
Origami Around
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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

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@the-daily-bugle
Mila sighed. This was all Thanos’ fault, really. If he hadn’t won, the Avengers would be a big, awesome team, big enough so she could be Firestar and do her art and be a student full-time. If he hadn’t won, Mr. Stark wouldn’tve cut her off, forcing her to slave away at the Bugle. If he hadn’t won, Peter would still…he’d still exist.
But he had, and she was not taking it well. She wasn’t sleeping properly at all, and she cried a lot at home, mourning the deceased friend she’d had feelings for (plus everyone else). Jameson didn’t notice any of that, though, nor did he care.
She filled up a cup with the coffee leftover in the communal office pot, heated it with her powers, and stomped into the man’s office, setting it firmly on his desk. “Next time, sir, I would appreciate a please and thank you,” she hissed.
@the-daily-bugle
Jameson turned his seat slowly to look towards the lowly intern, whom he had to personally hire, seeing as the Bugle’s hiring manager had disintegrated some time ago now. As he saw her judgmental gaze back at him, he began to question his own decision.
“Listen here, missy.”He hissed, standing up from the seat. “I spend 20 of my 24 hours a day ensuring this paper is to the highest standards the good people of this city deserve. I exposed some of the biggest cons of the century, which leaves me looking over my shoulder making sure a goddamn sniper or laser canon isn’t pointed at my head!”
He walked around the table and looked down at the intern. “And I have a wife who insists that Akitas require some special dog food only made in Japan and imported to New Jersey! So I don’t need to waste my time saying please and thank you, if I don’t want to!” He took a long sip of the cup, then moved back to his seat. “But the coffee is better than I’ve ever tasted from the office pot, so thanks.”
@rpwithjayn ||| INTERNAL STRUGGLE
HOLY GHOSTS || HARRY OSBORN
J. Jonah Jameson, editor and publisher of the Daily Bugle, paced the hardwood floors of his Fifth Avenue Manhattan office. Occasionally, he would pause, and look to see if any emails had been sent to him by opinionated New Yorkers. Thus far, none had been sent, and he was beginning to grow restless.
His most recent article regarding Harry Osborn and the Goblin sightings was, in his own words, magnificent, and warranted the attention of the citizens of the city. Indeed, after publication earlier that morning, Jameson expected in influx of letter and emails regarding the connection, and was ready to print as soon as those letter came.
But none did. No-one seemed to care. Perhaps it was because half of the city was dead, but still. Half a population should still be enough to be involved with goings-on in their lives. The idea of the uncaring masses got Jameson more hot-headed than usual, so when Miss Brant entered to inform him that an individual was there, in person, to speak with Jameson regarding the article, he was overjoyed.
“Well, what are you waiting for, Brant!” He slapped his hands together, and motioned for her to hurry to her station, “Send them in!”
@goblinscn ||| starter
Reblog if you're willing to do fairly violent RPs
Y'know, just in case I feel the need to bust some heads.
GOBLIN GHOST LOOMS AFTER OSBORN DEATH!
From the Desk of Editor and Publisher J. Jonah Jameson
Long after the mysterious death of one of New York City’s most notorious villains and industrial capitalists, Norman Osborn, citizens are still plagued with sightings of the Green Goblin throughout the city. From Staten Island to the Bronx, reports have been coming in of the famous purple glider and green tint of tacky armor being spotted high above the buildings. The strange sightings beg the question: Is Norman Osborn truly dead, and does his spirit haunt the skies?
