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woozisnoots · 4 years

Text

modest jeon wonwoo

° pairing: wonwoo x reader ° genre: university!au, host club!au, fluff ° word count: ~1.7k ° warnings: none! ° a/n: this had no business being this long and idek if i like it lol but I want to specifically dedicate this piece to @wonwoosimp bc she’s literally the sweetest, best bean in the world [insert uwu meme here] thank you for gifting me my very first photocard, I literally cried opening it! I love you so much, I hope you enjoy!

welcome to the svt host club!

masterlist!

you entered university with a certain goal, a purpose. eventually, you were going to be the pediatric surgeon that the 13 year old you ushered you to be.

…let's just hope the knowledge of your brain was enough to get you through the first four years of pre-med. with your 3.7 high school GPA, you were lucky to get into your first choice college, let alone your current major

from the start of the semester, you dedicated yourself to studying the anatomy and physiology of the body until you knew every nook and cranny there was to know. and the library was the perfect sanctuary to get your shit together

as much as you loved your roommates, their constant fights over closet space and boy toys gave you no peace of mind what-so-ever

bless the library for being opened 24/7. If your roommates found you sleeping on their only working desk, you would find yourself waking up to the sound of tripping freshmen trying to get to their first 8am class right in the middle of the hallway

but the lone table in the corner of the library just on the third floor did you good at staying focused. even provided some good naps in between every now and then

the day before your first anatomy test, you LOCKED yourself in the library. no one was going in OR OUT of the premise just to sit across from you on YOUR table until you fully memorized the different layers of epithelial tissue >:(

gosh, you even scattered all your notes across the table just so people got the memo that this seat was: [OFF LIMITS]

yes, off limits to everyone except a certain jeon wonwoo.

the way you met was abrupt to say the least

besides your table, you had a pretty good view of the entire campus — from the main health science building all the way to the student parking lot

and just below you, an astonishing sight of a mob of screaming girls chasing after a mouse guy in glasses. not to be inconsiderate and heartless, but unless you heard someone scream bloody murder, diving back into your flashcard you go

tissue after tissue, you start to get delusional because at this point, everything is starting to look the same

slumping down into your chair, you take a second to mentally recharge, drinking the water you’ve neglected for the past three hours

you time yourself for a five minute break, going through the notifications on your phone

before you could read your roommate’s ongoing ramble on the latest update of the “crazy good looking, god-like, elite host club that the university has to offer”

a ‘club’ that you didn’t even know anything about nor cared for

you hear a loud ‘thud’ coming from the bookcase in front of you

from the side the tall, lean guy with glasses that you saw earlier emerged with his hands gripping his tricep

you try not to draw too much attention to him. half the reason being you didn’t want to embarrass him by laughing at the fact he ran into a 10 feet tall bookcase

and you did not need this man distracting you. it’s your eight week streak being this productive, a new record for anything you’ve done in your entire life and your pride wouldn’t let you have it if you lost it just because you saw an attractive man on sight

you scribble down a decent guess to the tissue identification question that you’ve been stuck on for the past few minutes, not bothering to look up

“that’s actually dense connective tissue, not smooth”

jolting up from your seat, you look up realizing the guy 5 feet away is now right in front of your face looking down at all your papers

“you can tell because they’re striated”

you stare at him in disbelief wondering how he could have gotten so fast with just looking at it for a few seconds. eyeing him up and down, he definitely looked around the same age as you but he wasn’t someone you’ve seen around the science buildings. and you would know since you took the liberty of familiarizing almost everyone within the department

“do you mind if i sit here?” his hands already on the edge of the chair ready to pull it out from underneath him

“...yeah sure”

“oh i’m wonwoo by the way,” he says as you both exchange awkward stares and knowledgeable nods

okay well since he’s proven that he might be of help to you, you might as let him stay. from what you’ve gathered, he didn’t have any stuff on him aside from his phone that you watch him get out of his front pocket, getting ready to play pacman

forget how attractive he is, this guy has some brains.

for the rest of the day, as you guys sat across from each other, wonwoo would occasionally bounce back and forth between giving you study tips and playing whatever game he decides to play at that moment in time

he was surprisingly really good at this? he knew more things about the subject than your professors did, and that’s saying a lot. like you’ve been looking at cells for WEEKS and you were lucky to get at least half of them. which begs the question:

“how do you magically know all this?”

the blank expression on his face tells you he wasn’t expecting that question but he quickly shrugs it off. “i just know a few things from my parents that’s all”

you would have questioned him further but the time on your phone read “22:57” and you already broke your number rule about sleeping early before a big test

as you pack up all your stuff, wonwoo pushes his chair in, bidding you farewell

“good luck on your test tomorrow!”

you appreciate the gesture, mentally thanking him for his help and proceed to go back to your dorms, preparing yourself to tell your roommate all about the exciting? day you had

“YOU MORON. JEON WONWOO?”

laying flat on your back on your bed, you cover the bottom half of your face, quivering under your sheets as you stare at your roommate’s outrageous outburst

you explain what happened and who you met today at the library. when your roommate asked to describe him in more detail, all you said was that he was pretty smart for someone who wasn’t particularly in your major

your roommate lets out a loud scream into their pillow, gripping the bed sheets before giving you the earful of the century

“he’s just being modest. he’s a korean lit major but he’s one of the uni’s top students since both his parents are the head of the science department.

…AND he’s one of the most requested host club members. so you caught yourself one big fish today bud.”

top student? science department? HOST CLUB? none of that was processing in your brain. the one club that you wanted nothing to do with and you just happened to meet their top money maker

grand.

the thought didn’t keep you up at night only because you thought that today’s encounter was just coincidence and you probably would never have to see him again.

(sad though, your roommate was right. he is rather good looking.)

the time that it took for you to take your test the next day flew by so fast that you questioned if it even happened. the first step you took out the classroom, you start to second guess all your answers, regretting that you didn’t check a third or even fourth time before submitting

your train of thought halts when you see jeon wonwoo standing in the empty hallway

“i’m sure you aced it”

and just like in a netflix original romance movie, he reveals a bouquet of pink begonias from behind his back while shyly adjusting his glasses

“these are for you. to congratulate you”

weird way to phrase it but you were still gonna take the flowers. “host club tendencies?”

“so you found out?”

from a distance, you can hear the rushing footsteps from downstairs followed by a sense of purpose. “i think i was bound to” :/

you didn’t know how you felt about the current situation. you had no idea what host club was until you got here and you still don’t know what they even do. for all you knew, this could just be a gesture to get them more clients

but if his actions were genuine… you wouldn’t mind seeing him again

“i have to start learning muscles for our next exam. heard it was one of the hardest ones. i’m not sure if you have more studying tricks up your sleeve?”

“i might.” a cocking little grin now appearing on his face

“good. same place at the library tomorrow then. and this time? try not to bring your dedicated fans wherever you go”

so these study sessions continued. you guys occasionally had to change spots - from cafe to an empty bio lab - if the mob ever saw a single hair follicle that might be his

but each time, wonwoo brought something more just himself. one day it would be coffee, others days it would be food. things to keep you motivated.

for a korean lit major, he was taking a lot of time out of his day to help you, being attentive to all the strategies that help you study and such

possibly making your assumption from months back, true.

by the time finals rolled around, aside from the spursts of review here and there, study sessions became more casual. you didn’t feel the need to overwork our brain since you already knew all the information (something you actually learned from wonwoo himself)

possibly the last meeting you’d have with him was similar to your first: just you two together but him playing on his phone. and yet before the night ended

“i have a proposal.”

“i’m not giving you money for your dumb club.” bold of him to assume you would-

“no but i really appreciate the thought :)

why don’t we turn these study sessions into… study dates instead?”

your assumption after 6 months later: finally confirmed

“but that’s only IF you ace your finals.”

well let’s just say at the very end, you had a successful first semester and are now one step closer towards being the surgeon of your dreams.

plus, you even landed yourself a pretty cool boyfriend in the process

let’s hope his parents put in a good word for you when you apply to med school!

#seventeen #wonwoo #caratwritersclub #seventeen imagine #wonwoo imagine #seventeen scenario #wonwoo scenario #seventeen au #wonwoo au #seventeen fanfic #wonwoo fanfic #seventeen series #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo x reader

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fallenfurther · 3 years

Text

Homecoming - A social call

Chapter 3 - Jeff and Colonel Casey

Continuing with Jeff's recovery and relationships with the main characters in TAG. Sorry this one is a little later out than I planned. A flat move and no internet means I had to wait until I had time to sit in a coffee shop.

Chapters 1 and 2.

Enjoy!

***********

Colonel Casey signed herself into the rehabilitation centre for her first personal visit. She'd seen Jeff for official business, the GDF helping to re-establish the astronaut's living status as well as for the obligatory debriefs. The interviews had happened in one of the rehabilitation rooms here. The debrief of his eight years in space had taken a couple of days to complete as they had been required to work around his routine and energy levels. It had been a shock to see the astronaut so tired and struggling, but it was to be expected. She knew Jeff was on a strict routine and diet plan to help him with his nutritional deficiencies and regain lost muscle, though what it entailed she wasn't privy to. She'd wanted to visit earlier, but her position in the GDF meant she had been tied down with paperwork. Now she could finally sit down with her old friend and catch up properly. Heading down the corridor, she found his room and knocked. A short sharp military rap.

"Come in."

The voice was faint, but oh so familiar. She opened the door and peered in, excitement building inside her chest.

"I thought it was about time I paid the great space survivalist a visit."

A grin spread across Jeff's face as he pushed himself out of his chair. She crossed the room in a few strides and hugged the man. He embraced her back, though she didn't fail to notice how weak his arms were compared to the bear hugs she remembered. Her own arms had been reserved so as not to crush his delicate body. The positive was that he seemed stronger than he was when they'd first met which was pleasing, and she hadn't missed how her friend was much steadier on his feet. The need to pinch herself was still present. Seeing that footage and message had been hard, having already accepted the man's fate and moved on. The world would just have to adjust to having Jeff Tracy back.

"It's been too long." The man whispered in her ear, his deep baritones warming her soul in a way only a long lost friend could.

"It's only been two months."

"That was official business. Your lack of uniform tells me this is the social visit I've been waiting for."

Jeff was right and the smile on his face said he knew it. He'd always been this way, so sure of himself. It was what had gotten him so far, and probably why he was still here now. The confident stubborn man. Memories of days gone by, from when Jeff had first started putting International Rescue into motion, flooded her mind. She'd been present at that first meeting when Jeff had asked for clearance for his new venture. Valerie had been a newly appointed Captain, and it was one of her first major meetings. That was the day she'd heard about International Rescue and it had been incredible to see the legendary astronaut stand up and ask for permission to start the organisation. She'd hid her unease and suspicions and had viewed the plans he'd presented in the meeting. The secrecy aspect of the organisation had worried her most, not knowing exactly what was going to be flying around, not knowing who was involved or the training they would be put through. The committee had debated it thoroughly. Five weeks of research, consultations and consideration and International Rescue was given a three month trial, to be extended upon review.

"You won't regret this."

Jeff had promised Colonel Henson when he had been told the news. She'd been present to see the historic moment. The firm handshake that had happened at the end of the meeting as if to solidify and seal the deal. He'd been right. International Rescue had not disappointed and had gone beyond anyone's expectations. They were granted permission to operate. There were still some in the GDF that disagreed with the amount of secrecy surrounding International Rescue and the lack of regulation and control the GDF had over the organisation. Some of that had eased slightly now the location of Tracy Island was now known to the higher-ups, but there were still those that were suspicious. Rumours still passed around, claiming the GDF had a dummy location, that it was all a ruse to make everyone feel comfortable with the situation and they were keeping the Thunderbirds and their secrets elsewhere. There were just some things she couldn't stop. She had been put in charge of monitoring International Rescue. Once introduced, Jeff had maintained contact with her allowing them to develop a strong working relationship, which ultimately led to a close friendship. Though he had always visited her, she'd gotten to know some of the boys before the accident, though now she knew them all extremely well. The boys had allowed more information about International Rescue to be made public, and shared further information still with the GDF, allowing for better communication between the organisations. It felt much better knowing exactly where they were, even if she had no idea what secrets they hid on the island. Scott had blessed her with a tour, allowing her to see what they were happy to share. Seeing it all in-situ had been a sight to behold and something she'd never forget.

