Mall and Pagliai’s Pizza, and is described by those who knew her as a beautiful punk rock girl who everybody had a crush on.

Cheryl Rueda, manager of Pagliai’s, worked with Adrienne and three of the Libido Boyz at the restaurant when Adrienne was dating Bisson. Adrienne also babysat for Cheryl’s kids.

“She was a beautiful girl,” Rueda said. “I think the world of her. She was just a regular person.”

Thursday nights Adrienne babysat for Cheryl’s two kids, Andre and Marisa, who were about 3 and 6 at the time. She would often have a craft project or activity to do to keep them entertained. She even took them out trick-or-treating during a blizzard one year.

“She was their favorite babysitter,” she said.

Carrie Zempel Heise worked with her at a bar called The Jungle, now Dutler’s Bowl.

“I ran into her after the bar had closed down (she was working at Pier 1 Imports), and she told me she was moving out West soon,” Zempel said. “Months later, word got back that she had married Billie Joe, and then the next thing I saw was an interview with him in Rolling Stone magazine talking about his pregnant wife!”

When Adrienne finished school, Billie Joe convinced her to move to California and marry him. Rueda said it happened so fast it seemed she was gone over night. Before she left, she and friends had a big garage sale, said Amy Lennartson of Eagle Lake. She and Lennartson originally had plans to move to San Francisco together and open a business.

“She headed West that May, and I stayed over the summer to finish up my time at MSU,” Lennartson said. “Then, in true rock star fashion, I returned home from a Fourth of July vacation to a wedding invitation from Adrienne — to a wedding that had already happened.”

The wedding took two weeks to plan and happened in five minutes July 2, 1994, in Billie Joe’s backyard, according to the VH1 “Behind the Music” documentary. “We didn’t think about it, we just did it,” Adrienne said.

Protestant, Catholic and Jewish vows were exchanged because neither had a religion. The honeymoon took place 10 minutes from Billie Joe’s house at the Claremont Hotel. The day after the wedding, Adrienne found out she was pregnant.

The couple has two sons, Joseph Marciano, 14, and Jakob Danger, 10.

Adrienne now co-owns Adeline Records in Oakland, Calif., and Adeline Street clothing line. She works with the Natural Resources Defense Council, and co-owns Atomic Garden, an eco-friendly clothing and home goods store.

There is at least one friend in Mankato Adrienne is reported to keep in contact with. But said friend — whose basement Green Day was reported to have played in and who reportedly visited the Armstrongs in California — wasn’t eager to talk about it.

Rueda kept in contact with Adrienne for a while. Adrienne would send the Rueda kids Green Day T-shirts and things. She also sent a family photo to the Ruedas years ago. When Adrienne’s first son was 1 1/2, she came back to Mankato to visit and Rueda saw them. She was the same person she had always been, Rueda said.

A few years ago, Adrienne asked a friend in Mankato to go to the Ruedas’ house and videotape the kids so she could see how much they had grown up. Otherwise, the Ruedas haven’t heard from her since.

Big time

The night Green Day played St. Peter, the original plan was for them to play at someone’s house behind where Casey’s is now on Lee Boulevard in North Mankato.

Two local bands went on first. But the cops came and broke it up because of the noise. Gruber and his buddy offered to drive equipment and Tre Cool to a house on Fifth Street in Mankato, where somebody had offered up their basement. But the band took one look and said it was way too small.

That’s when a girl whose family lived off Hwy. 99 near St. Peter offered her place.

“This whole caravan of cars ended up driving out to her place,” Gruber said.

It was too hot to play in the barn. Gruber suggested the guys make a mini stage out of the wire spools, which they thought was pretty punk rock, even commenting on that stage and show later on a bootleg recording, he said.

Gruber said he later recognized songs such as “Welcome to Paradise” off of “Dookie” that they played that night — the night most people look to as the epitome of nostalgia when it comes to Green Day’s presence in Mankato. People still go to YouTube to check out the nine or so minutes of footage from that concert, despite being out of focus, jittery and too dark to see much.

“Took me back,” Gruber said of watching the footage. “That guy filming, he was probably standing right next to me and my friends.”

A couple of hundred people have similar memories from that night, having accidentally stumbled upon a concert that would become local legend. None of them could possibly have imagined what Green Day would become.

“Dookie,” released in 1994 — which followed 1992’s “Kerplunk,” having sold 50,000 copies — sold more than 10 million copies in the U.S. That album, along with those of The Offspring and Rancid, is credited for reviving mainstream interest in punk music, and it won Best Alternative Album at the Grammy Awards.

Future albums, “Insomniac” and “Nimrod,” went double platinum, and “Warning” went gold. None of them reached the level of success of “Dookie.”

But 2004’s punk rock opera “American Idiot” changed everything. Debuting at No. 1 and selling five million copies, critics absolutely drooled over it. “American Idiot” won Best Rock Album at the 2005 Grammys and swept the MTV Video Music Awards.

“Boulevard of Broken Dreams” spent 16 weeks at No. 1 on the Billboard Modern Rock Tracks chart and won the Grammy for Record of the Year. During the band’s 150-date tour in support of the album, they drew crowds of 130,000 people over two days in the United Kingdom.

The band’s new album, “21st Century Breakdown,” was released worldwide May 15 and received rave reviews. Last week the band played “The Tonight Show” with Conan O’Brien.

Their world tour kicks off in July, with the Minneapolis show at the Target Center July 11.

Copyright � 1999-2008 cnhi, inc.

#daslfhasdlfkha imagine staying on the couch of a guy who wrote a sappy love song about your gf/fiancee #articles #Green Day #article #interview #babe-drienne #billie joe armstrong

[vfdarkness]

Ep 10 - The Black Door Part III

Intro

You’re shopping at the grocery store. 

As you walk past an aisle - the lights flicker - then go out.

You’re now standing in an arrangement of tall, long stones with strange, glowing carvings across their surface.

Heavy footsteps vibrate from a shadowy stone enclave. 

(A beat)

You need my help.

[AVFD music fades in]

This is A Voice From Darkness

[AVFD music fades out]

Act I

Hello, and once again welcome to A Voice From Darkness. We’ve got a packed show tonight - multiple national alerts, an interesting question from a listener that I’ll do my best to answer, a longer than normal Today In Odd America segment, and later I’ll be talking to returning caller Amanda - who you might remember is haunted by a black door. I’m afraid I recently stood her up after promising a solution to her problems. I’m sure she, as well as you listeners out there - will want an explanation. Stay tuned for the second half of our show for that conversation. But now - why don’t we jump right into our first segment - national alerts.

National Alerts

On our last episode, Bob from Minnesota sent in a question about a diner in Montana where the staff and at least some of the customers appeared to be repeating conversations - all of which were scripted. Bob revealed that he saw a copy of the script and he was in it and was supposed to say things he never would. It may not surprise you then that our first national alert this evening is for Montana. Just off I-94 between Miles City and Forsyth there’s a diner called Spoon’s Favor. Do not stop at this diner. After our last episode I messaged Bob for further information. He provided me the name and location of the diner, however he told me he went back there himself. He eats there everyday now. He has pleasant conversations with the waitress and regulars. He encouraged me to stop by Spoon’s Favor myself. He is in the script. The script gives him knowledge and comfort he never had before - he told me. However, I am not in the script, but he’s sure they could write me, or anyone else, in. He thinks things will be better off once everyone is in the script - in some way or another. He declined to provide further information as that’s as much as he was scripted to say. I’m still not sure what this script is, if it manifests in other ways outside this Montana diner, but I’ll keep you updated as more information is uncovered. 

Our second national alert is for my home city of Chicago. The Chicago Spire has once again appeared - do not go into it. For those unfamiliar with the building, it’s a skyscraper off Lakeshore Drive that began construction in 2007, but was never finished. Somehow, someway, the finished building - a spiraling structure that extends 150 stories into the sky - started appearing intermittently in 2012. Usually it only manifests for a few hours, never for more than a day. People have gone into the building - firefighters and other first responders, tourists, the generally curious - no one has ever stepped back out of the building though. The Spire typically waits for at least one person to step inside before disappearing. Don’t let it be you.

Quick Questions

On to our next segment, quick questions - I answer questions you’ve emailed or tweeted at us. Normally I’d provide our email address and twitter handle for you to send us more questions, however we’ll be taking a break after this episode so we won’t be taking any more questions at this time. Onto this week’s question: Elise writes us: Dr. Ryder, a large hourglass appeared on my dining room table a few days ago. The sand falls at strange intervals. The grains don’t continuously pour down at a standard rate, but instead a single grain will come down. Then either a few seconds - or possibly a few minutes - later another grain will. I’ve tried lifting the hourglass to turn it over but it’s impossible. What is the hourglass? Why is it here? And what is it counting down to?

Elise, for the past few centuries there’s been written accounts of what you’ve described. The Ominous Hourglasses - as these timepieces - are traditionally called appear before people to warn them of an upcoming disaster. Carved into the base and columns of the hourglass should be imagery of some kind - falling leaves, snowflakes - something to indicate the season the disaster will occur. There should be other carvings as well to help you figure out what sort of disaster the timepiece is counting down to. Previously, a rifle was carved into one of the columns and counted down to a shooting. That said, there’s only a handful of times when the receiver of the hourglass has been able to interpret the carvings and then prevent the disaster. Some believe the carvings have a more cruel meaning - The Fates, in some form, mocking us for trying to know and change the future. That said, if you’d like help attempting to decipher the hourglass carvings - I know a specialist on the topic and I’m sure they’d be happy to help you.

That was our only quick question for this week. Next up, we have an extended edition of Today In Odd America, and then we’ll be back with Amanda on the line.

Today In Odd America

Today In Odd America we find ourselves in Davenport, Iowa. The year 1859. James Kheller walked to his tannery shop on River Street as the sun rose. When he neared his place of business he was hit by an unexpected sight. Across the street from his tannery there’d always been an empty lot. A small piece of undeveloped land. But now there stood a two storey brick building. It hadn’t been there the previous night when he’d closed shop.

James was taken aback by what seemed an impossible sight. But he approached the strange new structure to get a better sense of what it was.

The brick building had a wide display window and across it were painted three characters. E, W, and between them - an ampersand. As James pondered what the E&W stood for, a man in a grey tophat and matching overcoat came out the front door. “Hello, sir,” the man in grey said. “I see you’re admiring my shop. Might you like to come inside and see what we have to offer?”

James remained where he stood.

“Your store didn’t exist last night,” he told the man in grey. The man removed his hat and dusted off the top. As he did James saw the man’s left hand was missing its ring finger.

“The Grand Eastern & Western Coffee Company existed in my dreams last night,” the man in grey said. “And what Gilman Halifax dreams, becomes true.” He stepped closer to James - who in turn instinctively stepped back. He was afraid of this man- Halifax - him and his shop that materialized in the middle of night. Halifax gave a wolfish grin - delighting in James’ fear.

“Now sir, I insist you come inside my shop. I insist you start your day - start everyday - with some of my coffee. You’ll never find another substance so fine in the waking world.”

James was too afraid to refuse the man, and so he followed him in.

Despite its mysterious origins, The Grand Eastern & Western Coffee Company - or  E&W as it was more commonly called, was successful. Their coffee was good yet somehow cheaper than every other supplier in the river city. Three previously-existing Davenport coffee shops went out of business within the year - unable to match E&Ws prices. Meanwhile E&W opened a second location across the river on the Illinois side in Rock Island. Once again, the shop sprung up overnight. However the citizens of Rock Island were so delighted to have their own E&W they didn’t ask too many questions.

Some folks on both the Illinois and Iowa sides of the river complained of sleepless nights. Strange dreams of packing containers with a black sand like substance inside a dark brick warehouse. But no one of prominence had such dreams, and so those who complained went unheard. 

Gilman Halifax, despite owning these stores, was rarely seen in Davenport or Rock Island. He kept on the move - always traveling - scouting new locations to expand his operations. Davenport, Iowa was the perfect place for him to start his empire. He was easily able to journey by steamboat north and south on the Mississippi - from Minnesota to Louisanna. E&Ws soon populated towns all along the river. In 1869, the transcontinental railroad was finished. The Rock Island railway made it possible to travel virtually anywhere in the country - thus fulfilling the company’s name and promise - Folks from New York City to San Francisco began their mornings with Halifax’s coffee.

As E&Ws sprung up, the shops became larger and stocked more items. Sugar and candies, plates, flatware, canned goods. They became convenient locations to do the bulk - if not all - of one’s shopping. Other businesses that sold these same items suffered when E&Ws appeared in their towns. The Chicago Dispatch dubbed E&W - the dream of the average consumer, but the nightmare of the small business man. The newspaper ran several critical headlines of E&W and attempted to dig up the history of Halifax. One editorial from the paper went so far as to call E&Ws “...cancerous tumors spreading across the nation - threatening to rob America of its health, entrepreneurial spirit, and everything that made it grand.” But Halifax bought the paper. Instead of criticism The Dispatch then carried E&W coupons in every Sunday edition and never again spoke a negative word about the owner or his stores. Halifax would go on to purchase dozens of newspapers. When a paper was too big for him to purchase, he’d often sue it for libel or slander. His cases had little merit, but they had the chilling effect he wanted - newspapers stopped printing his name. That’s not to say papers stopped talking of Halifax entirely. No, they became more clever. Editorial cartoons portrayed him as a trickster salesman. The most famous such illustration labeled him “The Traveling Salesman.” The nickname stuck.