The answer is simple: No, you half-witted, gullible dupes! Osborn’s ghost does not stick around in our realm hanging on to a two-ton gliding platform just to give granny going bird watching the heebie-jeebies! If Osborn’s ghost is anywhere, besides the deepest depths of a murderer’s hell being prodded by a Satan’s own tine, then its following around the creepy and aloof son he left behind. Harry Osborn ( @goblinscn ) has been neglected and exploited by his father, Norman, his entire life, and it is this reporter, editor, publisher, and owner’s personal and unbiased opinion that Norman Osborn has messed up that kid so much that the only way he’ll be making any future appearances is through the psyche of one sick little boy. Evident from Harry Osborn’s interactions with our photographers and his general demeanor regarding the affair, our analysts have concluded, very scientifically, that the kid is sick. So much so that it would not be unthinkable to imagine him wanting to preserve his father’s twisted memory in some way. And how might he go about doing that? Perhaps by getting involved with the Oscorp company and building it towards the betterment of mankind? Maybe by donating some of his massive inherited fortune (No doubt the majority of which was stolen by the Goblin during his criminal career) to some sort of charity? Or has Harry Osborn found another way to keep his father alive? My lawyers inform me that it would be detrimental for me to be making any sort of accusations regarding the living Osborn in connection to the Goblin sightings, but I say screw those ambulance chasers. Any numb-skull with a pair of binoculars and general knowledge of Osborn/Goblin case can come to their own, very clear, very rational conclusions. If you have any conclusions you’ve jumped to, don’t forget that the Letters To The Editor mailbox is open. I can’t legally report my accusations, but we can sure report yours!
INTERNAL STRUGGLE || MILA WONG
JAMESON gulped back another cup of coffee as he typed on his computer the back page for tomorrow’s paper. “CRIMINAL PROFILES:”, it read at top, the fun and colorful font masking the deeply belligerent tone of the weekly series. Below it in the tagline “PYROMANIAC ‘FIRESTAR’” followed by the blurry picture an amateur had shot last week. He cursed, angry at the young Peter Parker, who had so often brought in amazing photos and yet has not shown up to his office in weeks. It was upsetting to Jameson, mostly because he had to rely on shittier content. Still, it was the first picture he had gotten of the fiery fiend and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to use it.
Jameson turned in his seat to stare at the empty cup on the desk before him. “MIA!” He shouted into the hallway, his face turning red as he screamed, “ANOTHER CUP! I DON’T HAVE ALL DAY!”
@rpwithjayn ||| starter
Spider-Man (2002)
dir. Sam Raimi
NEW YORK’S FINEST DAILY NEWSPAPER straight from the desk of New York’s finest editor and publisher J. JONAH JAMESON.
🎺 like this post for a starter 🎺
SUPER MENACES KILL HALF OF EARTH’S POPULATION!
From the Desk of Editor and Publisher J. Jonah Jameson
If you have not been living under a rock with turnips in your ears or using animal pelts as a blind-fold, then you are already well aware of the horrific events that transpired earlier this year around the globe. The death of nearly half of the entire population of earth, a terrifying mid-air cremation that stole away our loved ones, our friends, our low-paid, coffee-running interns. A terrible experience to live through, and, I imagine, a terrible one to die through as well. And let us make no mistake, as the talk-show hosts and internet hacks like to parse words and say “Oh, they didn’t die. They just atomized. They could come back! Maybe they’ve been teleported somewhere!” This keen eyed veteran reporter calls bull crap! Our loved ones are dead. Dead as a door nail. Dead as the ash their poor dead meat vessels turned into before drifting off into the breeze. But the time for grief is over. Now is the time to find someone to blame. And who better to blame than the very freaks who surely delivered upon us this hellish chapter of humanity? I’m of course talking about the super menaces that parade around this great city in inappropriate spandex, punching citizens and bringing down buildings. The very crooks and criminals who fought in the middle of Greenwich Village shortly before going completely off the radar, long before half of mankind followed. Is it a coincidence? Unlikely. Are there credible sources that can verify that it is in fact the “Avengers” who are to blame for this crisis? You bet your sweet tulip-picking butt there are! But who needs sources when the facts are right in front of us. And those facts are that none of the so-called “superheroes” have come forward with any sort of statement. No reassurance. No word on what the hell is going on, because you can be damn sure that they know. The only logical conclusion? They must have had a hand in this destruction, and when they decide to show their masked mugs again, the people of the world will hold them accountable!
O P E N
The parade of pill bottles that lined the edge of his desk shook as he landed his fists on the table.
“I’ve told you already. I don’t publish front page articles as a favor. I publish them for profits!” His voice hissed beneath the greying mustache. “You want me to put amateur hour on the front page? You’re out of your goddamn mind!” He leaned forward across the desk, looking the other in the eyes, “Give me one good reason to believe this will sell papers, or else...” He pointed a thick finger to his office entrance. “There’s the door! Don’t let it bust a tailbone on the way out!”