"Sorry it's been that way, but you know how it is at the top. There is always a new situation that needs your urgent attention."

Jeff chuckled, a sound that Valerie had forgotten and almost brought a tear to her eye. It pained her how small things about a person could slip from your mind over the years. The man before her really was legendary. He was an astronaut people would talk about for years to come. He was also a great friend, who had always supported her journey through the GDF ranks.

"I used to know. I'm a little rusty and many things have changed. I've got a lot of catching up to do. I thought some of the technology Brains used to think up was way out there, but some of the new gadgets I'm seeing and hearing about are beyond that. I'm feeling old. Old and left behind."

Valerie noticed the change in his face and the slight dimming of the shine in those blue eyes. Jeff was old, but there was more to this than that. Placing a hand on the man's shoulder she guided him back into his chair and knelt beside him.

"I'm feeling old at the moment." Jeff continued with a sigh. "I'm all creaky, tired and struggling to keep up. They say I should get better, that my body has adjusted to the Oort cloud and that it'll take a while to shift back."

"You were never the most patient man."

That brought a smile to his face, but his head fell into his hand.

"I've spent so much time alone that I can't stand being cooped up in here anymore! The boys and Mum visit but I have less freedom than I did out there. I want to go home. Even if it means subjecting myself to both my mother's constant doctoring, and her terrible cooking."

"Maybe the staff are trying to make sure you're strong enough to stomach your mother's food?"

"Ha! I wish! Nothing on Earth could prepare me for Mum's cooking. I am handling food well though and if I'm honest, Mum won't mess up my diet plan. She knows how much it could set me back."

Valerie moved her hand in slow steady motions over Jeff's back. There was nothing she could do to change the situation, but she knew Jeff needed to let it out. She knew he was putting on a brave face for his family, that only the staff and therapists would know of the real internal struggle happening in the man. Jeff had told her enough about his life and the boys to know he'd do anything to protect his family. Maybe, eventually, he let them be the ones to protect him.

"You'll get there, Jeff. You just need time."

The man sighed, his whole body deflating. He'd had plenty of time in the Oort cloud, far away from everything he cared about. Now he was home, he was still being kept away. She knew the boys were visiting Jeff but it wasn't the same as being home with them. Especially with International Rescue taking them away so frequently. Valerie still got a weekly update on International Rescue’s activity, and although she doesn't read the full reports anymore, she still understood the operation enough to know the toll that it takes on the operatives.

"How has it been, the last eight years, for International Rescue? What's it been like from an outside perspective? Has it worked? Have there been problems? Have you any suggestions?"

Valerie sat back and surveyed her friend. Talk about going straight for the tough topics. She knew he'd ask about her later, but right now his boys were at the front of his mind. She also knew she had to be honest. There was so much Valerie wanted to tell the man, yet today wasn't the right day. Today would just lead the man to worry unnecessarily about his boys. When he was stronger and could enforce change himself, she might raise the latest annual International Rescue report with him. The GDF were concerned, but now was not the time to go down the official route.

"It was tough at first, not everyone liked Scott taking over everything at once, especially as he took on Tracy Industries too. But they rose to the challenge and got the job done, they've made improvements and they communicate more with the GDF now. We still don't know everything about your technology but that was always the arrangement from the get go."

Jeff sighed. "I never expected them to be needed as much as they are. Have you noticed how exhausted they are? Do you know when they last went on holiday? I think it's too much for them."

Valerie steeled herself, knowing exactly how she felt and how much the Tracy brothers would disagree. Everyone knew those boys worked too hard, but they were smart and never broke the flight hour rules, often maxing it out but never going over. The GDF couldn't ground them, even if it was for their own good, especially as there was often no-one else to do the job. Lives were at stake and no-one wanted to be the one to make that call.

"I have noticed the dark circles under Scott's eyes and the way he seems to carry the world on his shoulders. I don't often see the rest of them but the past few years have been pretty intense. I would say they were due a break, if only the world would give them one."

The small smile on Jeff's face showed her she had said the right thing. The concern was still there but the steel in his eyes said he had a plan formulating. She wouldn't pry. Not yet. She was sure she would find out in due course.

"So, you're a Colonel now, and Commander of the GDF. Can't say I didn't see that coming, but there must be a story behind it."

Valerie grinned at her friend, finally on a safer topic. This was what she'd come here for.

"Well, there is, but it's not quite as interesting as yours."

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #jeff tracy #colonel casey #homecoming #gdf #social visit #post debrief catch up

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verycleverboy · 3 years

Link

Arizona fraudit update: “Not even a shred of being salvaged at this point”

The headline is “It’s over,” but let’s face it, it’s never going to be over over. The point of the Arizona “audit” was never to get answers, but to feed more fuel to the full-throttle retreat from reality.

Anyway, as the Treason Party clown car rolls on, the Associated Press checks in:

Arizona Republicans’ partisan review of the 2020 election results got off to a rocky start when their contractors broke rules for counting ballots and election experts warned the work was dangerous for democracy.

When the auditors stopped the counting and returned the ballots this week, it hadn’t gotten better. In the last week alone, the only audit leader with substantial election experience was locked out of the building, went on the radio to say he was quitting, then reversed course hours later. The review’s Twitter accounts were suspended for breaking the rules. A conservative Republican senator withdrew her support, calling the process “botched.” And the lead auditor confirmed what was long suspected: that his work was almost entirely paid for by supporters of Donald Trump who were active in the former president’s movement to spread false narratives of fraud.

All this came nearly 100 days into a process that was supposed to take “about 60 days,” according to the Senate Republicans who launched it. And it’s not over yet. Contractors are now producing a report on the findings that could take weeks or more to write.

The turmoil casts even more doubt on the conclusions of what backers describe as a “forensic audit” but what experts and critics say is a deeply flawed, partisan process.

“Not even a shred of being salvaged at this point,” said Sen. Paul Boyer, the first Republican state senator to publicly come out against the audit in May. “They’ve botched it at so many points along the way that it’s irrecoverable.”

Boyer’s opposition became less lonely last weekend when another Republican, Sen. Michelle Ugenti-Rita, one of the Legislature’s strongest advocates for stricter voting laws, agreed that “the Trump audit” was “botched.” Along with all 14 Democrats, a majority of the Senate, which commissioned the audit, is now against it.

“I wanted to review our election processes and see what, if anything, could be improved,” Ugenti-Rita wrote on Twitter. “Sadly, it’s now become clear that the audit has been botched.”

(continue reading)

Meanwhile, the story continues, head of CyberNinjas Doug Logan, a man who openly advocates phony electoral conspiracies running a company with absolutely no experience in vote tallying operations which has been made the company in charge of this particular vote tallying operation, finally came clean about who was paying for his team. “[A] whopping $5.7 million had been contributed by political groups run by prominent Trump supporters including Michael Flynn, Sidney Powell, Patrick Byrne and correspondents from One America News Network. The figure dwarfs the $150,000 to be paid by the Senate.“

For those of you who have forgotten who those people are (out of self-preservation, if nothing else):

Michael Flynn was very briefly Trump’s national security advisor, and the first to fall the Trump era asserted itself. Before the Trump administration, he was considered an American hero in many quarters. By 2021, he was a QAnon believer who encouraged the 45th president to impose martial law nationwide, effectively advocating an armed coup to nullify the results of the 2020 election. His latest public appearance was joking about political assassination after being presented an AR-15 by a California church. He has thus fully embraced his destiny of being an American traitor.

Sidney Powell is the former Trump campaign lawyer (and chief counsel on United States v. Flynn before the Trump pardon kicked in) whose voter fraud suit in Michigan was dismissed last December on the grounds that it was "nothing but speculation and conjecture". She is expected to be sanctioned over her participation in that bad faith lawsuit, and also has been subpoenaed to appear in Dominion Voting’s defamation suit against Fox News.

Patrick Byrne is a Trump ally who was the founder of Overstock.com, and in the grand tradition of Trump allies, he resigned as Overstock CEO in 2019 after it was revealed that he was in an intimate relationship with a Russian spy. He is very into the “Deep State” conspiracy theories, and was one of the speakers at the January 6th Trump rally which turned into a mob assault on the Capitol.

One America News Network (OANN) is a proud promoter of conspiracy theories, outright lies, and (another grand tradition of the Trump era) Russian-funded disinformation campaigns. I’ve strived mightily to stay away from their shit, but by all accounts they’re a “news outlet” in the same way I’m “a totally ripped bodybuilder”. That is, some of the required parts are there, but they aren’t being used in a way that would justify the description. Because I’m a lazy bum who sat out the first 100 days of the Biden administration, it’s easier to link their rap sheet on Wikipedia than build one of my own. And yes, at least one of their on-air talent keeps popping up on the Southern Poverty Law Center’s radar for his links to the white supremacist movement and his signal boosting of Russian government disinformation.

I can think of a number of other points in American history where this wouldn’t be a great look for the Republican party, or the health of the American system in general. But present day, present time? It’s just background noise, and that’s one of those things that should keep you awake at night.

#phoenix #arizona audit #arizona fraudit #2020 election #the big lie #Donald Trump #no more republicans ever

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arazialotis · 3 years

Text

Long Distance

Pairing: Dean × Reader

Word Count: Around 1700

Summary: Dean and Y/N have been separated during the holidays due to a string of hunts but Dean has a thought to make the distance seem not so far apart.

Warnings: Language, General SPN spooky stuff

This is purely just for writing and wasting my time as hobby. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

-----

Nights came early this time of year, each day growing darker a little earlier. It was hard to fight off the fatigue that crept in every passing moment. Even harder so with Dean out of town on another string of hunts. You sat in the picture window curled up in a fuzzy blanket with a warm cup of tea and a new book. Though you had a corner lamp turned on, the Christmas lights outside bounced off the white snow, illuminating the world and keeping the dark at bay.

Your phone had occasionally been buzzing as Dean updated you on his progress in a new town. You did what you could to not worry, to have faith, but each day he was gone you needed distractions to keep your mind off it. And of course, communication. The longer he went without an update, the more your stomach turned.

Though you were entranced with the novel, methodically flipping pages and on the edge of your seat, as soon as the phone sounded, you threw the book down only focusing on him.

You answered with a pant of excitement. “Hey babe.”

Dean’s smile practically shined through the receiver. “Evenin’ Y/N. Man it's good to hear your voice.”

“Yours too.” You echoed setting your tea down on the ledge as you started pacing the floor. “How’s the first day been?”

“Ah, you know, just getting settled and the feel for things. Wish I had your mind here to sort things out but this has been a long stretch, it’s starting to drag. It was good for you to stay home.” He paused waiting for a reply. “This’ll be the last one, promise.”

“Don’t say that.” You chided knowing fully well he easily broke these promises. “You are doing good work. If you need to keep going, that’s alright. Just promise me you’ll come home eventually.” “You know there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

“And besides.” You sighed. “I’m still here virtually, put me together the case details tonight and I’ll scour over them.”

Dean’s blush heated up the air around you as he shamefully admitted. “I already sent them to Sam.”

“Ugh! What? God Da…” Dean’s chuckle cut you off. You rubbed your brow reminding yourself it wasn’t a competition. “I want to help too.” You whined.

“Okay, okay.” His voice faded. “I’m sending them now.”

You looked at your phone waiting for the email to come through. A few moments passed and it eventually did. He had sent over a few news articles, pdfs, and a word doc of his own notes.

“Hmmm… it’s definitely a werewolf.” You teased. “Shut up.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m not stupid enough to get stumped by an oversized rabid poodle.”

“I’ll shoot you some real ideas by tomorrow at the latest.”