Despite the declining press coverage, it became impossible for the nation to ignore the plague of nightmares had by so many. Nearly one in a thirty Americans reported terrible and lucid dreams of working all night in dark brick buildings - filling shipping containers with black sand. But the nightmares were not equally distributed across all Americans. Newly freed slaves and immigrant communities, especially those that spoke little or no English, found themselves disproportionately affected by the warehouse and black sand nightmares.

Herman Peake, a man blinded while a slave on a Georgia plantation claimed he couldn’t see these nightmares, but could smell them. And they smelled like E&W coffee. He was not the only one to tie E&W to the increasing wave of nightmares.

A lawsuit was raised against The Grand Eastern & Western Coffee Company on behalf of the People of the United States. The case made its way to the Supreme Court. The year was 1880 and Justice Stephen Johnson Field refused to have the court hear the case - claiming that the founding fathers intended for the Constitution to rule over America - not the Land of Nod.

Sleep strikes were waged across the country. Strikers organized into large groups and made sure few were ever asleep at any given time - never enough to do any meaningful work in Halifax’s nightmare factories. Alongside the strikes, hundreds of E&Ws were vandalized. The shops nearly destroyed and their wares stolen. In some cases the shop’s coffee was used to help the sleep strikers stay awake. In an homage to the Boston Tea Party, coffee from the flagship store in Davenport was thrown into the Mississippi River.

Where the supreme court refused to act, congress felt the need to step in to stop the strikes, vandalism, and wakeful unproductivity that now plagued the nation. Legislation was hastily proposed and passed in both chambers guaranteeing the rights of all Americans to not be forced to perform dream labor. Rutherford B. Hayes signed the legislation into law.

One would think this newly-passed labor regulation  would spell the end of The Grand Eastern & Western Coffee Company, but no. Gilman Halifax merely changed tactics. The law said he couldn’t force Americans to perform labour in their dreams. But if he could get workers to agree to work under his terms - to strike a deal with him - then all was fair.

Much like when he first built his empire, Halifax traveled the country. He sought out the poorest and most desperate communities. He struck deals with them, and his coffee and wares were once again produced. His stores restocked. 

But Americans by and large rejected Halifax. E&Ws continued to be vandalized - their products stolen or destroyed. Meanwhile, newspapers Halfiax didn’t own once again characterized him in monstrous terms. The New York Times in 1892 referred to him as a “A specter haunting the country. The boogeyman of small towns across America - The Traveling Salesman.” 

The Grand Eastern & Western Coffee Company couldn’t continue with Halifax in charge. Decades before, it’d become publicly traded. Shareholders demanded Halifax leave his own company. He fought the calls for his registration at first, but before the beginning of the twenty century, Halifax conceded defeat.

Without Halifax, E&Ws once again became profitable. They continued many of their unethical business practices that began under their founder - disenfranchising labor, buying out the press to prevent criticism. But In the 1930s, they were sued by the federal government under newly passed antitrust legislation. They were forced to divide their storefronts, manufacturing, and media companies into separate businesses. 

In the 1970s, E&Ws were closing nationwide - Unable to keep up with the changing times and competition. By 2008 there was only one store left - their once flagship location in Davenport. That is - until the flood. The Mississippi River washed over downtown Davenport. This event caused massive damage to many buildings. But in the case of the first and last E&W - the flood waters seemingly swept the building away. Causing it to disappear from the earth - as mysteriously as it had once appeared. 

But what happened to Gilman Halifax, The Original Traveling Salesman? No one knows. At the turn of the 20th century he disappeared from the public. Newspapers at the time speculated about his absence - but no investigative reporter ever found a conclusive answer to where he went. A popular phrase from this era was - “Where is Halifax?” - meaning to invoke a question without a definite answer. 

Halifax’s disappearance is so complete that he makes little or no appearance in our history textbooks. I’ve searched through a dozen high school American history books. Halifax isn’t mentioned - even in passing - in eight of them. In three he’s noted as “a successful 19th century businessman…” without any further qualification. Only one textbook mentions his labor practices and the subsequent strikes and laws passed - though these are hastily summarized in two paragraphs. Beyond high school history books, there’s no academic or journalistic documents that explain where he came from or where he went to at the dawn of the 20th century. We might as well still use the phrase, “Where is Halifax?” today. 

And we shouldn’t be surprised then that a new figure has emerged wearing the mantle of The Traveling Salesman - someone darker and more dangerous than the original. We’ve been left without the weapons necessary to stand against him. Hopefully it’s not too late to learn the lessons we need to once again defeat this dark being. But I believe I’ve gone on long enough on this subject for tonight. Back to our main show.

ACT II

TIOA music fades out.

RYDER

And we're back. On the line we have, Amanda who -

AMANDA

(interrupts)

You said you had a solution to the black door. Something that'd get rid of it. Then you just-

RYDER

(interrupts)

Yes, I'm sorry, but you need to-

AMANDA

I don't need to do anything. You need to tell me why the door still follows me. Why it's here right now instead of a memory. You're supposed to be THE specialist for these things. If you can't help... I can't keep living like this. Not when there's an obvious solution that's been here all along.

A beat.

AMANDA

I've decided. I'll open the door. Tonight. I'm prepared to - if you're not able - or willing - to get rid of it.

RYDER

Amanda, you can't do that - you have no idea what will happen if-

AMANDA

(interrupts)

I know what will happen if I don't. The door will keep appearing. People will be possessed in my presence - attempt to hurt me. Or hurt themselves - while telling me to open the door. Last week. Last week the door appeared as I was walking into my apartment building. Across the street there was a little girl. She had the bad luck of turning at the wrong time.

Locking her eyes on the black door. She stepped into the street - into traffic - to get closer and to tell me to: "Open the door."

RYDER

Is she... is she alright?

AMANDA

Does it matter to you? Really? I have a thousand stories like that.

Amanda breathes heavily - frustrated.

AMANDA

We were supposed to meet - you said you had a solution. And then there's radio silence on your end - until now.

RYDER

Because I realized my solution would only make things worse.

AMANDA

There's no way whatever you found could make what I'm going through worse.

RYDER

Back when I called you - I called you too soon. I should have waited, but-

AMANDA

(interrupts)

It was right after the episode of your show - the one where your old friend called-

RYDER

Alec Byrd. I wouldn't exactly call him a friend. But yes. You're right. I called you immediately after. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I should have waited, thought things through more. That was wrong of me - to get your hopes up. But my hopes were up. As soon as he said he had my grandfather's knife - a knife that cuts through shadow - to sever shadow from flesh - I thought for sure I had something that could help you.

AMANDA

Because the black door is...

RYDER

Your shadow. At least in part. Shadow, mirror, memory, dream, spirit, and flesh. Those are the elements that comprise the dark metaphysics. All things supernatural are reducible to at least one of them. I don't know how - or why - but the black door is made of your shadow.

AMANDA

Did Alec not give you the knife?

RYDER

No, I have it.

AMANDA

Then why didn't you-

RYDER

(interrupts)

I'm explaining. I'll explain. When Alec called, he said he stole my grandfather's knife and cut his own shadow off in one of Ravenswood's courtyards. He then commanded it to find and kill me. Which, thankfully it didn't do.

A beat.

RYDER

But what became of this now autonomous dark being? Since Alec called, I couldn't get that question out of my head. How had his shadow existed independent of him for so long - and not get seen. Not be noticed at the greatest school of supernatural scholarship in the country?

AMANDA

Why do you think his shadow was still at your old school after all those years? Couldn't it have gone anywhere by that point?

RYDER

Ravenswood is fortified by tall stone walls. Walls that if you were to walk next to them, you'd notice two things. Ivy creeps over all the old barriers that separate the mundane world from the university. But in addition to the flora - there are runes carved into the stones. Runes meant to both repel and attract the otherworldly. To invite the unreal onto Ravenswood grounds - and then trap it once it's within. Alec severed his shadow in Ravenswood - and so his shadow would be trapped there. And more than that - My sister had a suspicion. She checked back to the date of his expulsion. Alec did what he did twelve days before the first beheading.

AMANDA

Beheading?

RYDER

There's been a series of them. They've happened at Ravenswood for years. Not only has the killer - long thought to be a supernatural entity - never been caught - but also never seen. I've always hated this nickname, but students, and faculty I'm afraid, call the killer: The Joyful Executioner.

AMANDA

And your sister realized this thing that's been killing students - supposedly at the best supernatural school ever - not only has it not been stopped, but faculty didn't even realize what it was? Some expelled kid's revenge shadow?

RYDER

Well when you reduce it like that - you trivialize several important-

AMANDA

(interrupts)

All I want to know is why if you have this knife that could cut the black door off me - why you won't use it.

RYDER

My grandfather couldn't control his shadow once it was free of him. Alec Byrd's shadow transformed into a monster that has haunted Ravenswood for decades, killing students, all while evading talented supernatural scholars and practitioners. The Black Door - we don't know what it is - not truly - where it leads, what it opens to. What would happen to it if we untether it from you? For all we know it'd become something like The Joyful Executioner for the whole world. We already know it can influence others. Imagine how much worse it'd become once it were unbound.

A beat.

RYDER

Amanda, you have to see the danger I'm laying out - understand why we can't severe the door from you. At least not yet. Give me time. Shadow magic... is elusive. Those who've mastered it tend to, well, remain in the shadows. They don't write scholarly works or bring their knowledge to light. But I believe with time, I could-

[From Amanda's end of the phone - there's the sound of a door opening.

The dark ambience that opens all episodes of our show is heard from Amanda's end.]

RYDER

Amanda you didn't.

AMANDA

I had to. The little girl I mentioned before.

When she stepped into traffic, all she said was, "Open the-" and the word "door" never came out her mouth. A car hit her. Every day that you can't help me - you're asking me to be complicit in some awful event. That girl wasn't the first to die because of the door. But you don't see the dead - this, to you - is an abstract problem to solve. You're an armchair detective. There's blood on your hands, but you don't see it. There's blood on my hands too for waiting so long. And I do see it. I see it all the time. And I can't wait any longer. I can't let my hands get any bloodier.

A beat.

AMANDA

All I see from the other side of the door is darkness. But far far off in the distance - there's a tiny pinprick of light. I wonder what'll happen if I go to it.

RYDER

You have no idea the consequences of what you're doing - you think your hands are bloody now - whatever will happen if you go through-

AMANDA

(interrupts)

Whatever those consequences are - if there even are any - maybe you'll treat them with some urgency now. The Traveling Salesman said you wouldn't be able to help me. I wish I'd believed him sooner. That little girl would still be alive. Goodbye, Dr. Ryder.

RYDER

Amanda, wait, we can still-

[There are footsteps. And the door shuts. The dark ambiance is gone.]

A beat.

RYDER

Julian, I don't know what you've set into motion. But whatever it is - it will fail. I promise you that.

A beat.

RYDER

That's all for tonight. I need to- I need to go make some preparations. You'll hear my voice again though - in another time, another place. This has been A Voice From Darkness - goodnight.

Outro Music.

#a voice from darkness #audiodrama #audiofiction #transcript #avfd #horror

[ademocrat]

He’s Saving California’s Oldest Weekly (Mark Twain Wrote for It)

DOWNIEVILLE, Calif. — The night before his first deadline, Carl Butz, California’s newest newspaper owner, was digging into a bowl of beef stew at the Two Rivers Café, the only restaurant open in town.

“Tomorrow I have to fill the paper,” he said with only mild anxiety. “The question is, will it be a four-page paper or a six-page paper?”

At 71, Mr. Butz is trim, with wire-rimmed glasses and a close-cropped silver beard, and he dresses in flannel shirts and cargo pants. Since his retirement and his wife’s death in 2017, he considered traveling — to England or Latvia, or riding the Trans-Siberian Railway. But here he was, a freshly minted newspaper proprietor, having stepped in at the beginning of the year to save The Mountain Messenger, California’s oldest weekly newspaper, from extinction.

The Messenger was founded in 1853. Its most famous scribe was Mark Twain, who once wrote a few stories — with a hangover, the legend goes — while hiding out here from the law.

Newspapers across America, especially in rural areas like here in Sierra County, have been dying at an alarming rate, and Downieville was about to become the latest “news desert.” The obituaries for the paper had already been written. Don Russell, the hard-drinking, chain-smoking editor with a blunt writing style who had owned and run the paper for nearly three decades, was retiring, and he seemed happy enough for the paper to die with his retirement.

And then one night Mr. Butz was watching “Citizen Kane” on cable and thought, I can do that. He made the deal quickly, paying a price in the “four figures,” he said, plus the assumption of some debts, without even looking at the books.

Still, Mr. Russell, an old friend of Mr. Butz’s, was a reluctant seller. “His position was, it’s a losing proposition and someone who’d want it would be crazy,” Mr. Butz said. “He called me a romantic idealist and a nut case. And that’s not a paraphrase, but a direct quote.”

For the residents of Downieville — and there are not many; the population is about 300 — who for generations counted on The Messenger to arrive every Thursday, through wildfires and power outages and economic booms and busts, Mr. Butz has become an unlikely local hero, a savior of a cherished institution.

