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electricbarnes · 3 years

Text

tell me you still see me

steve rogers x reader

summary: steve has been working a lot lately. you begin to have doubts about your relationship.

↳ songs i listened to for inspiration

wc: 5.9k | warnings: some angst, overthinking, self-doubt, implied smut

note: this is a repost from my old account that was deleted. so if it’s familiar, that’s why! i wasn’t planning on reposting but i read it over and decided why not. i have another steve fic that i’m almost done with, so i wanted to post this in the meantime. i made a few minor edits. i hope you like it! and if you decide to reread it, thank you x1000 !!

You arrive at your apartment, hands filled with groceries for the week. You struggle to open the door with the many bags on your arms, but eventually make it inside. You kick off your heels and set the bags down on the kitchen counter. After freeing your hands, you reach into your purse to find your phone. You unlock it and tap on the first name at the top of your recent calls.

The phone rings for a bit before you hear the sound of your boyfriend’s voice saying “Hello”.

“Oh my god Steve, you’re never gonna believe what I saw at the store just now,” you say, thinking of the wild thing you witnessed during your shopping trip. It’s not everyday that you see someone throw themselves into a cereal box display. It was a hilarious sight and you just wanted to tell someone about it.

“So, I was just strolling through the isles looking for some snacks when a-” you’re cut off before getting too into the story.

“Honey, can this wait? I’m about to go into a mission briefing,” Steve says in a hushed tone. Immediately, you feel guilty for interrupting him while he’s busy. It was well into the evening and you had assumed he wouldn’t be working.

“Oh, uh yeah of course! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” you apologize.

“That’s okay,” he reassures you, “I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, talk to you later then.”

The phone beeps, indicating the call was over. You sigh and go back to the task of putting your groceries away.

You decide to lounge around the rest of the day, trading your work clothes for some comfy sweats and a tee shirt. You spend the night mindlessly scrolling through social media while reruns of some sitcom play on the tv. You even send Steve a few memes here and there. You’re not really sure if he’ll understand them but they reminded you of him.

After eating a late dinner, you channel surf for a bit before putting on a random movie. When the movie finishes, it’s nearly 11pm and you realize that Steve hasn’t called you back. You pick up your phone, tempted to call him but decide it’s better to wait till tomorrow. He hasn’t replied to your texts, so there’s a chance he’s still busy despite the late hour.

Unfortunately for you, being a superhero is a full time job, which means that Steve can be busy at any moment of any day. You knew this going into a relationship with thee Captain America. To be fair though, you didn’t think you’d actually get to know the super soldier like you do now.

When you met Steve, he was just some handsome guy at the park who helped you with directions when you were visibly lost. You ended up seeing him at the park again a couple days later. Recognizing you, he stopped and asked if you wanted to get a coffee. Who were you to deny this man?

You spent two hours in a café getting to know each other before exchanging numbers. In hindsight, his vague answers about his career were a little suspicious. It wasn’t until you went home that night and saw a picture of Steve in a tweet captioned “idc that captain america is like 100 yrs old, he can still get it 😍”.

Needless to say, you were shocked. While you were feeling dumb for not recognizing him sooner, you also wondered why he didn’t say anything. After an awkward confrontation about the subject, he explained how he didn’t want you to go out with him just because he was Captain America. You were quick to ease his worries and reassure him that you were interested in Steve for Steve, not for his heroic persona.

Since then, your relationship with Steve has been nothing but amazing. He was always so sweet with you, taking you on simple but romantic dates. There was something about that 40s charm that was so endearing. You loved the small things, like how he would always open the door for you or how he would bring you flowers on each date. It was so easy to talk to him about anything and everything. You felt like he was not only your boyfriend, but also your best friend.

There were times where you wondered why he ever picked you, an average person compared to the super people he’d work with everyday. He could’ve had anyone he wanted. Steve would say that you were like his sanctuary from the hectic world of being an Avenger. It meant a lot to you that you could be that person for him. You thought he deserved some peace after everything he’s been through. He wanted to protect you from the evil that inherently came with the job, which you understood, so he rarely spoke about the missions he’d go on. The less you knew the better. Though sometimes, you would wish he’d open up more about what was going on while he was away. Especially since he would be gone for days on end.