“Don’t feel rushed, I got some pretty good leads to follow up on tomorrow.” He assured. “Alright, enough work talk. What about you? How was Thanksgiving?”

“I mean, it wasn’t the same without you and everyone else. But uh, I still tried to make the most of it. Brussels, beans, wild rice, potatoes…” You listed. “Mashed?” Dean interrupted.

“Pfft. Of course. Cranberries. Oh, I did a cornish hen cause like, what the fuck am I going to do with a whole turkey? I already have enough leftovers to last me ‘til Christmas. Tell me you had something more than deli meat turkey.”

“Don’t worry about me babe.” He lightly chuckled. “Denny’s got me covered.”

“Dean.” You scolded.

“Pie? Please tell me you had pie.” He begged.

“No way I’m having pie without you.”

“But.. But… Thanksgiving.” Dean pouted.

You giggled at his adorable antics. “There’s one waiting in the freezer for when you get back.” “Yes! Cherry?” He pleaded.

“Of course…” You giggled together until a knock sounded at the door. “Hey, hold on a sec.”

“What is it?” Dean’s voice grew concerned. He heard the door open, a soft thank you, and the door closing before a bit of rustling. “Oh, nothing.” You fiddled with the box and the phone. “Just looks like a package for you.” Dean licked his lips with anticipation. “Why don’t you go ahead and open it for me?” You wrinkled your nose, unsure if you wanted to. “Really?”

“I’m sure.”

You grabbed a kitchen knife to hack away at the tape. Dean sat down on the motel bed anxiously waiting for you to find what was inside.

“It’s um… it’s.” You pulled it out further inspecting it. “It’s a lamp?”

Dean grinned ear to ear waiting for you to figure it out. “A long distance lamp? What?” “I found it online. You have one and I have one.” He explained. “I felt bad the last hunt with the bad reception. My lamp will light up when you touch it and vice versa.”

“What?” You squealed.

“Yeah. It’s an early Christmas gift.” Your heart melted. “Go plug it in.” He ordered before you could respond.

“Dean…” His thoughtfulness nearly brought you to tears. “Go!” He repeated before you got too sappy.

After a few minutes of him guiding you through the set up, you were ready to test it out. “Okay, ready?” He asked, his hand hovering over the lamp on his end.

“Yes.” You sat on the floor staring at the dark lamp. “Nothings happening.” You sighed. “Oh, wait!” It was dim at first but slowly turned into a green glow reminding you of his eyes. “Oh my gosh.”

“Your turn.” You pressed the top of yours sending him a warm purple glow. You could hear his smile over the phone.

“See, now we can talk to each other even without the phones.”

“Dean. This is… it’s… thank you.” Was all you could muster to say. “I’ll keep it by my bed so I can say good night and good morning.” “Me too sweetheart.” Dean agreed. “And in case anything happens to my phone or I get stuck in another dead area, you’ll know not to worry.”

The two of you spent another good hour talking; tentatively setting up holiday plans, explaining the unexpected twist in your book, and thrilling him with all the juicy details of exactly what you were going to do to him when he finally did make it home. You read a few more pages before finally calling it a night. Tucked into a bundle of blankets, you reached to your nightstand sending him a final thought of the night. A few moments later came the dim green glow. Though it was just a light, it made you feel as though he was there, his arms wrapped around you making your heart warm.

When Dean awoke the next morning, the lamp next to him was already glowing purple. He smiled, typical that you would be the first to rise. After a yawn and deep stretch, he sent the thought back to you before going to freshen up and shower. The hot water and steam soothed his sore muscles and the tension he held in his shoulders if only for a brief minute. Towel wrapped around his waist and clean shaven, he came back out to get dressed in a suit for the day only to find the light had not faded. With another chuckle he assumed you must have been on the same schedule and sent another touch back before heading out for the day.

From the morning, he was in a sprint; talking with the local police department, interviewing witnesses, consoling family members. Dutifully, he kept you updated on his progress hoping to hear back from you soon on any thoughts yet you were quiet. He wondered if he had mixed up your work schedule again. Having gone nonstop throughout the day, he opted for an early dinner back at the hotel room.

Entering back to the room with his Chinese takeout, he immediately noticed the lamp was still on. He set down his food on the table and pulled out his phone.

‘The lamp doesn’t need to fully replace the phones.’ He texted you, adding a little laughing emoji hoping you wouldn’t be offended by him calling out your silence today.

He popped open his laptop and dug into the Mongolian beef hoping to review any ideas you had come up with. But you hadn’t emailed him like you said. It was still early enough in the day, and especially if you had worked, maybe hadn’t had time to get around to it. He pulled up Sam’s email instead, reviewing notes and potential leads.

An hour had passed and the light still glowed purple. Thinking it must be broken, Dean meandered over to the plug resetting it. The only other explanation would be your hand on top of it consistently which didn’t make any sense. The lamp powered back up and momentarily was dark before the purple hue came through again.

“This is weird.” Dean muttered to himself.

He walked back over to the table and grabbed his phone and dialed your number. After two rings, it answered.

Dean chuckled, thankful to finally have gotten you. “Either these things are malfunctioning or you must really miss me.” He heard a deep breath from the other side of the line.

“Y/N?” His voice dropped. “Sweetheart, are you there?” A sinister voice crackled on the other end. “It’s been a long time Dean.”

Dean’s heart dropped to his stomach. Panic and anger rose to his chest. It was a voice he could never forget. “Alastair.”

“Now I was hoping to find you home when I stopped by but this pretty little lady said you were out on business.” Alastair's voice delightfully slithered.

His jaw clenched. “If you’ve touched a single hair on her head, I swear to God…” Dean spat.

Amusement rose into laughter. “What makes you assume I could harm such a delicate creature. Her neck as easy to snap as a sparrow's."

“You better pray that's not what I find when I get back.” Dean threatened already furiously packing his bag.

“Its not her I want, it’s you.” Alastair clarified. “But I guess that all depends on how long you take getting back home Dean. I might become bored.”

-----

TAGS:

Forevers: @mogaruke @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @jotink78@blushingdean @sup3r-pott3r-lock3d @dancingalone21@carryonmyswansong @atc74 @superapplepie @cassieraider@adaliamalfoy @iwriteaboutdean @spnbaby-67@monkeymcpoopoo @adoptdontshoppets @maddiepants@onceuponathreetwoone @thisismysecrethappyplace

Dean x Reader: @akshi8278 @boxywrites @its-not-a-tulpa @tacklesackles @aubreystilinski @iamabeautifulperson18@jerkbitchidjitassbutt @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @ria132love

#supernatural #dean winchester #spn #spnfandom #spn fanfiction #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n

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creativitycache · 4 years

Text

90s Specific References In Timeline Of Theseus

Hello! I’ve decided to compile all the 90s references in TOT so far, after seeing how cluttered my in-fic-notes links were getting and reading comments from people who googled references I forgot to directly link. Hopefully this will be useful for folks! I’ll place this under a cut to spare your scrolling.

Chapter 5

The Spice Girls - “Wannabe”. First released in May 1996 for radio in the UK

Elias’s Mobile Phone, the Motorola StarTAC 8500. First released Jan 3 1996 as the lightest mobile phone in the world. It had no answering machine, and was the first ever clamshell/flip phone. It was inspired by Star Trek’s Communicator

Elias’s Living Room Phone. This style had been in place almost virtually unchanged since touch tones replaced rotary phones in the 60s

Gertrude’s Pager. Her pager is a numeric pager, meaning it can’t receive messages, all it does is buzz and flash the phone number that’s calling you. First popularized by doctors on-call during the 1980s, by the 90s they were essential for any business woman on the go

Here’s a commercial for Motorolla’s! This is their “latest” 1996 model, but truth be told the look and shape didn’t update much. I headcanon Gertrude is still lugging along a late-80s model. If it ain’t broke don’t fix it!

youtube

Chapter 10

Jon’s Tiger Torch. Not much to say about this one, the first versions from different brands began around 1995 from what I can track down. Very cute, but not very bright!

youtube

The Tube/London Underground. This shows up in a few chapters, but I’ll place this video here because here’s where I got the details of what the tickets looked like to Jon. Check out this youtube channel for other great content of different slices of life- not just London in the 1990s!

youtube

The Laguna Hotel. This hotel is budget conscious, which is good for Joshua’s wallet as he has no idea how long these weird people will be crashing in his apartment. It also hasn’t really changed at all from the 90s (some reviewers say its much the same as it was when they visited in the 80s, hence Joshua calling it out for being “outdated”). You can still stay there today for that blast from the past!

As an aside on Bournemouth itself, you have no idea how disappointed I was to learn it had shops that sold suits and business wear back in the 90s. I really wanted to stick Elias in a tacky tourist shirt.

CCTV. Bournemouth first installed CCTV in 1985, the very first local council to do so. Looks very different than the sleek versions we now see!

Fiona’s/Elizabeth’s Seaside Tourist Dress. These flowy dresses can be found pretty much unchanged in any seaside town, as they are easy to manufacture and make for great swimsuit coverups. Modern ones actually tend to be much more shapeless, and the 90s tended to curve inwards gently towards the waist. Here’s one that’s actually from the 90s, but was edited by Cut Out And Keep. Original 90s on the left

Elizabeth’s Dinner Outfit. Trouser legs were wide but not flared like the 80s and kept high waisted. See outfit D

Chapter 11

Jon’s Lightup Shoes. Itty-bitty picture, but thanks to resurgence of lights on shoes this is the best one I can find that’s actually from the 90s. Very chunky pattern + lots of swooshy details were a hallmark of 90s sneakers, and what better addition than lights!

Jon’s Crayons. This isn’t exactly 90s only, but I did want to share this website I found while writing this chapter. It contains the exact shade of every Crayola crayon! https://www.crayola.com/explore-colors/

Playground in Hyde Park. This park is pretty incredible! It has various structures to play in, but Jon is specifically drawn to the Pirate Ship. This structure was previously a part of a themed section of the park based around Peter Pan. The section of the park was renovated after Princess Diana’s death in 1997 and renamed in her honor. The original, which Jon would have played on, is a little smaller than the one pictured below as they tore the old one down to make this new renovated update.

Chapter 13

L'Oréal Kids Shampoo. This shampoo can still be bought today, in many of the original 1990s scents. Jonah Magnus is looking out of the Burst of Watermelon because that was my favorite and I said so.

Slack+. This is the scheduling program Microsoft had before Outlook & Outlook Calendars. I cannot stress enough how hideous computer programs were in the 90s.

Misc.

I AM S C R E A M I N G as I typed up a bunch about emails in the 90s for one of my chapters but someone am JUST NOW realizing I never posted it. I did all that research and never shared! How. How did this happen. And where did it go?

Long story short, pretty much only schools, research, and some government & business had email. An email address wasn’t free until Hotmail revolutionized the game in 1996, offering free email addresses to anyone. They were then bought out by Microsoft who used that program to create Outlook emails.

But before them, research facilities like the Magnus Institute and The Gifted Young Minds Program would have most likely used Pine, which depending on your computer & version could be various shades of hideous.

No wonder Fiona hates them.

#timeline of theseus #1990s #the magnus archives

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tired-college-student-writing · 4 years

Text

Tim’s Secret Weapon Pt.9

I’ve been slightly obsessed with @ozmav ‘s Damian Wayne/Marinette Dupain-Cheng pairing as of late, and just saw a post that has inspired me more than anything else has in months, so I felt the need to write it

Summary- Tim has always seen the numbers floating above people’s heads, been able to perceive their threat levels with a single glance. After being a hero for so long he thought he was desensitized to seeing high numbers above people’s heads until Damian brings a new friend home.

Part 1

Part 8

Part 9 (HERE)

Part 10

This will probably be the last update for awhile, I start student teaching this coming week and I’m nervous as all hell right now

____________________________________________

It took a good twenty minutes to calm down the Miraculous Team, during which Max had changed back and needed to feed his Kwami, Kaalki, before changing back.

Tim mentally edited his profile for the Horse hero, while his brother's teased the teenagers.