“Thank God for Carl, he stepped in,” said Liz Fisher, a former editor of the paper who lives across the street from its office and runs The Sierra County Prospect, an online news site. “It was devastating for everybody that we were going to lose The Mountain Messenger.”

A cluttered, smoke-filled newsroom

On a recent Wednesday morning, facing his first deadline, Mr. Butz was staring down a blank computer screen in the newspaper’s cramped two-room office above a beauty salon on Main Street. Mr. Butz, a fourth-generation Californian and a former computer programmer and labor economist for the state, readily admitted that he had no idea what he had gotten himself into, and it did not help to learn that the paper’s publishing software was from the mid-1990s.

One of the first things he said he would do after buying the paper was ban smoking in the office, but next to his keyboard was a package of unfiltered cigarettes and an ashtray.

“What is the lead story?” Mr. Butz asked.

“The front page is blank,” replied Jill Tahija, the paper’s only other employee, sitting at an adjacent computer.

Ms. Tahija, who has worked at The Messenger for 11 years, might properly be called the managing editor, but on her business cards it says, “she who does the work.”

Her small black-and-white dog, Ladybug, a Boston terrier-Shih Tzu-Chihuahua mix, bounded around the cluttered newsroom. On every surface were books and trinkets and junk — Civil War histories, annals of the county, dictionaries, empty beer bottles, packages of ramen noodles.

In the archives section are old papers dating to the 1850s, and on the walls are pictures of Mark Twain and some slogans — old saws of newspapering, like “If it bleeds, it leads.”

Mr. Russell, who was on vacation, driving his R.V. up the coast with his wife, when Mr. Butz took over the paper, once told The Los Angeles Times that Twain had written a few unremarkable stories for The Messenger. Mr. Russell had read them on microfilm at a library. “They were awful,” he said. “They were just local stories, as I recall, written by a guy with a hangover.”

At his computer, Mr. Butz was putting together one of his first new features for the paper, a “poetry corner.” (He selected “Thoughts,” by Myra Viola Wilds, an African-American poet from Kentucky who wrote in the early 20th century.) As Ms. Tahija worked on the front page — the next day it would be filled with stories about a local poetry competition, the upcoming census, wildfire prevention and a local supervisors meeting — Mr. Butz shifted his focus to finishing his letter to readers.

In it, he explained why he bought the paper. “Simply put,” he wrote, “the horrible thought of this venerable institution folding up and vanishing after 166 years of continuous operation was simply more than I could bear.”

The newspaper, he wrote, was “something we need in order to know ourselves.”

‘Like losing a friend’

Making a newspaper in Downieville is strictly an analog, ink-on-paper affair; there is no website, no social media accounts. It loses a few thousand dollars a year, and relies mostly on publishing legal notices from the county and other government offices, which brings in about $50,000 a year, for the bulk of its revenue. It has about 700 subscribers and a print run of 2,400 copies, just below the county’s population.

“I’m not going to lose a million dollars but I know I’m going to have to subsidize some of it,” Mr. Butz said. “My daughter is already aware that her inheritance is shrinking.”

Downieville is a remarkably well-preserved old Gold Rush town, perched at a fork in the Yuba River in remote western Sierra County. History is its pitch to tourists, and it has the feel of a backlot for an Old West movie — in its corner saloon, in the one-lane bridges over the Yuba, and in the second-story offices of The Messenger, next to the Fire Department. (A painted message on the door says it is the “oldest volunteer fire department west of the Mississippi.”)

With the demise of gold mining and the shuttering of the sawmills that were once an economic engine for the region, Downieville reinvented itself as a destination for mountain biking and fly fishing, with an abundance of Old West charm.

Residents reacted to Mr. Butz’s last-minute purchase of the paper with a mixture of relief and gratitude.

“A real sense of relief,” said Lee Adams, a former Sierra County sheriff and a current member of the county’s Board of Supervisors.

The paper was always an important institution, but it had become more so in recent years as Northern California dailies like The Sacramento Bee and The San Francisco Chronicle stopped distributing in the region, and rarely sent reporters to cover Sierra County.

“We would have to fall off the face of the earth to make one of those papers on a normal news day,” Mr. Adams said.

The Messenger is more than just a chronicle of weekly happenings — government meetings, births and deaths, the police blotter, the weather — but also a repository of the county’s history. The paper is just a year younger than Sierra County, which was founded in 1852, the year Wells Fargo was established to serve the Gold Rush and the riches being dredged from the river.

When Bill Copren, 76, a local historian and a former county assessor, wrote his master’s thesis on the political history of Sierra County in the mid-19th century, he relied on The Messenger’s archives.

More recently, when officials secured a spot on the National Register of Historic Places for a local school built in the Art Deco style in 1931, they used the paper’s archives to confirm the details of how it was built and who paid for it.

The paper’s closure, Mr. Copren said, would have been “like losing a friend.”

Under Mr. Russell, The Messenger had a distinctive attitude and a brusque, straightforward style. He was averse to political correctness and not immune from using curse words in print.

Mr. Butz said he did not plan to own the paper for long, and wanted to find a younger person who could take over. He said he was thinking about bringing the paper into the digital age, with a website, and was thinking about turning it into a nonprofit publication, accepting donations and grants to keep it running.

But on a recent Thursday morning, the day after deadline, he was just happy to have his first issue under his belt.

His Thursday routine is now established: He gets up early and drives about an hour and a half to a printing plant in Quincy, Calif., to pick up the bundles of freshly printed newspapers. On the way, he and Scott McDermid, the paper’s longtime distribution manager, stop at the Express Coffee Shop for waffles and eggs.

And then, with a truck full of papers, they crisscross the county, past the tall cedars and Douglas firs of the mountains, and across the Sierra Valley, dotted with junipers and cottonwoods, stopping at every shop and gas station, emptying newspaper machines of last week’s edition, collecting money and dropping off fresh bundles of The Messenger.The story around town is how Mr. Butz saved the local newspaper.But Mr. Butz, a still-grieving widower — his wife, Cecilia Kuhn, the drummer in an all-female punk band, Frightwig, died in 2017 — sees it another way.“It’s saving me,” he said.

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Homeward Bound: Chapter 5

Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader, Billy Hargrove x Henderson!Reader

Chapter 1 |  Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5  |Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10  | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13

Chapter Summary: Old friends are always a sight for sore eyes...

Word Count: 2,525

Warnings: Swearing, blood mention

Permanent Tag: @hotstuffhargrove @denimjacketkisses @hargrovesgoldilocks @hipsmcgee @lilmissperfectlyimperfect

Series Tag: @kurt-nightcrawler @alonewolfblog @baebee35 @bucky4cap45 @thoughstofaredhead 

You whipped around, turning to meet the piercing blue eyes of Billy Hargrove. A small, cunning smile slipped onto your lips, an eyebrow raising curiously as you looked at, taking in his easy smirk.

“Well, what the fuck are you still doing here?” you asked with a laugh, turning to fully look at him, enamoured and awed.

Billy looked different, though not in a completely bad way. He had cut his hair short in the back, finally getting rid of the god awful mullet. He’d gained a bit of weight, no longer the toned tan god he was in high school. But he looked good, it didn’t damper his beauty. The darkness was gone from his eyes, replaced now with vague loneliness. He looked calmer for once, at ease with his world.

“I could ask you the same thing, Henderson.” He laughed, beckoning you into a hug, which you gladly accepted, jumping up to your feet and into his familiar arms. He smelled the same too, like mint gum and spicy cologne and Irish Spring soap; clean and fresh.

“I’m here for Dustin’s graduation!” you said when you broke the hug, Billy still hanging on like he always did. Some things never did change. “What about you? Max couldn’t have actually wanted you here.”

Billy chuckled, a little sadly “Nah my…my father died about a year ago, I’m still cleaning up after him.” He replied. Your easy smile dipped and Billy rushed to recover, his hand coming to your arm. “It’s no big deal, I hated the guy. Susan’s already remarried, luckily for me he dropped off after I’d already moved out or else I’d be homeless.”

“Oh Bill…” you muttered, seeing the inherent sadness in it all. He was still controlled by his father, even from beyond the grave; he could never fully escape him.

“Hey whoa!” he said with a laugh “This ain’t no pity party! San Francisco can wait for me. I’m almost done here anyway.”

You let out a breath, relieved. “Oh good! I’m glad. That you can leave, I mean, I wouldn’t want you to get stuck here.” You said with a laugh.

Billy chuckled “Nah, no need to fret, Henderson, I’m outta here as soon as I can.”

You nodded “Right…” The silence that filled the space wasn’t awkward, it felt more peaceful, almost homey. It felt more like home than your actual home did. You remembered that most of your time with Billy in utter silence, only briefly filled with breathy moans and low grunts. Words weren’t exactly his forte, but actions surely were. Now, his lack of words felt normal.

“So…you wanna go to dinner with me? That Italian place you liked is still open on fifth.” He asked easily, gesturing to the exit doors just at the end of the cafeteria.

You furrowed your brow “Why, so we can not talk over dinner? We can do that at your place.” You laughed. Billy watched you, a smirk pulling at his lips. You rolled your eyes, knowing that face all too well. “I’m not gonna sleep with you, so just get that out of your head now. We can get take out.” You scoffed.

Billy’s smirk dropped away as he sucked his teeth. “I don’t know, I don’t really sit around much.” He said, shoving his hands into his pockets, already looking around for his next option.

“Oh come on!” you cried, grabbing onto the front of his jacket “I’m drowning in that house! I need a night away and going anywhere public is gonna get me in shit with Dusty and I don’t need that.”

Billy sighed, nodding “Yeah, yeah I get it…” he said, rubbing the back of his neck as he thought, his face already giving away the answer. “Yeah…yeah okay sure, that’ll work. I live in the apartments on North Street, number 514 come over…when can you escape?” he asked.

“Eh, probably around eight, I think. Gotta clear up a few things back there first.” You said with a shrug. Billy nodded, looking around the mall with gritted teeth. He looked nervous, for reasons you couldn’t understand. You didn’t comment, however, instead checking your watch.

“Oh shit I gotta go!” you said, grabbing your purse off the bench along with your shopping bag.

“What you got a curfew or something?” he asked with a chuckle, watching you.

“Sort of, promised to help with something at home.” You said “I’ll see you later, okay?” you turned to rush off, but Billy grabbed your arm, pulling you back to him with a smirk.

“How you gonna get in touch with me if shit blows up, here lemme give you my number.” He said, looking in his pockets for something. You pulled out a pen from your purse, handing it to him and exposing your palm. He quickly scribbled down his number on your clean hand. You memorized the number, pressing a quick kiss on his cheek and rushed off.

You sprinted home, just barely making curfew with a soppy grin on your face. You sprinted through the living room and into the kitchen, waving quickly into the living room where you briefly saw Dustin. “Hey bud!” you called, stopped at the coat hanger in the living room, pulling the spare apron off it and throwing it over you, tying the strings around you as you put the bag on the counter.

“Hey Y/N!” Dustin called in as you pulled up your hair with a smile. You moved to the sink to wash your hands, ignoring your mother as she watched on, bemused.

“Hey, Y/N.” someone said behind you, making you jump. You spun around to find Steve standing behind you, out of uniform and grinning madly. You huffed, settling your heart again, trying to hush it as it beat wildly in your chest. “Harrington, Jesus you scared the shit out of me!” you cried, a gentle blush coming to your cheeks.

“Thought you saw me.” He said with a smirk, clearly loving this power shift as he puffed out his chest, biting back a laugh.

“You’re an ass.” You snapped, swatting his chest, earning a laugh from him. You hated that he wasn’t taking you seriously.

“Language!” your mother said sternly, handing you a potato peeler. “Now, Steve, you must be so tired from your shift, why don’t you sit down? Dinner will be ready in about an hour.”

“I’m alright, Mrs. Henderson. Besides, I’d feel pretty shitty if I just sat around and watched you two work.” He said. You wanted to throw up; you’d forgotten how much of a kiss ass he was, especially with parents.

Your mother sighed “Alright, if you insist, you can help Y/N with the potatoes, just make sure she doesn’t hurt herself.” She said, much to your dismay. You would’ve much preferred to suffer in silence and now you’d have Steve’s running commentary. You almost wished that you’d cut your thumb and get to sit out for awhile. But you knew that wouldn’t happen; you worked in a kitchen for almost a year as a prep cook, you’d got very good at not cutting yourself and instead cutting the vegetables and meats at hand. You hated working in kitchens, but for a few months it wasn’t a bad gig.

You settled in, grabbing the large colander of potatoes and running them under the sink. Steve followed suit awkwardly, grabbing the smaller colander and following behind you meekly. You rolled your eyes as you caught your mother watching with a worried expression. You sighed, dropping the potatoes in the sink and untying your apron, pulling it off your chest and over your head, handing it over to Steve.

“Here, protect your clothes.” You said, rolling your eyes.

Steve watched you for a second, utterly confused. “Oh, no I’m alright…I don’t mind.” He said awkwardly, holding his hands up in awkward defence.

You rolled your eyes, muttering “My mother will never let us hear the end of it if you get even a speck of food on your clothes, take the damn apron.” Steve nodded quickly, grabbing it from you and folding it, tying it around his waist.

