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misshoneyimhome · 3 months

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Omg pleaseeee Don’t Blame Me - “For you, I would cross the line, I would waste my time, I would lose my mind.” With Auston Matthews

Babe, say no more 😉🤍

You know, this idea actually popped into my head a while back for a potential series, but I never got around to writing it down… 🙃 Anyway, I thought it might fit this prompt, even though it doesn't contain all the details 😉

Just to give you a heads up, though, the plot is mainly about cheating, which might not be everyone's cup of tea... but you know, it definitely adds some drama to the story! 🔥

I hope you enjoy it 🤍

・✶ ｡ﾟ

Short summary; When, you, the poised wife of a hockey executive encounter the star forward of the Toronto Maple Leafs, your attraction sparks a tumultuous affair. However, as you navigate secrecy and guilt, will you choose to embrace your forbidden love or face the consequences?

Warnings & tropes; Secret affair (cheating); briefly enemies to friends; friends to lovers; sexual content - unprotected sex (p in v);

Word count; 4.2K

・✶ ｡ﾟ

Don't Blame Me - Your Love Made Me Crazy I Auston Matthews 🖋️⚡️🔥

The cool air of the ice hockey arena surrounded you as you navigated through the busy corridors of the Scotiabank Arena. Dressed in a smartly tailored suit appropriate for your role as the wife of one of the investors for Maple Leaf Sports & Entertainment (MLSE), you projected an aura of confidence and sophistication. This was now your domain, where the game meant more than just a sport—it was a business, a passion, and a way of life.

However, amidst the crowd of players and staff, one figure stood out—Auston Matthews, the star forward of the Toronto Maple Leafs. His presence seemed to demand attention, his demeanour exuding a blend of determination and intensity that mirrored the game he played.

However, like many drama stories, your interactions with Auston began on a less than pleasant note.

In his eyes, you were nothing more than a wealthy socialite who had married into money, and he treated you with scepticism. Likewise, you saw him as an arrogant athlete whose focus rarely extended beyond the hockey rink.

And whenever you found yourselves in the same vicinity, the tension was palpable as the two of you exchanged wary glances, each assessing the other with thinly veiled suspicion.

"What are you doing here?" Auston inquired, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity as you crossed paths in the arena hallway.

You shifted uncomfortably under his scrutinising gaze, feeling defensive at the implied judgment in his question. "I'm here to support the team," you replied evenly, masking the irritation simmering beneath the surface.

Auston's lips curled into a smug smirk. "Ah, of course, because I'm sure you're a huge hockey fan," he retorted sarcastically, his words laced with disdain.

You felt a surge of indignation, his words implying more than just a casual insult, igniting a flame of resentment within you. "Surprisingly enough, some of us care about more than just the final score," you retorted sharply, your sarcasm thinly veiled.

Auston's smirk wavered, a flicker of surprise evident in his eyes. "Really?" he responded, his tone almost disbelieving. "And what exactly is it that you care about, apart from mingling with the players?"

You bristled at his dismissive tone, rejecting the notion that you were merely another wealthy socialite seeking amusement. "I actually hold a degree in sports psychology," you countered defiantly, a touch of defiance in your voice. "And I'm here to contribute my expertise to the team, whether you appreciate it or not."

Auston's demeanour softened slightly, a glimmer of genuine interest replacing his earlier scepticism. "Sports psychology, huh?" he pondered, his tone less mocking. "That's at least something."

And surprisingly, you resisted the temptation to roll your eyes at his thinly veiled compliment, opting instead to concentrate on the task at hand.

It was evident that many of your initial encounters with Auston had been less than ideal, and as he departed, leaving you standing in the hallway, you couldn’t help but scoff at the conceited forward.

Yet, fate had a peculiar way of intertwining lives. As you delved deeper into the nuances of sports psychology, armed with your education and expertise, Auston gradually began to take notice. He witnessed first-hand the subtle yet profound impact your insights had on the team's dynamics, and on their performance both on and off the ice.

And one evening, following an especially demanding practice session, Auston remained behind, his expression a blend of frustration and curiosity. "So, what's the deal with all this psychology stuff anyway?" he inquired, his tone more earnest than accusatory, as he joined you in the locker room while the others continued their workout in the fitness room.

You paused, deliberating your response before replying. "It's about understanding the mind, Auston. How it influences our performance, our reactions, our ability to collaborate as a team."

Auston raised an eyebrow, though he couldn't deny feeling intrigued. "And you actually think all that mumbo jumbo can help us win games?"

You couldn’t help but smile slightly, a flicker of amusement dancing in your eyes as you regarded the confident player before you. "I believe it can make a difference. Sometimes, it's not just about physical skills—it's about mental resilience, about finding that extra edge when it matters most."

Auston appeared to gradually grasp the significant role you had come to play for the team, offering you a simple nod before departing, leaving you to your work.

And as weeks passed, you found yourself engaging in more frequent and in-depth conversations with the player, as he began seeking your advice not only on the ice but also off it.

"Hey, uh, mind if I pick your brain for a bit?" he'd inquire, a sheepish grin playing at the corners of his mouth, meeting you in one of the small offices, unofficially designated for your use.

And amidst the whirlwind of strategy sessions and pre-game routines, an unexpected bond began to form— a bond that was an unspoken acknowledgment, a silent understanding that there was more to the connection between you and Auston than initially met the eye.

As days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, your presence within the Leafs' inner circle became more prominent, and you found yourself deeply involved in the team's daily routines, from pre-game rituals to post-match analyses. And with each interaction, the bond between you and the players, including Auston, strengthened.

Yet, despite your efforts to maintain professionalism, your communication with Auston had a natural way to evolve into something more personal. You weren’t entirely sure why, but the Arizona boy simply had a knack for breaking down your defences and gradually entering your personal space. And you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed it.

For weeks, you shared laughter and began to build inside jokes, slowly blurring the lines between professionalism and friendship.

And, when Auston's banter veered into flirtation, it began to test the boundaries you had established. His playful remarks and charming smiles eroded the walls around your heart, tempting you to yield to the allure of something forbidden.

Yet, you remained resolute in your commitment to your marriage, brushing aside the enticing temptation that Auston represented. But beneath the mask of indifference, a storm brewed—a conflict between duty and desire, loyalty and longing.

And Auston, perspective as ever, began to detect the turmoil simmering within you, as he observed with sharp eyes as you navigated the delicate tightrope between professionalism and personal restraint. In those fleeting moments of vulnerability, he glimpsed the fissures in your facade, the unspoken yearning concealed beneath the surface.

Then one evening, the atmosphere at Mitch’s restaurant was vibrant and animated, the clinking of glasses and laughter echoing through the air as the team gathered for their post-game revelry. Auston felt drawn to you once more, his steps leading him to where you sat at the back of the room, encircled by the familiar faces of his teammates.

Taking a seat beside you, Auston's gaze lingered on you for a beat longer than usual, his eyes reflecting a depth of understanding that caught you off guard. "You know, you don't have to pretend with me," he gently whispered in your ear, his voice soft and sincere, so no one would hear.

You tensed at his words, the earnestness in his tone stirring something within you. "I'm not entirely sure what you're getting at," you responded, a touch of defensiveness creeping into your voice.

But Auston's gaze softened, his expression filled with empathy as he reached out to you. "I can see that you’re not happy y/n – that you’re trapped in a marriage that you don’t really want," he said gently. "You deserve to be with someone who wants you, who treats you good."

His words hung in the air, their weight sinking deep into your consciousness. For in Auston's eyes, you glimpsed a reflection of your own longings, mirrored back to you with striking clarity.

“You don’t understand…” you attempted to explain, your voice faltering as uncertainty clouded your mind.

“What don't I understand?” Auston probed, his gaze unwavering as he sought answers in your eyes.

“Marriages aren’t always simple…” you offered weakly, struggling to articulate the turmoil within your heart.

“I know, but there should still be love,” Auston countered, his voice resolute yet gentle.

“I do love him, Auston…” you insisted, the words tasting bitter as they left your lips.

But Auston didn't relent, his gaze piercing as he posed a question that struck at the heart of your conflict. “Are you sure? Then why do you feel attracted to me?”

The question lingered; its weight palpable between you. And for a moment, you grappled with a response, torn between the truth of your desires and the promises you had made.

But with a heavy heart, you instead rose from your seat, making a distance between you and Auston a painful reminder of the boundaries you dared not breach. And as you joined the captain a few paces away, the night progressed, the team's laughter and camaraderie serving as both a comfort and a poignant reminder of the unspoken connection that bound you and Auston.

A week later, you found yourself accompanying the team on the road, a suggestion made by the coaching staff who had recognised the importance of your insights, especially in the wake of several consecutive losses. With morale low, your role had become more crucial than ever before, as each player sought to unburden their concerns and frustrations, seeking your guidance to chart a path forward, and you willingly provided a sympathetic ear and professional perspective.

However, one player didn’t approach you until after the official work hours had concluded.

In the dimly lit hotel room, elongated shadows danced across the walls, accompanied only by the soft hum of the air conditioning unit. You reclined on your bed, attempting to ease your mind, yet the players’ worries weighed heavily on your thoughts.

Then a sudden knock shattered the silence, startling you, and with a slightly racing heart, you approached the door, cautiously turning the knob to reveal Auston standing outside, his expression a mix of frustration and agitation.

"Hey," he greeted brusquely, his voice tinged with annoyance. "Can we talk?"

You simply nodded, stepping aside to let him in, as a sense of unease gnawing at you. And as Auston entered the room, his movements were deliberate and tense, his eyes burning with emotion.

"We lost again," he began, his words sharp and succinct, as he stood in the middle of your room. "And I can't shake this feeling that it's all my fault, that I've let the team down."

Your heart went out to him, a wave of empathy washing over you as you gently approached him. "It's not only your fault, Auston," you reassured him, reaching out to lightly touch his arm. "You're an exceptional player, one of the best I've seen. Sometimes, things simply don't go as planned."

Auston's gaze softened a little, his defences weakening in the face of your understanding. "I know," he admitted quietly, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "But it still sucks, you know? Knowing that I could've done better, that I disappointed everyone."

You slowly drew a little closer to him, the atmosphere thick with unspoken emotion. "You're not alone in this, Auston," you murmured softly. "We win together, and we lose together. That's the essence of being a team."

And for a moment, a heavy silence enveloped the room, the weight of the night pressing down on your shoulders. Then, almost as if drawn by an invisible force, Auston leaned in towards you, his lips tenderly brushing against yours in a fleeting caress.

You almost froze, panic coursing through your veins as you swiftly pulled away, your heart racing. "Auston, we can't," you protested, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

Confusion clouded his features, his brow furrowing in frustration. "Why not?" he demanded, his tone tinged with anger. "Don't you feel it too? The connection between us?"

But a form of shy anger seemed to surge within you, mingling with hurt and betrayal. "Of course, I do," you retorted, your voice slightly escalating. "But that doesn't change the fact that this is wrong…"

Auston's gaze hardened, his resolve unwavering. "I can't do this – you’re fucking with me, and I can’t take it," he declared, his voice laced with a hint of anger. "I thought... I thought there was something real between us, but maybe I was wrong."

The hotel room suddenly felt oppressively small as unspoken words hung heavily in the air. You watched as Auston turned to leave, his footsteps echoing on the plush carpet beneath him.

"Auston, wait!" you called out, desperation seeping into your voice, prompting him to halt, his shoulders stiffening at the sound of your plea.

"What now?" he muttered; frustration evident in his tone.

"I... please don't leave like this..." you trailed off, the words catching in your throat.

Auston turned back to face you, his expression a blend of confusion and frustration. "y/n.. I don't get you! What do you want from me?" he demanded, his voice tinged with exasperation.

And tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you struggled to articulate your thoughts. "I don't know... I just... I just don't want-" you started, your voice trembling with emotion.

But before you could complete your sentence, Auston closed the gap between you in a single stride, his lips crashing onto yours in a desperate, passionate kiss. His hands firmly cupping your face to keep you close. The world around you faded as you surrendered to the embrace, the intensity of his touch setting your senses ablaze.

And in that moment, as Auston's lips met yours in a sudden surge of passion, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions engulfed you. Shock, desire, and a hint of desperation swirled together as you melted into his arms, his touch igniting a flame of longing and desire that threatened to consume you entirely.

All the doubts and fears that had haunted you seemed to vanish in the heat of the moment, replaced by an overwhelming rush of raw emotion and unspoken longing.

However, as you succumbed to the overwhelming rush of passion, a voice in the depths of your mind whispered warnings of the inevitable consequences, the fallout of giving in to forbidden love.

So reluctantly, you pulled away, your breaths ragged as you searched Auston's eyes for understanding. "We can't continue like this," you whispered, your voice quivering with uncertainty.

Auston's expression softened, his gaze locking with yours in a silent plea for forgiveness. "I know," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "But I can't seem to help myself, y/n. I want you."

Guilt tugged at your heartstrings, torn between longing for something more and the weight of impending consequences. "I want you too," you confessed, your voice barely audible. "But I can't bear to keep hurting the people I care about."

Auston's shoulders sagged in resignation, the weight of your words settling heavily upon him. "I know," he repeated, his voice barely audible. "But I don't know how to stop."

And in a moment of vulnerability, as you teetered on the edge of something forbidden and perilous, you knew that the road ahead would be fraught with challenges and obstacles.

“Me neither,” you whispered softly, before pressing your lips fervently against his.

It was a heated, passionate exchange where you surrendered to your deepest desires, allowing raw, primal lust to take control. And as your fingers tangled in his hair, Auston's hands found your lower back, using his size to guide you towards the bed.

The urgency of the moment was palpable as you both hastily shed the layers that separated you, consumed by an overwhelming need for each other. Your lips remained locked in a fervent embrace, only parting briefly to discard clothing, and as Auston eagerly explored your mouth with his tongue he positioned himself over you on the bed.

Hands roamed each other's bodies, exploring every inch of soft skin offered, and you couldn't help but notice Auston's member growing firmer with each deep breath and moan exchanged between hungry kisses.

The atmosphere in the small hotel room grew thick with desire as your moans reverberated, the air heavy with anticipation. And as Auston used his hands to pin yours above your head, you felt the tip of his throbbing length teasing your entrance.

“Auston,” you moaned, the urgency in your voice betraying your growing need for more than just his lips. “Please, make love to me.”

And without hesitation, he obliged.

With determined thrusts, he entered you, filling your depths with his length and stimulating your walls with each movement.

Your moans intertwined as he rocked his hips in a steady rhythm, his motions gentle yet impassioned as he explored every inch of your sensitive flesh.

“Oh, baby, you feel so good around me,” he praised you in a husky voice, his breath hot against your neck as he increased his pace.

And you couldn't deny the overwhelming pleasure of Auston's length inside you. The way his thick cock caressed every part of your sensitive core, the tip of his length hitting your sweet spot with each thrust, sent waves of ecstasy coursing through your body, leaving you seeing stars.

Then releasing one of your hands, Auston placed his between your heated bodies, finding your clit and circling it with skilled precision. And his actions brought you nothing but closer to the brink of an orgasm. The pleasure of climax built within you, intensified by Auston's increasing thrusts and his expert touch on your sensitive bud.

“Yes, Auston, please, I’m close,” you moaned, your voice harmonising with the rhythm of his thrusts. And with a few more moments, you finally closed your eyes, arched your back, and cried out his name as you reached the peak of ecstasy.

Your mind clouded with sensation as Auston maintained his steady rhythm, feeling his own climax approaching as you tightened around him. And with a swift motion, he released his grip, pulling out momentarily, eliciting a soft sigh from you, before forcefully turning you over onto your stomach and re-entering you.

You let out a surprised moan as he filled you once more, the sound of skin slapping together filling the room.

“Oh, yes,” Auston moaned between heavy breaths, his thrusts growing increasingly intense. And as the pressure built within him, he knew he couldn’t hold back any longer, releasing a deep grunt as he spilled his seed into your depths. As he emptied himself inside you, the two of you released deep breaths and sighs, slowly emerging from the euphoric haze of climax.

It was a moment suffused with intense passion, yet as Auston left your room, you couldn't shake the feeling of needing a long shower to wash away the sense of dirtiness and filth that lingered.

As days melted into weeks, the tumultuous dance between you and Auston persisted, fuelled by a potent blend of desire, guilt, and longing. Despite the rational voice of conscience clamouring within you, you found yourself irresistibly drawn to him, like a moth to a flame.