Max ????- Baskerville Font Deep Golden 13, Codenamed- Pegasus. Kwami- Kaalki, the Horse. Main Power- Voyage. Time limit of Ten Minutes after using Voyage before Forced Detransformation.

He’d need to ask later if this time limit existed for the other heroes as well. He was also going to have to hack Collège Françoise Dupont’s register to complete these kid’s profiles apparently.

The other heroes offered to detransform as well, but Ladybug suggested they wait until after the meeting Bruce had set up as they only had minutes before he told the other heroes to connect.

“Ready?” Bruce asked as he pulled on his cowl, the domino masks quickly being tossed to the correct brother as the Paris heroes exchanged looks.

“Nope,” Bunnyx answered as she flopped down into her seat next to Viperion, “let’s get this started,”

The Heros of Paris all held hands as they sat on the side of the Conference table that the active camera couldn't see. The Batfamily sat across from them with Batman at the head of the table as he opened the video call.

“Hey Bats,” Flash greets as the founders all joined the video chat, “What’s with the emergency meeting?”

“This is highly unusual for you, Batman,” Superman added, “Should we be heading for the Zeta tubes?”

“While urgent,” Batman answered, eyes narrowed, “What I’m about to say isn’t exactly time-sensitive, but it is dire that we come up with a plan to assist soon.”

Green Lantern raised an eyebrow, “That doesn’t sound good.”

Marinette could feel her team growing restless around her from beyond the view of the camera. After so long trying and failing to reach out, this was their chance to end things. Seeing Superman, Wonder Woman, The Flash, Green Lantern, Aquaman, and Martian Manhunter so close nearly made her heartbeat straight out of her chest.

It was unreal…How much had her world view shifted in the last twelve hours? The blunder of a Billionaire that more closely resembled a zombie gorilla then human if woken up before 8 am was THE Batman, The nearly thirty-year-old police officer that still thought Captain Crunch was a suitable dinner was Nightwing, the man who tried to sneak in and steal macarons out of the oven only to pout when he burned himself was Red Hood, the much too young CEO who routinely did his paperwork in green crayon to anger those filing it was Red Robin, and oh not to mention her boyfriend who had sworn her into secrecy after crying during Tangled was the latest Boy Wonder.

“Paris has been under attack for nearly four years,” Dick answered from where he sat directly to Bruce’s right, “They’ve been fighting the threat alone, despite the villains' potential. to destroy the world.”

The seasoned heroes all stiffened.

Martian Manhunter was the first to speak, “What is the threat and who are these heroes?”

“A villain known as Hawkmoth rose to power almost four years ago,” Batman told them, “He has the power to control those that express intense negative emotions and give them powers of varying intensity. Ladybug and Chat Noir have been fighting him back since he first-”

“Did you just say Ladybug and Chat Noir?” Wonder Woman cut him off, “Do you perchance mean the Ladybug of Creation and the Black Cat of Destruction?”

All eyes were on the princess as she stared down Batman. He didn’t move but Marinette could feel his eyes flickering past the camera and towards her, letting her make a move if she wanted to.

She hesitated before clicking the button Red Robin had given her to enter into the video call, “Yes. That is exactly what he meant.”

Wonder Woman’s eyes flew open wide as she saw the bright red outfit, arms snapping in front of her, crossed at the wrists, head bowed, “My Lady!”

Marinette cocked her head to the side, confused, “There’s no reason to call me my lady, honestly you just sound like Chat. I’m surprised that any of the League knew of the miraculous.”

Diane lowered her hands, looking up once more, “As you wish Ladybug, and every Amazon know the tales of Ladybug. After all, my mother once wore your earrings and held your mantle with Herakles as her Μαύρη γάτα.”

Ladybug broke into a smile, “Hippolyta… Tikki has told me stories of past users, Πασχαλίτσα was one of my favorites to learn about.”

“Woah, Woah, Woah!” Flash waved his hands frantically, “Are we saying that she’s on par with your mother?!”

“Now I won’t-”

Diane cut her off, “Yes. All of Themyscira would follow a ladybug into battle as willingly as they follow my mother, their Queen.”

The young heroine blushed as Chat, Bunnyx, King Monkey and Abeille laughed, Viperion Pegasus and Ryuko smiling at the shocked faces on the League’s faces.

“ Good to know my Lady is so highly respected,” Chat finally spoke up leaning into frame from her right. Marinette sighed, honestly surprised he remained quiet this long. Silently she clicked the button that made the camera pan out to bring her entire side of the conference table into view.

“As I’m sure you guessed,” She said to the gathered heroes, “I am Ladybug, and this is my partner Chat Noir. The other members of our permanent team are Abeille, the Bee of Subjection, Ryuko, the Dragon of Power, and Viperion, the Snake of Chance. On our reserve team is Pegasus, the Horse of Teleportation, King Monkey, the Monkey of Jubilation, and Bunnyx, the Rabbit of Time.”

Wonder Woman looked worried, “So many active, your war must be devastating.”

Abeille scowled, “Paris would have been nothing but bloody rubble within a month had Ladybug not had her Miraculous cure. Hawkmoth, Butterfly of Transmission, and Mayura, Peacock of Emotion, have been attacking us for almost four years at this point trying to take Ladybug’s and Chat Noir’s miraculous, and our requests for help from the League have been ignored up until this point.”

“Requests?” Superman questioned as the elder heroes all stiffened, “What requests?”

The Paris team gave them skeptical looks.

“You’re kidding right?” Chat Noir asked slowly, “My Lady and I sent probably two dozen requests for aid since we were given our miraculous before being sent what might as well have been a cease and desist request that was just signed from the league because it was thought that everything that had leaked out of the city had just been fancy video editing and CGI. How could you guys not know?”

“As one of the main reviewers of requests,” Manhunter replied monotoned even as his jaw clenched, “I never saw any of these messages.”

“Yeah man,” Green Lantern added, “Neither did I, and I help out a lot up in communications when I’m not out on business. Plus we’ve never sent out a ‘stop calling us’ message before.”

“Well someone had to reject us,” Pegasus argued, “Logically speaking it has to be someone from the League as the other option is an unknown individual hacked into the League’s database and the only detectable thing they did was delete the messages from Paris.”

“I don’t care who it was, Find them,” Robin growled, white knuckles clutching his katana hilt, “I wish to disembowel them.”

“You will not.” Ladybug’s voice was low and pointed, “Not only have we handled ourselves well, but I won’t condone infighting just because someone messed up. I don’t care who rejected us at this point, Paris has a strong team protecting it and the League is lending us their help now, something that might have been detrimental a few years ago.”

“Detrimental?” Wonder Woman questioned, a twinge of hurt in her voice, “How would the League of been detrimental?”

Flash scratched the back of his head, “Yeah, how would The League being in Paris be bad, kid?"

“Pfft,” Bunnyx just laughed, “Geez, Kids? Could you guys be more condescending? It’s not like we’re seasoned heroes in our own right by now or anything.”

Ryuko's gaze flicked over all of them, “Your trust in us is lacking because of our age, but you want to give us a chance to show you how we operate since we have been taking care of our city. During our battle today the entirety of the Batfamily was watching us from the shadows and yet never felt like they needed to intervene with a team that already works efficiently with each other, yet you still question us.”

“You saw us?” Jason asked a little startled, “Damn Onna-bugeisha, you’re sharp,”

The girl smiled softly, “I appreciate the praise, however, I would suggest not wearing a large bright red bucket on your head next stealth mission. I was already on the lookout for red so it made spotting you and your family easy.”

Dick snorted, “Told you your helmet wasn’t slick,”

Jason just glared and shot back, “Discowing,”

“We’re not speaking of that atrocity. I’m going to need eye bleach to forget it already,” Marinette shuttered before becoming serious again, “The point we were trying to make is that I and my team have your trust. With Wonder Woman, Batman and his team speaking for us, you respect our claim to protecting Paris and the fact that we are the most knowledgeable people when it comes to Miraculous and our villains. Would we hold that same respect in your eyes if you arrived when Chat and I only held our miraculous for a few months? When we were inexperienced and improvising? Or would you have swooped in here with promises to fix things while shoving us to the side, upsetting us to the point where we might have been akumatized because of how little say we were given in protecting our city and stopping the villain that threatened our friends and families?”

The league heroes all shifted a little uneasy. The girl had a point.

Inexperienced heroes had to earn the League’s respect through hard work and proving their worth, something that could have left them open to akumatiation, giving the villain exactly what he wanted.

“Another thing,” Ladybug added eyes scanning over their faces with a serious glare, “This is our city and we have experience with the villains here and what to avoid. With that said, I believe the only members of the Founding Justice League I would trust to be in Paris before Hawkmoth and Mayra are relieved of their miraculous are Batman, Martian Manhunter, and The Flash.”

“What!” Green Lantern yelped, but the Paris team all nodded in understanding.

“Ooh Yeah,” King Monkey cringed, “The last thing I want to do is face an akumatized Wonder Woman.”

“Dude, you’d be the only one safe from an evil Green Lantern,” Bunnyx groaned, “Can you imagine the damage? It’d be like Mr. Mime on Steroids!”

Viperion turned to Pegasus and asked, “If Superman got akumatized what is the likelihood that Luck Charm would just give us a chuck of Kryptonite?”

“Considering she’s dating a Bat,” The younger man started ignoring the bugging eyes of the League, “There is a higher chance that it will just give her an indication to use Voyage to retrieve him and the kryptonite he no doubt possesses. On the 17.85% chance, it gives us Kryptonite, I’d be worried about using it as all of the Lucky Charms are red and black. Red Kryptonite usually causes a bloodlust, or uncontrollable rage in Kryptonians, while Black causes the being to be split into a good and an evil version of themselves.”

“Soooo,” Bunnyx draws out, “Use Uproar to take their powers away, then the kryptonite so that we just have too really angry dudes fist fighting each other in the middle of Paris?”

Pegasus nods, “Yes that plan holds an 85% chance of working should we be put into that situation.”

Batman just rubbed the bridge of his nose, “Should I ask where you learned so much about Kryptonite?”

“No.” The Paris team chorused.

The Martian looked intrigued, “Back to the original statement, May I acquire what sets us apart from the others so much that you’d be willing to accept our help but not theirs?”

“Easy,” Chat answered, smirking slightly at the flustered looks that still remained on the rejected heroes faces, “Hawkmoth and Mayra prey on negative emotions, whether that’s anger, frustration, fear, sadness, or disgust. The more powerful the emotion the stronger the Akuma or Amok is that we have to face is. Superman, Wonder Woman and Green Lantern are known for using their emotions as strength during a fight.”

“What about Flash?” Green Lantern barked, looking miffed, “The dude isn't exactly Mister Stoic."

"Oh Oh!” King Monkey had his hand raised above his head, “I’ll take this one!”

“Go ahead King,” Ladybug offered with a bemused look.

The Burly teen grinned up at the monitor, “We’ve found there are two great ways to keep from falling into Hawkmoth’s hands, thought considering everyone but Ladybug has been akumatized at least once this is mostly through trial and error. We’ve come to realize that either you need to be like Ladybug, Pegasus, and Ryuko, confident and professional to the point you don’t have time to let negative emotions, and how Chat and I deal with it and it’s probably the same way Flash deals with the horrors I’m betting all of you deal with on a biweekly basis, if not more.”

The speedster gave a tired smile, “An over cheerful, bantering mask?”

Chat clicked his tongue and shot duel finger guns at the monitors, “Bingo Bongo,”

Abeille rolled her eyes, as Ladybug smacked him lightly over the head, “Nerd.”

King just smiled wider, “Yup! We flirt, we banter, we joke around with our partners and the villains, cause it makes it easier for us to deal with after we're out of danger.”

Superman’s eyes grew a little far away, “You pretend not to take things seriously?”