It was only a month into your relationship that you realized how hard it’d be when he would leave to be Captain America. It was his first time leaving for a mission that lasted longer than a day. He had to spend a week in some place on the other side of the world with no way of contacting him. Of course, you were worried the entire time he was gone. Despite trying to distract yourself with work and personal tasks, Steve was always at the forefront of your mind.

You had never felt such relief than the day he called you after a whole week of silence. Steve had even asked you shyly if he could come over that night. You felt butterflies in your stomach when he told you that he needed to see you. It was the first time he had spent the night at your place. Having Steve’s arms wrapped around you the entire night just felt right. You knew as early as then that you loved him.

Over the year that you had been together, those long missions became easier to manage. You’d always trust that he’d come back to you in one piece. Steve would sometimes feel guilty about being away for so long that he’d try to make it up to you by taking you on an extraordinary date. But you always assured him that you were happy to just be with him, even if it was just something like the two of you watching a movie at your place.

Lately, Steve has been more distant with you. You’ve chalked it up to the fact that there’s a literal distance between you two since he’s moved upstate to the newly built Avengers compound. Before, he was just a short drive away from the Avengers tower to your apartment. Now, he’s hours away from you. There were discussions of you moving in with him, but your job was in the city and you couldn’t leave that behind.

You both decided to make the best of the situation, calling and texting whenever possible. FaceTiming was the usual occurrence throughout the week, often before bed. You’d tell him about your day in the office and he’d tell you about the new recruits he would train. On the weekends, he’d stay over at your place. It was rare that you’d stay at the compound. Steve said he’d preferred your apartment, claiming it was homier than the compound. Plus, you’d actually have some privacy.

For a long time, it had been a good system. You love Steve and did anything to make the relationship work because he’s worth it. Yet, you couldn’t help the lonely nights where you wondered if he felt the same.

Calls were less frequent. Texts were unanswered. Weekend plans were cancelled because Steve would be assigned to missions during those days. You’d understand, of course. He’s out there saving people! You can’t fault him for that, but it doesn’t stop you from missing him.

Now, it had been almost two weeks since you’d last seen him in person. You had texted him throughout the day, but texting wasn’t his favorite thing. Texts were usually reserved for quick check-ins and reminders of I love you’s. He preferred calling and you did too, hearing his voice was much better.

After learning that he had been back from a short mission, you texted him.

You: FaceTime later? ☺️

You were eager to see him, even if it was through a screen. You were just hoping he had the time.

Steve ♡: Sure.

Later that night, you sat on your bed with your laptop, opening up FaceTime. After a few rings, Steve’s face appears on the screen. A smile immediately breaks out on your face.

“Hi babe!” you say cheerily, finally getting to see your boyfriend after what felt like forever.

“Hi honey,” he says with a soft smile.

Your smile dims a bit, eyebrows furrowing when you recognize the background. “Are you still in your office?” It was pretty late and you assumed he’d be in bed by now.

“Yeah, I was finishing up on some mission reports,” he explains, shuffling some papers on his desk.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you’d be done by now,” you apologize, recalling the last time you had interrupted him from his work.

“No, no” he waves his hand, “I thought I’d be done by now too, but it’s a lot more than I expected.”

You frown at the thought of your boyfriend overworking himself. You want to ask him about it, but you know he’ll say what he always does when you ask about his missions: It’s classified.

“You’re not stressing yourself out too much, are you Steve?” you ask, concern evident in your voice. Even through the hazy quality of the webcam, you can see the tired look in his eyes.

“Never,” he says with a smirk.

“Somehow, I don’t believe you,” you say with a teasing tone.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about honey,” he reassures you. “Besides, I wanna know what you’ve been up to.”

You scoff, “well, it’s definitely not nearly exciting as your week must’ve been.”

“I still wanna know,” he says with that boyish grin you love.

Steve always knew how to make those butterflies appear. You end up telling him about the incident you witnessed at the store which makes him laugh as he imagines the odd sight. He tells you about a prank Tony pulled on him and Sam and you beg him to send you the recording of it. He refuses, but you know you’ll get your hands on the footage eventually. Things felt normal again, just talking to him.

“So I was mixing the dough and halfway through I realized I completely forgot about the eggs,” you were in the middle of telling him about the new recipe you ended up ruining earlier this week.

Steve hums in response. You notice him looking to the side, not looking at the screen and you hear the sound of typing.