“Thank you.” He said, loud enough for your mother to hear. She smiled, turning back to her work. She looked like a mother watching her toddler share willingly for the first time. You ignored the belittling feeling it left on your skin and grabbed the colander, heading back to the free space on the counter and picking up the potato peeler. Steve followed behind, copying your actions and picking out a knife from the block, something your mother didn’t seem to mind much, she was too focused on stuffing her chicken.

You grabbed your first potato, settling into your peeling stance and got to work. You’d spent hours peeling potatoes and squash, so this was no big deal. You spun the vegetable carefully in your hand, avoiding your skin and created long strands of potato skin that fluttering neatly into spirals into the plastic bag under your hands. In comparison, Steve took quick chunks out of the skin with his knife, which ultimately took longer and made a bigger mess. You finished two potatoes for the one he’d finished.

“Wow…you’re really quick at this…” he said with a chuckle, dropping the haphazardly peeled vegetable into the shared pot. You shrugged easily, picking up another and settling it into the centre of your palm.

“I used to work in a restaurant…you get quick…” you replied, looking at his work and shaking your head as he nearly cut his hand. “If you try to make rings out of the skin, it goes quicker. Don’t just take out chunks.” You instructed.

“Okay…” he said, watching you for a moment as you demonstrated and then, with shaky hands, he attempted to do the same. You smiled softly, against your better judgement, as he focused in, his tongue peaking out of his lips as he created his first ring. It was tiny, sure, but you were oddly proud of him. You didn’t like that you were proud of him, but you were.

“Why do we need all these potatoes?” he whispered, leaning in to speak just to you.

“We’re gonna mash them all and freeze most of them. My mother will inevitably send you home with leftovers too, it’s her way of saving time and making good impressions on her guests.” You replied with a shrug.

“I don’t think she needs to make a good impression on me anymore, I’m here all the time.” He replied with a chuckle, proudly dropping his first ring in the bag.

“It’s not being done for you.” You said, sighing softly. Steve nodded awkwardly, not bothering to ask you to elaborate. You looked more than a little sad about the whole thing, a sight Steve didn’t really want to see. It still broke his heart to see you hurting.

“I think it’s nice though,” he said a bit louder “That you all still have dinner together, I can’t remember the last time my parents and I had dinner together, much less a home cooked meal.”

“How are your parents, Steve? I haven’t seen them in forever!” your mother asked. You took the prime opportunity to try to finish off the potatoes quickly, hoping to get away from the whole scenario.

“They’re alright, my mother mostly lives in France now and my father’s forever stuck in Chicago on business, but they’re supposed to be down for Christmas though, for my sister’s wedding.” He replied smoothly, making another ring of skin.

“Oh, did you hear that, Y/N? We must have them over during the holiday! Just another reason for you to come home this year, right?” she said with a wink.

You furrowed your brow “Why would seeing Steve’s parents be a reason for me to come home? They hate me.” You replied, dropping another peeled potato into the pot.

“They don’t hate you.” Steve said, turning to look at you with a frown.

You scoffed “Oh they most certainly did, they liked Robin better, remember? They wanted you two to date so badly, they practically handed me a serving tray and a catering uniform during that awful party, the one for your father’s new business partners from Wales, remember?”

“Yeah that’s fair, but they warmed up to you pretty quick, my sister loved you.” He retorted easily, grinning like a madman.

You shook your head, smiling with utter disbelief “She only liked me because I wrote her essay on Great Expectations, before that she thought I was, and I quote, a frizzy loser.” You retorted; it was easy to argue with Steve; that was something you’d forgotten.

“You did what?” your mother snapped, joining into the conversation again with anger and embarrassment lighting up her face.

“Mother, in high school I made a mint selling English essays. And no, they never caught me. I graduated completely unknown to any administrator.” You said, brushing her off. She scoffed, stuttering wildly as she tried to find the words to explain her disappointment and anger at you.

“No, that’s not true, Mr. Knapp almost caught you.” Steve said with a laugh.

“Almost is not the same as actually being caught. If Jonathan Byers wasn’t such a weenie it wouldn’t have been a problem.” You snapped, earning a louder laugh from Steve, his knife still moving thoughtlessly across the potato. You didn’t see the knife go in, but you saw the blood.

#stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things au #stranger things imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve #steve harrington au #steve harrington fanfic #joe keery #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove au #billy hargrove imagine #billy x reader #billy x you #steve x you #steve x reader #dacre montgomery #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfiction

[irarelypostanything]

Slice of Life [2]

[Nora]

Though San Francisco was her hometown, Nora was now remembering three things she disliked about the city: The streets were dirty, the drivers were rude, and she was of the opinion that 99% of the city’s inhabitants were sinful self-important jerks who felt that the entire state of California should vote and think like they did.  Also, some of the bus lines were kind of sketch.

But inside of this tech building, all of that changed.  It was as if her deeply-held feelings of hatred, without anything to attach to, ceased to exist.  She felt like a fish taking its first desperate breath after spending a dangerous amount of time on dry land.  A weight was lifted, and suddenly she felt…

Her phone vibrated.  She saw that it was Dan.  Out of nowhere, her hatred completely returned and with a newfound strength.

“Dan, what the fuck do you want?”

“Nora, where are you?”

Nora looked at her friend, who was showing her the open bar and the window setup.  They were going to take shots, then see which of them could do better at a random hard level leetcode problem.

“I am sick,” said Nora.  “I am extremely sick.”

“You don’t sound sick.”

“I am sick...OF YOUR BULLSHIT!  OH!”  She and her friend high fived.

“Look,” said Dan, “I don’t know where you are, but we need you.  The whole system is on fire.”

“I’ve only been gone for three days.”

“WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?”

“Oh damn, the signal is really bad here.”  Nora tried and failed to make static sounds.  “I’m going to have to call you back.”

Her friend filled two shot glasses.  “Bottom’s up?” she asked.

“Hang on,” replied Nora, phone still in hand,  “are you currently taking job applications?”

[Andy]

Andy had an office now.  No one gave it to him.  Ever since Erich quit, roughly 50% of the engineers at their site had quit to go to various start-ups.  At this point people were just kind of taking conference rooms and converting cubicles to expansions.  No one cared.  The only manager who gave any of this the time of day had nothing to say, because he had also quit.

“What is wrong with you?” demanded Kevin, who had opened Andy’s door without asking.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.  You’re trying to make a contract with a weapons company.  This is the kind of shit we came here to get out of.”

Andy vaped contemplatively.  Yeah, you read that sentence correctly.  “Kevin, we left our old company because they did nothing but make weapons.”

“No, we left our old company because they made weapons, period.”

“Maybe you did, but I didn’t.”  Andy vaped again.  “If you dedicate your life and career to nothing but weapons, that’s significant.  We’re talking about one contract, one project.  Do you believe making weapons is inherently bad?”

“Yes,” said Kevin, without hesitation.

“What about your tax dollars?  Some of that goes to weapons.  Do you feel bad for that?”

“Well now some of my taxes go to weapons AND I’ll be on a team that helps make weapons.”

Andy vape sighed.  “Would you say this is a question of good and evil?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“There is no such thing as good and evil.  There is only money, and the people too poor to have an opinion that matters regarding it.”

Kevin frowned.  “I don’t think that’s how the quote goes.”

“Here’s another quote: As long as there are two people left in the world, someone is going to want someone dead.  Do you know what that’s from?”

“War and Peace?”

“Team Fortress, but the point still stands.”

“I don’t get it.”

“8.7 million.  That’s enough to bring our company out of a hole for a long time.  Hell, our team would be employed for quite a while longer.  And where did you say you interned?  A big data company?”

“Yes.”

“What kinds of customers did you have?  Ice cream factories?  Make-a-wish foundation?”

“Soda companies, biotech companies, disaster relief efforts by the government-”

“The military,” interrupted Andy.  “You’d better be goddamn sure the military saw applications in your technology.  The same goes for every other big data tech center.  I don’t see this as a liability, I see this as an opportunity.  There’s a lot, a lot of money to be made.  Maybe next time we’ll find an application in biotech, or ice cream, who knows?  Right now, though, the most lucrative thing to do with these radios is help the military geolocate their targets.”

“I followed you through demos,” said Kevin angrily, “I followed you out of our old company.  I will not follow you now.”

“I heard Dan’s team has an opening.”

“Never mind,” said Kevin, “I’m still going to stay on your team.”

There was a pause.  Andy took this opportunity to vape again.

“But I’m still not okay with this!” said Kevin.  He slammed the door.

[Jake]

Jake was a hardware engineer, which meant that he basically took crap for everything the second he flipped the on switch and started work for a day.  If a career was marred by rough patches, this was a pretty big one.  Nothing worked, he was doing 18 hour days, and people were treating him with hostility every time he so much as suggested that things would take more time.

Before quitting, some senior engineer left him with a “completed” project that was just three copy and pasted changes away from a fresh install.  Before quitting, some associate engineer had left him with intentionally misleading documentation designed to piss off the software team.  Before quitting, some senior manager used his infinite wisdom to appoint Jake onto a team of three other hardware engineers who also knew nothing, and had nothing to work with.  The other three had all quit for 6-figure Bay Area salaries.  He stayed because his fiance liked inland weather.

“The card will be read soon,” said Jake on the phone to Dan.  He muted the phone.  “If you ask me how soon,” added Jake, “I am going to punch that smug face of yours and strangle you.”

“How soon?” asked Dan.  Dan was a floor above Jake, and he muted his own phone.  “Soon doesn’t mean shit, you hardware fucking imbecile,” Dan said into the muted phone.

“We’re having some difficulties,” said Jake unmuted.  “Mostly because of your vague fucking instructions that show you know about as much about hardware as I’m sure you know about software.  Seriously, I know software.  Yours is a mountain of shit,” said Jake muted.

“Jake, I asked your team for this to be done three times.  I need it now,” said Dan unmuted.  “Last time I went to one of you hardware idiots with a bug, you said it was a software problem.  The bug went away after the system cooled off for 15 minutes.  Yeah, software problem, you limp dick morons.  The 1s need to cool down into 0s.  Nicely done,” said Dan muted.

“I’m right here,” said Jake, now next to him.  “Figured it would be easier for both of us if we spoke in person.”

#fiction #short stories

[ncfan-1]

ncfan listens to The Magnus Archives: S1 EP011 (’Dreamer) & EP012 (‘First Aid’)

In which I have a lot of questions, and I feel like I’m not the only one.

No spoilers, please!

EP 011: ‘Dreamer’

- The imagery of this organism like a strangling vine choking the city is nice and visceral and creepy.

- So we’ve established that there’s a limit to what sort of cases the Institute will take on. It’s nice to establish this. I do wonder about stuff like that in series like this, because if the Institute treated seriously every fever dream they were told about, they’d never get any work done.

- “I know how that sounds.” Yeah, if someone said that to me, the first thing I’d assume is, uh, very different from what you’re telling us, Antonio Blake.

- Wait, Antonio’s ex is named Graham? I… I compared the statement dates of this one and ‘Across the Street’, and I think this is in the right timeframe to be right around the time Graham from that episode was replaced by not-Graham. Obviously, if this is referring to a different Graham (and yeah, I know I said not to rely on coincidences, but I think the same given name isn’t as much of a link as the same surname would be, unless the surname was, like Smith or Jones or Patel) I’m following the wrong thread, but if it is the same Graham, then wow, there’s some nasty subtext to that breakup.

Of course, I’m not sure this is the same Graham we’re talking about. Graham Folger had such a pervasive air of isolation around him that it stretches my suspension of disbelief a little to believe he had a boyfriend. But I suppose it would explain why he was often out of his flat, and it’s not like having a boyfriend would have helped him much when he was at home. Alone.

- I winced when Antonio detailed how he didn’t wake up from the dream when he fell from the roof of Canary Wharf, and didn’t wake up when he experienced the phantom pain of the landing. I’m terrified of heights, and the mere act of dream-falling would have been enough to wake me—and indeed, I think it would have been for most people, if they’re having normal dreams. But this isn’t a normal dream.

- I wonder if Antonio’s fear of taking the elevator up to the twenty-third floor is supposed to be indicative of a premonition involving an elevator malfunction.

- So the death of the head archivist at the Magnus Institute triggers some catastrophic change in supernatural activity in London? Or was there some drastic change, and the Institute—and Gertrude—was at the epicenter of it?

- “And the bridge was knotted high with the flashing vines.” I checked, and a cursory search with a few different search phrases didn’t show me any statistics that indicate that a statistically large amount of people jump from London Bridge in suicide attempts each year. If this was taking place in San Francisco and we were talking about the Golden Gate Bridge, I’d have no doubt that that’s what the vines are about there, but here, I’m not as certain. It might be a combination of suicides and car crashes, or, if the vines have been accumulating for centuries, it could just be the accumulated deaths of centuries upon the structure.

- The Magnus Institute, as described… is not entirely dissimilar from my own workplace in appearance. My workplace being a combination of administrative offices and archive for a local heritage center. Where I work as an assistant archivist. …You might see why this disturbs me a bit.