Chat shrugged, “I mean kinda? It’s more like knowing that if everyone was serious then it would start wearing on us. We’re all people, we can’t stay serious 100% of the time, plus I know that when I crack puns the other may groan but their attacks are a little less sloppy, My lady may say she hates it when I call her Bugaboo, but it pulls her away from a bad headspace and helps her focus. It’s just our way of dealing with the dangers we face.”

“The Heart of the Team,” Batman spoke with a heavy reverence that had each of the seasoned heroes looking over the Paris group with understanding.

“Alright,” Green Lantern sighed, “Supes, Wonder Woman and I will stay out, but why don’t you explain what’s happening exactly in Paris. What is this Hawkmoth guy after anyways? What’s his end goal?”

Ladybug’s eyes grew hard as her team straightened around us, “His goal is to obtain the Ladybug of Creation’s earrings, and the Black Cat of Destruction's ring. Whoever possesses both shall have unimaginable power, and the ability to grant one wish by rewriting the very essence of reality.”

Flash let out a low whistle, “Wow, and his wish is lovely I’m sure.”

Chat’s voice was soft, but held immense weight, “His wish could be of pure intentions and goodwill, but it doesn’t matter, because the balance must be maintained and the price is always much more destructive then one can ever imagine.”

Ladybug nodded in agreement to her partner before taking over, “An Italian father wished for his family to never know sickness like that that took his sister from him when he was young, to live long happy lives free of sickness. The wish came true and nothing worse then a cold touched the family, even today, but three days after the wish was made the first ship that was contaminated with the Black Plague landed in Italy.”

“A teenager, whose homeland was riddled with war and bloodshed,” Chat chimed in again, even as the surrounding group looked sick, “He wanted for the fighting to stop, for his parents to not have to risk themselves anymore to keep their city safe, for him not to have to take up the blade in only a few short years. His wish was granted the fighting stopped and he no longer had to worry about his family dying to senseless war… because his entire city, the city of Atlantis had sunk into the sea, almost two-thirds of the population perishing as the last third realized they had an unknown ability to breathe underwater and survive the harsh conditions of the sea.”

Aquaman looked uneasy, “So much damage for such simple wishes?”

Chat just nodded, “Balance needs to be maintained, and each wish is a lesson in human’s foolish nature to try and fix the universe for their own needs and wants. The simple truth of the matter is no lesson is painless. Even the Kwamis can’t change that.”

____________________________________________

“Why don’t we head to my hotel?” Abeille asked as she stretched. The call to the League had drawn to a close leaving the teens mentally exhausted but giddy, “That way we don’t need to transform again, and we can just tell our parents that we were hanging out in my room instead of each coming up with a cover story. The fact that the Waynes are also staying there just makes it easier for us.”

“Good idea,” Ladybug agreed, “But I want to remind all of you are under no obligation to share your identity if you don’t want to, Red Robin won’t share it with the others even if they ask.”

“I knew Bruce’s identity for like 6 years before I broke into the cave and asked to be Robin. I think I can manage not to spill your secrets” He revealed with a little laugh as his family gave him strained looks.

The Paris heroes laughed before Pegasus, asked for the room they were staying at, quickly opening a portal.

Alfred simply raised an eyebrow, “Well, I expect the meeting went well then?”

Marinette flopped onto the couch with a groan as her transformation fell away, “You guys were not exaggerating with how much of a boy scout Superman is!”

Jason snorted as the other Paris heroes agreed, “Yeah Supes always had a stick up his rear, but J’onn is looking forward to meeting you guys, the dude doesn’t get off the Watchtower much.”

“Maybe he’ll bring M’gann,” Dick suggested, “She always loves meeting new heroes, and I’m sure she and Supey would love to talk magic.”

“Change first,” Bruce ordered, ushering his children back towards the main bedroom, “Then we can hash out anything else we wish tonight.”

____________________________________________

Tim felt himself relax more as the transformations fell around the teens, one by one, each taking time to introduce themselves and their Kwamis to the Bats. Profiles gradually began to fill further in his mind.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng- Cursive Soft Pink 15, Codenamed- Ladybug. Kwami- Tikki, the Ladybug of Creation. Main Power(s)- Lucky Charm and Miraculous Ladybug. Possible time limit, estimated to be 20 minutes after use of Lucky Charm

Chloe Bourgeois- Delicate Canary Yellow 14, Codenamed- Abeille. Kwami- Pollen, the Bee of Subjugation. Main Power- Venom. Possible time limit estimated to be 15 minutes after the use of Venom.

Kagami Tsurugi- Calligraphed Burgundy 13, Codenamed- Ryuko. Kwami- Longg, the Dragon of Power. Main Power- Elemental Transformations. Possible time limit estimated to be 15 minutes after the use of all three elemental transformations.

Adrian Agreste- Bubble lettered Neon Green 15, Codenamed- Chat Noir. Kwami- Plagg, the Black Cat of Destruction. Main Power- Cataclysm. Possible time limit, estimated to be 20 minutes after use of Cataclysm

Max Kanté- Baskerville Font Deep Golden 13, Codenamed- Pegasus. Kwami- Kaalki, the Horse of Teleportation. Main Power- Voyage. Time limit of Ten Minutes after using Voyage before Forced Detransformation.

Lê Chiến Kim - Buffon Font Grayish Brown 13, Codenamed- King Monkey. Kwami- Xuppu, the Monkey of Jubilation. Main Power- Uproar. Information points towards some type of time limit, but currently unknown

Alix Kubdel- Thin decorative font, Norwolk probably, Icy Blue 13, Codenamed- Bunnyx. Kwami- Fluff, the Rabbit of Time. Main Power- Burrow. Information points towards some type of time limit, but currently unknown.

Finally, he turned to the snake-themed hero, the only one who hadn’t changed back yet only to have considering aqua eyes peering back.

????- ?????, Codenamed- Viperion. Kwami- ?????, the Snake of Chance. Main Power- Second Chance. Possible time limit estimated to be 15 minutes after the use of Second chance (in a single time stream).

The only puzzle left on the Paris team.

“So I’m the only one you haven’t figured out yet,” He asked, a considering look flashing over his face.

Tim shrugged, “The miraculous mess with my power so I can’t see your number while you’re transformed so yes. I haven’t figured out a thing about you yet.”

“Well,” Viperion hummed a sly grin as he leaned into The older hero’s space, “I’m not going to give you an easy answer then, Bird boy.”

Tim couldn’t help the indignant huff, “Bird Boy? I’m older than you!”

“Hmmm,” The smirking snake just served to make the other Bat’s share a look at the display, “Well, Bird Boy. Let’s see how fast you can find me,”

“It’s Red Robin-”

“Yumm~”

Tim’s cheeks burned as his brothers, Chat Noir, Bunnyx, and King Monkey cackled behind him, the other heroes hiding smiles. The younger hero finally pulled back and leaped out of the window and disappearing into the night with a final wink at the stunned hero.

"Looks like you're following in B's footsteps," Dick teased clapping his shoulder, causing the others to laugh harder as Tim tried desperately to find his tongue.

____________________________________________

Taglist: @vixen-uchiha @iggy-of-fans @mewwitch @roseinbloom02 @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @mochinek0 @royalchaoticfangirl @09shell-sea09 @mystery-5-5 @derpingrainbow @aloha-posts-stuff @hauntedfreakdeputyhero @maribat-archive @blue-peach14 @kae690 @zazzlejazzle @vincentvangoose @be-happy-every-day-please @xxmadamjinxx @celestiacq @peculiarlylostdreamer @dani-ari @melicmusicmagic @themcclan @nyctamaximoff @nataladriana9 @drama-queen-supreme @miraculousbelladonna @urbanpineapplefarmer @graduatedmelon @lexysama @hecate-hallow @ki117h3dr4g0n @vinerlover @interobanginyourmom @bluefiredemon @imanerddealwith @tinybrie @clumsy-owl-4178 @shizukiryuu @whogavemeaninternet @schrodingers25 @lunar-wolf-warrior @urbanpineapplefarmer @xxmadamjinxx @crazylittlemunchkin @littleredrobinhoodlum @rougemme @dur55 @phantommeow12 @kand-roo @silvergold-swirl @officiallyathiana @completelypeccable @redhoodsdoll @nataladriana9 @mariae2900 @northernbluetongue @sturchling @thesunanditsangel @reyna-avila-ramirez-alreanaldo @bobothyross @taoiichii @magnitude101999 @magicalfirebird @nataladriana9 @panda3506 @aquariusrunes @woodland-queer @sayarock121 @mindfulmagics @magic-miraculous @my-name-is-michell @naoryllis @slytherinqueen2432 @ilovefluffbutsmutisalsogreat @captainartsypants @nanakeid @legendaryneckjudgestudent @smolplantmum @the-real-ginakid @nyaabinch @elmokingkong @gentlemanoftimetravel @whitennerdiest@imbrium-mare @tired-butterfly @corabeth11 @aestheticnpoetic @amirahevens

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gypsydanger01 · 3 years

Text

THE STORM - Part twenty-two

Fandom: The Boys (Amazon prime tv series)

Pairing: Black Noir x OC

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Boys, only my OC characters and certain pieces of au plot.

Comments, reviews, constructive criticism, and other requests are always more than welcome!

Threading dangerous waters

After Noir had taken his leave, Sarah took a few steady breaths and managed to put his untouched slice of cake away before collapsing on the couch.

Lightly tracing her knuckles, she laid on the only piece of furniture that hadn’t been left in shambles. The coffee table had been reduced to splinters, and the tv screen had a gaping hole where he’d sunk his knife to the hilt. Nails were stuck in the wall to her right, and she sighed at the thought of having to disable those explosives that hadn’t been triggered during their fight.

I’ll be back.

She sighed, pressing the back of her hand to her lips. God, what would she do.

[Next day, at Vought Headquarters]

The following day, Noir left his living quarters quite early, a pair of dark brown eyes seared into his mind. He immediately delved into researching information on the latest experimental trials conducted by Vought. He searched and searched, with determined calculation. His eyes traced countless file names, patient numbers, and descriptions… until he found the one he’d been looking for.

He retreated back to his room and settled down, eyes pouring over the damning evidence.

Finally, he stood and left the room.

_ _ _

“All right, folks, how is everyone?”

The Deep started with a small “I’m o—,” but Homelander cut him off, and continued speaking. He didn’t really care, the question had been a pleasantry, an act he had no reason to entertain without an audience.

“—We all know about the break-in that occurred two nights ago while we were at the gala,” he nodded to himself as he slowly paced around the table. “And while our Noir gave it his all, this very dangerous woman played some tricks and is,” Homelander raised a hand in blatant disbelief, “still on the loose.”

Reaching the head of the table once again, he fixed his gaze on each of his team members.

“We also know of the unfortunate release of Compound V to the public, which has generated mixed emotions and alienated a part of our fans,” he paused, disgust pure on his face before he drew his conclusion. “It was her, this delinquent who stole from the archives and spilled to the news.”

The imposing man gripped the back of his chair, “I took this up with Stan Edgar, and he would have me—us, believe that he has it under control, that he’s handling it,” he exclaimed with a small burst of laughter.

Black Noir felt something creep up over his shoulder and settle in his chest: it was dread, a deep-seated sense of foreboding. And knowing what he’d learned that morning, what he’d promised himself, he again found himself conflicted. Focusing on Homelander’s speech, one sentence echoed inside his head: she is good, and he will protect her, she is good, and he will protect her.

“She must be found and swiftly dealt with as she poses a threat to Vought and all Americans,” Homelander announced. “She is obviously powerful if she was able to escape from Noir,” he paused. “I want everyone’s eyes open, and if you find her,” his face lost any sign of pleasantry, morphing with an unidentifiable emotion, “you will come to me first.”

Black Noir knew all too well what that unidentifiable emotions was: it was arrogance and a sense of superiority that underlined the man’s choices, again and again. It was his absolute need to be in the know and at the center of the attention at all times.

Everyone around the table stayed quiet. Maeve was picking at her nails, and Noir was doodling on a piece of paper. The Deep stared at the table’s surface, obviously afraid of the team leader’s mood swings. A-Train sat comfortably, more laid out than anything as he waited for the meeting to end. And Starlight, sitting delicately in her chair, counted down the seconds until she could clear out of the building.