Each stolen moment with him ignited a fire within you, a blaze of passion that consumed your every thought and desire. The thrill of the forbidden, the danger of being caught—it only added to the allure, heightening the intensity of your shared experiences.

With every win and every loss for the team, the bond between you and Auston deepened, transcending the confines of reason and morality. It was as if the highs and lows of the game mirrored the highs and lows of your illicit affair, each victory a triumph of desire, each defeat a bitter reminder of the forbidden nature of your love.

Naturally, guilt lingered at the edges of your conscience, a constant reminder of the vows broken, and trust betrayed. Yet, in Auston's arms, all thoughts of remorse faded, replaced by a desperate yearning for solace, for an escape from the wreckage of your marriage.

He had become your drug, and you found yourself hopelessly addicted to him.

Nights at the Scotiabank Arena became your sanctuary, a refuge from the chaos of your crumbling life. While your husband immersed himself in his work and business meetings, you sought solace in the arms of another. With each passing night, the boundaries between right and wrong blurred until they were mere echoes of a reality long forgotten. In the darkness of Auston's bedroom, you found moments of pleasure, fleeting ecstasy in a world torn apart by deceit and desire.

But even as you surrendered to the intoxicating allure of your forbidden love, a nagging voice whispered in the depths of your soul—a voice warning of the inevitable reckoning, of the price you would pay for your transgressions.

Yet, in the heat of passion, such concerns faded into the background, drowned out by the pounding of your heart, the rush of adrenaline, the overwhelming need for the man who had become your addiction, your obsession, your everything.

Yet, on another night, you found yourself back on the side-lines of a match, then lingering in the locker room after all the players had departed. All but one.

The locker room was dimly lit, heavy with the scent of sweat and anticipation as Auston's lips met yours in a fierce, desperate kiss, his hands exploring eagerly over your body as he lifted you up, pressing you against the cold, hard surface of the wall. Caught up in the heat of the moment, you surrendered to the overwhelming rush of desire, your senses consumed by the intoxicating taste of his tongue, the feel of his strong arms enveloping you.

And as the kiss deepened, the world around you faded away, leaving only the electric current of desire pulsing between you. His lips moved with a hunger that mirrored your own, his hands tracing urgent paths over your bottom.

"Shit, I've wanted this all day," Auston murmured against your lips, his breath sending shivers down your spine.

Your heart raced as you surrendered to the intensity of the moment, every touch igniting a wildfire of longing within you. "Me too," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the rush of blood in your ears.

However, unbeknownst to you, your husband had chosen this night to attend a game, seeking to understand why you had been so consumed by your work with the team for months. And as he stood just beyond the threshold, silently witnessing the betrayal unfolding before his eyes, the truth dawned on him.

But lost in the heat of passion, you were oblivious to his presence, drowning your guilt in the overwhelming desire that threatened to consume you entirely.

It was only later, upon returning home, that the full weight of your betrayal crashed down upon you.

The air between you and your husband was thick with tension as you faced each other, his accusing gaze weighing heavily upon you. His words pierced the silence like a knife, each one carrying the sting of betrayal.

"How could you?" he demanded, his voice tinged with pain and disbelief. "How could you betray me like this?"

You tried to speak, to offer some explanation for your actions, but the words failed you, suffocated by guilt and shame.

“Is this what you’ve been doing all along? Sleeping with hockey players behind my back?”

And in that moment, as the reality of your actions sank in, you knew there was no turning back, no undoing the damage. As silence enveloped you both, a chasm of pain and regret widened between you, leaving behind only the shattered remnants of a love that could never be repaired.

With the final signature inked on the paper, the reality of your separation loomed ahead, and despite the uncertainty of what lay beyond, you held onto the belief that it was the right decision.

Love for your husband had faded long ago and clinging onto a hollow semblance of a relationship felt unjust to both of you.

So, as each party fulfilled their obligations, you found yourself at a crossroads, uncertain of what the future held. But one thing remained clear: you needed to discover if Auston's feelings mirrored your own.

Then with a heavy heart and nerves frayed, you made your way to the condo where you'd shared your deepest desires, and as Auston greeted you with a concerned gaze, he feared the worst as he noticed your sorrowful expression. Perhaps you were here to end things, to focus on rebuilding your marriage, he thought.

However, as the words left your lips, a sense of relief washed over him.

"It's over, Auston," you managed a soft smile, despite the tears in your eyes. "My marriage is over."

And in that moment, Auston realised the depth of his feelings for you. The fear that you might not want him, only to be met with the revelation that you had chosen him.

“Finally.”

With love swelling in his heart, he welcomed you into his home, embracing the freedom to love you openly.

As you found solace in his arms, the weight of the past dissolved, leaving only the promise of a future brimming with love and possibility. Entwined together, you faced the uncertainties ahead, fortified by a love that conquered all obstacles.

#my asks #auston matthews imagine #auston matthews x reader #toronto maple leafs fic #nhl hockey imagine #auston matthews smut

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violetrainbow412-blog · 1 year

Text

Fire and Rain [K. B.]

Kaz Brekker x inferni!fem!reader

word count: 4k

summary: Kaz discovers that a member of his team is in a Grisha (again)

warnings: here Kaz has no romantic feelings for Inej, it doesn't have a specific time in the canon.

A/N: an anonymous asked for this and I hope whoever you are likes it! I also decided to add a crime to contribute to the plot. It's short, but with love

taglist: @rustyyyyspoonz @be-lla-vie @milkshake0 @ladespedidas

You were sitting on the roof of The Slat, feeling the night breeze ruffling your skirt and looking at all the lights spread across The Barrel.

You liked to go up there to think or just hang out when everything else got annoying or boring, as was the case that night. Most of them were busy at the club and although you had been invited, you didn't feel like being surrounded by many people, so you had apologized saying that you would return home earlier. And when you arrived, almost like on autopilot, you were done there. God knows how many hours you'd already have in that position.

"Don't be scared" you heard a voice, almost in your ear. Contrary to what they had asked you, you gave a start and almost fell into the void, if it weren't for the arms that held you to keep you in your place "What did I just tell you?" You heard that they claimed you and when you looked around you recognized that the raspy voice was Kaz’s.

"Don't you get tired of doing that?" you hissed, quite annoyed that the same situation always presented itself. You heard him let out a mocking hum and then he sat down next to you, but with his feet facing the inside and not the outside of the building.

"Why do you always come here?" he muttered.

The relationship that existed between him and you was quite curious. Kaz had practically, like most of your friends, rescued you from the streets, offering you a place to stay in exchange for your help in most of his plans. You arrived shortly before Wylan and after Inej and Jesper, but for unknown reasons you had won the affection of the black-haired man faster than any of them, and over the years he was able to open up while he enjoyed your company. Even now, he was looking for you like he didn't for anyone else.

"Is it a crime?" you teased, with a small smile, as you watched his windblown dark hair fall on his forehead. You would be lying if you said that you didn’t enjoy being with him, probably more than with any other crow, because although he was your boss you had also come to find a friend in him.

"If you fall and die, I'll have to pay someone to clean the street" he snorted and you opened your mouth pretending to be outraged, even though you knew he didn't mean it.

You didn't answer anything to that and he didn't want to say anything else, so you guys stayed looking at the horizon for another while. Well, actually you were looking at the horizon while Kaz was looking at you.

He never thought he felt towards someone the way he felt towards you, because you had something that he couldn't explain that he had been captivated from the first time he saw you. It was well known that he was very reserved and that he had a curious collection of traumatic events that had prevented him so far from having any affective relationship beyond the brotherly feeling he experienced for Jesper or Inej, and even some paternity towards Wylan, however, he wouldn’t classify what he felt for you as something of that nature. A clear sign of this was that he was getting physically close to you of his own free will. With you it seemed to be something natural, even pleasant most of the times, and even he himself couldn't understand how he didn't hate physical contact with you. But things went beyond that; Kaz felt like he could be someone else when he was with you. He felt as if in your eyes he was not the ruthless killer that the entire Barrel feared, nor a scared boy, nor a liar, he was just the Kaz who liked to drink tea in the afternoon, who appreciated art in all its expressions, who could openly worry about banal things and the one who wasn’t ashamed to go looking for you for no reason, only with the motivation of not being alone. Maybe that's what it was all about, that Kaz not only didn't want to be alone, but he wanted to be with you.

Although absolutely no one could know this or they would have to be threatened with death.

"Have you thought of an answer about the deal she proposed to us yet?" You murmured and when you turned you noticed that Kaz was standing up a bit in his place to hide where his eyes had been.

"Huh, yeah. I will accept, the money will come in handy"

It turns out that a very wealthy woman had requested your services to recover a jewel from her family that her ex-husband had taken from her when they separated, one that was very valuable and old, but above all with enough sentimental value for the lady willing to pay much of her fortune. Kaz had even scoffed at how feelings could turn into kruge under the right circumstances.

“Have you told the others yet?”

"No. This job is for us. You and me" he said seriously, making you frown in confusion "But the money will be for everyone"

"So I work and the others get the credit?"

“Too many people will draw attention. You are better than the others at these things” he argued “Besides… I heard that this man has many more treasures in his collection than him. If you feel disadvantaged, you can take whatever you want."

"How thoughtful" you mocked "I've always wanted a tiara, like the ones for princesses"

“If he has it, it's yours,” he replied, apparently not understanding your sarcasm, as he shrugged, “It'll be tomorrow night. Get ready”

"Fine," you said in the same way. Your feet danced back and forth, until a hand on your knee made you stop abruptly.

"And please get down from there, you make me nervous"

You tried to think of an intelligent response, but being honest the momentary closeness with the man caught you off guard and left you speechless. He was looking at you with that always angry expression but also with some concern.

"We are crows" you exclaimed, when you were finally able to speak, while you listened to him and moved your legs inside the roof. Kaz straightened up as soon as he detected that you were going to do it, so when you stood up your face was a little lower than his "If I fall, I'll just fly" you laughed, totally nonchalant "Good night, boss" you said goodbye and then walked inside The Slat to try to sleep.

The following night you were ready at the agreed time, just as he had asked you, but with a bad feeling haunting you since you had left home. Kaz had told you that he would stay outside keeping watch, as he wouldn't be of much help to the robbery either way, assuring you that he would only be going in and out; simple.

Of course, once you were there it was hard not to be gawked at everything that guy had. You were very surprised that someone else hadn't already stolen it, but you also concluded that probably most of those pieces were temporary until he found the best buyer and after taking some jewelry that you liked, you concentrated on finding your goal, which was a necklace encrusted with sapphires running the length of the chain, with a centerpiece larger than the rest. You looked around the room, there were all kinds of precious stones, rubies, amethysts, emeralds, set in many different things, but what caught your attention the most, without a doubt, was the thin gold tiara studded with what you hoped were diamonds. Would you be too greedy to want to take that one?

You took it and put it in your bag, but a few seconds later you heard a noise coming from the entrance. In panic you began to search for the necklace you had entered in the first place and barely managed to put it away when a person appeared.

"Hey, you!" the man who appeared to be a bodyguard yelled at you.

A chase broke out and you ran after Kaz hoping he had some plan. You didn't see him in the same place as before and your blood ran cold, but this lasted no more than a brief moment before a gloved hand grabbed yours to pull you away.

You didn't even know how Kaz was running, but you were also impressed by the way he decided to run. You were getting winded with every step and you had to hold on tight to keep from tripping and falling as he pushed people out of the way with his stick. At some point in The Barrel you finally lost sight of the thug and just to avoid taking any chances he threw you into a dark alley, pinning your body against a wall. You didn't even dare to breathe and I could feel your whole body vibrating from the excitement of having run so much, the adrenaline of almost getting caught, and the nerves from having Kaz so close to you. He had been so worried that you two wouldn't be discovered that he didn't notice the horrible burning in his leg or the contact with you until he stopped, but not only was that, but he also experienced again the sensation that had him intrigued from a long time ago. He had never dared to hold your hand, it was something unthinkable under normal circumstances, but now that he had done it even with the gloves he could feel your body temperature.

You were warm, you weren't like the corpses he remembered every time he touched someone else's skin. And it wasn't just your hand that felt that way.

"You're hot," he spoke, making you choke on your own saliva as he stepped away from you.

"Sorry?" you exclaimed, completely stunned by the idea that he was flirting. Where the hell had that come from anyway? You didn't understand what he meant until Kaz reached over to grab your wrist and lift your hand in his direction.

"Your hands, they feel like they burn"

Oh, shit.

To be honest, you were very surprised that with the man's intelligence and deductive abilities, he hadn't discovered your secret before. You and your family found out that you were a grisha tragically when, by accident, you badly burned your younger brother, who luckily and with the help of your mother was able to recover. Your father wasn’t very happy about this, so your powers were always a reason for his repudiation and shame for you.

You grew up mistreated by your father and feared by your brother, with your mother hardly daring to help you change the feelings of either of them, so thinking about proving that you were Inferni was the last thing you wanted.

One day your father just got fed up and threw you out on the streets like a helpless animal, forcing you to beg for weeks until the bastard took pity on you. Those weeks you had hardly any problems with your abilities, using them only when it was a life-or-death situation, so when you joined the crows you developed into more criminal fields that even with that you still considered less dangerous for yourself and others.

Only your family knew about your condition, for you always feared that if anyone else found out about it they would try to kill you or send you to Ravka, and that had worked for you so far. You were never tempted to tell any member of the group, not even as a joke, and you thought that information would accompany you to the grave. But you never counted on Kaz’s cunning.

You couldn't answer his question because of a bullet noise that resounded near you, apparently you hadn't hidden very well from those men who were chasing you and a few seconds later you had to separate from him to start fighting. In the dark you couldn't tell who you were fighting with, although you could feel the blows crashing against most of your body and you were thankful that they hadn't hit you with any of the guns or knives yet. Through it all you could tell that Kaz was having a worse time than you, but he was definitely handling it better.

You knocked out a guy with a good knuckle-burning punch, and thinking it was the last one, you turned to look for your boss, but instead of looking at him you took a punch that knocked you to the ground.

"Bitch," roared a tall man with a knife in his hand, who was on top of you before you could move. For the first time that night you panicked and yelled for help, but no one answered. He was ready to drive the knife through your chest, but you could stop him, using practically all your strength to face him. After struggling for a while, you managed to throw the weapon away and then only he and you were left, however the man wasted no time so he took his hands directly to your neck. It didn't take long for you to lack air and although you tried to free yourself, all effort was useless; it was obvious that he surpassed you in every way. An idea struck you, and hoping that would work, you clasped your hands together to cause a flame good enough to burn him to ashes. Your fingers lit up and you were about to plunge them into his eyes when suddenly a sharp object hit the man's temple, pulling him away from your body and killing him instantly.

You breathed violently in search of the air you had been deprived of and still gripped by fear you looked up to face whoever was there. It was Kaz. His face was smeared with blood and he looked hurt on one side by the hand he had on it, but other than that he was fine.

“Idiots…” he hissed, sneering at the bodies strewn around the alley and spitting up a combination of saliva and blood. You were still struggling a bit to breathe when he offered you a hand to get you up, which you didn't hesitate to take, but as you did so his glove scorched a little on the inside. If Kaz had been suspicious before now he had a verdict on your situation “An Inferni?”

"I don't know what you're talking about" you said in a raspy voice due to the attack, trying to avoid the subject, while you rubbed the palms of your hands on your sides to clean them and also try to control your body temperature. Many times, since you never received training, strong emotions could be triggers for your power.

He didn't answer, he just looked at you with raised eyebrows and nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Let's go then" he informed you and you followed him towards the exit, knowing that he would not forget the matter so easily.

The delivery of the necklace was a complete success and the woman burst into tears as soon as she got it back, so you had to go comfort her before she thought of throwing herself into Kaz’s arms. Everyone was very happy with the payment, which you gladly delivered, and the extra things you had stolen for yourself were kept in your drawer for a couple of days so as not to create discord. When you finally reviewed them, you realized how beautiful your new treasures were and you were surprised to remember that you had taken a special little thing for a certain person.

"Come in, Y/N" Kaz's voice said from inside his room, for he could recognize each of you by the sound of your footsteps and the way you knocked on the door. The night was already falling and you guys had taken a break from being in the club.