( the-daily-bugle )
“WANTED FUGITIVE AND HYDRA-COLLABORATOR STEVE ROGERS SPOTTED IN COLUMBUS CIRCLE”
His eyes scanned the article title again. Wanted Fugitive. Hydra-Collaborator. What so many were afraid to call the super-soldier, only the Daily Bugle had the guts.
The article itself was written by J. Jonah Jameson. Too many of his best reporters were becoming bashful when it came getting down and dirty on superhero reporting, and if he didn’t have a paper to print, they’d all be fired faster than a buttered bullet. So now he wrote most of the articles involving the freaks.
“Brant!” He pressed his finger against the bright red button of the intercom and shouted into it. “Let in the next appointment in, then cancel the rest. I’ve done a fine day’s work.” He smiled and sat back in his chair, hands behind his head. “Any day I can tear down another self-righteous steroid fiend is a good day.” He chuckled.
@earnedstripes ||| starter
STEVE HAS ALL THE EXITS memorized as he makes his way through the building. there is a fire escape just left of jameson’s office so when he inevitably calls the police on him, steve knows what direction to run in. he’s a wanted FUGITIVE. this is the last place he should be. especially not over something as small as the press. but steve isn’t there for himself, he’s there for bucky & the rest of his team. steve thinks, if he’s willing to show his face at the daily bugle, that they might garner up some journalistic integrity which they have apparently tossed out.
he’s let through to jameson’s office without having to offer up much of anything. despite his picture being on the front page, no one seems to look twice at him. he’s shaved —- jaw clean of scruff & clothes pressed. steve practically struts into his office without QUESTION.
❝ i’d like to speak with you about your article, ❞ steve says as the door is shut behind him.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Who the hell do you think you a...” He stopped, his face red and his eyes wide when he realized who the intruder of his office is. He slowly sat back down in his seat and cleared his throat.
“Well.. if it isn’t the twenty-first century Benedict Arnold.” He growled through gritted teeth. “You’ve got some balls showing your face in New York, let alone in my office!” Jameson pressed a fist to his chest, indicating the pride he held in his work space.
“Did you come here to throw me out a window? Blow me up? Cuz if you and your ragtag group of Wizard of Oz rejects think you can get away with it, you got another thing coming!”
WANTED FUGITIVE AND HYDRA-COLLABORATOR STEVE ROGERS SPOTTED IN COLUMBUS CIRCLE
From the Desk of Editor and Publisher J. Jonah Jameson
Several months ago, the world was shaken by the events which took place in Vienna on what was supposed to be a momentous step towards wrangling-in the super-powered perpetrators of violence. What came from the conference, instead, was death and betrayal.
But what was most shocking was not the sudden explosion that killed several high-ranking diplomats and nearly brought down a building on innocent civilians. Nor was it the revelation that the bomber was a known Hydra1 agent.
No, the piece of information that hurt America at it’s core was the choice of Steve Rogers, the once great Captain America ( @earnedstripes ), aiding and abetting the Hydra agent and, in turn, betraying all America stands for.
So after tossing his country aside, spitting on the ground of the nation that idolized him, all to assist an international killer and criminal in escape and evasion of capture, you’d think Steve Rogers would have the right mind to, at the very least, never show his face in New York City ever again.
Alas, dear readers, for not even this was enough to elicit one ounce of shame in Mr. Rogers’ body. For Steve Rogers was recently spotted in Columbus Circle, apparently in disguise and once again causing hundreds of thousands of dollars in damage for us tax-payers to take care of later.
Rogers fought some sort of large robot, one of mysterious origin who's markings would imply a relation to associates of Steve Rogers. Indeed, some analysts have suggested the whole thing was a stunt in order to improve Steve Rogers standing in America.
Luckily for America, we are not comprised of only fools and fanatics. We will not fall for flashy parlor tricks or scruffy facial hair. Steve Rogers has chosen to show his face not only on US soil, but right here in the city, so we need to be the ones to remind him that he betrayed us. That he betrayed his country.