“and then a blue monster broke into my apartment,” you make up in an attempt to get his attention.

“Mhmm”

“and he stole all the cookies,” you continue.

“Hmm”

“Steve,”

Silence.

“Steve,” you say with a little more force.

“Huh?” he finally looks up at the screen.

“You’re not listening to me,” disappointment laces your voice.

“I was,” he quickly defends but you don’t buy it.

“Uh huh,” you cross your arms and lean back against your headboard. “What was I talking about?”

Steve glances elsewhere, not meeting your eyes when he mumbles “something about a party?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “yeah, like 10 minutes ago.”

“I’m sorry honey, I was listening, really… but these reports need to be done,” he says with an apologetic look on his face.

You couldn’t stay mad at him, but you did feel hurt that he would pretend to listen rather than just telling you something.

“Okay,” you sigh. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

He must notice the disappointment on your face because he apologizes once more.

“I’ll make it up to you honey,” he promises.

“Are you coming this weekend?” you ask hopefully. He couldn’t come last weekend and you were missing him terribly.

“Of course,” he gives you a tired smile that you return.

“Okay, finish those reports and get some sleep,” you instruct, emphasizing the last part.

“Yes ma’am,” he raises his hand, mock saluting you which makes you giggle.

“Goodnight Stevie, I love you,”

“Love you too sweetheart”

The call ends and you go to bed with a smile on your face.

The rest of the week goes by quickly. You’re excited to get to the weekend because that means you can finally see your boyfriend, in person! Not just behind some screen. It’s been almost three weeks since the last time he came over and you miss his touch.

It was Friday afternoon and you were sitting at a small table in the cafe you frequent, taking a lunch break. Halfway through your break, you got a call from Steve. You were a little surprised to see his picture pop up on your phone since you’re usually the one to call him. Nevertheless, you smiled and answered “Hi babe.”

“Hey honey,” he greets.

“I’m glad you called, I was thinking of picking up a few things from the store after work today. Do you need anything?”

“Uh… about that,” he says in a low voice. Your heart immediately sinks, already knowing what he’s going to say next.

“You’re not coming.” A statement, not a question.

“I’m sorry honey. A mission came up and we leave tonight,” he explains and you almost want to laugh. Of course he’s leaving again.

“How long?” you ask. Maybe it’s just for a day and he can still come on Saturday or even Sunday.

“Two days… maybe three,”

You take a moment to process his words. Part of you saw this coming. It seemed too good to be true that you’d finally have him all to yourself. You glance up, trying to fight the sudden feeling of tears in your eyes. You didn’t want to cry in the middle of a busy café.

“There’s… there isn’t a chance you can skip this one?” you hesitantly ask. Normally, you’d just accept it, but your patience was running thin. This is the second time in a row he’s cancelled on you.

“You know I can’t. This is important,” he says it so sternly, like he doesn’t realize he’s breaking your heart. The missions are always important. More important than you.

“Yeah, but you’ve been working nonstop. I mean, don’t you want a break? Aren’t there others who can go instead?” you argue, voice raising.

“Y/N, I’m going. I have to,” he insists, leaving no room for an argument. You knew how stubborn Steve could be, so you knew he wasn’t going to change his mind on this. Rationally, you knew he probably had no choice in the matter but you took a chance anyways.

“Okay,” you relent.

You can hear Steve sigh before saying, “I’ll make it up to you.”

He’s been saying that a lot lately, but you know they’re empty promises.

“Okay.”

“I love you,” he says much softer than his previous tone.

“Love you too,” you say back, but your heart hurts.

Before you met Steve, sleeping alone wasn’t so bad. Some nights you would be on your phone, scrolling through social media till you eventually got sleepy. Other times, you’d lie in bed staring at the ceiling thinking about your day and mentally planning the next. Too often you found yourself overthinking about something you did, something you wish you could change. Or you would be anxious about something coming up, running through different scenarios of how it’d go. For some reason, your mind wouldn’t let you succumb to the sleep that your body desperately needed. But you were used to it.

Then Steve came along and he’d be there to ease your mind. On the nights he would stay over, sleep came much easier. There would still be nights where your mind kept you awake, but Steve would be lying right next to you. You’d be on his chest, his hand soothingly rubbing your back as you told him about that meeting you were nervous about or how you got in trouble by your boss for a simple mistake. Steve would assure that everything would be okay and you found it easy to believe him.