"Look at this" you exclaimed with a smile from ear to ear. Kaz looked up from the documents he was writing to find you wearing a light orange dress the likes of which he had never seen before, and a tiara that sparkled against the candlelight in the room "Don't I look like royalty?" you joked, making an exaggerated pose.

"I'm glad to see you got something good out of it"

"And I have something for you" you carefully took a jewel from your pocket and maintaining the dramatic air you got on one knee in front of Kaz, which made him back in his chair. He was about to ask what you were doing when you offered him a beautiful silver ring with a square emerald in the middle. He frowned at you and you wished you could figure out what was going through his head.

“What is this?”

“What does it look like? a ring, of course”

"Do I have to use it?"

"It would be nice" you smiled. The idea that if someone walked in, they would think you were proposing to him amused you greatly "But if you want you can sell it, whatever makes you feel better"

He turned a little in the chair so he could face you and you held your breath when you saw that he was taking off his gloves, because you had never seen Kaz's hands. When he finished you watched him carefully; they were thin and without a single mark that stained their white skin. They could easily be the hands of a Greek marble sculpture.

"Give it to me," he asked you. You deposited the piece in his outstretched palm and before you had time to react he locked your fingers in his hand, almost making you cry out in astonishment. "Are your hands always warm or only when you're nervous?" he asked, his eyes narrowing. He had set you up and you had so much to process that the question had caught you off guard.

"Why do you keep thinking about it?"

“Why hide what you are? All the Grisha seem eager to be recognized”

"Well, not me," you said immediately, getting up from your place to avoid the conversation. You suddenly felt bad for interrupting and you felt ridiculous wearing the crown on your head.

"I've always been terrified of water, you know?" he exclaimed, capturing your attention, but not enough for you to look at him "But fire... I find it fascinating”

The color rose to your cheeks as if the flames within you had literally decided to focus there and you stood very still, fearing that making any movement would expose you.

“I didn’t grow up in that little palace. I'm not a Grisha, I'm just… just me. And I don't want others to see me differently or point at me in the streets. I don't want them to fear me"

"Wouldn't that be an advantage?"

“Even if they are the people I love? My family? Do you think I like living in fear of hurting one of you because I don't know how to control myself?" you said seriously. You were remembering your past and your brother, but he couldn't know it, just as you couldn't know that Kaz was also thinking about his own brother.

"If I hadn't been there to kill that man, would you have used your skills?" he exclaimed. The answer was obvious, so you decided not to answer “You limit your potential just because you are afraid. You would be much better if you trained properly”

"Better for the team?"

“Better for yourself. Inej has her knives, Jesper the guns, how are you going to defend yourself when one of us is not with you?” he was looking at you seriously, but also with a trace of concern. Kaz's intentions in being harsh with you were always for you to improve, they were always looking for your entire well-being and for you to be able to face the world alone “Nina can help you if I ask her. But in the end, it's your decision."

You remained silent and unconsciously began to play with your hands, a little nervous. You had never thought of taking that matter seriously, but now that he was suggesting it you were wondering how good an idea it would be and for a second you considered it a positive thing. A part of you wanted to impress not only Kaz, but your friends as well, and you knew that handling it might help you heal the wounds you were carrying from the past.

“I don't know…” you started to say, hoping that as you did so more words would spring up to complete the sentence, however, they never came because you simply didn't know what to do; no more no less.

He was watching you from his chair with what you thought was a look of disappointment, but actually other ideas were going through the black-haired man's head. As I said before, he had never seen you wearing a dress and although he didn't have a great sense of fashion he knew for a fact that warm colors were your colors. Everything about you was like that to him, long before he even knew that you were literally warm by birth as Inferni and maybe his feelings for you were clouding his perception, but to him you glowed wherever you appeared.

“Would you have preferred growing up in Ravka? Grow up away from all… this?” he said, his voice sounding raspier when he spoke softly.

“Like a Grisha? No. Like a princess? Maybe” you joked to lighten the mood. Kaz rolled his eyes and shook his head at that, but you couldn't deny there was a hint of amusement in his expression.

"Why did you take this for me?" he said, finally paying attention to your gift, apparently with genuine interest.

“I think the color green goes with you. And you like expensive things”

“Gloves are going to cover it up”

"Alright. That way only we will know it's there” you said.

He smiled.

"And you? Do you intend to stay like this for the rest of the week or will you take that off?”

"Right now I'm going to Jesper's room to show off a bit and then I'll probably take it off”

“It was a good choice” he flattered you and for some reason you thought that he wasn't just referring to jewelry.

You were silent for a few seconds and in this same way you saw the man put the ring on the middle finger of his left hand, and then put both gloves back on. What you said was true, no one else would know that under the leather there was a piece that kept the memory of that night and at the same time the secret that he kept for you.

“I think I should go. I don't want to interrupt, huh, whatever you're doing."

“Good luck with Jesper”

"He is going to die of envy" you laughed and noticed that his eyes were gently observing you "Rest"

Kaz saw you walk out the door and then he thought he might get back to his business, but he couldn't concentrate after your visit. He took off his gloves and looked at your gift for a long time: what did that mean? It was a very pretty piece that fits perfectly, but... What did it symbolize?

Resigned that he wouldn't go any further, even if he wanted to, he left his room and walked up to the roof to get some fresh air, imagining for a moment that even he might find you there. It wasn't like that, so he just stared at the buildings in silence.

Kaz began to think about your friendly smile when you visited him that day, your recurring pranks, worse than others, and your fear of hurting others. For hurting the ones you loved, you said exactly. Did that include him too?

He didn't know how long he was there, silent, his mind only wandering on matters related to you. But, in the end, he was clear that if someone could one day make his frozen heart burn with affection, it would surely be you.

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #the crows #six of crows #jesper fahey #inej gafha #wylan van eck #nina zenik #mathias helvar #shadow and bone #shadow and bone netflix #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker imagine

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foxaftershocks · 13 days

Note

Hi!! I just wanna say first that I absolutely adore ur writing :) and I've literally never done this before, tbh, so I'm so sry if I've done anything wrong or smth. :)

But I wanted to suggest maybe a reader thats also an engineer and scientist for the Ghostbusters, who Lars always considered less able than him since reader was quite quiet, and would run their expermients in peace, never rly interacting with people. Until one day reader is talking to lucky or phoebe or smth, and goes off on a tangent when talking abt smth they're working on, and it's a very sudden realisation to him that reader is actually rly knowledgeable, that their intelligence is much greater than he anticipated.

Totally fine if u don't wanna write it, remember to take care of urself!! <3

I always take care of myself <3 you did nothing wrong, a totally perfect request. I hope you like it

You were sitting across the room from Lars, absorbed in your work, headphones on as your head nodded in time to the beat of whatever music you were listening to. He hadn’t heard you arrive that morning. Not an unusual situation. He never heard much from you ever.

You seemed to be so unaware of his gaze on you, watching as your hands moved, fingers typing, adjusting your equipment, writing something down in a notebook. That was something he’d noticed. You kept paper notes.

Insane. Absolutely nuts.

Your head tilted up and he realised he’d been caught watching. His nose wrinkled and he looked back to his own work. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t busy. He had enough to get on with.

There was no reason for you to be there. He kept trying to figure out what it was you did, what you contributed to the lab. You kept to yourself and no one else could tell him what it was you did. You preferred to work alone, and while he could empathise with that as someone who didn’t love working in a team, he did enjoy leading a team of researchers. You’d never agreed to joining him.

He had to assume it’s because you knew you weren’t up to the task.

When he next looked up, you were gone. The workstation was empty and there was nothing to indicate where you’d gone. He couldn’t imagine you were rushing off to tell someone of a great discovery.

You’d never had one before now.

It wasn’t that he felt contempt for you. Surely there was a reason you’d been hired. He just thought everyone should be on his level and you just weren’t. The proof was in the output.

Stretching, arms above his head, he figured it was time for another cup of tea, the one he’d made earlier having gotten cold as he lost himself in his work. Taking the mug, he sauntered towards the small kitchen set up in the back corner.

“So if I can just figure out where the spectrometer has gone then I think I’ll be back on track.”

He paused outside the door. That was your voice. At least, he was pretty sure it was. From the few times he’d heard it he thought it probably was.

There was something there in your voice, not something he’d heard from you before. It was close to excitement. Lingering out of sight, he continued to listen. He certainly wasn’t about to offer the information that he had the spectrometer you were looking for. It would be put to better work in his possession.

“You really think you’ll be able to figure it out?” That would be Lucky. He didn’t realise the two of you talked. Lucky was meant to be his intern, not yours. He didn’t know why it rankled him so much.

“Sure. I mean, Nadeem keeps letting me study him to figure out where the source of his magic is so… I can’t see why I wouldn’t,” you said, “oh but you remember when I hooked him up to the EEG machine?”

“Yeah. You got those weird readings, right?” Lucky prompted.

“Right and I spent hours staring at them trying to work it out. And then inspiration struck. So I thought maybe there was some kind of electrical field going on. Which would be crazy because usually we don’t think the two are linked. But fire conducts electricity and so can humans. So what if the magic is connected to ions? Seems simple, right? Only, the electrical charge usually comes from the gas around the flame rather than the flame itself. So does he actually manipulate the gas? Or, is it this pyrotron subatomic particle we haven’t found yet? I mean, in order to prove that one I have to find quarks in isolation and I think that would rock the science community more than proving the science behind pyrokinesis,” you said, almost all in one breath.

It was easily the most he’d ever heard you say before.

“Because in order to prove that I’d need to show that Nadeem is manipulating pyrotrons with psychic powers, probably through the electric signals in his brain, and making them hit isolated quarks, which don’t exist so… I’m back to looking at electricity in flames because clearly it’s to do with the electrical activity in his brain,” you said, with a sigh at the end.

Lars felt his breath catch. There was so much going on in your brain, so many thoughts, so many theories, and you were investigating something he hadn’t even considered looking at. Maybe that’s why you always worked alone. Your projects were on things no one considered researching. You looked at the world differently.

It was… refreshing.

He’d thought you’d ket silent because you knew you couldn’t keep up with the rest of the scientists. Instead, it looked as if you kept silent because your research was so different from everyone else’s. They were so focused on ghosts. You were trying to understand everything in its entirety.

He felt dumbstruck. Everything he thought he knew was wrong. It wasn’t usual for him and he felt on the backfoot. It was like you’d been lying to him but for that to be true you would have had to have talked to him. This was so much worse. This was him lying to himself.

You were so much smarter than he’d thought and it left him questioning so many things.

Walking through the door, he felt combative, like he wanted to start a fight. Your voice died as he did, eyes widening when you saw him. He offered a tight smile, pouring out the cold tea into the sink. He glanced over his shoulder, finding you turning away.

“I’ll see you later,” you mumbled to Lucky.

You slipped out of the room, not even offering him another look. He scrubbed at the mug, not wanting to bother making another cup, taking his frustration out on it.

“Rough day?” Lucky asked, sliding up to him.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he replied.

“No sweat,” she said, “but maybe don’t glare at people when you enter a room. It sure does clear it.”

He didn’t have a response to that, refusing to be shamed by a teenager. He left the mug on the rack to dry and walked out of the room, lips pursed, trying to work out how to feel about everything. He wasn’t used to feeling stupid and yet that’s where he was. He’d judged you because he never heard you talk. Because you kept to yourself. Because you didn’t feel the need to show off like the others around the lab did.

You were sitting in his sight again, the headphones back in place over your ear, pen tapping your notebook in time with your music. You didn’t even look up when he sat down, staring at you. If he allowed himself to admit it, you were lovely to look at. Even trapped in a world of your own, there was something there that he found pleasing. You were soft, like the worries of the world had never curved your shoulders, and your wide eyed gaze left him feeling like there was no pretence. You had never lied. He’d just been a fool.

He stood, hands already grasping the spectrometer he’d stashed in the storage behind his desk. trying to project confidence, he sauntered over with it. Placing it down in front of you, he waited a moment for you to notice. Your gaze dragged up to him and once again he was struck by how lovely your face was. You were slow to tug he headphones off, leaving them hanging around your neck.

“I heard you were looking for this,” he said.

You looked down at the machine in front of you then back up to him. There was a slight curve to your lips, an almost smile marred with a hint of confusion. Your eyelashes fluttered and you tilted your head down, looking back to the spectrometer.

“Thank you,” you said, voice sweet.

It was a sudden thought that he could probably listen to you talk for hours. Not that he’d ever be offered the chance.

“And uh, if you ever need help or want to talk through anything.” His hand came up, rubbing at the back of his neck. He hadn’t felt this awkward since his university days, “I’m just over there. I don’t know if you know. You seem to keep to yourself. So maybe you don’t want the interruption. But yeah, I’m just over there if you need anything.”

Christ, he was rambling. It wasn’t like you were the first pretty girl he’d ever talked to. He didn’t even have a crush on you. What was wrong with him today?

“I’m sure you’re too busy to help me,” you replied, voice quiet and far more put together than him, “you’re always working on something.”

“Oh,” he said, shoulders deflating. You were being polite but of course you didn’t want his help. Especially when you seemed to be a genius in your own right and more than capable of being brilliant without his input.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the offer. But you’re working on important things and I don’t want to bother you with my stuff. You’re probably working on some new weapon that will save someone’s life or something. My stuff is pretty silly in comparison.” Your head was bowed and he wished he could see the expression in your eyes.

“All science is important,” he said.

“No, I know but you know, my stuff isn’t saving the world like yours so, I don’t want to take time away from that,” you said, voice growing quieter the further along you went.

“I’m always happy to help,” he said, hoping it would be enough.

Your eyes darted up to him and he saw panic there. He took a step back, reeling from the look. He knew he wasn’t always the friendliest guy but this was a not the kind of reaction he ever expected from his words, especially when they were meant to be nice. He took another step back.

“Right, well, I’ll stop bothering you,” he said.

Thrusting his hands in his pockets, he wandered back to his own station, shoulders curved forward, trying to figure out what he’d done wrong. Other than ignore you, he couldn’t think of anything you would know about. It’s not as if his thoughts were broadcast over the tannoy system.

Only he hadn’t really been ignoring you, had he? He’d noticed you enough to form an opinion. He watched you. He’d grown used to your habits. He thought about you. Earlier that day he’d been watching you. There was no way he could pretend like you had been a non-entity in his life.

When he looked up at you again, your head dipped down as if you’re been looking at him just a moment ago. He found a flutter in his stomach, like a butterfly taking flight. The thought of you watching him was pleasing. Unless it was because you were wary of him and felt you had to keep an eye on him.

Finally taking the chance, he went to make himself another cup of tea, if only to try and ease you again. Maybe his presence made you uncomfortable. He didn’t like the thought that he made you uncomfortable.

He decided perhaps to keep his distance for a while.

A few days and he stayed away. He didn’t try to engage you in conversation, allowing himself to watch you when he thought you wouldn’t notice. The more attention he paid, the more he realised exactly how wrong he’d been. You kept to yourself, but you were confident in what you were doing. Something had alighted in him, the flame fanned by your confidence. Someone so capable at science was a turn on. He hadn’t expected that. He should have. But he hadn’t.

And he should have expected to hear you in the kitchen again.

“I just find him really intimidating,” you said, just through the doorway.

“Why?” Lucky laughed.

“He’s so smart and I know you’re going to make fun of me for this, but he’s really handsome. I’ve never been good around smart pretty people,” you said.

He lent closer, wanting to hear more. He didn’t know who you were talking about and the thought someone else in the lab was receiving such compliments made him feel disgruntled.

“Just talk to him,” Lucky said, “he’s not that scary.”

“I can’t,” you whined, “I get all tongue tied around him and he offered to help me and I just… I totally put my foot in it.”

Who else had been offering you help? He would hunt them down and make it clear to stay away from you. Or, no, that would just make you more scared of him. He had to gentle dissuade them from helping you.

“Yeah, trust me, he’s done that plenty of times,” Lucky snorted, “seriously, just talk to him again. Two awkward nerds deserve each other.”

You gave a small chuckle and he could imagine the soft smile on you face, small, underfed, and yet still there.

“I didn’t think he even know I existed,” you eventually said.

“Look, Pinfield is awkward and not always nice. But it sounds like at the very least he’s never outright insulted you. That’s more than Dan over in R&D can say,” Lucky said.

Pinfield. He was Pinfield. You were talking about him.