Homelander slammed his palm against the table, “Is that clear.”

All eyes on him, he received a few nods and small acknowledgements.

Starlight tried to maintain her composure, but fear was clawing at her, demanding that she leave the room. She avoided looking at A-Train even though she could feel his gaze burning through her. If America’s favorite superhero found out she, member of the Seven, had leaked Compound V… she wasn’t sure that there’d be anything left of her once he was finished.

The leader of the Seven held his hands behind his back, making him an even more imposing figure.

“Vought is a great big company, our company,” he continued, “And Stan Edgar would have us believe that everything is under control… but he lies. It is not under control. I will find her, and I will end her before she can tear us down.”

His last statement held the finality and decisiveness of a promise.

“Remember, you come to me first,” he repeated, before going to stand by the large, paneled windows. A few seconds later, he glanced back at them.

“Still here?” he asked, suddenly irked by their presence. “Dismissed. Except you Noir, you can stay.”

Noir watched the other team members rapidly stand and leave the room, before letting his gaze fall back on the caped man standing by the windows.

“Noir, I’ll have you know that I trust you a great deal more than anyone else on this team,” he began, “and I trust you the most to gather intel on this Marianna Stacker.”

Sarah, his mind sighed.

“I want weekly updates until we catch her, I want to know who she is, where she lives, who she cares about—everything,” he carefully explained, “I will not have her and her lies destroy everything,” he gestured in general and Noir assumed he meant both the company and his popularity. The darkly suited man lightly rolled his eyes behind the mask but nodded.

He knew better than to anger Homelander. He wasn’t afraid of the maniac, no, he was a safety measure set in place to keep the man in check when the charismatic façade slipped off and revealed the monster beneath. Wasn’t there a saying? That to kill a monster you need a monster? And to do so, he’d rather know what the man was plotting than have to make a calculated guess.

Homelander nodded his head, “We’ll get her Noir.”

Noir stood, nodded, and left.

And Homelander watched him leave, always feeling a surge of respect for the silent superhero.

He turned back towards the windows and watched the busy city unfold beneath him, a murderous glint in his eyes. To hell with Stan Edgar, he was the true center of Vought. Fans called his name, he was their savior.

Finally, he too left the meeting room, deciding to take a stroll through the building..

_ _ _

That day, Sarah had returned to work, deeming a prolonged absence too risky since it could raise all sorts of red flags. She covered up with warm clothes, a pretty scarf wrapped around her neck, and faked a dry cough in the office.

She’d felt a shiver down her spine as she signed in at the front desk and ascended the stairs. Each step heavier than the last, she wondered if they would immediately pinpoint her as guilty. She’d taken sensitive information on one of the most terrible and controversial experimental trials ever: they would be looking for her, and they would employ every method. Her mind strayed to the variable in the equation, the one piece she could not control, the wild card that could make her or break her. Noir. And now that someone else had exposed them for using Compound V on babies to make them into superheroes, Vought was taking a lot of heat from fans, the media, and activists. They’d assume it was the same person who broke into the archives. So, they wouldn’t just be looking for her, they’d be hunting for her, ready to gun her down.

However, she was greeted back into the office with a couple waves and smiles, and everything went smoothly. She’d only been gone for a day, but a couple co-workers asked her about her cough and if she was feeling better. The day before, Martha had reassured a few of them when they’d asked about her so that she’d have an alibi.

And so, time rushed by, and, while she’d calmed down, she felt an inextricable knot in her chest. She was here, hiding in plain sight. And it could work, but only if Noir saw reason, if he questioned his loyalty towards the company and felt any for her.

Soon, it was time to pack up and go back home. She spoke with Martha and waved to a few co-workers before heading down the long hallway to take the elevator. She usually took the stairs, but suddenly preferred the quickest method to leave the building.

After pressing the button to call it up, Sarah stepped back and waited in the deserted hall. She felt, rather than heard a presence grow close. Noir came to stand beside her, seemingly waiting for the elevator himself. She looked at him through her dark lashes and fixed the scarf around her neck. Would this be it? Would he do it here at Vought where they could easily clean up the splatters?

The elevator arrived with a ding and he motioned for her to step in first, him following after. Were there no cameras in the elevators? Was that why he’d chosen this spot?

Noir moved closer to her and she wasn’t sure what to expect. She pressed her back to the elevator wall, feeling that characteristic warmth spread throughout her chest. But he did something surprising by placing his gloved hands on her hips, almost steadying her. He then produced a thin slip of folded paper, which he smoothly slid into one of her pants’ front pocket.

“What are you doing,” she whispered, trying to understand whatever he was trying to tell her.

Suddenly, the elevator dinged once again and slowed to a halt as someone got ready to join them on their way down.

Noir immediately stepped away as though she’d burned him. She soon realized why.

Crimson boots stepped into the small space, and Sarah thought she might suffocate as the doors slid closed. The dark blue suit and American flag taunted her.

Sarah knew what Homelander really was, how the selfishness and arrogance swam just below the surface.

He seemed deep in thought, but whatever trail he’d been following was interrupted by her loud heartbeat. He glanced to the side and saw the beautiful, albeit frazzled, woman in the corner. She stood straight and composed, yet she had a racing pulse.

Noir could also hear it and wished it would slow down to a normal rate. Capturing Homelander’s attention can be a dangerous thing.

She needed to stay hidden in the shadows, blend in with every other person at Vought. He would keep her from harm.

“Ma’am are you all right,” the Seven's leader asked with concern. “I don’t mean to invade your privacy,” he genuinely chuckled, “but I can hear your heart racing, like you're scared.”

Sarah shuffled her feet, “Oh no, I’m all right. I’m not a fan of small, enclosed spaces that’s all.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder, and she suffocated the sudden need to shake it off. Just a few more floors and she’d be stepping off. Just a few more floors.

“Don’t worry, you have the strongest man in the world here, you’re safe.”

She smiled and thanked him before quickly stepping off. She slowed down, not wanting it to seem like she was running away. He’d meant to reassure her, but she could still feel the phantom weight of his hand on her shoulder. Once outside, she made her way home where she was ready to take a long shower and sleep amid her wrecked furniture.

Her fingers itched to touch the slip of paper in her pocket, to discover its meaning. She ultimately decided to read it at home away from prying eyes.

[Vought Headquarters]

Once Sarah had stepped off the elevator, Black noir and Homelander made no move to follow. The doors closed and the caped man pressed the button for the upper levels.

Noir stilled, and suddenly had the urge to break the other man’s neck. He knew Homelander had seen them close together through the walls, and he realized he should’ve waited to hand her the note at her house.

“I was looking for you,” he spoke up with nonchalance, “and imagine my surprise when I saw you in here with that woman.”

Homelander smirked and slapped his shoulder, “You sly dog, Noir, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Noir fingers itched to pull a dagger, but he maintained his composure.

“Just keep your head on straight, yeah?”

Homelander straightened and faced forward, “You and me, Noir, we’re above it all—we were made for bigger things,” he cleared his throat, “I don’t want you distracted as we look for Stacker.”

Little did he know that she’d just rode the elevator with him, and never would he have imagined it possible for Black Noir to grow attached and protective of someone.

The elevator doors slid open, and they stepped out going their separate ways.

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @ateliefloresdaprimavera @ellejo @dust-bun @coco724 @proximio-5 @damiminator @omegahighendpro @rpgluvr95 @sweetrabbitteamx @rayray1463 @mialexisrodrigues @angelocipriano

#black noir #black noir x oc #the boys #the boys tv #the boys amazon #the boys season 2 #fanfiction #oc story

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anadvanceddegreeinquiet · 3 years

Text

What, Me Pandemic? A Boho Crowd Stakes Its Claim (and Claims Its $48 Steaks)

Fricasse Dubois, 21, lamented the decision to pull her latest concrete poem from The Codswalloped Pisspot as she passed one of the whimsical “Maine-ducks-in-flight” mailboxes that serve as newspaper bins for the red-hot downtown rag. But her friend and intern, Banshee Fitzgerald, 33, had made a good point: The Pisspot had been flirting with questionable taste for months now.

First there was the ironic opera libretto by Steve Bannon, which cast Leo “KIDS” Fitzpatrick as a Muslim refugee in a Copenhagen no-go zone. Then there was the edgy faux-memoir from Terry Richardson, modeled on O.J. Simpson’s unpublished “If I Did It,” and accompanied by a portfolio of Juergen Teller ass-Xeroxes.

But now, the Pisspot hype was growing, and Dubois realized that she might miss the proverbial boat. Interest in the nascent publishing venture was at fever pitch; a SPAC had been formed by laid-off Gagosian and Perrotin directors eager to stage a hostile takeover of the irregularly published ‘zine.

And a dash of infamy certainly helped—the paper’s co-editor, Stizzy Fugger, had just launched a Tumblr in which she tallied the number of people she had inadvertently infected with Covid-19, updated in real-time (12,617 at press time, if you’re keeping score, more than the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally).

Anyone who has witnessed a “Pisspot drop” in the Dimes Square neighborhood of Manhattan knows to expect pandemonium. But nothing could have prepared this reporter for the foamy-mouthed jubilee and ecstatic violence of the occasion.

It was 11am on a Tuesday, and the editors appeared at the corner of Seward Park, bearing several cardboard boxes of the paper. They were trailed by the usual suspects: Pimple-necked sadcore rappers, sex-positive Zoom therapists, former Artforum critic’s pickers who now run content for Chipotle, and middle-aged men who really shouldn’t skateboard.

It’s a truism that an issue of Pisspot isn’t really read so much as it is imbibed, absorbed via the osmosis of social media’s orgiastic frenzy. In fact, the Times had a great deal of difficulty locating anyone who had physically held a copy of the paper in their smooth, unlined hands; many preferred to experience it as a series of fuzzy, thumbnail-sized images posted ironically on MySpace.

“People used to say they read Playboy for the ads,” said Kit Murano, a fish-eyed, forty-something member of a downtown-based Adderall (™) street team. “Pisspot doesn’t have ads. And no one who knows anything would be caught, like, just sitting there and flipping through the thing. It’s an attitude. It’s an essence. It’s a lifestyle.”

Okay, sure—but what about the actual content actually published in each issue? Imagine an early iteration of Vice cross-pollinated with Tiger Beat, and then add a splash of sexual-harassment-era Paris Review. It’s a bit silly, and a bit loose. Bret Easton Ellis contributes a crossword puzzle in which every answer is just another reason why millennials suck. A party report—‘Reamed & Furred’—diligently transcribes the coke-addled bon mots of the same group of six people all eating at the same restaurant every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evening.

If there’s an ethos gluing all of this together, it’s a passing-of-the-torch from an older bohemian guard to a younger demographic, with their laissez-faire attitudes about sex, drugs, and global pandemics. “It’s, like, we can all still party together, and age isn’t really ‘a thing’,” explains Murano, leaning out the window of a Mini Cooper wrapped in shiny SunGen Pharma adverts.

The entire scene revolves around the lopsided triangle known as “Dimes Square,” which borrows its moniker from the culinary hotspot Dimes. (The name derives from Cockney rhyming slang for ‘elongated pinky nail.’). Every New York story is also, of course, a story about real estate. In this case, that means the Connecticut country houses that this cohort has Airbnbed out while remaining to weather the storm in lower Manhattan.

Parts of this scene are “white, but probably ambisexual-adjacent; they’re members of the creative class, but they possess enough self-hatred to seem authentic,” says Dash Johnson, a Dimes Square hanger-on who many suspect of running the Steak-Umms social media accounts. “Most of them used to work for galleries, or websites, or Garage magazine, but when those jobs dried up, they woke up one morning and said: Fuck it. Let’s stop pretending. Let’s just tweet.”