- And now Jonathan suddenly has so many questions. As he should. I can understand his gut response being to assume that it was a prank, and can equally understand his being freaked out upon discovering that no, this was probably not a prank.

- So Jonathan doesn’t know exactly what happened to Gertrude, and didn’t even know she was dead when he got the job? His comment about asking if she was available to give him some job training, I think, confirms something I was wondering about—whether or not he had a great deal of experience as an archivist before this. He sounds fairly young when he’s reading the statements (and when he gives his assessment of them it almost sounds like he’s trying to make himself sound older than he really is) and his seeming inability to understand that it would be better to get the hard copies of the files in chronological order before trying to digitize or record them were making me wonder. Jonathan, buddy? I hate to say this, but unless you pull some archiving info out of your head to wow me, your assistants may be better at this than you are. Yes, even Martin. Possibly especially Martin, given that he seems to have been working with the Archive in some capacity since 2010.

- Yeah, Elias sounds sketchy.

- So Tim’s the only one of the assistants you trust not to pull a prank on you? I guess I’ll have to file Tim away as the serious one.

- “But if anyone comes in ranting about dreaming my death, then I very much want to hear about it.” I’m just trying to imagine Jonathan’s possible conversation with Elias after this. Especially considering how high-strung he seems to be.

Jonathan: Hey, I just read a statement about some guy predicting Gertrude Robinson’s death in a dream. Elias: Don’t worry about it. Jonathan: But the statement is dated to just before she died. Elias: Dude, it’s not your business. Jonathan: It’s not my— You didn’t even tell me how she died! She could have overdosed on heroin at my desk for all I know! What else aren’t you telling me? Elias: Don’t worry about it. You know it’s all head-in-the-sand management around here—or did you not figure that out when I dumped you in a disorganized Archive filled with thousands of incomplete case files that hadn’t been organized according to any system, with only three assistants and no other help, and without giving you the slightest warning about the way Gertrude was running the place? I mean, if that didn’t tip you off that I’ve got no interest in giving you guidance of any kind, then I really don’t think there’s any hope for you. Jonathan: *not-so-internal screaming*

Friendly reminder that this is the kind of assignment that can make people start fantasizing about killing their boss.

EP 012: ‘First Aid’

- Yeah, so I have a new favorite episode. Already. I know; I’m fickle.

- I can speak to emergency rooms never really being empty, no matter the time of night. I had to go into the emergency room at three in the morning, once, and it was in a small hospital in a rural area, and me and my parents still weren’t the only ones in the emergency room. It wasn’t full by any stretch of the imagination—again, small hospital in a rural area—but there were other people there. There was also an asshole doctor who didn’t want to take seriously the idea that I was in any real pain or medical danger, despite the fact that my lower lip had swollen to about five size its normal size and was starting to split open and leak pus.

- So we see the weirdness start to infect the hospital early with the too-quiet waiting room.

- It occurred to me that for the two men to have been burned everywhere on their body (the older truly everywhere, and the younger everywhere below his neck where there wasn’t a tattoo), they also had second-degree burns on their genitals. I flinch in sympathy, no matter what these two were getting up to that led to the burns.

- Oh, look, Jared Key’s back! I’m sure that won’t be important at all.

- I do wonder what happened that the burns stopped at his neck.

- And Jared has been tied to eye imagery again. My Tolkien roots are showing, but I am reminded a bit of the Lidless Eye, always watching.

- The bit about everyone in the hospital apart from the patients too ill to be moved disappearing (and later shown to all get up at the same time and file outside to parts and for reasons unknown) is pretty creepy. I do wonder how the patients who could get up and go outside fared, considering it was December in Britain, where it tends to snow at that time of year.

- “It sounded like… the growl of an animal, a rolling, angry sound, and I realized that the floor was shaking ever so slightly.” What was going on with the vending machine could potentially account for this, but I also like the idea of the slowly creeping horror, invisibly stalking the halls of the hospital.

- “And then I saw it. […] But I now saw that the one on the left, a clear-fronted machine that stocked bottled soft drinks, was shaking violently. As I got nearer, I saw why. In every bottle, in every row of the machine, the drinks appeared to be violently boiling. Cokes and lemonades and fruit juices shook and bubble, before one by one, the bottles exploded, coating the inside of the clear plastic front with liquid that still kept steaming and hissing. It couldn’t have taken more than thirty seconds for all of them to pop.”

One: great description. Two: I wonder what the people who restock the vending machines made of this.

- Jared is just as ambiguous a figure in this episode as he was in ‘Page Turner.’ His actions in the events of the episode itself are beneficial to the narrator—it’s possible that he saved both of their lives—but he’s clearly caught up in the affairs of things moving just beyond our ability to see them. Things that are not benevolent. He doesn’t come off as being malicious in personality, but he’s still caught up in a lot of shady shit. And we’ve seen him kill at least once, possibly at least twice if he killed his mother and didn’t just skin her after she voluntarily committed suicide.

- “Something told me if there was a coherent explanation for everything that had happened since the ambulance arrived, then I would be no better off for knowing it.” What, no, listen, Lesere, this is absolutely the time to be asking questions.

- “Better beholding than the lightless flame.” Something to file away, I guess.

- I hope we get more information about Jared later.

- Jared was released into the care of his mother? Wasn’t Mary already dead by this point? Let me check ‘Page Turner.’ *checks ‘Page Turner’* Okay, the events of the episode take place in December 2011, and Mary turned up dead in 2008. So what, is she not really dead? Is the ghost Jared summoned with ‘Key of Solomon’ able to move around outside of their old bookstore/house? Was that someone pretending to be Jared’s mother? Well, at least now I know what Jared meant when he said he’d had worse burns than the ones you get picking up a super-heated metal trashcan.

- And now Lesere feels like she’s being watched. Lady, if I was you, I’d be more concerned by that.

- Yeah, where did they all go? Because the patients who could walk went outside, too, and I feel like standing in your bare feet in the snow for fifteen minutes would be injurious.

- “The feed cuts out for less than a second, and is replaced for a single frame, by a close-up of a human eye staring back through the video feed.” Yeah, that’s… that’s not good. You don’t want these sorts of things to take notice of you.

#ncfan listens to The Magnus Archives

[lilibetbombshell]

Mara knows I’m no saint. But she has no idea she’s dancing with the devil…

There Are No Saints, the first book in the all-new dark and twisted Sinners Duet from Sophie Lark is now available!

.

.

.

.

I loathe Alastor Shaw.

The city of San Francisco thinks we’re rival artists.

In truth, we’re predators battling for hunting ground.

We never chased the same prey. Until the night we both laid eyes on Mara Eldritch.

Shaw wants to use her as a pawn in his twisted game.

I’m fixated on her for a different reason…

She makes me feel things I never thought I could feel. Want things I never wanted.

Only she can make me lose control.

I don’t know if I should protect her at all costs… or destroy her before she ruins me.

Mara knows I’m no saint. But she has no idea she’s dancing with the devil…

Download your copy today!

FREE in Kindle Unlimited

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Releasing December 1st

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Excerpt from There Are No Saints

Cole Blackwell

We’re about to enter the junior studio on the opposite side of the building when Mara catches up with me.

“Excuse me!” she pants, her cheeks flaming pink. “Could I speak to Mr. Blackwell for a moment?”

The other panel members turn to look at me, to see if I’ll comply.

Sonia is particularly curious. She knew something was up the moment I told her to offer Mara the studio. The discounted rate was a fabrication, invented by me on the spot. The same with this grant. It’s all leverage to get Mara right where I want her: completely at my mercy.

“Of course,” I say quietly. “The rest of you go on without me. I’ll join you momentarily.”

I lead Mara down the hall to an empty studio several doors down. I step into the clean, deserted space. She hesitates in the doorway, afraid to be alone with me.

“Are you coming?” I ask, eyebrow raised.

Pressing her lips together, she marches into the room, closing the door behind her.

I wait for her to speak, watching the rapid rise and fall of her chest, thrilling at the hectic spots of color on her cheeks.

She’s illuminated with fury, eyes blazing, cheeks flaming. Her dark hair swirls around her face, defying gravity from the pure electric tension between us. Her thin hands tremble, and she digs her nails into the thighs of her jeans.

“I know it was you,” she says, her voice low and hoarse.

I’m enjoying this so much I can hardly stand it. Her rage, her fear, and the delicious predicament I put her in, all mixed together in a potent cocktail. Her expression of shock when she saw my face, and the awful struggle as she had to discuss her work with the panel, while her brain must have been twisting and turning inside her skull . . . I’m so glad I have it all recorded. I can’t wait to watch it over again tonight.

“What was me?” I say mildly.

“You know,” she hisses. Her whole body is shaking. I’d like to hold her against me, to feel those tremors vibrating through my frame . . .

“Please explain.”

Her eyes glint with tears of fury, but she refuses to let them fall. Her lips are swollen and chapped, as if she’s been biting at them . . .

“Someone snatched me off the street. They tied me up, cut my wrists, and left me in the woods. You were there. I saw you. You stood over me, staring at me. You saw I needed help. And you walked right over me. You left me there to die.”

“What a bizarre accusation,” I say. “Do you have any proof?”

I know she doesn’t. I just want to see how she’ll respond.

“I saw you,” she hisses. “I’ll tell the cops.”

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea.” I tuck my hands in my pockets, tilting my head as I look at her. “That would cause a lot of problems for you. You’d lose the studio, of course. The grant, too.”

“Are you threatening me?” Her voice rises, the edge of hysteria sharp as razor wire. “Why are you doing this? Why did you do this to me?”

She holds up her arm so her loose bell sleeve drops away, revealing the long, jagged scar across the wrist. The scar is still healing, raised like a welt on the skin.

“I didn’t do that,” I scoff.

Mara falters, her upraised hand dropping an inch.

Interesting—she doesn’t actually know who cut her.

“You were there,” she insists.

“So what if I was?”

She startles, shocked that I admitted it.

“Then you did this!” she shrieks.

“No,” I growl. “I didn’t.”

In one swift step, I close the space between us. Mara tries to turn and run, but I’m much too fast for her. I seize her by the arm, yanking her toward me, holding up that accusing hand and branded wrist.

I look down into her terrified face, pinning her in place with my gaze as much as my fingers locked around her wrist.

“There’s no limit on predators in the world,” I hiss. “And no lack of damaged girls to attract them.”

About Sophie

Sophie Lark is an Amazon Bestselling author who writes intense, intelligent romance, with heroines who are strong and capable, and men who will do anything to capture their hearts. She lives with her husband, two boys, and baby girl in the Rocky Mountain West.

She has a slight obsession with hiking, bodybuilding, and live comedy shows. Her perfect day would be taking the kids to Harry Potter World, going dancing with Mr. Lark, then relaxing with a good book and a monster bag of salt and vinegar chips.

Connect with Sophie

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Website: https://sophielark.com

#there are not saints #the sinners duet #sophie lark #kindle unlimited #kindle #ebook #new release #new release book #dark romance #stalker #serial killer #san francisco #artists #violent #torture #social butterfly pr

[thebuckblogimo]

“What thought processes led you to the second floor of Abbot Hall in fall 1965?” he asked.

August 9, 2021

I recently had an e-mail conversation with my first college roommate, m'boy Eric, of Las Vegas, originally from dynamic Caro, Michigan. He concluded his communication with the question above. I soon banged out the answer (below). I intentionally heavied it up with details to give him some context and cause a few laughs. Then I decided to post my answer (edited for this space) because other friends and family may find it interesting and mildly amusing. So here goes:

Why MSU? That's a very good question.

The neighborhood where I grew up had dozens and dozens of young kids running up and down the streets on both sides of Tireman, the "busy street" where I lived. Some of the kids were two, three, four years older than me. Most of the "big kids" played sports and I soon found that I could hang with them. This exposed me to their humor, early rock 'n' roll, the Tigers, the Lions and "competition." All the while my ears were wide open.

As perhaps a third-grader, I got the impression from the older kids that Michigan State was considered "cooler" than Michigan. It seemed as though the Spartans beat Michigan in football almost every year. Which was basically true in those days. About a year later, in 1957, I was inside of Voltz's Drug Store (a small, cozy place on the corner of Warren and Reuter) where I often purchased pop, Popsicles, balsa wood airplanes, comic books and more. A radio was playing in the background there and I remember hearing a sports report about a speedy MSU halfback, Walt Kowalczyk, having a big game against some team. So I began to further equate Michigan State with "cool," because they had a great runner who was Polish.

The Michigan State basketball team made it to the Final Four, playing eventual champion North Carolina, that same year. (I was vaguely aware of Wilt Chamberlain, whose Kansas team played the San Francisco Dons in the other semi-final.) I was in Wyandotte that weekend with my folks (visiting friends of the family, including their son "Stash" Kornacki--gotta love those Polish names) while the MSU vs North Carolina game was on TV. The Spartans lost in overtime. All I knew was that the more I got into sports--watching it, playing it--the more the Spartans seemed like a power. I started envisioning myself attending school there. (I just assumed I'd be going to college.)