“Yeah, well, you crush on guys who actually give you the time of day. I crush on the silent guy who’s science is brilliant but who couldn’t be bothered with so much as a hello,” you said.

That wasn’t true, was it? He’d offered you help. And then gone back to not talking to you at all. He’d gone about this all wrong.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t take my frustration out on you,” you said.

“No, you should take it out on him.”

This was met with silence before Lucky’s laughter burst out, loud and long and he could inly imagine the look on your face. Not that he wouldn’t enjoy… He was sure it would be… Well, he was very open to it if the chance arose.

He slipped away to mull over what he’d overheard. He intimidated you. Because you had a crush on him. And you thought he didn’t like you in any way, that he didn’t even notice you.

Yeah, he’d fucked that one up. No one but himself to blame.

He paid attention for when you returned to your work station, across the other side of the room, quiet and focused. And beautiful. How hadn’t he thought that before? Or rather, how hadn’t he noticed it?

He was so caught up in his own assumptions about you he hadn’t taken the time to notice. He cursed his past self for being so caught up in his own ego to notice what was sitting right under his nose.

Steeling himself, he rose and made his way over to you. He loitered across the bench from you. You were still listening to music and hadn’t seemed to notice him. Tapping his finger on your notebook, he tried to get your attention. You looked up, startled, eyes widening when you laid eyes on him.

“I was thinking of going out for lunch and was wondering if you wanted to join me,” he said, trying to sound confident but also approachable. He realised he was treating you like an animal prone to startling.

“Oh, uh, I actually brought lunch today,” you said.

“Maybe tomorrow?” he asked, “I’d love to hear more about your work.”

“Why?” You sounded so bewildered it was almost offensive.

“I don’t know much about what you’ve been working on. Is it so odd I might want to know about it?” he asked.

“You’ve never asked before. Have I done something wrong? Because if I have I’m really sorry and I’ll stop doing whatever it is,” tumbled from your lips and he was reminded that you found him intimidating, “I really am sorry. If you just let me know what it is I can stop doing it.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” he was quick to say before you could continue rambling an apology for something that hadn’t happened, “I’m just interested in what you’re working on.”

“Why?” You sounded defensive now.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was trying. He was really trying. And you just weren’t getting it. You were making it so difficult.

When he opened his eyes you were frozen, as if waiting to be told off. Taking a deep breath in, he offered you a smile, his best attempt as he tried to when he felt such roiling emotions.

“You’re an asset to our team and you’re working on things I’m not involved in. I’m curious. That’s all,” he said, desperate to put you at ease.

“Oh.” You voice was so quiet.

“If you don’t want my company I understand. I thought it would be nice to get to know one another a bit better. Whatever. I see I was wrong.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned away from you. He must have misheard. Clearly you and Lucky hadn’t been talking about him.

“Wait,” you said. He paused, looking back at you over his shoulder, “lunch would be nice.”

His shoulders relaxed and he let the corner of his lips curl up in a small smile. Your answering one stole his breath.

“Come on then,” he said.

You hopped off your stool and he realised you didn’t even come up to his shoulder. He could wrap you up in his arms and you would be completely engulfed in him. He found that thought tempting.

Walking beside him as you left the lab, you weren’t looking at him, gaze turned towards your feet. His hand closed around your arm, steering you in the right direction. You looked up at him, eyelashes fluttering. His head dipped towards you, not able to stop himself. There was something about you.

He spent the entire lunch watching you, basking in your presence. You were slow to open up, answering his questions about your work softly. But once he got you going, your eyes sparked and the words tumbled from your lips faster than he could have thought possible. Your passion was clear and it only drew him in further.

“I dunno. Maybe’s its stupid,” you said, tucking some hair behind your ear.

“I don’t think it sounds stupid at all,” he said and noticed the way that seemed to turn you bashful. Your chin dipped and you couldn’t look at him. He lent forward again, over the table, trying to catch your eye, “you sound like you know what you’re talking about.”

It was a quick flash of a smile, that same piece of hair falling forward again. You reached up to tuck it back again but his fingers were already there, doing it for you. You looked up, mouth falling open but you didn’t seem to be drawing back from him. His fingertips brushed over your jaw before he retracted his hand, pulling it back to his side of the table.

“Oh,” you said, almost a whisper, practically nothing but the movement of lips without sound.

“I’d like to do this again,” he said, assuming honesty was better than beating around the bush.

The look of surprise that passed over your face wasn’t what he’d been hoping for. But then you softened, that small smile reappearing.

“Really?” you asked.

“Sure. I find myself fascinated by you,” he said.

“Like I’m one of your experiments?”

He hadn’t expected that.

“No. Christ no,” he said, perhaps louder than intended, “fascinated like I like you.”

“Oh.”

“Can you say something other than that,” he demanded, then realised that wasn’t a good idea, “please?”

“Okay,” you said, giving him a shallow nod, “we can do this again.”

“We can?” He brightened, “we can.”

“But only because I like you too,” you said, not looking at him again.

So he had heard right. He felt a sense of satisfaction hearing the words from you. He would never admit it, but it wasn’t often someone liked him. Maybe that’s why he’d been doing so badly with you. Or not so badly since you were going to go out with him again.

He led you back to the lab, hand resting on the small of your back, the material of your jumper soft against his skin. You were half a step closer, leaning into his touch more.

It was a good sign.

Thank god he’s listened in to your conversation with Lucky otherwise he never would have been able to find you. And he thought you might be changing his life for the better. Your smile was already capable of brightening his day.

He was excited to see what was to come with you.

#lars pinfield #lars pinfield imagine #lars pinfield x reader #request #anon

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iamadequate1 · 4 months

Text

Don't Stream on Max

Ragging on Max is fun, isn't it? This is going to be long since I brought tables. Here's a kiss GIF to get people's attention!

Let's be real: if HBO/Max has a cancellation rate this high and is the only streamer with a cancellation rate approaching these numbers, we're long past the point where fingers can be pointed at the shows individually, trying to invent unique "failures" in each one separately... except for Zaslav's baby, The Idol, that show deserved it. If there is an oddity like this, deduce down the common factor, and the common factor here in all these "failures" is WBD/HBO/Max. WBD does not know how to run a streaming business, and yet, it is charging consumers the highest rates in the industry.

✨Cancel Max now✨

Remember that WBD sponsored article from Vulture? Remember?? Specifically...

And then there was the final strike against last month’s canceled trio of titles: their production costs. As noted earlier, all three series went into development circa 2019-2020, at a time when competition for hot new shows was beyond intense. Streamers were handing out ridiculous deals in order to land coveted projects and agreeing to license fees and production budgets that were usually only reserved for big, established blockbuster hits. So a series like Rap Sh!t, which had the feel of an indie production and used iPhones to tell its story, ended up costing Max twice as much to license as HBO’s critically loved, niche comedy Somebody Somewhere, per a source familiar with show budgets. Our Flag Means Death, the same sources say, had a license fee three times that of Somebody.

First of all, they picked the smallest show they could in order to justify ~scary~ words like "twice" and "three times" without any danger of being specific, but they also picked a show that was "renewed" and I can find no evidence it's being worked on anymore!

But 2019-2020, let's discuss that. The merger was finalized April 8, 2022, and Max, the illicit love baby between Discovery+ and HBO Max, launched on May 23, 2023. On its face, Max has the second largest sticker price of streamers, and that sticker price is mostly built from that HBO prestige, but I'll build to that...

Let's say Zaslav had to let 2022 roll, so let's look at 2023, shall we? HBO/Max had 11 shows debut in 2023.

Velma (Max - renewed + lol)

The Last of Us (HBO - renewed)

Fired on Mars (Max - Purgatory)

Gremlins: Secrets of the Mogwai (Max - Renewed)

Clone High (Max - Purgatory as new season is coming in)

The Idol (HBO - cancelled)

Warrior (Max - cancelled + moved to Netflix)

Adventure Time: Fionna and Cake (Max - renewed)

Young Love (Max - Purgatory)

Scavengers Reign (Max - Purgatory)

Bookie (Max - Renewed)

Wow! Not even half confirmed renewed, and one of the success stories is Velma. HBO also only debuted two series that year: TLOU was in development since 2020, but The Idol was still in early stages when Zaslav wandered in. Since he didn't put a stop to it, The Idol remains Zaslav's sole contribution to HBO, especially since according to Wikipedia, the show went under a "drastic" overhaul in April 2022, the month of the merger.

There is an article going around citing that Max has a 26.9% cancellation rate, and that seems.... off? It is still far higher than every other streamer, but it's still lower than what's expected from what we've seen of WBD/Max. If you look at Max's original programming list and HBO's original programming list, something's not adding up. I tried to follow the source back, but it wanted money, so I'll do it myself! I suspect that the glut of mindless reality shows, exploitative docuseries, and miniseries really brought that percentage down.

I'm just going to look at the cancellation of actual scripted shows, ignoring miniseries (that's just a big movie on purpose and no concern about #FinishOurStories), series that haven't aired an episode yet, non-English series (most don't have Wikipedia entries and are a messier thing to research), and co-productions (as Anne with an E showed, sometimes the partner can be responsible for cancellations -- this unfortunately leaves off series like Gentleman Jack). I also limited myself to series that had/about to have a season debut after the merger date (April 8, 2022).

(I've got the 'tism, and I enjoy making spreadsheets.)

Drama:

Comedy:

Anthology:

Continuation:

Adult Animation:

Kid/Family:

(Note: I used "ended" if I immediately saw that it was the creators who ended the show on purpose.)

HBO Breakdown:

Max Breakdown:

Combined:

HBO/Max is hovering around a confirmed 50% cancellation rate. I don't expect shows like Tokyo Vice and The Sex Lives of College Girls to last past their seasons that are about to premiere, and I expect many of these other "renewed" or "pending" shows to disappear into the ether.

Let's talk money. What is the monthly cost to subscribe to streamers? To make my life easier, I'm not going to list out yearly costs.

Streamer | Cost/Month with Ads (USD) | Cost/Month without Ads (USD) Apple | n/a | 9.99 Disney | 7.99 | 13.99 Hulu | 7.99 | 17.99 Disney/Hulu Bundle | 9.99 | 19.99 Max | 9.99 | 15.99 Netflix | 6.99 | 15.49 Paramount | 5.99 | 11.99 Peacock | 5.99 | 11.99 Prime | 8.99 | 11.98 Starz | n/a | 9.99 Discovery+ (on debut) | 4.99 | 6.99

Disney and Hulu together without bundling would be 15.98 with ads and 31.98 without ads, so each bundle is 62.5% of what it would have been with a double charge. If Max would be a similar deal, the HBO and Discovery pieces separately would add to 15.98 (ads) and 25.58 (no ads), so assuming no Discovery inflation (and, lbr, the starting pricing was already too high), the HBO piece would be 10.99 (ads) and 18.59 (no ads), putting HBO as the most expensive streaming option.

It's hidden, but Max is a bundle. Discovery+ and HBO do not have overlapping shows or audiences; it's really like if ESPN and Disney tried to sell itself as one service without telling anyone.

Since I tossed out the reality pieces, the cancellation rates I have above are the HBO pieces. If you're paying for Max, you're paying for the most expensive TV option, while paying for the highest turnover in TV productions. If you're subbed to Max for one show, it would be cheaper to just buy it from a digital store or, you know, 🏴‍☠️

So, circling back to the initial quote: sobbing about being beholden to the wacky 2019-2020 greenlights, when those greenlights are the only reason people are subscribed to the service in the first place is certainly a choice! Especially since now that the only "originals" Max is offering up are on par with Velma and The Idol, and the prestige TV that were underway at the time of merger (ex, TLOU and that upcoming HP show) maybe justify a one month sub-and-binge per year. With this obscene cancellation rate and creator disrespect, they aren't going to nab any more big projects, but they sure want you to pay them like they are.

Look, I'm not getting into the labor and worker treatment parts of this, and I'm not getting into the media representation parts of this or how non-white/straight/male shows have to meet impossible standards. Both of those are also egregious and part of a much, much larger discussion. Just from a purely consumer point of view, Max is a bad product.

Cancel Max. It is not worth your time to care about anything they put out.

Anyway, some petitions for shows that this failed streamer dumped recently. Max won't pick any of them up again, but you can show other streamers that there is interest for them to pick up the shows!

Our Flag Means Death

Rap Sh!t

Julia

Winning Time

Warrior (S4 has not been confirmed with Netflix)

#petitions at end #our flag means death #ofmd #save ofmd #adopt our crew #david zaslav #hbo max #max #don't stream on max #rap shit #rap sh!t #julia hbo #winning time #warrior #the gilded age #the gilded age should help out their Gay Twitter brethren

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laureliciousdefinition · 2 years

Text

Hush | Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: A picnic with Joel.

Rating: E

Warnings/tags: smut (what else is new), semi-public sex, unprotected piv, cursing, genitalia description

a/n: I'm BACK!!!!! Sorry I haven't written in so long, mamas has been busy and the writers block has been insane. But I did it! I love this piece and I hope you enjoy it too!!

Picnics were something you’d almost forgotten about after the outbreak. There wasn’t time for such frivolous things anymore; you surely didn’t let it take up space in your brain. All the survival skills you suddenly had to develop stole that real estate. But as a kid, before it all, you had loved going on picnics. You would carry the big quilt and your mom would carry the basket full of the yummy things she’d made earlier that morning. You’d skip behind her as you made your way to the sunny hill near your house, then after you ate you’d lay there with her finding shapes in the clouds.

When you got a little older, you’d dress up for the picnics, putting on your nicest sundress and drape your mother’s pearls over your neck to polish off the look and make you feel extra special. You’d share the picnics with friends, partners, anyone who would let you drag them along. They’re memories you hold close in your heart, locked up tightly in a box to remain untainted by everything else you’d had to go through since then.

So when Joel Miller suggested the two of you have lunch outside because the weather was so nice in Jackson, you could’ve cried. Your mind immediately flashed back to your childhood, flooding with memories as the box burst open for a moment. After an eager agreement you’d run upstairs to change, briefly wishing you still had fun things like sundresses to wear, but you let the moment come and pass before pulling on one of your usual -and much more toned down- outfits before setting about getting things ready.

You didn’t have any quilts laying around your already rather bare house, so you dragged two of the spare blankets out into your grassy backyard and set up as nice of a spread as you could. Some strawberries from one of the gardens in town, sliced cucumbers, and grapes were your contributions. Not much, but it was what you had to work with in the rebuilding community. Joel brought a small batch of cookies with him. “Stole a few from Ellie,” he’d claimed. You’d rolled your eyes and laughed, grabbing his hand and leading him through the house to your humble setup.

“This was a good idea,” you sighed contentedly, setting your plate aside and laying flat on your back.

He followed suit, leaning back with a grunt and taking a moment to get comfortable. “Too nice to be inside.”

You nodded and hummed in agreement. A breeze swept over you both, carrying the sounds of nature and for the first time in who knows how long, you were at peace. Moments like these were so hard to come by these days, and you found yourself suddenly struck with a wave of gratefulness as you considered how lucky you were to end up in Jackson. You weren’t just surviving anymore, you were living. You were allowed to make connections with other people because you didn’t have to live in fear of them turning on you at any moment. Connections with people like Maria, who despite being a bit scary was actually the one who brought you to the small town, and you now considered a close friend and confidant. People like Ellie, who despite her age was more mature and strong than anyone you’d known before or after the outbreak. People like Joel- sweet, handsome Joel Miller, who appeared as a grumpy and standoffish dad to most, but let you into his life and made you a part of it. And while you knew he could be that grumpy dad people liked to characterize him as, you also knew he could be an extremely caring and generous man. The kind of man who planned spontaneous picnics for you, just because he wanted to spend time together in the nice weather.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Joel spoke, pulling you from your musings.

You weren’t even sure how to share all those thoughts- too much to say at once.

“That cloud looks like a duck.”

Joel’s eyes trailed up the length of your arm to where your finger was pointing, furrowing his brows as he squinted. “Darlin’ I’m not sure what kinda ducks you grew up with, but I don’t see it.”

You gave a light laugh. “How can you not see it? There’s the beak, there’s the wing, there’s the tail.”