One essential element of any good scene is a gossip column to keep track—and to keep score. ArtWet’s “Wet Ass Pigment” plays that role for the Dimes Square cognoscenti. It’s a bleeding-edge social diary written by an anonymous, Gossip Girl-style correspondent who communicates solely via Signal, using a vocal transformer.

“I was sick of trying to break into this world,” they said. “I was sick of meeting Anthony Haden-Guest at a dinner, for the 387th time, and having him introduce himself all over again, like we hadn’t both thrown up in the same toilet less than three days before. Fuck gatekeepers. I built my own gate, and then I started keeping it.”

It was a Wet Ass Pigment column, in fact, which broke the season’s buzziest news: semi-disgraced first son Hunter Biden had bought an octoplex apartment directly above Dimes, where he’ll be staying as he prepares for a September solo exhibition that will open concurrently across Andrew Kreps, 56 Henry, Shoot the Lobster, and a pop-up space for Recess CBD seltzer. Unlike the gentle, “meditative” paintings that Biden had been making in recovery, the new work is brash and rudely vulgar—the product of an unexpected friendship Biden had struck up with Bjarne Melgaard and Jordan Wolfson.

Meanwhile, the group’s literary face remains 29-year-old Katarina Klaus, whose razor-sharp prose skewers her surroundings with the acidic wit of a young Evelyn Waugh. “I’ll be honest, I fucking hate writing,” Klaus admitted, blowing her nose into a Telfar bag. “I’m both super motivated and super lazy. Sometimes I’ll just copy-paste random chunks of Speedboat into a column and no one will even notice.”

So what’s next for this ragtag crew? “Dimes Square will probably be over by the time this fucking article comes out,” Klaus laments. “You’re going to have, like, some TikTok influencer house on the corner of Canal and Essex, and all the coke will have fentanyl in it again because idiots from New Jersey just have no nose. You know what? I’m regretting this already. This is all off the record.”

Meanwhile, Klaus is already rethinking her involvement in Pisspot. With a current print run of 250 copies, the instantly iconic newspaper suddenly seems a bit too exposed. She’s in discussions with a new, unnamed venture that would distribute articles and essays in a serialized format, via fortunes randomly inserted into cookies at various Chinese restaurants within a three-block radius of the Square. “It’s all about ephemerality,” she says, sucking on a DMT vape she brought back from Mexico City. “It’s all about staying relevant.”

This article was lovingly rewritten from the original by Scott Indrisek.

CORRECTION: The above edition of this story mistakenly cites Kit Murano’s age as “forty-something,” based on our reporter’s visual guesstimation. She is actually 19.

CORRECTION: ‘Dimes’ is in fact Cockney prison rhyming slang for the expression, “a bent knob is straight twice a day.”

CORRECTION: An earlier online version of this story mistakenly identified The Codswalloped Pisspot as The Duct-Taped Shitberg.

CORRECTION: An earlier, subscribers-only post of this story mislabeled the gossip blog Wet Ass Pigment as being a Spotify podcast called Wank ‘n Pose.

CORRECTION: Jordan Wolfson died in 2014.

CORRECTION: An earlier Google Doc of this story referenced a non-existent ‘hardcore maternity diary’ by Chloe Sevigny, which most likely did not appear in issue 4 of the Codtaped Shitpot.

CORRECTION: A version of this story that was sent to hapless print subscribers in Texas and Connecticut wrongly identified the geographic boundaries of “Dimes Square” as being East 45th Street, Central Park West, Freeman’s Alley, and Bedford Avenue.

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liabilityyyyyy · 4 years

Text

Just realised I haven’t updated yous on the whole collarbone situation!!!!! Not that u care but🤷🏼‍♀️

OKAY SO BASICALLY I went back to the fracture clinic on Tuesday 🤙🏻 and had more xrays taken, my surgeon reviewed them and kindly informed me that it’s still broken and it’s not knitting together properly🙃 so, despite refusing to put plates and pins/screws in it when I asked before, he’s now decided that I need plates and pins/screws🥴

He informed me that it’d be 2-3 months before I would get my operation but I’ve received a letter today saying it’ll likely be 30-45 weeks WHICH WILL BE A YEAR SINCE I BROKE IT HAHAHAHAHHAA so that’s got me absolutely seething🥵 fuck knows what happens now but I’m gonnae go bananas if I don’t get this fixed cause it’s causing me nothing but bother

So aye, that’s my latest collarbone news, please pray for me lads xoxoxo

#me #girl #scottish #broken collarbone

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mostlysignssomeportents · 4 years

Text

#15yrsago Cory responds to Wired Editor on DRM

Chris Anderson, the Editor-in-Chief of Wired Magazine, has responded to my blog-post in which I take issue with Wired's latest product-review magazine, which breathes hardly a mention of DRM even as it reviews devices that are all crapped up with studio-paranoia-generated restriction technology.

Chris takes a "middle ground" position that I've heard described as "radical centrism" -- his position is that the EFF's opposition to DRM is "idealistic" and that there is therefore a practical "reality" that is better suited to the world. I think it's a false dichotomy, and I'd like to have a little go at Chris's post here and see if I can show why:

Consumers want more content, easier-to-use technology, and cheaper prices. If some form of DRM encourages publishers, consumer electronics makers and retailers to release more, better and cheaper digital media and devices, that's not necessarily a bad thing. This is just being realistic: much as we might want it to be otherwise, content owners still call most of the shots. If a little protection allows them to throw their weight behind a lot of progress towards realizing the potential of digital media, consumers will see a net benefit.

This is the crux of the argument. It starts out by saying that DRM is protection. And protection makes Hollywood comfortable. And a comfortable Hollywood will release more material. And the more material there is, the cheaper it will get.

But all of those propositions are materially untrue. Start with "DRM is protection." DRM is not protection. There has never been a DRM-covered file that was kept off the Internet. Ever. DRM has never once in the history of the field kept a file from appearing online, or from being booted by organized crime pirates. Despite its rhetoric on this, Hollywood is perfectly aware of how bogus the DRM-is-protection claim is; any entertainment exec you put on this spot on this will retreat to a badly-thought-out mantra to the effect that "DRM is a speedbump, it's not meant to keep files off the Internet, it's meant to 'keep honest users honest.'" As Ed Felten has pointed out, keeping an honest user honest is like keeping a tall user tall. DRM may keep a naive user from buying a cheap DVD abroad and bringing it home, and it may make it possible to charge you for things that you used to get for free, like format-shifting, but it won't ever keep an honest user honest.

DRM isn't protection from piracy. DRM is protection from competition. If you believe that "much as we might want it to be otherwise, content owners still call most of the shots," then you believe that the guy who makes the record should get a veto over the design of the record player. That the film studios should be able to ban the VCR. That the recording industry should have been able to shove SDMI down all our throats and make MP3 disappear.

This is a profoundly ahistorical proposition. Never in the history of media from the dawn of the printing press right up to the invention of the DVD have we afforded this kind of privilege to incumbent rightsholders. Quite the contrary: at every turn, brave entrepreneurs have engaged in "piracy" of copyrighted works (through devices like the record player, radio, cable television and VCR) and kept at it until the law caught up with the technology.

It's different with the DVD. With the DVD, the electronics companies completely wimped out. They traded their customers to the studios for two packs of cigarettes, and the result has been a decade of stagnation in DVD players. There's no indication that movies are being released sooner or more cheaply on DVD than they were on VHS; and in fact, the release of movies on VHS was preceded by incredible, absurd hyperbole about the video-cassette's inevitable destruction of the film industry and the complete impossibility of a movie ever being released by a studio for viewing on your VCR.

If you believe that "content owners still call most of the shots" then you believe that the studios will make movies and just not release them, they will amass a great pile of unreleased material in their Hollywood vaults and sit before the doors, arms folded, glaring at the world until it arranges itself into a more accomodating configuration. It is ridiculous. DRM hasn't convinced the studios to put new material online -- the offerings that the studios have put online are a pathetic shadow of the material one can download from the P2P networks. The studios have all the DRM in the universe at their disposal, but they're not using it to bring new material to market.

Nope, they're using it to sell you the same crap for more money. Chris loves his Microsoft Media Center PC, "essentially a DVR on steroids" -- at least, he loves it so far. That's because he hasn't been bitten on the ass by it yet, like this guy, who bought a Media Center PC so that he could catch the Sopranos and burn them to DVD. When he bought the PC, it was capable of doing that. Halfway through the season, the studios reached into his living room and broke his PC, disabling the feature that allowed him to burn his Sopranos episodes to DVD. And if you got suckered into letting your cable company give you a "free" PVR, you've got a nasty shock coming this season: your episodes of Six Feet Under will delete themselves from your hard drive after two weeks, whether you've gotten around to watching them or not.

If you want to watch all the Sopranos or Six Feet Unders in a row at the end of the season, you'll have to do it on Pay Per View. You'll have to buy what you used to get for free: the right to record a show and watch it for as long as you'd like. You get less, you pay more. And the studios can change the rules of the game after you've bought the box and brought it home: the only way you can protect your investment is if you can somehow ensure that no studio executive decides to revoke one of the features you paid for back when the box was on the show-room floor. Remember, these are the same studio execs who are duking it out for the right to limit how long a pause button can work for.

Chris likes the iTunes Music Store, calling it a success, but it's got the same problems as the Media Center and all the other DRM devices. The record labels can demand that Apple selectively break your music player, removing features based on secret negotiations, long after you've made your purchases. Apple will even force "updates" on you that remove features that you've chosen to add to your device, shutting you out of listening to your own music on the player you shelled out good money for.

The problem is that once your device vendor sells you out to the studios, they're 0wned. The studios' protection racket lets them demand practically anything from a device vendor -- check out "selectable output control" for some truly heinous world-domination horseshit.

So, Chris, that's why I disagree with your "realistic" notion:

There's no reason to believe that DRM makes more content available

There's no reason to let the studios "call the shots" -- we haven't before this

There's no reason to believe that DRM makes media cheaper, quite the contrary

The features that make your "reasonable" DRM palatable to the market today can and are rescinded tomorrow

If I were in Chris's seat, I would be sure that every single review of a DRM device carried the following notice: WARNING: THIS DEVICE'S FEATURES ARE SUBJECT TO REVOCATION WITHOUT NOTICE, ACCORDING TO TERMS SET OUT IN SECRET NEGOTIATIONS. YOUR INVESTMENT IS CONTINGENT ON THE GOODWILL OF THE WORLD'S MOST PARANOID, TECHNOPHOBIC ENTERTAINMENT EXECS. THIS DEVICE AND DEVICES LIKE IT ARE TYPICALLY USED TO CHARGE YOU FOR THINGS YOU USED TO GET FOR FREE -- BE SURE TO FACTOR IN THE PRICE OF BUYING ALL YOUR MEDIA OVER AND OVER AGAIN. AT NO TIME IN HISTORY HAS ANY ENTERTAINMENT COMPANY GOTTEN A SWEET DEAL LIKE THIS FROM THE ELECTRONICS PEOPLE, BUT THIS TIME THEY'RE GETTING A TOTAL WALK. HERE, PUT THIS IN YOUR MOUTH, IT'LL MUFFLE YOUR WHIMPERS. Link

https://boingboing.net/2004/12/29/cory-responds-to-wir.html

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b-kitsune · 5 years

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Many ways to say I love you: Day two.

Kidge-a-palooza 2019 Prompt: Diligence. Pairing: Kidge (VLD) Universe: Canon (Season 4) Status: Part 2/7

It had been a long night for Keith in the training room, his legs weighed as he walked to the showers to get rid of somehow, the bad taste in his mouth that he had been having several months ago.

They hadn't heard from Lotor for a long time, which left him a little anxious that he was planning somewhere in the galaxy. Fighting against Zarcon had been simple in part, everyone knew what their targets were and knew where to attack at their weak points to defeat him. With Lotor, it was a mystery.

He grunted defeated as he let his knife, watching it for a moment and rest it on the table to undress. He hadn't heard from Kolivan in the last week either. Not that it would really bother him, Kolivan recognized his strengths and had been really interested in Keith helping him in the last missions with the blades, so he just needed a little patience to feel useful again in this war.