I was in the sixth grade during the 1958-59 school year. We had a wonderful, strong-on-fundamentals, progressively-minded basketball coach. (We ran laps in winter boots, used medicine balls in passing drills, wore plastic "half-glasses" that enabled you to see ahead but not see the ball when you dribbled, etc.) In those days, the metropolitan Detroit CYO was the second largest in the country (after Chicago's) with about 200 Catholic grade schools. Anyway, after winning our league championship, we advanced in a tournament of league champions to the metropolitan Detroit finals, where we lost to perennial grade school basketball power Grosse Pointe St. Paul, 22-17, at Pulaski Recreation Center in Hamtramck. (I got into a fist fight with a St. Paul kid during the first half but did not get kicked out of the game.) Now I was beginning to have delusions that I was going to be a college basketball player. As a 12-year-old who devoured basketball magazines, my top three college choices were Purdue, Bradley and Michigan State.

Two years later during eighth grade, our CYO basketball team won its league again. We got into the big metro city tournament, but lost in the westside final to Royal Oak Shrine. I don't remember the score, but we got slaughtered. The kids from Shrine were huge. They seemed like grown men. I think one kid on that team went on to play football at Michigan (his name escapes me); another guy, Jim Seymour, went on to play football at Notre Dame. Yes, that Jim Seymour of MSU-ND 10-10 tie fame. After going up against those guys, I began to doubt that I was going to be playing college basketball.

In the spring of that year, our "lay teacher," Mr. Brimo, brought in a college student, Bill Fundaro, who had graduated from St. Al's and was the quarterback of its football team when he was a senior. (BTW, you probably saw Bill sitting on a solitary chair at the backstop behind home plate at Tiger Stadium thousands of times on TV, because during most of his 50-plus years as an usher there, he retrieved foul balls off the screen and ran new balls out to the umpire). Bill talked about college life in general and Marquette University in particular, because that's where he went to school.

Meanwhile, Michigan State continued to be successful against Michigan in football. And I was picking up that coach Duffy Daugherty was as funny as a standup comedian. Just as many young kids thought U-M was the cool school during the '70s and '80s, after Bo Schembechler resurrected its football program, I thought Michigan State was that kind of place during the '50s and '60s.

I was either a sophomore or junior in high school when our basketball coach took us to East Lansing to see the state finals at Jenison Fieldhouse. The whole team, as well as friends Joe McCracken and Gary Pearson (who did not play basketball), stayed in rooms on campus at the Kellogg Center. On the first afternoon, Pearson walked through the Kellogg Center's kitchen and came back to our room with a cart stacked with trays of cream pies. But I took a walk across campus and visited what I think was known as the Big Ten Drug Store at the corner of Grand River and either Abbot Road or M.A.C. Hoo boy (a phrase I picked up from Free Press sports columnist George Puscas), that experience, walking across campus—with its old buildings, tall leafy trees and beautiful coeds--was everything I envisioned a college campus to be. I was pretty much hooked.

Early senior year, when it was time to start sending applications to college, I was at the home of my friend Garry Faja. His brother Art, a St. Al's guy who went to Wayne State, was there. So was Art's friend, Gene Balawajder, another St. Al's guy, who ran track and cross country for MSU. We started talking about “college” and Gene asked me what I planned to study. I said journalism. Gene loved Michigan State, but he said that U-M might be a better place for something like that. So the following week I went to the high school counselor's office and picked up copies of both the MSU and U-M course catalogs. I read about journalism in the MSU guide, which was clear, concise, well written. I read about J-school in the U-M guide, but I found it to be not so well organized, not particularly well written. That was it. U-M was off my list.

I had it in my head that I should apply to three schools--sort of like getting three bids on a remodeling job. If Michigan State didn't accept me, maybe I could go to one of the other schools. So in addition to MSU, my sentimental favorite, I applied to Marquette University because Bill Fundaro had made it sound so good, as well as the University of Detroit, the local school. (I applied there and not Wayne State because U-D had far superior basketball teams and produced players like All-American Dave DeBusschere.)

Well, I got accepted to all three. However, both Marquette and U-D, private schools, wanted more money to take the enrollment process a step farther. To hell with that, I thought. So I rejoiced about being accepted by MSU with my girlfriend at the time, Leslie Klein (salutatorian of our class), who had also been accepted to MSU.

The next thing I knew, in September of 1965, my Mom and Dad were delivering me to the front door of Abbot Hall in our family's 1963 Pontiac Bonneville. They left me at room 271, never to return to campus again. When I initially got there, I think you were at Wonders Hall visiting your girlfriend, Cindy. I don't recall when you came back to the room, I don't recall initially meeting you. But I do remember the moment I met our other roommate, "Bop" Roller. I asked him what his major was. I thought he said, "…egg major." So I asked again, "What did you say?" Once again I thought I heard “egg major." I said, "Okay," thinking how interesting it was that one could major in eggs...when in fact he was saying, "ag major..." Who knew he meant agriculture?

So that is the how and why of my decision to enroll at Michigan State. And I stand by my story.

[perfectirishgifts]

How Tony Hsieh Built Zappos - In His Own Words

New Post has been published on https://perfectirishgifts.com/how-tony-hsieh-built-zappos-in-his-own-words/

How Tony Hsieh Built Zappos - In His Own Words

LAS VEGAS, NEVADA – NOVEMBER 28: A tribute to tech entrepreneur Tony Hsieh is displayed on the … [] Fremont Street Experience attraction’s Viva Vision screen on November 28, 2020 in Las Vegas, Nevada. (Photo by Bryan Steffy/Getty Images)

Former Zappos CEO Tony Hsieh tragically died last week at age 46 from smoke inhalation in a Connecticut house fire. While questions remain about his death, I chose to celebrate his life by reading his bestselling, surprisingly compelling manga-style comic book memoir from 2010. It’s called Delivering Happiness: A Path to Profits, Passion and Purpose with illustrator Rob Ten Pas.

Hsieh led a quintessentially American Dream life of success and eccentricity. Being in the right place at the right time during the Silicon Valley Internet boom, his strangeness translated to a sometimes cultlike customer-centric culture at Zappos. He describes the mistakes he made – and how he pivoted quickly.

Born to Taiwanese immigrant parents in Illinois, Tony Hsieh grew up in California’s wine country near Sonoma. Like Warren Buffett, he caught the entrepreneurial bug early. During elementary school, he tried out a worm farm business, paper route, and garage sales. In middle-school, Tony started a mail-order button business that brought in $200 per month. “I think the biggest lesson I learned,” he writes, “was that it was possible to run a successful business by mail order without any face-to-face interaction.”

It would be a powerful lesson – and one that in Silicon Valley and Big Tech has had profoundly mixed results.

A standout student, he got into Harvard, where he co-managed the Quincy House Grill with his friend Sanjay. They experimented with the menu, making more pizzas because they were more profitable. His best customer was Alfred Lin – who he later found out was bringing the pizza back to his house and selling slices to his roommates to earn an even higher margin. “We ended up hiring him as our CFO and COO at Zappos,” Hsieh explained.

Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity. After Harvard, he and Sanjay took jobs with Oracle back in the Bay Area during the height of Internet Mania. On weekends, they started experimenting with coding and built an early web ad platform called LinkExchange. They soon quit Oracle. Within months, a buyer offered them $1 million. They made a $2 million counteroffer that got turned down. Months later, Yahoo!’s Jerry Yang offered them $20 million – and they turned it down. Eventually Microsoft bought it for $265 million. Hsieh, bored with the company, turned down a bigger golden parachute to walk away early. “I had decided to stop chasing the money,” he said “and start chasing the passion.”

Hsieh and friends bought lofts next door in San Francisco, recreating the camaraderie of dorm culture. They started a small investment fund called Venture Frogs with Alfred Lin. One of their first pitches came from Nick Swinmurn: Shoesite.com, which became Zappos. Zappos – derived from zapatos – became the quintessential middleman, the “Amazon of shoes” selling other brands’ shoes with a focus on customer service. Venture Frogs loved Zappos but bigger VCs didn’t. So Venture Frogs – and Hsieh and Lin – went all-in on Zappos.

At this time, Hsieh started getting into rave culture and the acronym PLUR: Peace, Love, Unity and Respect. A woman told him: “Envision, create, and believe in your own universe.” Hsieh and Lin did just that with Zappos, putting in more of their own money to lead it through the dotcom bust, the ensuing recession, and 9/11.

Big mistake: “As an e-commerce company,” Hsieh wrote, “we should have considered warehousing to be our core competency from the very beginning.” Instead, Zappos outsourced their warehouse inventory to eLogistics, who did a poor job. Being unable to promptly fulfill orders nearly bankrupted Zappos – and Tony. “Outsourcing that to a third-party and trusting that they would care about our customers as much as we would was one of our biggest mistakes,” Hsieh recalled. “If we hadn’t reacted quickly, it would have destroyed Zappos.”

Sales rebounded, but they soon faced another big decision. “Our strategy of combining inventoried product with drop-shipped product continued to drive our sales growth,” he explained. Problem was, at least 5% of drop-shipped shoes never made it to the customer. They got refunds but mostly walked away unsatisfied. Hsieh faced a seeming paradox: If Zappos wanted to build their brand around customer satisfaction and become profitable, they needed to turn off their cash cow. “So we made what was both the easiest and hardest decision we ever had to make up to that point.”

Zappos soon got a line of credit from Wells Fargo. Their next challenge: If customer service was another core competency, they needed an extensive in-house call center. But they had trouble staffing those unglamorous jobs in the Bay Area. So in 2004, they moved Zappos headquarters to Las Vegas. In a tribute to the company culture, 70 out of 90 Zappos employees moved to Vegas with them. By 2008, they reached $1 billion in gross sales.

LAS VEGAS, NV JANUARY 14, 2017-At the entrance to Downtown Container Park in the area Hsieh helped … [] revitalize, a praying mantis structure by artist Kirk Jellum shoots fireballs. (Jason Ogulnik/For The Washington Post via Getty Images, 2017)

Secret sauce. Hsieh saw culture as synonymous with brand – people who enjoyed spending time together, making customers happy, and making decisions as a group, what Zappos calls Holacracy. Every employee, Hsieh said, would get trained as a call center rep to start, regardless of title – so customer service would be fundamental to their job.  He said these investments – instead of advertising – drive brand and word of mouth better than any advertising campaign ever could. “Everything else,” he said, “can and eventually will be copied.”

“We put our phone number at the top of every page of our site,” Hsieh explained, “because we want to talk to our customers.” Why? Isn’t it cheaper to interact through email, texts, apps and bots like virtually every other company? “The telephone is one of the best branding devices out there,” Hsieh explained. “You have the customer’s undivided attention for 5-10 minutes, and if you get the interaction right, the customer remembers the experience for a long time and tells his or her friends about it.”

Psychologist Jonathan Haidt, founder of the Heterodox Academy for viewpoint diversity and against political correctness, describes the same values that animated Hsieh also went on to define Zappos: “open and honest, passionate and humble, fun and a little weird.”

Amazon bought Zappos for $1.2 billion in 2009, but Hsieh stayed on until this past summer. Despite being worth a reported $840 million, he mostly lived in an Airstrem trailer in a Burning Man-inspired downtown Las Vegas trailer park he owned and called Llamapolis, with a pet alpaca. The trailer park lay at the center of an area he helped revitalize with $350 million and re-define through his philanthropy – a fitting memorial to this great, strange man.

More from Vices in Perfectirishgifts

[7pastmidnight]

Past Curfew- Chapter 2

author: 7pastmidnight

summary: senior in hs moving into a new town

genre: horror, thriller, mystery, romance, 18+

warning: smut in later chapters

Chapter 1 

note: this is my first long fic, so please don’t be too harsh in judgement! i will try to release one chapter a week~ all members will be present along with other JYP artists for added characters. there will be lots of texting dialog throughout the story so I used italics to symbolize it~  I tried to type this quickly so i apologize in advance for any grammatical errors.  I hope you all enjoy it^^

key:italics = texting

y/a/n your aunts name, y/a/l/n your aunts last name y/u/n your uncles name

Jinyoung follows you out the door. He stands in front of you and says, “Let me properly introduce myself, I’m Jinyoung.”

“I’m y/n.”

“Nice to meet you y/n. The paperwork shouldn’t take her too long to fill out, so I’ll make this a quick tour.”

Jinyoung leads you down the long hallway, the windows above the lockers letting the natural sunlight in, giving you a somewhat welcoming feeling. There were endless amounts of hallways, you’re not sure how you’re going to get around in this school. “It took me a while to learn my way around the school but you’ll get used to it. Luckily they separate each grade by building so you won’t normally see any freshman wondering around here.”

You give out a light chuckle, “That’s a relief. Freshman can be pretty annoying sometimes.”

You take your phone out to see if Jeongyeon has responded, which she hasn’t.

“So where are you from? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t mind.”, you politely retort,” I’m from San Francisco.”

“Oh I’ve been down there a few times. It’s really nice there, but it’s very different from here.” You’re glad he didn’t ask why you moved here, you really didn’t feel like explaining it. As you two are walking the halls you see more missing Wonpil posters.

“The library is right down this hall. Its huge but usually empty not a lot of people-“

“Sorry I don’t mean to interrupt but who is that guy? Is he really missing?” you interrupt.

He is silent for a moment. “That’s my friend Wonpil, he’s been missing for a few days now. I put these posters up hoping maybe someone would know something, but so far nothing.”

He seemed really beat up about it, but before you could say anything he says, “He’s my closest friend, other than him…. I don’t really have any.”