This time it was his turn to laugh. “Ducks don’t have beaks. If anything it looks like some kind of.. weird, deformed chicken.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” You smiled, bumping his side with your shoulder. He chuckled next to you, catching you in his embrace and tugging gently so you were tucked into his side. He placed a kiss to the top of your head and your eyes fluttered shut. As the two of you laid there, bellies full of fruit and (mostly) cookies, you basked in the warmth of the sun, and almost could’ve fallen asleep.

Almost- until he patted your arm lightly, grabbing your attention. “See, now, that cloud actually looks like something. That is undeniably a bunny rabbit.”

You cracked your eyes open, squinting painfully as they readjusted to the sunlight. You looked to where he was pointing, already preparing yourself to belittle his cloud spotting, but stopped yourself as you realized he was right. It most definitely looked like a bunny, complete with prominent ears and a puffy little tail. You frowned, puffing your lips out before deciding he couldn’t be a winner for too long and playfully pinching his side. He squirmed away from you without removing his arm from your shoulder, frown mirroring yours.

“Watch it now,” He jokingly scolded you.

“Or what? What are you gonna do about it, old man?” You poked his side, sticking your tongue out.

Joel feigned offense, scoffing before rolling onto his side and using his free hand to tickle your ribs. A loud, unflattering laugh escaped you as you tried to wrestle away, but he was stronger than you, using his body weight to hold you down. When he finally showed mercy on you, you laughed with what little breath you had left in your lungs before pulling him down into a smiling kiss. He happily returned it, sinking onto his elbows to meet your lips.

You broke from the kiss, finding his eyes for a moment. They were soft, full of words he didn’t have to say. A gentle smile on his face that made your heart melt and your head spin. You had no choice but to press your lips together again, deeply inhaling as you did so.

Above you, Joel shifted so your legs were tangled together and he could get a better hold of you. His hand that wasn’t supporting his body moved slowly around your back until you could feel him pulling you up and closer to him. As if on instinct, your hands skated up his biceps and into his hair, gripping it firmly to ground yourself while his kisses made you dizzy.

Your tongue moved into his mouth. He gave a small groan at this, only egging you further as your mouths moved together in a harmony that was growing more fervent by the second. You could already feel his erection hard against your thigh, mind beginning to spin with flashbacks and fantasies you wanted to play out with him. Joel always managed to have this effect on you, sending you spiraling without even touching you.

“Mm- we should probably move this inside,” he pulled back from you panting slightly, brushing a few hairs from your forehead.

You glanced around the backyard. When you’d first moved into the house, there was a rotted, broken wooden fence encasing the yard, and you’d taken it upon yourself to fix it. Nothing fancy, just some high wooden posts for privacy with some string lights connected at the corner posts. The first time Joel saw it he asked why you hadn’t gotten anyone to help, telling you that it was okay to do things like that. You’d felt so welcomed in that moment, and you knew things were going to be different here. And now, as you took in the tall fence, it dawned on you that no one could look into the yard without effort.

A smirk pulled at your lips. “Why move it inside? No one can see us.” You returned your mouth to his after you spoke, warmth overtaking you again.

Joel chuckled against your lips. “Darlin’, it’s the middle of the afternoon.”

“Does anything make sense these days?” You joked, dropping your head flat against the blanket. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you told him honestly.

This time it was him who looked around, surveying the space with a quizzical expression. After a moment, he spoke again. “You’re sure no one can see?”

“Positive.”

He let out a deep sigh. “You’re gonna be the death of me, woman.”

With that, he kissed you again, matching the intensity from before. You groaned into his mouth in surprise, happily returning his affections. Using your strength, you shifted so your leg was over his hip and you were able to climb on top of him. Joel adjusted accordingly, so his body was now flat underneath you and your center was pressed to his lap. His hands found your bent knees, sliding up the length of your thighs until he found your clothed ass. You arched your back, both pushing yourself further into his grip and grinding your core against his aching length pressing against his jeans.

Moving your mouth from his lips to his jaw, you nibbled slightly while moving your hand to where your bodies were connected. He bucked his hips beneath you as you soothed your love bites with gentle strokes of your tongue. After a bit of a struggle to get his belt undone with one hand, you undid his button and zipper, slipping your hand into the space and feeling his cock over his briefs. You had limited movement, but it didn’t matter- you rubbed your palm up and down the length of him, rocking your hips in sync with your strokes.

“We’re gonna have to be fast, okay?” You whispered in his ear, punctuating your words by pulling the lobe between your teeth.

Joel nodded quickly, unable to form words under the control from your hands.

“Don’t want us to get caught.” You mumbled against his neck.

“Think you wanna get caught.” He bit out, voice strained.

You pulled your hand away from him, giggling devilishly at his protesting whine. You rolled yourself off of him for a moment, shimmying out of your jeans as fast as you could manage. Joel kicked his own pants down to his knees, exposing his strong thighs that sent a wave of heat down your spine. You took the liberty of pulling down his underwear, cock laying proudly against his lower stomach. You longed to take it into your mouth, run your tongue along it until he was a whimpering mess beneath you, but you knew time was of the essence. While no one could technically see you from here, you weren’t exactly keen on getting caught during sex like a couple of teenagers- especially considering Joel’s position within the town.

“Mmm, baby. So pretty.” You cooed, situating yourself back on top of him, this time hovering with space between your bodies.

Joel sat up a little, enough to kiss you before taking his cock and lining it up at your entrance. You pulled your underwear to the side, heart pounding in anticipation though it was far from your first time together. He ran himself through your wetness a few times, coating the tip for ease.

“Ready for me?” He asked lowly, a rumble in his voice that enticed you so badly you shivered.

You kissed him once more. “Always.”

He remained still for another moment, only a few seconds, but they seemed to stretch on for eternity as you felt the tip of him just barely brushing against where you needed him the most.

“You gotta stay quiet, alright? I mean it.”

You smirked above him. “You have no faith in me.”

With a chuckle that bounced his chest, he grabbed your hips. His cock sank slowly, so deep into you, filled and stretched you so well, that you almost let a broken moan escape you. You bit your lips to keep the sound at bay, letting out a huff.

“What was that about no faith?”

You closed your eyes and willed yourself to calm down, slowly starting to move your hips on his. Joel’s breathing deepened, keeping an astonishing level of self control as he watched you ride him. He always got off on watching you take what you needed from him; seeing the wild look in your eyes as your hair flowed behind you as you’d drop your head back in pleasure, the way your tits bounced in his face with every thrust. And though you were both mostly clothed in this instance, you were no less entrancing to him.

He began to meet your movements with his own thrusts, falling into a steady rhythm. His hand slid from your hip towards your clit, brushing his thumb over it in short, tight movements that kept up with your pace. You kept your mouth closed, but your moan was undeniable, causing him to still his movements.

Joel pinched your hip, scolding you.

“Hush,” he hissed.

You breathed out an apology, fingers gripping his shoulders tightly. It was difficult for you to even form a thought. The sensation was quickly taking over your entire body, fire spreading from your hips in all directions as you patiently waited for him to keep moving. It wasn’t your fault he made you feel so, impossibly good.

In an attempt to cause as little noise as possible, Joel began moving within you again by not thrusting, but grinding. His cock was dragging deliciously against your walls in short motions, leaving you panting and nearly in tears after a few minutes. Your clit was being brushed by the patch of hairs just at the base of him, just enough sensation for you to crave what he’d given you previously. As if he read your mind, Joel’s grip shifted from your back to your hips, moving his thumb down to draw circles around you once more.

“Fuck,” you said quietly, a short cry following it.

Joel removed his thumb again, stilling his motions.

“I said, be quiet. You’re gonna get us caught.”

His voice was rough. You knew it was taking him just as much restraint to not make noise, but you just couldn’t help it.

“I’m sorry baby, I’m trying,” you pleaded.

“Try harder.” He pulled you closer to him so your head was at his shoulder. “Be quiet, or I’m not gonna let you cum.”

Your heart nearly broke at the mere thought of that, body already aching with the desperate need to finish. You nodded sharply, burying your head in his shoulder.

He began moving again, this time slightly faster. Your hips were pushing against his as his cock drilled into you, causing you to bite his clothed skin to muffle yourself.

“There ya go, baby,” he whispered breathlessly. His hands were gripping your back, grounding himself as best as he could.

All you could do was close your eyes and take it. Your chest was heaving, and you were babbling something into Joel’s shirt, though you couldn’t be sure what you were even saying. You were positively cock-dumb, drunk on him and the way he was taking over your entire body. Surely you were elevating to a different plane of existence, maybe even dead and finally experiencing the Heaven you’d always heard about. Your movements were so urgent they were becoming sloppy, body only craving release.

Joel pulled you from your thoughts when he spoke. “Shit- can’t make a mess out here, baby. Where do you want me to cum?” He whispered, words sharply spoken into your hair.

“I- I don’t care, just need you,” you cried as quietly as you could, words muffled by his flannel.

He sped up, grinding against your walls at a nearly bruising pace while keeping his thumb steadily moving against your clit. You were so far gone- right there on the edge, teetering and hanging on with all your might as you tried to form a coherent sentence.

“Wanna fill you up,” he drawled, punctuating it with a kiss to your ear.

You nodded fervently, nails digging into his skin so hard they’d leave marks. You silently pleaded with him to let you finish, begging for him to say those little words you needed to hear.

“You gotta cum first, honey.” He said through gritted teeth.

You let out a whining hum for a response.

“Come on baby. Cum for me.”

You finished with a muffled cry that most definitely could’ve been heard by anyone standing close enough, but you didn’t have it in you to care. Not when you were finishing so hard around his thick cock, his release mixing with yours as he ground himself up into your pulsing walls. You were completely breathless, just grasping at his back and riding the waves of your orgasm as best you could. Attempting to stay quiet was almost easier than letting out the moans and screams that had been trapped in your chest the whole time.

When you finally came to, soul floating back down into your body, you cupped Joel’s cheek, feeling the scruff of his beard against your palm. “I love you, you know that?”

Joel turned his head to kiss your hand softly, eyes closed and breathing finally evening back out. That soft smile from before was back, weaving into its place in your heart where it would sit and tug on the strings. You were so filled with pure, undying love in that moment, thinking back on all the things you’d been through that let you to this moment. The way you never would’ve thought you’d be allowed to do things like this again- to be reckless. You knew it was worth it then, based solely on the way he looked up at you before he finally responded.

“Don’t I know it.”

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

feedback/interactions always appreciated <3

taglist:

@iamskyereads @guess-my-next-obsession @wheresarizona @kirsteng42 @littlemisspascal @jedifarmerr @extraneous-trip @axshadows

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction

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floursramona · 1 year

Text

Seeded

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Rating: G

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Fluff, a ridiculous amount of it, pining, canon-typical violence, flowers, I have minimal knowledge of the Star Wars universe, this may or may not be the beginning of a series, no use of pronouns, no use of y/n, some gendered nicknames, pre-relationship

Summary: Handing out flowers all day wasn’t exactly living the dream, but it got your bills paid. A stranger rolls through your neighborhood and you find yourself drawn to him. Oddly enough, he seems to feel the same.

Notes: This is my first ever venture into the Star Wars universe! Writing-wise, that is. I've consumed enough fic to last me a lifetime and I wanted to contribute my brain worms to the community as well. This idea came to me earlier this month, when I wanted to push myself to do something for Valentine's Day and now it's finally blossomed (ha) into… whatever this is. I may continue if I get an idea of where to go from here. Hope y'all enjoy and let me know what you think!

Cross-posted on Ao3

Handing out flowers all day wasn’t exactly living the dream, but it got your bills paid. Working at a plant shop was a unique experience and you couldn’t exactly say you regretted applying. On easy days you got to take your favorite post, and here you were, with a basket of cut wildflowers and enticing passersby to come inside. Your boss had always been eager to drum up business and what better than giving something away?

On the busy and overpopulated planet of Coruscant, most people didn’t spare you a second glance, but tourists were always willing to stop and take a free and beautiful flower. From there, it wasn’t hard to convince them to come inside to see the whole garden and the workers inside were masters at sales pitches. Almost nobody left without a new plant for their homes or a bunch of flowers for their sweethearts.

Standing outside a shop all day was rough sometimes, the sun beating down or the nasty smells but you always find yourself passing the hours people-watching. Even on your off time, you love sitting outside, making up stories and personalities for every being that walked your way. Which is exactly why, when you see the Mandalorian pass by you the first time, you are completely and utterly captivated.

It isn’t that you never saw warrior-types, no, in fact you’d seen many armored figures pass your shop. But you’d never seen one quite like this, covered head-to-toe in perfect, gleaming chrome.

The armor is the first thing that catches your eye. The second is his posture.

If you had a less careful eye, you would have taken one glance and thought that he was inexperienced. Untouched armor is a dead giveaway for someone who hasn’t actually seen battle. Watching him stalk past your shop tells a different story.

Even if he wasn’t wearing the armor, you bet he would still have that confident, broad stature. He isn’t peacocking, not strutting like he owns the place, but every bit of him says “I know who I am”. And Maker, do you like the look of that.

Your inner musings silence all at once when you see his helmet turn towards you. The T-shaped visor gives him an intimidating brow and you feel yourself freeze, unable to look away. He isn’t anywhere near you, at least 10 other people walking past, but you feel like the only two on the street. You wonder if he feels the same.

A hand grabs your shoulder and the bubble suddenly pops, a sharp gasp leaving your mouth as you turn around.

“Whoa! Didn’t mean to startle you,” It’s just your boss. You feel the hair prickle on the back of your neck and you’re tempted to turn back around, but he’s still speaking.

“What? Oh, sorry. Just a little lost in thought.”

He chuckles at you, shaking his head. “I’ve just come to relieve you. Go take your lunch.”

Nodding, you hand him your basket of flowers and try not to rush inside. Your nosy coworkers would want to know what had you all flustered and what would you say? An armored covered stranger walking on the other side of the street looked at you? And you couldn’t even say for sure if he did, because he wore a helmet?

You chuckle at yourself for being silly. He was just another tourist. You see plenty of attractive people walking down the street every day.

But none of them usually spared you a second glance, your traitorous brain supplies.

You shake your head to banish the thought, busying yourself with collecting your bag and credits where you keep it locked up in the back. You take your leave without saying anything, sure that your voice would give your unsteadiness away.

As you walk through the busy streets, you can’t help but fantasize a little longer. What if that armored stranger had been looking for a flower shop? You can’t imagine him wanting a floral arrangement but everyone could use a plant or two for their backyard. Does he even live here or is he from another planet? A silly pang runs through you as you imagine him living off-world - it means you likely wouldn’t see him again.

This time, you roll your eyes at yourself, entering your usual cantina for a hot meal. As the smells overtake you, you force yourself to leave the silly thoughts behind.

“Hey hon! Take a seat and I’ll be right with you,” The kind barmaid, Giala, who loves to waste time gossiping at your table, greets you and you smile.

“You know what I want, Gee, I’ll be over at the booths. She grins back and nods, bussing the table in front of her.

You take out your holopad to scroll through the news, but it’s quickly forgotten. You sit facing the door and a rowdy group of what appear to be businessmen draw your attention. You do your best not to stare, not that people tend to notice you much anyway. You find yourself rolling your eyes again as you listen to their conversation, and this time it’s apparent because Giala walks up to your table chuckling.

“Those fellas are gonna be trouble, aren’t they,” she says, less of a question and more of a statement. She puts down your steaming hot bowl of… well, you weren’t always sure what was in it, but it was always delicious.

“Eh, perhaps, but those types are usually harmless.” You’re quickly captivated by your food, hungry after a long morning on you feet. Your spoon is loaded up and on its way to your mouth when Giala says, “That shiny one over there might be a real issue though.”

It couldn’t be. You turn your head- it is.

The armored stranger from earlier is standing by the bar. He’s obviously not there for a drink, too rigid and hands practically gripping the edge of the bartop. He’s scanning the room and once again locks glares with you, but the spell is quickly broken by Giala blocking the view when she crouches down in front of you.

“I overheard someone say there was a bounty hunter sniffing around. Wouldn’t you think it’s him, just by the look of him?” Her eyes look at you eagerly and you peer around her again to study the figure. He’s looking back down at something in his hand. Something red and flashing, the reflection showing on his visor and it clicks for you.

“He’s a Mandalorian. I think. Supposedly some of the most feared warriors in the galaxy,” Something stirs within you that’s not quite fear, however. “Do you still work for that sleazeball manager?”