He always knew when you needed a distraction from your worries, bringing up mundane things like last night’s baseball game or telling you about the modern music he actually started to like. Sometimes, he’d tell you a story from his life in the 40s. Stories like how his friend Bucky would drag him all over town, trying to find a date for the evening. Or about that time he had to star in an action movie when he just started out as Captain America (which you made a mental note to find later on Youtube). You loved hearing about Steve’s old life, curious about what made him into the man you love today.

Sometimes he’d just entertain your wild thoughts, especially when you’re half asleep. Conversations like how different life would be if dinosaurs never went extinct or if flat earth conspiracists were right. You’d be lying with your back to his chest, his arms wrapped around your waist while you mumbled any thoughts that came to mind. He’d listen till he heard your soft snores and he’d give you a gentle kiss on your head before he’d fall asleep too.

Then there would be nights where words would rarely be spoken. A night of soft moans as he took care of your body in ways only he knew how. He’d whisper praises, drawing out moans from you as he hit all the right spots. It was always different and exciting. You never knew what to expect, but he would always be so loving. You’d always stay close, basking in the afterglow.

After having the comfort of Steve in the night, the times he’s not there feel a lot lonelier than before.

Like now, you’ve got your eyes closed but you’re not sleeping. Your thoughts seem louder than ever and they’re all about Steve. It probably doesn’t help that you decided to wear one of his tee shirts to bed, the faint smell of him making you miss him even more. After he cancelled on you (again) this past weekend, you started to wonder if he even wanted to see you at all.

You want to be mad at him, but how can you be? He’s Captain America! He has a responsibility that he can’t ignore, not even for his girlfriend. Lately, you can’t help but be worried at how many missions he’s been going on. To make matters worse, you’re left in the dark about all of it. He says it’s safer if you don’t know. You just have to trust him and trust that he needs to go.

But what if he doesn’t actually need to? What if he wants to go so he doesn’t have to see you. Okay, that’s extreme, but it’s a possibility? It seems like he doesn’t even want to talk to you at all sometimes. You’re always the one texting and calling. It’s never really him unless it’s to let you down (again). Maybe you’re just being needy. Were you asking for too much? Are you overreacting? Probably. But it’s normal to be upset about not seeing your boyfriend for weeks, right?

You shake your head, trying to get rid of these thoughts. You pick up your phone from the nightstand. The clock reads 3:12am. You unlock your phone and open your messages to see the last few texts Steve sent.

Steve ♡: I’m sorry.

You: just be safe

—

Steve ♡: I’m back.

You: okay

Your thumb hovers over the call button for a good bit, contemplating if you want to bother him so late at night. Before you can overthink it, you hit the button. You turn to lay on your side with the phone against your ear, anxiously waiting for the ringing to stop.

“Hello,” Steve answers, voice deep and filled with sleep. You feel guilty for waking him up, but at the same time feel relief at the sound of his voice.

“Hi,” you say shyly. Honestly, you weren’t expecting him to actually pick up. You were prepared to just leave a voicemail.

“Is something wrong?” he mumbles.

“No, no. There’s nothing wrong… I just…” you can feel the heat rising in your face, suddenly embarrassed for some reason. “I just miss you,” you say quietly, not even sure if he’s heard you.

You can hear the shuffling of sheets.

“I miss you too sweetheart,” he says and it warms your heart for a moment, “and as much as I wanna talk right now, I have to be up in a couple hours for a mission.”

“Oh,” the small smile you had on your face quickly disappears. You had no idea he was leaving again even though he just got back the day before.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, okay hon?” he says tiredly.

You feel a lump in your throat forming but you push past it, “yeah… yeah, of course.”

“Love you,”

“Love you too,” you practically whisper.

The phone call ends and the tears start to slide down your face. You didn’t have the energy to fight them anymore.

The last call you had with Steve a few days ago left you torn between logic and your emotions. You knew he was just tired, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed between you two. In the past, he never seemed to mind talking to you, even in the odd hours of the morning. You always believed that you guys were so in sync. It seemed like he knew when you needed comfort and would be there to provide it.

You would be able to tell when something was off with Steve and though you would always offer to talk about it, he would brush it off. Thinking back to it, maybe he never really opened up to you for a reason.