If you have any information about Steve Rogers whereabouts, contact Thaddeus Ross, Secretary of State.
1. Hydra is a Nazi-affiliated international terrorist organization that once fought Captain America during World War II. It seems now they have colluded.
“WANTED FUGITIVE AND HYDRA-COLLABORATOR STEVE ROGERS SPOTTED IN COLUMBUS CIRCLE”
His eyes scanned the article title again. Wanted Fugitive. Hydra-Collaborator. What so many were afraid to call the super-soldier, only the Daily Bugle had the guts.
The article itself was written by J. Jonah Jameson. Too many of his best reporters were becoming bashful when it came getting down and dirty on superhero reporting, and if he didn’t have a paper to print, they’d all be fired faster than a buttered bullet. So now he wrote most of the articles involving the freaks.
“Brant!” He pressed his finger against the bright red button of the intercom and shouted into it. “Let the next appointment in, then cancel the rest. I’ve done a fine day’s work.” He smiled and sat back in his chair, hands behind his head. “Any day I can tear down another self-righteous steroid fiend is a good day.” He chuckled.
@earnedstripes ||| starter
Why do you hate Spiderman so much? Hasn't he helped a lot of people?
“Helped a lot of people?” How many people has he helped, exactly? Have you met them all? Have you talked to every New Yorker about how Spider-Man strolled into their apartment to give them the Heimlich while they choked on a spoonful of week-old curry?
We’ve always had police officers who work hard to make this city safe every goddamn day. We have firefighters saving kittens from trees and babies from burning buildings every weekend. You couldn’t walk down the road without tripping on some freaking good samaritan’s hind foot as he kneels down to tie the shoe of a hundred year old blind lady.And did any of them get front page news? No. Did any of them get the recognition they deserve? No.
The Daily Bugle has spent the last fifty years covering the amazing citizens this city has to offer, the real, normal people who keep us safe. And then these super-powered costumed freaks show up and all the other news outlets and pundits pretend like the world was hell before them.
Well, now it’s the Bugle’s job to expose these creeps for who they really are: Cons. Degenerates. Freaks who couldn’t pass a fitness test so they put on some shiny armor or pump up on mutant steroids then go punching normal citizens like it’s their goddamn civic duty.
And now one has the gall to make New York it’s own personal web? That’s where I draw the line. I don’t just hate the Spider-Man. I hate all he represents. And all he doesn’t.
- J. Jonah Jameson
WHO IS THE SPIDER-MENACE?
From the Desk of Editor and Publisher J. Jonah Jameson
Ever since the day a simple carjacker was found beaten nearly to death near the edge of a Queen’s subway terminal last November, mumbling about a giant spider, citizens of New York have feared the mask criminal who swings upon synthetic ropes and pummels nearly-innocent people within an inch of their lives. New York has had it’s share of beings calling themselves heroes while taking down building and building fighting wars they started, but at least we have names to their masks. Steve Rogers, the Nazi-affiliated super soldier, and Tony Stark, the elitist war-criminal, are just two that have attempted to gain our trust by parading in colorful armor and punching the occasional mutant alien. But New York stood it ground, and finally the rest of the world has recognized it’s mistake in believing these villains. Steve Rogers is now on the run from the law, and Tony Stark hides in his tower, where he should stay. But some foolish individuals have still chosen to idolize this so-called “vigilante”, Spider-Man, as a hero. Supposedly, his high-risk acts of aerobatics (which could influence impressionable youngsters into attempting the same dangerous stunts) have coincidentally led to the incidental rescue of some lives. But don’t be fooled, this thrill-seeking psycho is nothing more than a con, a miscreant, and a menace on our society.
Police are under pressure because of all the bad press caused by the Spider-Man and the accusations that he is doing a better job than them. When the Avengers invaded New York and destroyed half the city, at least they had the good mind to keep away and not interfere the rest of the year. But not the Spider. This twisted pervert, who swings by schoolyards in nothing but a colorful unitard, seems to think he has a home in New York and a place to continue his crooked crusade.
It is time for the citizens of New York City to unite, to stand as one, and to tell this criminal to unmask, so that he can be held accountable for all his wicked deeds and law breaking. It is time for us to know just who really is Spider-Man.