You look back toward her but before she can even get a sound out, shots are ringing out through the cantina. You thank the stars that you got your usual booth today, as you hit the ground and drag your friend under the table with you. She’s whimpering and covering her face, but you’re carefully watching the running feet from your position.

Once the shots cease, which doesn’t take long, you hold just a bit longer. You can’t see anyone moving anymore, so you lean slowly towards the edge of the table for a better vantage point. You hear a few clicks and shuffling movements and when your head is out far enough, you see him again, arranging the cantina owner to drag him out by the cuffs on his wrist.

A few other people are cowering under their tables, and there’s some scorch marks on the walls, but it doesn’t appear that anyone’s actually hurt. Well, except for the scumbag the Mandalorian’s got cuffed, but the groans he’s making give away his survival.

The Mandalorian’s about to leave but he scans the room again, and, for what you hope isn’t the last time, meets your gaze. He nods- at you, you think? You hope- and leaves. For as intriguing as he was, suddenly you’re hoping that maybe he doesn’t pay your shop a visit.

___

Of course, he does. Well, not exactly, but just about a week later, you’re stood in front of the shop again and you spot the Mandalorian on your street again. Your stomach does a flip, partially out of fear that you might be the next one in cuffs, and partially at the thought that you might not be entirely opposed to that.

He seems to be just as focused as the first time you saw him, but oh, how wrong you are. You’re staring again, you realize, because his helmet turns towards you, and your stomach is flipping again because now he’s making his way towards me, oh Maker, please tell me I didn’t commit some heinous crime in my sleep that placed a thousand credit bounty on your head and-

“Excuse me.”

You snap out of your spiral at the sound of his voice, a lovely, deep, gravelly voice-

“You work here.”

Fuck, you’ve gotta stop getting lost in your thoughts. He asked you a question. Except- he didn’t?

“Yes?” You manage to make your voice sound somewhat normal, if a bit higher pitched than usual.

“I assume you see a lot of people that go by,” he says and shit, it’s more than a little intimidating to have his attention on you. He’s fully facing you this time, only an arm’s length away. His hands are just resting by his sides, but the sheer amount of weaponry you see on him is not usual, even for this planet.

“You’re not here to arrest my boss, are you?” you blurt out and already you’re regretting it. He tilts his head at you and it’s almost adorable, making you think of a confused loth-cat.

“I don’t think so. I’m looking for this man. I’m told he frequents this area, and I’ve seen you out here every time I pass by,” he takes out a device that lights up with a hologram of a scruffy-looking human. Sure, you’ve seen him before, but wait- every time he’s passed by? As in more than once?

“I thought you found your bounty when you shot up the cantina last week,” and you reprimand yourself again mentally. Sure enough, he doesn’t seem happy with your phrasing when he shifts to cross his arms.

“Sorry- ‘shot up’ is a bit much. I just meant- I don’t always see that kind of… excitement around here. And we don’t exactly get a lot of folks who look like you either. So it’s a bit strange seeing you back so soon. W-why are you back again?” you’re babbling, and you know it.

He doesn’t need to answer the question and yet he does, “I was completing a job and now I’m here for another one,” he lifts up the hologram again, “Do you know this man?”

“‘Know’ is a strong word. Have I seen him? Of course,” and you go on to describe how he often slinks around, a pickpocket who preys on the unsuspecting tourists of the area. You babble on far too long with a description of the habits you’ve picked up merely by observing, his full attention overwhelming you into running your mouth.

“Thank you,” the Mandalorian says, when you finally finish. He tucks away the hologram device but he stays standing there for another second, just looking at you. Waiting for what, you’re not sure. He’s already asked what he needs for you. Maybe he would have said something, but you beat him to it.

“Would you like a flower?” You curse yourself internally, you really just say the stupidest shit when you’re flustered. He’s still just standing there, fuck, fuck, please respond-

“I don’t- I don’t need a flower,” he says, hesitantly.

You scramble through your basket for the right bloom, something not overly feminine, something that would fit his personality, something that’s not already dying and there-

“Here,” you thrust your hand out awkwardly at him, “just take it. A-as thanks.”

He cocks his head again, as if confused. “For what? I was the one seeking information.”

“For getting rid of that asshole. In the cantina? He was a real scumbag and treated my friend like shit. I don’t know what kind of price was on his head, and I don’t know what you did with him, but the planet’s better without him. So thanks for that… you, uh, did a good job.”

He stays silent this time and Maker, that blank stare just pierced right through you. Before you lose your nerve, you reach out and wedge the stem in an empty slot of his bandolier. It looks almost silly, on a man so threatening but also fits in a strange sort of way. The spray of light blue blends quite nicely with the rest of his ensemble and the small buds don't actually attract too much attention. It reflects on his chest plate and you let yourself admire him for another moment.

“Thank you,” he finally says, interrupting your unashamed ogling. “For your time and your token.”

“Anytime, Mandalorian.” The grin comes easily to your face.

He turns to leave but not before studying you for another moment and saying, “May our paths cross again someday.”

You watch him walk away and wonder if he really means it.

——————

#i write things #mando x reader #mando x you #din djarin #din x reader #din x you #din djarin x you #fluff #hope i'm not missing any other tags #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader

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bots-and-cons · 2 years

Note

Tfp optimus, ratchet and bumblebee with a reader who's Raf's older sister and is like a tony stark (ironman). Genius, very advanced tech, rich, AI and the suit. She knew about them from the start but left them be until she realised her lil brother got too involved with them and decided to provide for them tech (make ratchet's life much easier) per Raf's request. Thank you!

I’ve been recently rewatching some of the earlier MCU movies, since I needed some background noise for playing Minecraft. I did some HCs for you, hope that’s okay

~Bumblebee~

•You visit Raf and your family every once in while, but you’re often busy with running your company and helping people

•You knew about the autobots, and the decepticons, but since it was pretty quiet on the actual fighting front for a long time, you never felt the need to get involved

•But when your surveillance picks up your little brother outside his school, getting picked up by a yellow robot in his car mode, you decide it’s time to get involved

•So you get your suit on and you fly to where you know they’re basing and hack the base computer to open up the hatch up top, so you can fly in

•You’re of course confronted by a lot of blasters and some hostile intent, but you know they wouldn’t harm a human, so you step out of the suit and explain yourself

•You become a friend and an ally to the autobots and you help them quite a lot

•Bee is definitely a fan of your suit and tech in general, not so much because of how much it helps the team, but because he thinks it’s insanely cool

•Raf is happy to see you more often you get him a laptop, hooked up to your network and AI

•Bee still thinks you shouldn’t get involved with the whole war, but you tell him it’s not his decision and that you’re already involved

~Optimus Prime~

•Optimus was aware of you, since you’re basically a celebrity, being a superhero and all, but he didn’t know you and Raf were related

•So when you first come to the base, he’s a bit confused and quite wary of you

•But you end up being a good person, even if you’re super sarcastic and making a joke out of a lot of stuff

•Your humor is not always appreciated though and he tells you so if you go too far

•You’re connected to the bot’s comm line, and you occasionally jump in and just listen, or talk with them, sometimes offering advice and sometimes to joke around a bit

•You don’t interfere with the fighting much though, but you do make sure no humans get hurt because of them

•Unless it’s M.E.C.H we’re talking about, then you’re just fine with getting rid of them

•Your main goal is to keep Raf safe and you got super angry when he got that whole energon poisoning and almost died

•Optimus thinks you’re a bit self centered and arrogant, but you’ve always been helpful, so he never says anything

~Ratchet~

•The upgrade in tech you gave him, dear Primus

•Ratchet appreciates your contribution to their cause immensely, but he’s also a bit suspicious about your motives

•He knows you want to keep Raf safe, and he trusts that you would never do anything to jeopardize his safety, by doing something bad to the team

•You come to visit every now and then, doing some upgrades and since Ratchet is the one who’s usually at the base, and you like to talk, you end up having some conversations

•You have a bit of an agenda though, you’re hoping maybe you can learn more about the autobots and the decepticons and how the whole war is going and stuff like that

•Ratchet isn’t very talkative though, but he answers some of your inquiries, but mostly you just work separately

#transformers #tfp #transformers prime #autobots #ratchet #optimus prime #bumblebee #tfp headcanons #reader insert #platonic transformers x reader

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shihalyfie · 1 year

Note

So uh...Digimon Seekers being a web novel will be interesting.

It's an interesting format for sure. I'm guessing they're trying to find a way to keep "constant content" going in light of the loss of the anime timeslot and all that (the card game's doing well, but there's only so much it can do by itself).

Speaking of which! Let's talk about the elephant in the room, which is Digimon losing its timeslot and Ghost Game not getting a follow-up anime! In previous occasions, every time Digimon lost a timeslot and the anime went on hiatus again, that meant the franchise was in danger of dying (again), but...as of earlier this year, Digimon is now Toei's third best-selling IP internationally. So it is highly doubtful that the anime is going back on hiatus simply because things aren't doing well.

So, what's actually going on?

We're used to the idea of "Digimon should run back to back if it does well," and that's true of series that are explosively popular (which Digimon is not right now, even if it's not on the verge of dying either), but in actuality, the Fuji TV 9 AM slot is a high-demand one to the point most franchises don't get to run for three years on it consecutively. That kind of thing is rare enough that Japanese fans familiar with the timeslot have commented that Digimon has probably accomplished a lot getting to keep it for the last three years. There are only two IPs that have ever gotten to run for four consecutive years or longer on that slot: one is Dragon Ball (I think "not being as profitable as Dragon Ball" is hardly something to freak out about), and the other is Digimon itself.

That financial report I just linked says that Digimon is Toei's best internationally selling IP including overseas sales. While we've had a lot of reports recently about Digimon's financial success, they all specifically note that it means internationally and not just Japan -- and, granted, that's still important especially because Toei and Bandai have been trying to aim for more of an international market in recent years, but that's what's telling us that the video games and card games are what's carrying Digimon now, not necessarily the anime, which currently has very little influence outside Japan besides the Crunchyroll simulcast (and probably some East Asian language dubs), and I imagine that doesn't contribute very much. And the Adventure: English dub doesn't seem to be coming out anytime soon...

Like I've said, the card game is doing great, and sets have been coming out in Chinese and Korean as of late.

So while I'm no financial analyst, I'm guessing they've decided to put a hold on the kids' anime right now because it's not a very good outlet for their current best option, which is to focus more on building an international market and solid base. That doesn't mean kids' anime will never come back, and it also doesn't mean the franchise isn't already in a much better situation than it was when Frontier, Savers, Xros Wars, and Appmon ended, because the recent success of the video games and card games gives them a lot more of a foothold to do more business ventures, and maybe they can funnel that into actually getting partnerships to dub future kids' anime if they want to do that again. Moreover, it's true that in the past, the franchise would hit life support every time the anime stopped, but that's because the franchise was dependent on having a running anime for attention, which is not the case now because the card game has been doing fine independently of the anime. So I think it's pretty easy to understand that having an ongoing kids' show won't be the best option for them at the current moment, and meanwhile Digimon Seekers is coming out in multiple languages at once, so you can see what the strategy is here.

Of course, I think much of Digimon's best content is in the kids' shows, so I hope it comes back (and I'm certainly not a huge fan of the idea of the only anime we get being from that pipeline that's focusing on nostalgia stuff with Adventure branding), but that's how I see it for now.

#ask-anguirus #digimon #digimon multi series talk

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warabola · 1 month

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Uhh, what about 2, 5 and 6 for The Director?

OC Asks!

2. Can they take care of a plant? What about a pet? What about a child?

Oh this is very aptly timed considering the Transports post earlier.

Yes, but no. With plants, they are more likely to commit crimes against the Horticultural Society than to properly tend to something. It was almost a relief that the Starved Men interrupted last year's festival.

Any pet that requires more delicate or consistent care is also a bad match for Avci, and will likely end up being cared for by one of the staff at their residences, or foisted upon an acquaintance. They are also not a good match for cats, birds, or normal weasels. But there have been the odd sightings of the Director with (debatably) creature companions– when they sleep at home, a slavering hound guards their rest; they've been spotted being uncharacteristically gentle with fluttering moths, particularly those frosted with ice; and they've tormented the Alleged Protege with a weirdly still weasel.

As for children...

Well, the Silvered Assistant is a good example that they can contribute to keeping a child alive. But that they probably shouldn't be involved in the slightest, ethically.

And a certain baby bat imprinted on them pretty quickly. Nothing bad's happened to it yet.

5. Speech! Speech! Speech! Speech! Will they give one, and what about?

Alas, they are regularly expected to do presentations and speak at length as the Director of the Railway. They weren't naturally inclined to public speaking, but have come a long way out of necessity. Now you could call them ~* A Master Bullshitter *~

It'd most likely be along the lines of a business proposal or convincing someone of something that would bring them inadvertent gain, but you could enlist them to try and debate any point and they could probably give a convincing argument. Would it be well sourced? No. Would it be ethical? Questionable. Would they say it confidently and compelling enough to make you think it was? Absolutely.

They also enjoy playing devil's advocate literally and less literally, should it promise to get a rise out of someone entertaining. There's a reason they largely work with August in the Council and on the Board.

If they had to choose their own topic, anything about toxicology is essentially a free pass for them.

6. Who will they take advice from, no matter what it is? Who won’t they take advice from, no matter what it is?

That... is a tough call.

They are the epitome of believing there's the right tool for every situation, and even their closest companions are on a carefully managed need-to-know basis. Part of their love language is also to freely call others out on bullshit and bad ideas without hesitation, and they anticipate it right back (regardless of whether they'll actually listen or not).

The closest to this might be the Alleged Protege. Though the Director knows well that their methodology and motives are in opposition of one another, the Protege is the closest to understanding all that's going on beneath the surface with Avci, and what's needed to pave the road to Hell. Everyone else, much as they might value their expertise, has burdens, biases, and emotional investment that will affect their advice at some point– or result in them giving advice the Director can not take.

Similarly, even a broken clock is right twice a day. If the worst person they know gives them an opinion they want to hear, they'll take it.

That said, monarchists and royals are largely out-of-touch and useless, and if a Sequencer is giving them advice, chances are they'll do the exact opposite.

#ask games #the director #ty for the asks! don't give them children or the chance to speak. it's for the best.

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dontmeantobepoliticalbut · 1 year

Text

As we learned in the recent rail union contract negotiations, ruthless profit-seeking has made conditions for railworkers unbearable. It’s also made railroads less efficient. America badly needs a national rail service owned and operated for the public good.

Earlier this year, the federal board charged with overseeing America’s rail network called a hearing to discuss widespread complaints about higher costs and poor service. Predictably enough, rail executives sought to blame the pandemic and labor shortages for the likes of gridlock and supply-chain breakdowns. But the dysfunction on America’s railroads is neither a product of COVID-19 nor the result of nebulous constructs like the so-called “Great Resignation.” As Matthew Buck explained earlier this year in an article for the American Prospect, the single biggest contributors have been corporate monopolism and financialization — both of which contributed to the horrendous working conditions at the center of the recent showdown in Congress.

Thanks in large part to Jimmy Carter and Ronald Reagan–era deregulation, American rail has steadily become more consolidated — the number of major carriers shrinking from forty to just seven between 1980 and the present day. Unsurprisingly, there’s little evidence that this shift has made rail transport any more efficient. It has, however, made the rail business incredibly lucrative. In an effort to wring as much profit from railways as possible, company barons have in turn cut costs, laid off workers, and introduced a host of other changes ostensibly geared to improving the quality of service. Central to this project has been something called “precision scheduled railroading” (PSR), the brainchild of late executive Hunter Harrison. Under PSR, as Buck explains:

"Railroad management’s job is to drive down the 'operating ratio,' or operating expenses as a percentage of revenue. In other words, Wall Street judges railroads’ success based in part on spending less money running the railroad and more on stock buybacks or dividends. Theoretically, focusing on lowering operating ratios pushes railroads to be more efficient, to do more with less. But when railroads have the market power they have today, they can instead 'do less with less,' as shippers and workers put it."

The upshot, in addition to appalling conditions for an ever-diminishing workforce, is that railways — a basic utility relied upon by millions every day for commerce and transport — are now treated more than ever as an asset designed to be milked for profit than a service structured to meet need.