You began to question if you are more invested in this relationship than he is. It feels wrong to even think so, considering how sweet and caring he is, especially with you. But everyone has their limits, right? Maybe he’s just gotten tired of you. It’s clear that work is his number one priority right now, maybe he doesn’t have time for a girlfriend anymore. He always makes promises of making it up to you another time, but maybe there will never be another time.

The thought of him leaving completely sends a pang of hurt to your heart.

You: can we talk?

You had sent Steve that text what felt like forever ago, but in reality has only been 20 minutes. You had spent that time repeating in your head what you were going to tell him while you paced back and forth around your living room. You were going to ask for a break. You didn’t want to break up with him completely, no, but you thought that this would be better in the long run. You’re hoping a break will give him the space he needs and then you guys can go back to the way you were. You figured it was better to let him focus on being a hero. You didn’t want to become the clingy girlfriend that he’d eventually resent.

You had no idea how he would react. Maybe he would agree. It’ll be tough, but every couple goes through something like this, right? Sure, it’s a special circumstance with you dating an Avenger, but other people have busy partners. You wonder how they manage a relationship when they don’t see each other so often. Maybe you were giving up too easily? But you’re tired of feeling pushed aside, like you aren’t his priority when he’s at the top of your list. You’re tired of feeling guilty for being upset when he can’t come see you. You’re just tired of feeling like you’re losing him.

Just as you start to doubt your whole plan, your ringtone breaks the silence. You pick up your phone with a shaky hand and tap on the answer button.

“Hello,” you say, hoping he doesn’t notice the nervous tone of your voice.

“Hey honey, you wanted to talk?”

“Uh, yeah…” you reply, already struggling to keep your voice even.

“Is everything alright?” he’s concerned and you can imagine the look on his face.

“Yeah…yeah,” you lie, “I uh… I just wanted to talk… about us.”

“Listen honey, I’m sorry about last week but it was really-“ he begins to apologize, but you shake your head, not wanting to hear another excuse.

“It’s more than that Steve,” you interrupt.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” you hesitate, trying to gather your thoughts. “Do you realize it’s almost been a month since we’ve last seen each other?”

There’s a pause before he answers, “…I didn’t know it had been so long.”

“Do you even care?” you ask, voice giving in to the mix of anger and sadness you feel. The tears begin to well up in your eyes.

“Of course I care, you know I do” he defends.

“Do I though?” you question. The rehearsed words you mentally prepared are long gone. “…I’ve been sitting here thinking of what I’m doing wrong because I feel like something’s changed between us.”

“What are you talking about?” he sounds genuinely confused, “Nothing’s changed.”

“Steve… we don’t talk like we used to, I barely get to see you. I miss you all the time.”

“I know I’ve been working a lot lately,“ he acknowledges.

“And I don’t blame you for that,” you clarify.

“I know how important your job is, but… but I’m feeling a little left out here,” your voice cracks at the end. You wipe the few tears that started to fall down your face. “I mean, I feel like I barely know that part of your life. You’re gone most of the time and you never talk to me about it.”

“I can’t, for your safety. We’ve discussed that.”

“Yeah and I thought I could handle it, but you’re giving me nothing here,” you argue. “I wanna be there for you Steve, but it’s hard when you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

“I... I can’t. I want to but it’s better if you don’t know,” he says pleadingly. You want to believe him, but you just can’t seem to let this go.

The silence lingers over the phone.

“Maybe we should take a break,” you eventually say with defeat.

“A break?”

“Maybe we just need some time to sort things out. You can focus on your work and when things get better… we can try again.”

“No, no…” he starts to argue, “that’s not fair.”

“Steve, please…” you beg, “just try to see where I’m coming from. I still love you, I always will. I just think we need this.”

He doesn’t say a word, making you anxious.

“Steve-”

You’re cut off by the phone hanging up. You sit in disbelief, letting the weight of the conversation fall on you.

You spent the rest of the night just curled up on the couch. You keep questioning your decision. In your mind, this was the right thing to do, despite the heartbreak you knew you’d be feeling. But you didn’t think it would hurt as much as it does now.

Steve’s reaction made you rethink the idea of a break. You worry that he thinks you don’t love him anymore when it’s the complete opposite. You did this because you love him. You didn’t want to lose him completely, but it looks like you lost him anyways. Maybe, deep down, a part of you was trying to save yourself from the inevitable heartbreak.