You weren’t expecting for the tour to take a turn like this. Not entirely sure how to respond you say, “I’m sorry… I can kind of relate to how you feel… I only had one friend back at home too… she’s not missing but…”

“It’s ok, I understand what you mean. My parents are strict so now they won’t let me out of the house past 8pm because of it…. not that they gave me a lot of freedom in the first place.”

“My aunt didn’t really take the poster seriously when she saw it… she said the kids around here play a lot of pranks.”

“Oh she must be talking about Jackson and his friends. They do play a lot of pranks, and they get away with a lot too.”

“Jackson?”

“Yeah… he’s like this typical jock type, jokes around a lot, everyone loves him. He’s a little loud and obnoxious but sometimes he can be nice.”

“OH.”

“Hmm?”

“I already met Jackson this morning! He almost hit me with his fucking car!”

Jinyoung looks down to hide his smirk, “Yeah that sounds like typical Jackson. If I were you I would just try to avoid him.” You two make your way back to the office. Just as you approach the door your aunt walks out.

“All the paperwork is done! You just need to pick out your electives and they can make your schedule then…. you can start classes tomorrow!” your aunt excitedly exclaims. You quickly turn to Jinyoung. “What electives are you in?”

He kind of gives you a shocked look, “Well I uh… I’m taking drama class, and photography…”

“Okay! I’ll take photography too! That way I’ll at least know one person in class.”

He gives you a warm smile, “Ah alright… Well, it was nice meeting you y/n, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He waves goodbye walks back into the office.

Your aunt gives you a smirk, “He was kinda cute wasn’t he?”

“Oh my god… it’s not like that.”, you reply to her. Which is true… he was cute, but you weren’t crushing on him.  You two walk back into the office to complete creating your schedule. You also decide to take home economics as an elective along with photography.

“Okay that’s it! You’re all done. Here’s a copy of your schedule. I hope to see you around!”, says the red headed secretary.  

You nod and smile in agreement and walk out of the office beside your aunt. You two were walking out of the front entrance, down the stairs, when you see with the boy with the black cap you saw outside your aunts house. Shocked, you think to yourself, that guy goes to high school here?? Is he a student?? He started walking up the stairs next to you on your left side. He rushed past you but you still couldn’t get a good look at his face. Maybe he’s a senior? You hope that you don’t have any classes with him.

You and your aunt approach her car when she says, “y/n, you want to go shopping for some things you might need for tomorrow? School supplies or clothes, or both if you want! I’ll take care of it.”

This was a little sudden for you, but you have the rest of the day to do nothing, so why not. “Sure, thank you y/a/n.”

“Okay awesome! I can show you around the town too.”

You two both hop into her Cadillac and drive into town. Suddenly you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. Jeongyeon replied sorry I got caught up in class. I didn’t want to get my phone taken away again. You respond I almost bumped into that creepy guy from the photo I sent you. He was right next to me and I still couldn’t see his face! I think he’s a student here

Jeongyeon: What!? No way that’s so creepy!

You: I know! But so far I met two students today, one was really nice and the other almost hit me with his car.

JGYN: Are they cute too??

You: Oh you’re not even gonna ask about how I almost got hit

JGYN:You’re probably fine

You: UGH well the nice guy was cute… but more like puppy cute not sit on his face cute lol he and I are gonna be in the same photography class

JGYN: Since when have you been into photography??

You: Since NOW I just didn’t want to be completely alone on my first day

JGYN: Whats his name?

You: Jinyoung. I feel kinda bad for him tho, his friend went missing

Your aunt interrupts and says, “There isn’t a mall here, but once we drive past this bridge the clothes store will be right there.”

“Oh ok.” You look out over the bridge and stare at the river, then you look back at your phone. Jeongyeon had just replied.

JGYN: WHAT?? there’s a missing kid in your town?? This Jinyoung guy is shady

You: JEONGYEON

JGYN: His friend is missing maybe he….

You: STOP I just said he was nice!! There’s flyers of his friend all over but this town is so small I can’t really imagine how they can’t find him. At first my aunt told me it was probably a prank so I didn’t take it seriously at first but then Jinyoung explained otherwise

JGYN: What kind of town puts up fake flyers as a joke?

You: Idk apparently this one

JGYN: What about the other guy

You: The one that almost hit me?? His name is Jackson. Hes kinda hot, but he seems like a total jerk so I’m not interested in him

Your aunt parked in front of the clothes store, I guess theres not really a mall here.

“Ok honey you go in look around. I’m gonna walk to the pet store across the street and get some things for waffles.” She hands you her credit card, “There’s no limit, just grab anything you like.”

“wow…. thanks y/a/n.”

You get out of the car and walk into the store. You check your phone, Jeongyeon replied you’ll probably end up crushing on that guy lol I wish I was there tho, I wanna know what these guys look like

I WILL NOT HES AN ABSOLUTE JERK I don’t know if I’ll meet anyone I’m interested in BUT GET THIS. MY AUNT JUST DROPPED ME OFF AT A CLOTHES STORE WITH HER CREDIT CARD, SHE TOLD ME I COULD GET ANYTHING I WANTED.

JGYN: Give me the address of the store

You: Why

JGYN: So if you go missing while you’re by yourself I can tell the cops where you were last.

You: SHUT UP YOU’RE SUCH A BITCH, maybe you and Jackson will get along then

JGYN: I would totally hit you with my car if I was given the chance

UGHH

You put your phone back in your pocket and look around the store. Jeongyeon was funny but she could be a handful at times. The store is bigger than it looks. You were a little surprised, you assumed it was going to be like an old lady fashion store, but instead there was lots of trendy things for men and women. It’s autumn so you think to buy some warmer clothes. You grab a few things, sweaters and shirts, some jeans and skirts, leggings and boots too. You didn’t want anything too flashy, being the new kid in a town as small as this you already knew you were going to stand out. Your aunt said you could grab whatever you wanted, but probably because she felt bad about your situation. You didn’t want to take total advantage of the opportunity, it didn’t feel right. You pay for everything and walk out the store. As you’re facing the pet store you notice that to the left of it there’s some police cars with their lights on. There’s a crowd of people looking over the edge of the bridge you just crossed over. You walk across the street to join the crowd and find your aunt. You asked her, “What happened?”

She has a horrified look on her face and she’s looking down at the river underneath. There’s some police at the bottom…and a bright yellow tarp laid over a human shaped figure. Your aunt grabs your wrist and pulls you away, “Lets go.”, she said in a quick low tone.

You’re in disbelief… there’s no way… could that be… Wonpil?

#got7 #got7 fic #got7 smut #got7 scenarios #got7 jb #got7 jinyoung #im jaebum #park jinyoung #mark tuan #kim yugyeom #jackson wang #choi youngjae #bambam #7pastmidnight fic

[artradhikita]

The time I started writing a comic book / graphic novel (Part 2 of idk how many, this may take a while LOL)

This is Part 2.

Click here for Part 1: 

https://artradhikita.tumblr.com/post/618740135510540288/the-time-i-started-writing-a-comic-book-graphic

@azonip​ btw did I mention my character, Alex, was a ninja? XD

Yep, this is the first drawing of Alex in his ninja getup. Pose was referenced from a poster of Spiderman XD

So yeah, this guy is a ninja from San Francisco and his friends are werewolves basically. I started writing a story like a script of a play on a text document, not even microsoft word.

I am posting the first ever draft of the utterly ridiculous and awesome story I wrote when I was 20 (please don’t judge!). Here it is. Yes, the original title was “The Brotherhood of Wolves” which I thought was perfect until I realized there’s a movie with that title and that pissed me off because then I felt I had to change it.

Copy-paste of the original first draft:

the brotherhood of wolves

it is a dark cloudy day, a young man (alex) is working at the japanese antique shop when a strange man walks in. the man picks up a sword.

alex: can i help you? that's an ancient samurai sword used in battle. it's one of our most treasured items.

the man examines the sword. then swings it.

alex: do you have a name?

the man suddenly points it at alex and smirks. alex is surprised but doesn't flinch.

man: i know who you are alexander cadeyrn. i've been watching you for some time now. you work in an antique shop and you are the lead guitarist in your little rock band....but all that is just a cover for something more secret. and i know your secret, alexander.

alex: who are you?

man: i'm here to tell you that you and your gang are not alone, and you have enemies. we run this town and all the land around it, and we don't like it when people get in our way. i strongly suggest you and your friends leave herrington and go back to where you came from, or face the consequences. *alex glares at him* you don't want to know me, alexander, i am not a friendly man. but if you stick around, i promise i will make your life hell, and all those around you will also suffer. consider yourself warned.

puts down the sword and begins to walk away. he pauses and looks over his shoulder.

man: my name is rafa morton. don't forget it, because if you don't leave you'll be cursing my name until your last breath. *walks out the door*

alex stands there, his eyes towards the door, in deep thought.

end.

a week later...

alex is standing in front of a group of young people, talking to them.

alex: okay guys. i'm going to go pick up my sister. remember, we're just a band trying to make it in the music scene. we share this house. not a word about the brotherhood or wolves or any of that stuff. she doesn't know any of it and i'd like to keep it that way. if i had i my way i wouldn't have let her come at all, but my mom's out of town and lucy's not allowed to be at home alone all winter break. so be careful, don't slip up.

kai: chill out alex, we've managed to keep it a secret from the rest of the world. this'll be easy.

alex: the rest of the world doesn't live with us. she's going to be here for 2 weeks! please, just keep it under control until she leaves.

myrina: don't worry, if anyone steps outta line i'll put them back in. *winks*

alex: i'll be back in 20 minutes.

alex drives towards the station thinking: *damn it lucy, i don't want you to get caught up in my life. half the reason i moved so far away was to keep you from getting hurt. if my enemies find out about you they'll use you to get to me. i just know you coming here is trouble.*

alex arrives at the greyhound bus station and sees lucy with her backpack. he calls out to her and waves. lucy runs over and hugs her brother.

lucy: alex! thanks for picking me up. it's so great to see you again!

alex: it's great to see you too. i can't believe how much you've grown! sorry i missed your 18th birthday.

lucy: yeah, you owe me for that. *smiles*

they drive away and return to alex's house.

lucy: wow, this is where you live? it's a big house.

alex: it's got 5 bedrooms, i share with my band mates.

they go into the large living room and are greeted by the others.

alex: guys this is lucy. lucy this is ralph cheveyo, quan randolf, his sister myrina randolf, and you remember kai, don't you?

lucy: *waves* hi everyone. hello kai.

kai: *staring at her* lucy, wow, you've really grown up. last time i saw you was that christmas party 2 years ago. *laughs*

lucy: oh...yeah, i remember. *looks embarrassed*

lucy has a flashback. she is 16 years old and wearing a fluffy blue dress, sitting alone in a hall full of well dressed men and women. it is the christmas ball her mother's club has organized, and she is not happy to be there.

sorelle: lucy! stop frowning, you look positively miserable and it's really off-putting.

lucy: maybe that's because i am! mom, please, why did you make me wear this stupid dress, i didn't even want to come in the first place. *crosses arms and pouts*

sorelle: i worked hard to put this event together, it would be nice if my own daughter would show me some support. all the other girls are having a great time. why don't you join them.

lucy: what!? no! they're bitches.

sorelle: lucy eira cadeyrn, you watch your language!

alex enters with kai and walks over to lucy.

lucy: alex! *jumps up and hugs him* *whispers: please get me out of here!*

alex: *laughs* lucy you look like cotton candy.

sorelle: she does not! she looks lovely. as for you alex, it's good to see you back from santa cruz for the holidays. but couldn't you wear something more suitable? jeans and t-shirt just isn't classy. *pauses* oh hello kai! nice to see you. how are your parents?

kai: hi mrs. cadeyrn. they're good.

sorelle: oh look who just arrived! i'll see you later my darlings. *walks off*

lucy: hey kai.

kai: hi lucy. haven't seen you since we left for college. you've grown.

lucy: *shrugs* it happens.

alex: how's everything been?

lucy: ugh. since dad died, mom's been working twice as hard to turn me into "a lady". as you can see.

alex: *laughs* you look alright though. *lucy rolls her eyes* no really, the dress sucks but you look nice.

lucy: *smiles* thanks.

a group of girls see lucy and walk up to her.

jessica: wow, lucy.

lucy: *scowling* hi jessica.

jessica: i like your dress. it's...umm....interesting. don't you think so ashley?

ashley: yeah. what are you supposed to be, cinderella?

they giggle, lucy glares, and alex crosses his arms.

jessica: *flirtatiously* oh, hi alex! how's college life?

alex: you'll find out when you're mature enough. come on lucy, let's get going.

they walk out.

kai: ever been to a pink floyd concert, lucy?

lucy: no.

kai: you're about to.

lucy snaps out of her flashback.

kai: good times, huh?

lucy: *smiles* yeah.

alex: lucy, myrina's offered to let you stay with her in her room. you can bring your stuff up there.

myrina: come on, i'll show you around.

lucy: thanks.

they go upstairs and enter myrina's room. she sits on the bed.

myrina: you can put your stuff on that shelf. i made a little space for you. hope it's enough. the bathroom is the next door on the left and next to that is my brother's room. across from him is ralph's room and  kai's room. alex has the room downstairs. we usually chill out in the living room, but when the weather is good we go out into the back yard.