For shareholders, the whole arrangement has worked out brilliantly. As companies like Union Pacific have laid off tens of thousands of workers, revenues have gone through the roof and billions have been paid out through dividends. Measured against more relevant metrics, of course, it’s been a catastrophe: even before the pandemic, both overall productivity and the number of usable track miles were down. When COVID-19 brought with it backlogs, derailments, and higher costs, however, it became glaringly clear that cutbacks to the railways driven by their hyperfinancialization have rendered them a significant weak point in the country’s supply chain.

One lesson in all this is that an enterprise can be profitable — and thus “efficient” in a narrow business sense — without actually working particularly well or operating effectively to service the needs around which it’s ostensibly erected. This is true in most industries, but it has always been particularly applicable in the case of rail. As the late historian Tony Judt once explained, the very idea of competitive or market-based railroads is, for very straightforward reasons, fundamentally incoherent:

"You cannot run trains competitively. Railways — like agriculture or the mail — are at one and the same time an economic activity and an essential public good. Moreover, you cannot render a rail system more efficient by placing two trains on the same track and waiting to see which performs better: railways are a natural monopoly. . . . Trains, like buses, are above all a social service."

Judt was primarily writing about Britain’s railways, but the essence of his argument applies to America’s as well. Actual “competition” is a non sequitur when it comes to railroads and, fittingly enough, private monopolism has left a handful of rail giants with what are essentially noncompetitive fiefdoms in different corners of the country. Deregulation has additionally allowed the tiny remaining handful of companies to discontinue service on unprofitable routes, leaving whole regions cut off. With greater control and fewer constraints on the terms of their operations, they’ve also been at liberty to raise prices and introduce new fees. Bottlenecks, in fact, often provide further opportunities for such price-gouging — one executive boasting on a 2019 earnings call that Union Pacific is in a position to “take some pretty robust pricing to the market” (i.e., charge more regardless of efficiency or the quality of service).

A further corollary, of course, is that those who actually make the trains run and keep the tracks in working order have been increasingly expected to do more with less and endure a brutal work culture no reasonable person could possibly defend: having gone three years without a raise, many railworkers are now required to be on call more or less around the clock and expected to report for shifts of up to eighty hours on as little as ninety minutes’ notice. Unable to take time off even in the event of an emergency, many also face punitive attendance policies that can see them suspended or terminated if they can’t show up for work.

Freshly reimposed by a Democratically controlled Congress without substantive modification, these horrendous conditions are a potent symbol of what happens when an essential public good like rail is turned over to Wall Street. Smashing the monopolies, introducing stricter regulation, and giving workers paid time off would certainly be a good start. For the sake of its supply chain, transport needs, and basic economic fairness, however, what America ultimately needs is a single national railway, owned and operated in the public good.

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thanksjro · 2 years

Text

More Than Meets the Eye #46 — Krok Realizes That Being Traumatized is Not an Excuse for Participating in Trafficking

Last issue ended with Fortress Maximus, the new Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord— which is a position they should consider renaming, if only for the sake of optics— blowing up Demus’s head and looming in a doorway that I fucking KNOW was significantly smaller earlier in the issue. This issue takes us back in time a smidge, showing just what exactly lead to Fort Max being on the planet of Tebris VII.

As Max had flown a spacecraft through the airspace of the planet, he chatted with Red Alert on the radio, who was established as sticking with Fort Max on Luna 1 after he was brought back online in "The Sound of Breaking Glass”. Red Alert has been busying himself with finding conspiracies where there likely aren’t any, having combed through the entirety of Wreckers: Declassified looking for ciphers in the typos Fisitron made in each entry.

Red, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but any conspiracy involved with the Wreckers fandom blog already happened, and it resulted in at least five deaths. Most folks just don’t have proofreaders for their blogs, especially when they’re not getting paid for the posts.

Sidenote: if you see any typos in this write-up, no you didn’t 💛

Of course, we’ll see that there are other conspiracies going on that involve Red Alert, but that will have to wait for the "Titans Return” comic to reveal itself. In the meantime, it would seem that Fort Max has seen the WAP crushed into the side of that mountain from last issue. Red Alert informs him that the ship, while originally an Autobot vessel, currently belongs to the Scavengers, labeling them as “deserters”. Fort Max resolves to deal with them after Demus, even though, as Red Alert points out, they haven’t actually done anything, as far as either of them know. However, it would seem that Max is throwing due process to the wind today, as he’s going off of the name “Scavengers” as an admission of guilt to selling Cybertronian tech to lesser beings. Which they haven’t done, and there’s no proof that they have, but they might! And Fort Max is going to preemptively arrest them for this crime, because they’re Decepticons.

Yeah, it doesn’t surprise me that this guy used to be a prison warden.

Fort Max wants the rundown on the Scavengers, since he’s now committed to making their lives hell. Red Alert provides him with the skinny via Autopedia.

Hmmm, Autopedia might want to look into employing some moderators.

Going off of this absolutely bonkers information, Fort Max enters the fray, armed to the teeth for what might be the battle of a lifetime, as far as he’s concerned. Oh, and he’s got Red Alert on speaker for this, so I sure hope the guy likes hearing police brutality over the phone.

With that, we’re back in the present, reestablishing the fact that Fort Max murdered Demus instead of walking slightly faster to catch the guy who was at most literally half his size, or even just shooting him in his tiny legs so he could have been captured alive.

Spinister, stop staring at the issue title, the fourth wall is barely holding up as is.

Fort Max waves his stupidly large gun at the Scavengers, stating that Demus was the lowest of the low, and pretending otherwise isn’t going to win them any points with him. Fort Max tells them that they’re being arrested for trafficking Cybertronian tech, and Misfire informs him that Cybertronian tech sucks, because they spent the last 4 million years killing each other, which left very little room for innovation. Which, uh, nobody tell him about Kimia. Or Brainstorm’s whole deal, who the Scavengers were literally providing parts for.

I guess because the Scavengers are stupid, they didn’t really consider how wartime is the best time for innovating ways to murder people. Killmaster gets name dropped, blueprints under his name having contributed to something called a geobomb, which can vaporize planets despite its small size.

We’re getting away from the point though, as is par for the course with the Scavengers. Krok steers things back on track, asking what exactly Fort Max plans on doing with them. Misfire doesn’t like the sound of Fort Max’s plan, however, and pulls the double distraction trick, ending with Crankcase blasting Max with his backpack laser guns. The Scavengers split up and book it out of Demus’s office, Crankcase and Spinister bickering like an old married couple as they run.

Things quickly turn into the galaxy’s shittiest game of Marco Polo, as Fort Max stalks through the scrapyard hunting for the Scavengers. Krok seems on the verge of a panic attack, clicking his communicator until Misfire snaps and dumps Krok’s baggage for him.

The two then struggle, as Misfire attempts to wrest the communicator out of Krok’s grasp, while Fulcrum tells them to shut the fuck up so they don’t get Tyrest Enforced. Fort Max, who I suppose can’t quite hear this nonsense going on, tries to get a rise out of his prey, saying he’ll let them in on Demus’s whole deal if they come out.

Then Misfire finally gets ahold of Krok’s communicator.

I’m not gonna lie, Krokky-baby, this is a little hard to defend

This is the catalyst for finally, finally learning why the fuck Krok is the way he is. Before he was a Scavenger, Krok headed a squad of Decepticons who had the rotten fucking luck of running into the Wreckers. Everyone but Krok died horribly, including his beloved pet (Gatoraider, though the name isn’t stated) and Radar, a guy who turned into a portable telecoms system. After the carnage, Krok took what was left, which was apparently a single finger and the concept of being named after the crocodilia order of reptiles.

Clicking Radar’s finger lets Krok know if there are other Decepticons nearby, by detecting spark signatures that carry Decepticon markers. Clicking the finger morphed into a way of soothing himself when anxious, as it would allow him to call for help if needed. Because he’s pretty anxious right now— being chased by the cops tends to do that— he checks the counter, not hoping for much, as they usually don’t run into their peers while out scavenging.

However, it would appear that today is a rather atypical day, because Radar tells him that he’s absolutely surrounded by ‘Cons.

It’s quickly revealed that this isn’t actually a good thing, as it turns out that Demus was a fucking vile little man— his Roboids™ were made out of Cybertronians.

Horrifying, thank you Max!

Krok, who really hasn’t endeared himself to his crew today, is questioned on whether he was aware of this questionable business practice. He was not. Fort Max then makes a lot of claims on Demus’s character, which, while I don’t exactly doubt them, can’t really be corroborated by the man, as his head was turned into chunky salsa a couple minutes ago.

Crankcase picks this moment in time to call Misfire on their unsecured network, saying that he’s worried Fort Max will find out about Grimlock. Red Alert immediately picks this up, and tells Max exactly where to find everyone’s favorite Dinobot. Fort Max shifts gears, leaving the Scavengers unfound so he can go arrest Grimlock.

With Fort Max having high-tailed it out of the scrapyard, we can now return to the shamble that is Krok’s mental health. Fulcrum’s a little put off about Krok not telling him about his tragic backstory until Misfire quite literally ripped it out of his hands. Why Fulcrum never asked about the communicator, even after being directly told that he probably should, isn’t addressed. Krok doesn’t find this easy to talk about, traumatized to the point that previously he’d convinced himself that his squad hadn’t in fact died horribly, and were somewhere out in the universe, safe and sound. This is why he told Fulcrum just as much back in issue #7, and told Misfire that his old squad would come to save them when the DJD were on their way in issue #8.

Of course, Krok’s species has been at war for millions of years and everyone is awful to each other, so being mentally ill hasn’t been terribly fun, Crankcase having labeled him as cuckoo bananas over this literal delusion in the past. Krok himself thinks that just because his mental illness is more visible than some, doesn’t mean that other folks are actually better off than he is. Crankcase himself will prove this later in the More Than Meets the Eye: Revolution issue, when he’s inadvertently exposed to something that triggers his PTSD over the event of the Stormbringer miniseries.

Oh my god, is Cybertron about to get a third mental health specialist? Also, I would like to point out that since the reveal of Krok’s communicator actually being a finger, Radar has slowly been changing in color, going from green to gray, as if to signify Krok’s acceptance of his squad being dead.

Of course, the green comes back later, so this might just be a coloring error, but you’ll have to pull the symbolism from my cold, dead hands.

Fulcrum calls Krok out on being a massive fucking hypocrite, considering he was going to sell Grimlock, who is mentally unwell to the point of near-complete aphasia and extreme reactive violence, for the half-billion that would pay for that clinic he wants so badly. Krok at least has the good sense to feel gross with himself over his behavior.

Crankcase and Spinister show up at this point, Crankcase patting himself on the back for having gotten Fort Max off their back with that call to Misfire earlier. It would appear that Misfire is the only one who bothered to do his homework however, ragefully reminding Crankcase that Grimlock was a prisoner at Garrus 9, and Fort Max was his literal warden and a current cop on the prowl for people to arrest. If he gets his hands on Grimlock, Grimlock isn’t going to just take it, and then things are going to go south very quickly.

Krok agrees with Misfire that they need to go help Grimlock, admitting that he’s been a shithead the last couple hours, and that he’s putting together a plan. Unfortunately, affiliating with Demus has bitten them in the ass once again, as their inhibitor chips haven’t yet worn off, and there doesn’t seem to be a vehicle around that can carry all of them. However, Crankcase gets an idea, pointing at something off-panel.

We cut over to the WAP, where Grimlock is in his alt-mode, holding a marker with his dinky little t-rex arm. He hears Fort Max rolling through the halls on his hovercraft, looking for someone to crump with. Luckily, Grimlock is happy to oblige.

Fort Max and Grimlock get into it, and it interferes with Max’s call with Red Alert, as Grimlock headbutts him. It’s getting nasty very quickly, to the point where Red Alert reminds Fort Max to not kill Grimlock so he can be brought in. Fort Max, however, seems to be channeling some hurt over how Grimlock got out of being Overlord’s plaything for years while Max got turned into a blind doorstop, stating that Grimlock is a ‘Con now, and certainly isn’t going to give Max the courtesy of letting him live.

Guys, I’m beginning to think that maybe Fort Max is a bit biased against Decepticons.

The Scavengers manage to get to the WAP by this point, having opened the boxes of several Roboids™ and ridden the horsies inside back to the ship. While I do wonder about the ethics of this, it does give us this sick-ass panel of Krok riding a horse while it kicks a gun out of Fortress Maximus’s hand.

Friendship is magic, bitch!

Having disarmed Fort Max, Krok demands parley. Unfortunately, he’s talking to Fortress “Guns in His Legs” Maximus, who was at Simanzi and did a rootin’-tootin’ good job there, who laughs at the Scavengers trying to work out a deal. Krok clarifies their relation to Grimlock, and how he came into their fray. Fort Max is doubtful of this, as he— as has been made painfully clear by this point— has trust issues when it comes to Decepticons. He tells Misfire that he wants to take Grimlock so Cerebros can take a look at him.

Cerebros is a very rare type of Cybertronian, as he’s a mental health specialist. That’s right, there’s another one! This is actually his foray into the IDW run, though he’s been in other Transformers media. Currently, he works on Luna 1 with Red Alert and Fort Max— whether he’s working with them is unstated, but it seems likely, given their collective past needing psychiatric help.

Misfire is willing to let Grimlock go, if it might help him, though it clearly looks like it kills him to do so. This is when Spinister, in a rare moment of brilliance, says that they’ve completely forgotten Grimlock’s opinion in all this. He asks Grimlock if he wants to stay with the guys who resort to cannibalism regularly, or go with his former jailer. Grimlock answers, in his own fashion.

Misfire, who looks like he’s about to friggin’ cry, says that it’s settled, but Fort Max was gonna just take all of them into custody anyway, so this doesn’t really change much on his end. This is when Krok reveals that the Scavengers have a bomb.

No, not Fulcrum.

Well, yes Fulcrum, but also another, different bomb, that actually works. He’s talking about that one.

Fort Max is dubious about this, but Krok stands his ground, arming the detonator with a click.

The neon green detonator, that totally isn’t a severed finger. Honest.

Fort Max has thirty minutes to go disarm the bomb that’s planted in the late Demus’s office, surrounded by loads of helpless domesticated Cybertronians. When Fort Max asks them where the hell they got a bomb, Krok says that Fulcrum made it, because that’s his thing. Autopedia backs this up, calling Fulcrum the bravest, sexiest explosives expert in the universe, whose meat is huge and whose supply of bitches is never-ending.

Fort Max tries to grab the detonator from Krok, but Krok tosses it over to Crankcase, who can and will set the damn thing off now if Fort Max doesn’t buzz off. He then death-stares Max until he decides that maybe this isn’t a bluff, and asks if he can borrow a pony to get back to the scrapyard.

I haven’t mentioned it, but the Scavengers have been extremely British these past issues. Like, real tea and crumpets-sounding sons of guns.

Later, in the WAP, Crankcase is commended for his steely visage, only for it to be revealed that his face had stopped working at some point during the ride over. Fulcrum starts passing out compliments, just like a good project manager should, while Krok starts futzing around with the ship’s navigation. Plugging Radar into the terminal, the finger’s ability to locate Decepticon sparks is amplified, going to a galactic scale.

Wow, the real success was the friends he made along the way! That’s beautiful, Krok.

Crankcase asks if this means that they’re going to actually be doing shit now, which Krok thinks that yeah, they are. They’re going to help folks, and they might even be good at it. Of course, "helping people” is a really nebulous goal, and this is the Scavengers we’re talking about, so Misfire almost immediately derails the moment by pulling out his SNERF (space NERF) gun, so they can complete their game from earlier.

Misfire, he’s the sole survivor of an attack by the Wreckers. He went toe to toe with Springer, you will show some goddamned respect!

Misfire, remembering that Grimlock’s room was completely totaled a few hours ago, promises to get the behemoth a new door, one that only locks from the inside. Grimlock tells him that he appreciates it, which stops Misfire in his tracks, as that’s the most Grimlock’s said since they found him. When Misfire tries to get him to repeat it, however, Grimlock stays quiet. Misfire compares him to Spinister, in that sometimes he’ll do some shit that’ll remind everyone that he’s far more capable than they think he is.

Like this ominous symbol Grimlock’s drawn on his whiteboard!

Wow, I’m sure that won’t be plot-relevant later on!