Before removing his jacket, he could see a basket full of clothes where the green color predominated, noticing at the end that one of the showers was heard activated in the interior area. Keith frowned in bewilderment, it was too late for someone to be awake in the castle, even for Pidge.

Had she been having some complications with the latest ship updates?

''Pidge, do you have much to finish?'' He shouted from the other side to alert his partner that he was there, without receiving any response. Maybe the water didn't allow her to hear him from outside the room. ''Pidge!''

Again nothing. Surely, she had gone to the showers in the far corner, Keith knew well that it was very difficult to hear something from outside in that place. So, the tactic changed to a word that would surely make her react.

''Hey, Shorty! Get out now!''

Keith smiled playfully as soon as he said it out loud. He knew that Pidge wasn't really happy when he bothered her with his height, but it was the easiest thing for him to get an immediate response, he was completely dirty with the perspiration of the training and didn't want to wait forever her thirty-minute showers.

Keith huffed tiredly when he realized she wasn't going to answer.

''Pidge, I need to bathe, could you hurry, please? Or at least answer that you hear me?''

The silence began to worry him, only the water of the shower could be heard to run without any indication that someone was inside. Maybe she had left leaving her clothes in the basket? He dismissed that possibility immediately, she wasn't a very open person to her personal space, even with Shiro and he used to have a pretty clear boundary and seeing between the pants part of her underwear gave him to understand that she was still inside.

Shame went around Keith's face when he thought about going in to see if everything was fine. Part of him was worried that she wouldn't answer his calls, but if it had only been an oversight on his part, it wasn't uncommon in Pidge, and Keith wouldn't leave the room without some bruising and the hatred of his current left arm for several days before his decision to interrupt her midnight bath.

While the minutes passed waiting for the door to open at some point, the restlessness increased inside. He could earn her hatred for the whole month if it was what she wanted, but he needed to know if she was okay. It wasn't normal for Pidge to be silent for long.

He entered with his arm over his eyes, in case he turned around and everything was in order and it had only been an oversight of his partner, Pidge wouldn't think that he was spying on her in the first instance. Of none of his teammates, even if Lance was sometimes a bit daring with his games. When the steam from the shower came out through the doors, Keith insisted.

''Pidge, I've been calling you for many minutes, are you okay?'' He waited for some negative reaction on his part before the intrusion of his privacy, but again there was only silence. ''Pidge?''

When he lowered his arm at the thought that the girl wasn't in the shower, the anguish hit him hard when he saw a body often unconscious on the tiles of the shower, and a trail of blood near her head slipped over the drain.

Keith ran to her leaving aside any trace of shame, replaced by worry and fright.

''Oh quiznak!''

''It's just a fever.'' Lance had placed a wet cloth on her forehead once he had discovered the cause of her fainting, causing a sigh of relief from all the members of the room. Keith, however, was still worried.

''Are you sure? And what if the blow to the head caused some trauma? You have to take it to the medical bay chamber as a precaution.''

''Keith, calm down.'' Shiro supported his arm on his shoulder to stop him. ''Coran and I already reviewed the blow on her head, it was only a shallow cut surely when she fell unconscious. No need to worry.''

He turned his gaze to his mate, who made it difficult to breathe notoriously while being caressed by Lance to calm her discomfort, probably being a habit inherited by the care of his nephews. He nodded after a few seconds; it wasn't the first time someone got sick in the castle anyway.

But to see her so frail and weak, moaning in an unconscious state didn't give him heart any peace.

''I don't understand, what is it that makes this human fever? Pidge looks too agitated to be something so simple.'' Allura approached to touch the contour of her cheek, worried about her condition. Lance got up from the bed to give her space, smiling kindly.

''It is a defense mechanism of the human body, it increases its temperature to attack a possible virus, but that generates a lot of discomfort. Pidge has been somewhat agitated since she has had more information about her brother, she probably tried harder and ended up sick.''

''Oh, I understand, it's like klamüirl in a state of hibernation.'' Everyone nodded when they heard Coran, not understanding much what he was trying to say.

''Well, we'd better let her rest if we want her to recover soon, everyone goes back to their rooms.'' Shiro directed them to the exit with his hand so that they left quickly, being stopped by Lance.

''Wouldn't it be better if someone stayed with her? She still has too much fever and may suffer some nosebleed while sleeping.''

''Don't worry, I'll stay with her.''

Lance nodded, somewhat unsure of Pidge's condition, but Shiro was the best choice for her care, so made his way to his room as soon as Shiro closed the door. He stopped on the road when he saw that Keith wasn't moving, staring at Pidge's door, as if he could see through it.

He approached carefully, trying not to scare him.

''Hey mullet, it's everything all right?''

''Can she suffer a nosebleed?'' The fear in Keith's voice didn't go unnoticed. Lance just smiled sympathetically.

''Only if the fever keeps rising, but if Shiro is taking care of her, she'll probably be better tomorrow before breakfast.'' Keith folded his arms doubtfully at his words.

''When I found her ... I had already had a good time outside the showers waiting for her to respond. Maybe if I had been faster in realizing that something was wrong ...''

''Hey, hey. Where does that worry come from suddenly? Come on my man, it's Pidge! What could happen to her?'' Lance tried to cheer him up as soon as he saw where Keith's thoughts were going. He was trying to blame himself for not helping her before she lost consciousness. ''Maybe seeing her faint on the floor surprised you a little, I would have been in shock considering that she wasn't wearing anything when you took her out of the showers ...''

Lance looked at him out of the corner of his eye, seeing how Keith's face reddened slightly, Lance laughed internally to relax him, at least he had been considerate enough to put a towel on her before running to the control room with the poor girl in his arms.

Besides, he understood in part that Keith's concern wasn't just about having his sick partner. It was the castle's worst kept secret that both Keith and Pidge had been having a secret relationship in the first few months they had known each other, but that for some reason, they broke up when Shiro disappeared and Keith took over the black lion.

Now, seeing him with so much diligence about her condition made Lance feel that part of those feelings had only been buried by responsibilities. He could understand that.

''Nothing is going happen to her Keith; you only have to take care of her for a couple of days and see that she doesn't go back to overstressing herself. Sometimes she is usually excessively stubborn. Like you.''

''I think she has already beaten me.'' Both smiled more calmly than minutes ago. They were worried about their younger partner, and they could understand that it affected them. Lance circled his shoulders with his arm to guide him to their rooms. ''You're right, she'll be fine in the morning.''

''That's my buddy.'' While the environment went to one more relieved. Lance asked. ''Do you think when she knows you saw her naked, she could see you in the face?''

''Lance!''

Her chest burned painfully when she tried to breathe great puffs of air through her mouth, her nose was constipated, which generated an extra discomfort in her entire trembling body. Slowly, the light made its way through her eyes, blinding her momentarily. The last thing she remembered, was the water running on her body, to remove the discomfort she was suffering for many days ago, but before turning off the tap everything darkened around her, and she felt a strong blow to her head that had made her lose consciousness almost immediately.

Now, Pidge was in her room, with the green pajamas and a cloth around her forehead surely to lower the temperature of her body. It felt good about her skin, although it had already warmed slightly.

With difficulty, she tried to stand up and reach the glass of water half empty in the table, to realize that by her side of the bed, Keith was sitting, sleeping soundly.

Pidge was in shock for a few moments before taking the glass in need, her throat felt dry. After a swallow, she left it in the place and looked back at her sleepy leader.

It was so unusual to see him sitting next to her what for a moment she thought that the fever was making her delirious.

It isn't as if she had a bad relationship with Keith, much of the time could be coordinated with him almost without verbal language, and cause of certain intimate encounters between them before the disappearance of Shiro had formed a strange relationship of dancing around the other without anything formal.

When Keith took command of the black lion, all that they got ended at a moment and they did prefer don’t talk about it. Thanks to that Pidge could bet that her closest relationship on the ship was with Shiro, or Hunk at least. Even Lance sometimes came to show some kindness to her when he wasn't busy acting like a jerk.

Keith was simply distant since he became the leader of Voltron and subsequently performed missions with BOM. They almost didn't talk while they had free time in the castle. She didn't take it personally, basically, it was the same as the entire crew. Except with Shiro ...

Now she could understand his care a little.

She watched when Keith jumped on the chair to awaken reluctantly, Pidge waited a few seconds with a smile on her lips when he stretched lazily. In moments like this, the Galra nature in his veins came to light, acting like a real domestic cat.

Keith smiled when he saw her straight on her bed, without excessive sweating and nightly fears. Pidge finally looks healthier.

''Good morning, Kitty rose.''

''Hey ...'' Keith made a face at the nickname she had given him since they found the red lion, taking the cloth he found on her lap to wet it again. ''Do you feel better?''

''Much better, thanks to you.''

''That is great. Hungry?''

''Not really, I'm just kind thirsty. My mouth feels dry yet.''

''Okay, I'll go get you some water.''

''You?'' Pidge commented funny. ''You don't have to do. How much time are you taking care of me?''

''Since ... That you fainted? Why?'' She looked surprised, didn't expect Keith was really confused by his words. ''Is it so strange that I worry about my partners?'' His voice had sounded more defensive than Pidge would have liked, had pissed him off a bit without meaning to.

''I didn't mean it, it’s just strange that you worry about me now. You know?'' Pidge said honestly, avoiding generating a misunderstanding, the last thing she needed after waking up was an unnecessary discussion. ''You can tell Hunk or Lance to help me a little, you don't need to follow the orders from Shiro. I'm awake now.''

''Shiro didn't give me the order to take care of you, Pidge. I've done it voluntarily since I found you in the shower.''

The words were stuck in Pidge's mouth after that statement, which surely Keith didn't want to say aloud either since the red color on his cheeks could easily rival her own, at least Pidge could excuse herself that she still had some fever.

Keith had found her, naked, in the showers.

Keith had seen her.

A sharp pang came to her head as thoughts began to overwhelm her, worrying Keith and slightly pulling them out of the embarrassing situation. She still felt sick, so, with a wave of Keith's hand, she lay back on her bed again.

''You better keep resting, I'll tell Lance to come to take care of you so you feel more comfortable.''

She was silent for a few seconds, trying to resist growing pain in her body. Although she felt better, she was still sick. She looked at Keith again when he placed the cloth on her forehead, much colder before removing it.

''Thank you ... '' She whispered, with a weak smile on her lips, Keith mimicked the gesture. ''You know, for everything.''

''You don't need to thank me. And for your information, I really care for you Pidge, you're part of my family.''

Pidge snuggled sweetly into Keith's palm as a gesture of thanks, his touch felt good on her warm skin. And his words had touched her inside, for a long time she hadn't seen Keith's tender side. After a few seconds in comfortable silence, he spoke.

''Don't ever demand in that way again, I know you're worried about your brother, but you worried all of us when I found you unconscious.''

''How much time has passed?''

''About two days.'' Pidge moaned loudly, had lost two days of research. Keith perhaps guessed his thoughts when he laughed at her reaction. ''I'll go find you something to eat.'' She nodded softly, but before Keith closed the door, she caught his attention.

''Come back with more water, I'm still not fine, you know? I might need you to keep watching me.''

Pidge didn't know if seeing him laughing while he closed the door or the slight flush in his ears had made her feel, strangely, much better health.

Or maybe, it had been the thought that he would take care of her again.

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cindylouwho-2 · 5 years

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RECENT NEWS, RESOURCES & STUDIES, June 2019

Welcome to my latest summary of recent news, resources & studies including search, analytics, content marketing, social media & ecommerce! This covers articles I came across from May 31 to June 21, although some may be older than that.

(Unfortunately, a few of this edition’s entries were lost somehow, & I could only remember one of the missing, so if you know of an article/post that should be included, please let me know, & the piece will be added here as well as to the next post.)

My busy few months are now mostly over, so I will have more time to get working on this Tumblr, new blog posts & the new forum I want to start; expect more frequent updates starting in July.