*she points out the window and lucy leans over it to look*

lucy: wow it's pretty big! you've got a redwood tree in there! and a whole forest behind your house!

myrina: *laughs* yeah, it's great. i took the responsibility of keeping the yard nice and pretty. see the fountain back there? that was totally my doing. these guys don't care about how it looks, but they appreciate my efforts. it was a mess when we got here, all overgrown and stuff. although, kai says it looked better that way. he thinks i'm silly for trying to tame nature.

lucy: tell him you're not taming it, you're just leading it in the right direction. i like it, looks really feng shui.

myrina: yeah that was the idea. alex practices his fighting out there in the lawn a lot. he says the atmosphere helps him focus.

lucy: i think i'm going to like my two weeks here.

end.

it's a foggy winter's day. lucy walks through a large evergreen forest. there are snow drops growing in little patches on the forest floor. she picks one and leans against a tree.

lucy: i wish i had a forest next to my back yard. alex doesn't know how lucky he is.

she walks a little further, she suddenly slips on some wet leaves and cuts her hand on a sharp rock.

lucy: ouch!

she sits up and looks at the cut, then closes her eyes and puts her hand over it. it stops bleeding and it heals. the skin repairs itself. she is left with nothing but a bloodstain on her sleeve.

lucy stands up and looks around. she begins walking again but stops dead in her tracks. she sees a wolf approaching nearby. the wolf sees her and stops. it stares. she stares back. lucy feels frightened, but somewhat awed at the same time. the wolf is enormous. lucy knows it could kill her in one leap. she doesn't move, she hardly breathes.

the wolf slowly moves towards her, stopping several times as if to consider. the wolf comes right up to her and sniffs her. his eyes are level with hers, and she stands looking straight into them. lucy understands that the wolf will not harm her. she slowly raises her hand and touches the wolf's fur. she smiles, and the wolf smiles back with it's amber eyes.

lucy gives the wolf the snow drop, who takes it between his very sharp teeth.

the wolf walks away into the woods and disappears. lucy doesn't move for a while, then she begins walking back to the house.

end.

3 weeks later

it's nightime. kai and alex are walking down the street. alex is on the phone to lucy.

lucy: thanks big brother, i had a really great 2 weeks with you. and your friends are actually kinda cool.

alex: it was good to see you too. i'm really proud of you lucy, you've learned a lot and grown into a wonderful, strong person.

lucy: alex, don't. you're making me want to cry. *laughs*

alex: how's mom?

lucy: same as always, but she's a bit more cheerful since she got back from puerto rico.

alex: that's good to hear. anyway, i gotta go. i'll call you soon. take care of yourself kid.

lucy: i'm not a kid!

alex: *laughs* okay, bye lucy.

lucy: bye bye.

alex hangs up and he and kai begin to walk toward his car. they hear shouting and running footsteps down a nearby alleyway and go to investigate. a man is being cornered by two hooded men.

alex: hey! didn't you know it's not nice for both of you to gang up on one man like that? someone might think you're afraid of a real fight.

both the hooded men turn around to look at kai and alex. one of them speaks.

man 1: oh look fred. it seems we have unwanted guests at the dinner table. shall we invite them in?

fred: *to alex* whoever you are, you would do well to leave us alone. we have no quarrel with you. let us do our business and we will not harm you.

kai: where are these guys from, the 18th century?

cornered man: please! don't leave me with these monsters! they're going to kill me!

man 1: the entree speaks! come on fred, enough faffing. i'm hungry, and this man's heart is pumping hot blood, just for us! i say we finish these intruders off and get on with our meal.

alex: what are you? cannibals?

fred: shut up aeron! you have revealed too much already. *to alex* i told you to leave us be, now we must eliminate you.

fred and aeron attack kai and alex. their hoods fall back, revealing their pale faces, black eyes, and fangs.

kai: vampires!!!

a vicious battle ensues. alex fights fred but he is incredibly swift. aeron jumps on top of kai and attempts to sink his teeth in him, but kai suddenly pushes him off with supernatural force and transforms into an enormous wolf.

aeron: were-wolf! you can't kill me, i am immortal!

kai springs on aeron, dashing him to the ground. he slashes him with his claws but aeron gets free. meanwhile alex is struggling to fight off fred, he delivers many powerful punches but fred doesn't seems to even feel them. fred slams alex against a wall and attempts to kill him, but alex plunges a sharp knife into his belly and slices it open. fred screams and retreats with aeron.

aeron: *screaming* you have not seen the last of us! one day you will feel the wrath of rafa and the sanguines!!!

alex: rafa! so he's the one behind all this.

man in the corner: *looks at kai, who is still a wolf* what the hell is going on here!?!??! *runs away*

alex: come on, kai. i think it's safe to turn back to human now.

end.

it is dusk on a cool late winter's day. the orange rays of the sunset filter through a lush evergreen forest. 4 wolves are bounding across the forest floor. they come across a gorge, 3 of the wolves stop but the other accelerates and jumps over it.

myrina: kai! will you please not be so reckless?

kai looks at them from across the gorge and howls.

ralph: knucklehead. *he backtracks, then runs and jumps over the gorge.*

myrina: ralph! see what a bad influence you are kai!

ralph: it's really not that bad. come on!

myrina and quan both jump across the gorge. kai snaps at myrina's tail and then rolls on the ground.

quan: *laughing* you look like a puppy who just got a new toy.

myrina: stop acting like an animal.

kai: i am an animal! and so are you, so quit stressing and have fun!

kai snaps at quan's paws. ralph chases after myrina, the two run around in circles and then disappear into the woods. kai and quan look at each other.

quan: looks like we've been ditched.

kai: *laughs* race ya!

the two bolt off once again.

end.

#omg so cringey #how embarrassing #please don't judge me #i was very young #infantile storytelling #story #original character #original story #original comic #original writing #script #comic book script #webcomics #web comic #storytelling #dialogue #ninja #ninjas #wolves #werewolf #shapeshifter #magic #fantasy #horror #vampires

[thisdaynews]

Super Bowl 2020: Who is playing, who are the favourites and where will the game be won?

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/super-bowl-2020-who-is-playing-who-are-the-favourites-and-where-will-the-game-be-won/

Super Bowl 2020: Who is playing, who are the favourites and where will the game be won?

Super Bowl 54 is the first to feature two teams with red as their primary uniform colour

Super Bowl 54 Venue:Hard Rock Stadium, MiamiDate:Sunday, 2 FebruaryTime:23:30 GMT Coverage:Live on BBC TV, Connected TV, iPlayer, BBC Sport website and mobile app from 23:00 GMT, plus live text coverage and in-play clips.

The streets of Miami are ringing with talk of $5,000 tickets, hype around arguably the best player in the game today and being in the sights of more than 150m people worldwide. Not to mention JLo and Shakira – yep, it’s Super Bowl time!

But who’s playing, who are the favourites and where will the game be won and lost?

Make sure you join BBC Sport on Sunday night and follow the fun…

How to watch the Super Bowl live on the BBC

Who’s playing?

In the red corner are the San Francisco 49ers, who won five Super Bowls in 13 years across the 1980s and early 90s. Think Jerry Rice, Joe Montana and Steve Young. Since then – a long wait.

It’s 25 years since their last Super Bowl win, coincidentally in the same stadium in Miami, with their last appearance at the end of season party ending in thrilling defeat at the hands of the Baltimore Ravens seven years ago.

In the, err, also red corner, are the Kansas City Chiefs, who make the Niners’ 25-year wait for glory seem like a mere blip. (Both sides normally wear red but as the designated ‘home’ team in Miami, it’s the Chiefs who will be in their usual colours, meaning the 49ers will have to wear white.)

It’s 50 years since the Chiefs’ sole Super Bowl win and their fans have understandably hit Miami in numbers. Will they be celebrating come full-time though? It’s a tough game to call this year.

Is this the biggest NFL legend you don’t know?

The QBS – Mahomes v Garoppolo

It’s reductive to bring the Super Bowl down to the two quarterbacks but the fact remains that they are often the key players on the night. After all, a quarterback has been named Superbowl MVP on 29 occasions from the previous 53 events.

In Patrick Mahomes, the Chiefs may well have the best QB in the business. Last year’s overall MVP has been in sparkling form again, slinging no-look passes and making plays with his left hand – and his feet too. Check out his superb touchdown in the play-off win against Tennessee.

Mahomes is still only 24 – he’ll be the fifth-youngest QB to start a Super Bowl, and would be the second-youngest to win it – and his 87 touchdown passes so far are the most for any player in their first 35 games. His baseball background makes him unorthodox and exciting to watch.

“His performances have been no surprise,” wide receiver Tyreek Hill said this week.

“I saw it on day one in training camp, he was making some crazy throws. In the rookie year most guys are happy just to be there, not him.

“He had the right mindset, right attitude, he wasn’t scared to make a throw. To be part of this offense is a blessing for me, my job is easy. I just go out there and run and the MVP QB finds me.”

Colin Kaepernick was quarterback last time the 49ers reached the Super Bowl but this year their hopes are pinned on Tom Brady’s former back-up with Hollywood leading man looks – Jimmy Garoppolo.

Expect a very different approach from Mahomes though – while the Chiefs’ playmaker throws the ball to all avenues, Jimmy G attempted just eight passes in the 37-20 win over the Green Bay Packers in the NFC Championship game, the fewest in a post-season game since Miami Dolphin Earl Morrell in Super Bowl VI (six).

Garoppolo and the Niners may rely again on their superb running game, but the quarterback is more than capable of taking the ball in his own hands if needs be.

“I’m still progressing, still learning and growing as a quarterback,” he said.

“There is a long way to go, I’m just getting started. A year ago I was learning how to run again [after a serious knee injury sustained against the Chiefs], it makes you realise how special this moment is. You don’t know if you’re ever going to be back again.”

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BBC Sport challenges four amateur American Football players to try the training regime

Legacy or legendary? The coaches

The contrast between the franchises extends to the men under the headsets – the Chiefs are coached by Andy Reid, a 61-year-old veteran boasting nearly 30 years of NFL experience and with more NFL wins under his belt than any coach not to win a Super Bowl.

He coached the Eagles when they lost in 2004 and could become the fourth man to coach multiple Super Bowls without a win. Much of the media chatter around him in Miami this week has been about the ‘l word’ – legacy.

In the other corner is a man who knows all about that – Kyle Shanahan is just 40, in his third season as a head coach but son of a Super Bowl-winning coach in Mike Shanahan.

They could become the first father and son duo to win a Super Bowl, come Sunday – Kyle was a ballboy when the 49ers last won the trophy and has grown up around the game’s showpiece event.

“I always know how big a deal it is to get here,” he said. “You know how big a deal this is all around the world, it’s always been my favourite time of the year.

“I used to try and take a week off school, my parents wouldn’t let me but mentally I did.”

Cut, cut, cut – from rejection to redemption?

The 49ers hardly threw the ball against the Packers when they booked their place at this Super Bowl – they didn’t have to.

Raheem Mostert, a running back on his seventh NFL team in just five years, rampaged through the Packers, scoring four touchdowns and rushing for 220 yards, the second-most ever in an NFL post-season game.

The keen surfer, born in the shark-bite capital of the world just 260 miles north of Miami, is some character. He worked night shifts in Burger King after failing to make the grade and carries a list of the six teams who cut him to every game for motivation – not to mention the fact that he has a bible verse tattooed on his chest.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for God is with me.

“I honestly thought at the start of the season I would seize my moments to help the team win, I wasn’t expecting this breakout year,” he said.

“There are no ‘me’ guys on this team. We are like a locomotive, we all work as one. You will see that come Sunday.”

Mostert will have his grandfather in attendance on Sunday, his biggest fan who used to record all of his games onto VCR but will upgrade to a digital copy for his grandson’s Super Bowl show.

Mostert became the first player in NFL history to have 200+ rush yards and 4+ rush touchdowns in a play-off game

‘You have to have some mental stability’

Everywhere you look on Sunday there are weapons. Mostert is one man to watch, the Chiefs have star wide receiver Tyreek Hill, who’s so quick he wants to run in the Olympics, while tight ends Travis Kelce and George Kittle and Chiefs’ running back Damien Williams could all prove to be game winners. Not to even mention on the defensive stars on both sides.

And yet it could all come down to one kick.

Robbie Gould is the kicker for the 49ers, as individual a role as it can get in a team game but backed by 18 family members in Miami. Miss a few in a row and you lose your job. Boot the winning points on Sunday and you’re a hero.

“I played soccer in centre midfield and didn’t start playing NFL until my sophomore year at high school – now I’m at the Super Bowl,” he said.

“It’s hard, there are only 32 spots in the league as a kicker, you have to have some mental stability and not think that your next kick could be the end of your career.

“Trust your training, go out and have fun and be confident.”

Gould told me he didn’t care if he kicked the winning points or if the Niners won by 30 points, as long as they won.

I didn’t believe him. But somebody will be the hero by the end of play deep into the small hours of Monday morning, UK time. Make sure you watch.

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‘I’d run naked around the palace’ – Stevo the Madman grills Super Bowl stars

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#favourites #playing