Later, we check in on Fort Max, flying back to Luna 1 while on another call. Fucking hell, this guy just loves to talk. This time, his conversational partner is none other than Rung. They’re talking about how the Scavengers weren’t what Fort Max was expecting, and how he’s reconsidering his approach to being the Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord. Rung agrees that this might be a good idea, as the approach of “murder any Decepticon who so much as voices displeasure at being shot and chased” is a little yikes!

Obviously, when Fort Max went back to the scrapyard, there was no bomb. At least, not in the traditional sense.

Spinister, please don’t blow kisses at the cop who tried to arrest you, especially on the instructions for how to fix horrific forced body modification.

Of course, because it turned out that the Roboids™ are, in fact, mutilated Cybertronians, Fort Max had to bring them back to Luna 1, so that they could try out Spinister’s instructions. Everyone’s favorite current Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord is absolutely plastered in fluffy little animals as he flies back to base, and it looks like all’s well that ends well!

Oh, goddammit.

So this ship is connected to the folks who were working with Demus, who were supposed to be protecting him from the law and whatnot. Obviously, that didn’t happen, so these guys are down a guy to hide their weird bullet-tubes full of green fluid and alien lifeforms in the basement. Or well, not theirs, precisely, but rather the Grand Architect.

Whoever the fuck that is.

As it currently stands, the moving of the bullet-tubes risks contamination of the contents, so these two guys are going to have to abort this whole collection and focus on the others that reside on other planets.

Oh, Grimlock, honey, you got some explaining to do.

#transformers #MTMTE #issue 46 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #overthinking about robots #incoming analysis #comic script writing

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davidmariottecomics · 3 months

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Not So Evergreen: A Perennial Problem

Hi there,

Wouldja believe it, this week I was thinking about comics?

I know, it's hard to imagine I've had time around Valentine's Day and preparing for our impending nuptuals (which you can contribute to if you're so inclined!).

Or around the continued bullshit that is KOSA, which you might've noticed is NOT actually fixed--and still needs to be stopped. Or, as long as we're talking about regulation and the internet and what can/should be regulated to try to make it a better safer place, all the latest "Generative AI" nonsense (not linking anything in particular here, but there're new stupid developments every day).

Or while keeping track of what's happening in Gaza and, specifically, in Rafah, where Palestinians were told to evacuate to and that is now under bombing, or as they continue to attack hospitals and kill civilians. Sharing up top some recent resources I've seen, including a nice list of places where you can donate (you may also notice the PCRF on our registry and thanks to the folks who've already given there) and a nice collection of Palestinian cultural reading and listening and cooking you can do. There continue to be demonstrations and actions--with a lot in the past week being organized to keep hands off Rafah. Call.Fax. Email.Contact the White House. Keep an eye out for actions from organizations like Jewish Voice for Peace, American Muslims for Palestine, BDS, and the Democratic Socialists of America, or whatever local organization is making efforts near you. If spending money brings you any comfort and you feel a need to put something into good practice, the Cartoonist Cooperative's page still lists a ton of resources for E-Sim cards.

But despite the many other things that should and do reasonably take up my time and brainspace--the good and the bad--it is my job to make comics and I do have to spend some time thinking about 'em and something I've been thinking about this week is the strange state of "evergreen titles."

A Perennial Should Standalone

In particular, I was inspired by seeing some random young person somewhere online say a fairly common refrain, something along the lines of "I tried Western superhero comics, couldn't see myself in them, other than one (now) 35-year-old Vertigo series, and found a lot more in manga for me."

This is one of those things I've talked around every part of in the past, I think. I've talked, fairly recently, about how it is strange to me when people cut themselves off from or don't give themselves the opportunity to continue to explore a format or genre of comics entirely as if they're homogenous and how I think that can make you lose out on some of the contextual history of the medium and how storytelling can work within it. I've talked about how manga is just another word for comics and how I think some of the separation of manga and "Western" comics is more artificial than people realize. I've talked about continuity and how it can be a real turn-off for people, but also how even when it does matter, it maybe kinda doesn't matter, and even earlier than that, I talked about how they say every comic is somebody's first comic and the strange balance of serialized storytelling and accessibility. And just last week, I was mentioning how I think N.K. Jemisen's Far Sector is a really great example of a modern "here's how cool superhero comics can be" book. Now I want to pull it all together and talk about how we've maybe canonized a lot of comics that require a higher bar of context than they're often given.

Now, last bit of business before we dive in, just in case, what do I mean when I say perennial or evergreen title? They are a little different, though I'm largely using them interchangably here. There are certain comics that have been canonized (not meaning made canon to a in-universe continuity, but the older definition of added to the historical register as a work of significance) that you can pretty much always find, and that has grown even more with the increased importance of the book market to comics sales. To use a very important example, you can walk into *most* any comic shop or bookstore that carries comics and is not specifically a specialty shop (like not Silver Sprocket probably, but also, shout out to them for joining the PACBI) and find a copy of Watchmen. Doesn't matter that the book is nearly 40 years old, it has been kept in print constantly (which... if you aren't familiar, is a story unto itself) and y'know, still sells. New people discover/buy/upgrade their copies of Watchmen every year and DC always points to it as an Essential title in their annual catalogs.

DC in particular is actually pretty good about promoting their evergreens. They release an annual catalog to comic shops (and some book stores) that's like a free 80-ish page thing about like "if you want to read DC comics, here are titles we recommend." And if you're even halfway immersed in American Superhero Comics, you could probably name a good half-dozen of them off the top of your head. Watchmen! The Killing Joke! Sandman! All-Star Superman! Batman: The Long Halloween! Batman: Hush! Arkham Asylum: A Serious House on Serious Earth! Kingdom Come! Dark Knight Returns! Other titles written 30-40 years ago by a White British person! Any title from the past 7 years written by a guy named Tom! Etc! I'm being a little flip, and generally, like a lot of those books, but it's true, those tend to be what gets platformed in that way. And, credit where it's due, I know the last catalog also included things like Far Sector and Wonder Woman Historia and Nubia: Real One and the Kami Garcia/Gabriel Picolo Teen Titans OGNs.

But what I find complicated about a lot of those decisions is that a lot of those books may be self-contained in that you can read a single volume or single series and get a pretty complete story without a lot of continuity fluff or cross-reading or whatever, but I think a lot of those books benefit from having existing grounding in reading superhero comics that can get lost when they're being presented not only outside the context of what they were originally in conversation with, but as books of high accessibility or jumping on points.

I could probably go on about most of these, but I'm going to use Killing Joke as an example because it's a really clear one. It's famously a "read this book" kinda book. I think it's still in the DC 25 Essential titles list. It's also a book that is STEEPED in important context that it usually isn't presented with and that I think does really change the reading experience.

Like, when Killing Joke was originally released, it was part of a big push of the Joker at DC. In early 1988, Killing Joke comes out, followed a few months later by A Death in the Family (the one where he killed Jason Todd Robin) and the year capped off with a Greatest Joker Stories Ever Told collection that didn't include either of those stories because, y'know, they were both too new. And modern collections (the 75th and 80th, respectively) both include, interestingly, 1 issue each of A Death in the Family (and different ones at that) and only an excerpt of Killing Joke because they usually don't like to collect it because it can take up a lot of pages for a book that most people own as an individual volume (though... interestingly, the 80th does include Mad Love). Sorry, getting a little distracted. But you know what the Greatest Joker Stories does include? A comic from 1966 that came in a box of PopTarts. Pre-'88, he had gone through cycles of being serious, silly (not even connected to Batman '66, the Joker's many boners story was from the early '50s!), and serious again when he returned in the '70s, but it was never to the extent that Killing Joke went to and that was solidified by the next year of publishing. And, even then, the next year brought some very different Jokers: Jack Nicholson's live-action version who is very much not the Killing Joke Joker and the Joker of Arkham Asylum, who again, is also violent, but in a very different way.

As you start looking at the long-tail, you see the Killing Joke interpretation more in the Batman: The Animated Series version of the character (though, obviously, toned down somewhat for the audience) and that continues to resonate through each version of Joker that happens after across media (except maybe Batman: The Brave and the Bold, because that series is so Silver Age-y). You get Oracle going from a somewhat unexpected character in Suicide Squad to being a major part of the Bat-family and really evolving as a character as Birds of Prey took flight in the late '90s (pin in that for a sec). There are stories that directly reference it, like that Booster Gold issue where he keeps trying (and failing) to change the past because Rip Hunter (almost wrote Rip Torn, who would've made for a very different Booster Gold book) lied to him. There are whole projects that are inspired by it, like the One Bad Day books from 2022/23. There are real world effects, like the things I mentioned earlier with it becoming an evergreen title and one of the first big DC tentpoles to have as a constant at comic shops and in bookstores (especially as the book market has become increasingly important).

Looking at the sort of joint in continuity and publishing history leading up to Killing Joke, it's important to know that Joker and Barbara Gordon had been sort of in-and-out of the comics. Joker hadn't had a major break in a while--also an influential factor on Killing Joke, another darker '80s Joker was in Dark Knight Returns just a couple years prior. But he had been a character who kinda disappeared out of the comics in the past--I think before his return in Batman #251 in '71, he had not been in a comic in like 4 years. And, speaking of not being in comics in 4 years, Barbara Gordon had largely retired as Batgirl before Crisis on Infinite Earths in '85 and was basically a non-character in DC comics post Crisis until Killing Joke. It's part of why the story got approved with her in it and part of why she got taken over to Suicide Squad afterwards... there weren't any plans for Batgirl otherwise.

And all of that is before we're even talking about stuff like the fact that it was recolored and the recoloring really changes the reading experience (TBH, I am not a fan) or that it's a book that if you are recommending it to someone, you should tell them that it's a book with a heavy trigger warning for sexual assault. It's not talking about it as an Alan Moore project and his publicly bad relationship with DC/Warner (see, among other things, that earlier Watchmen article).

So many of these books have that sort of important contextual elements that change the way they're read. I think it's important to know that Sandman is a DC universe book and at least something about some of the DC characters who get featured (like Prez, Element Woman, and Dr. Destiny). All-Star Superman is in conversation with Superman comics of the Golden and Silver age and I think in particular dialogue with Whatever Happened to the Man of Tomorrow (and, hey, again, probably helpful to know that Grant and Alan have their issues).

How to Contextualize, Or Find New Evergreens

Okay, brief note: Becca and I went and saw Madame Web and this was left unfinished when we did. Madame Web was great. It was genuinely bad. It was the Cats (2019) of superhero movies. I've never seen a movie where literally all the content was in the trailer and the rest of the movie was deleted scenes. Anyway, after it was over, we went to the Barnes & Noble next to the theater and listened to this couple talking in the comics section and literally every book they gravitated to was one of these sorts of evergreen titles--Sandman was mentioned, Watchmen and Before Watchmen, V for Vendetta, etc. It was clear they weren't really readers, they seemed to be shopping for someone else, but that their primary frame of reference was TV shows and movies, which also goes to the whole "what makes it evergreen" argument and is really interesting because through adaptation, some of the importance of how these things work in the comics medium is lost. And by the end of it... I think they just didn't pick up a comic. Anyway, was just kinda funny to have a real world example of this exact phenomenon I'm talking about happen mid-blog.

Only other thing I want to say before getting any further. Obviously, I've focused a lot on DC titles. The reason is DC makes it easy. Like I said, they literally put out a catalog with their "here's what we think is most essential from our library" every year. DC's also got a long track record of these types of titles to examine and particularly because the initial comment led me to think it was more about American Superhero Comics, it was a clear focus. Every comic company does have their evergreen titles and I think evergreens are a good thing! When positioned properly, they are supposed to be new reader friendly and a great way to get into the medium. I'll talk a bit about Marvel in this section, but I'd also like to acknowledge that one really smart move that Image made (not entirely sure if they're still doing this, but props where it's due) is they made the first volume of multi-volume series--particularly the ones that seemed ripe for perennial status like Saga--$10. I think making these titles at an accessible price point is a good way to help prop up the things that can help secure a love of the medium and drive further visits to comic shops and bookstores.

More generally, I think there are two things that would both be rad if they were to happen because I think they'd be really helpful for onboarding new readers. The first is I wish there were more international approaches that were like the partworks collections. If you're unfamiliar, there've been a few of them from the UK, including Marvel, DC (who started with Eaglemoss and actually got picked up by Hachette later on), Transformers, Star Trek, and Judge Dredd, wherein significant arcs were released periodically with connecting spine art so they looked really nice together on a shelf that featured additional material like introductions and contextual writings on the reason the arc is significant and the featured character(s) and the creators and really provided at least a starting point of context. The other kinda interesting thing is for the Hachette ones at least, they were released with two numbering systems: one by release of the partworks collection, one by (relative) release order of the original story relative to the other partworks releases. It's almost like when you used to buy an encyclopedia set and every however often the new volume would be ready and you'd have to buy that. I think that's a really cool approach to bringing comics backlist to new and lapsed readers and particularly with the contextualization element, gives you reason to understand why these stories are evergreen. It's exciting to look at partworks as almost a curated greatest hits collection.

The other thing, and again, I think this is already in progress with both what DC is doing generally with their Essentials catalog and specifically with a lot of the stuff in their middle grade and young adult OGN space (and to a lesser extent with Black Label) and with the more recent additions to the Hachette Partworks--is I think that the "canonical" books need to be updated. And, of course, I have a lot of thoughts on what should be on those lists. I've said it before, but Far Sector would certainly be on my list. As would Superman Smashes the Klan. Just to throw out a couple of others: Hawkeye: My Life as a Weapon, Batman: No Man's Land, Young Justice: Sins of Youth, New Frontier, GL/GA: Hard Travelin' Heroes, (when it's collected, the first arc of the current Birds of Prey series), no longer a big two series, but Astro City (honestly... any volume), Spider-Man: Kraven's Last Hunt, X-Men: Dark Phoenix Saga, Marvels, Shadow of the Batgirl, Wednesday Comics, Gen13: Meanwhile (hey, that collection slaps), Mr. Majestic (the '99 run), Starman: Hell and Back, uhh... can we just collect all the pages where the Legion of Superheroes wore outfits designed by kids and fans, and probably a lot of other dumb stuff. But besides being the books that I really like and feel like are deserving of a place in more readers minds, I think the important thing is that we expand from books that may've had a splash outside the medium's traditional haunts (be that in films & TV or literary circles) or that we as comics people recognize for their artistic merit or internal cultural significance to books that celebrate and capture how fun comics can be! Also... and I realize what my own list looks like as I say this, but... fewer comics by white guys, please.

And now, our regular features.

New Releases this week (2/14/24): None

New Releases next week (2/21/24): Godzilla Rivals: Mothra vs. MOGUERA (Editor - IDW, post-leaving)

Announcements: Happy Black History Month! This week, I want to spotlight writer/editor Joseph Illidge! He's one of those guys who has been everywhere--Milestone/DC, Valiant, Heavy Metal, Lion Forge, etc. He's got irons in a few fires right now, from Noir is the New Black to teasing a new Image project coming to doing more editorial work to doing some pretty good articles of his own on the current and historical state of the comics biz. Among his many editorial credits is one of the books I mentioned feeling like should be treated more as an evergreen title (though... given it's complexity and just how many titles it ran through, I do understand that it's a bit harder): Batman: No Man's Land. But he's on all the socials and always has something cool brewing, so throw him a follow!

Sorry that Patreon is still behind! I've sent in a help request and once it's all sorted, blogs will be going back up regularly! As mentioned above, we're getting ready for wedding and travel and expenses around all that, so please also check out my webstore, my Kofi, my eBay, and Becca's site for additional ways to support us and get a little something for yourself!

What I enjoyed this week: Nancy (Comic), Yu-Gi-Oh: Duel Links (Video Game), Baldur's Gate III (Video Game), Blank Check (Podcast), Solve This Murder (Podcast), The City We Became (Book), Blade Runner 2049 (Movie), Madame Web (Movie), Witch Watch (Manga), One Piece (Manga), Dandadan (Manga), Lore Olympus (Webcomic), Death to Smoochy (Movie), Dungeons & Daddies (Podcast), and big thanks to everyone who has already given us a little something for the wedding!

Pic of the Week: Nadja made a new friend (?) and his name is Optimus Prime. But she HATES that Sonic.

#comics #stop kosa #free palestine #hands off rafah #eyes on rafah #batman no man’s land #killing joke #canonical comics #far sector #a lot of dc comics sorry #comic opinions #a cat that loves optimus and hates sonic

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