The living room was dark, the only light coming from the street lights outside. The tears have stopped flowing, but the headache lingers. It’s almost 2 in the morning and despite being worn out from crying, you have trouble sleeping. You’re about to get up for a glass of water when you hear a knock on your door.

Your first reaction is to panic, because you weren’t expecting anyone at such a late hour. You mentally run through the self defense moves Steve insisted on teaching you. Slowly, you approach the door, trying to not make any noise.

Knock knock knock.

“It’s me.”

It’s softly spoken, but you hear him loud and clear. You quickly open the door to reveal Steve with a look of sorrow on his face. You can’t help but stare at him in shock, taking in his disheveled appearance.

“I don’t want a break,” he says hoarsely, breaking you out of your trace.

You all but pounce toward him and wrap your arms around his neck. He immediately wraps his arms tightly around your waist. You bury your face in his neck, inhaling the familiar scent that reminds you of home. Despite everything that happened over the phone, you feel a flood of relief from finally being in his arms.

You stood in his embrace, relishing the feeling of him being there for a good minute before you pulled away. You meet his eyes, noticing the tears surrounding them and it hurts your heart.

“We should talk,” you say, voice rough from the crying just hours ago.

You’re sitting side by side on your couch. You look at him and can’t believe that he drove all the way to your place in the middle of the night. You can see the worry on his face and you want nothing more than to comfort him, but you hold back because you want an explanation first.

“So..” you start off, “you don’t want a break?”

“Y/N, I know I’ve messed up, but please don’t give up on us,” he says with pleading eyes.

“I don’t want to. I thought that’s what you would’ve wanted. I thought…” you shy away from his stare, “maybe you didn’t want me anymore.”

Steve looks at you with guilt, realizing for the first time how much he’s hurt you, “I’m sorry… I know I’ve been saying that a lot lately but I never wanted you to feel like I didn’t want to be with you.”

“Then what's been going on?” you ask, looking back at him, determined to know why it took you asking for a break to get him here.

Steve looks down at his hands, visibly nervous. Why? You have no idea.

“Talk to me Steve,” you encourage him. “Please.”

He turns to look at you, taking a breath before saying “I’ve been looking for Bucky.”

You’re immediately confused. Out of all the things you thought of him saying, this was never one of them.

“Bucky? Bucky Barnes?” you question. You knew of his friend from the stories he would tell you. Bucky was practically a brother to Steve.

“Yes,” he says easily, but it just makes you more confused. The thought of Steve going crazy briefly crosses your mind.

“He’s the Winter Soldier,” he explains. You recognize that name from the news. He was a part of the incident that happened in DC.

“What? H-How would that even be possible?” you question, not really being able to wrap your head around it. From what you knew, Bucky died in war back in the 40s.

“HYDRA was using him. They found him after he fell from the train and they brainwashed him for decades until I was able to snap him out of it when we fought in DC,” Steve continues, “After he saved my life, he disappeared.”

The pain in his voice is evident as he talks about his friend. You scoot closer to him and you take his hand into yours, offering him comfort.

“Sam and I have been following any lead we could to find him,” he explains, “I’ve been doing that along with all the other missions I get sent on. That’s why I’ve been gone so much.”

It finally makes sense to you.

“Oh Steve,” you say, “I wish you would’ve told me this sooner.”

“I know honey, I should have…” he squeezes your hand, which you reciprocate.

“HYDRA is evil. I’ve seen how cruel they can be,” he continues. “The thought of them coming anywhere near you kills me,” his voice filled with emotion and his eyes gloss over with tears. “Sometimes it’s hard for me to get out of that headspace…”

He looks away from you, head down, “you shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

You reach over with your free hand to touch his face. “Steve,” you turn his head to look at you. His blue eyes shine even in the dim lighting. “Please don’t shut me out. I want to know these things. You don’t have to tell me everything, but I just want to be there for you. You shouldn’t have to go through this alone.”

Your eyes beg him to understand you. “And I get it now. Bucky is your friend and I know you’ll find him again someday. Just don’t put all that stress on yourself,” your thumb wipes away a stray tear falling down his face. “I want to help you in any way I can. You can always come back to me.”

He subtly nods and looks at you, faces only a breath apart. “I don’t deserve you,” he says quietly, like he’s in disbelief.

He closes the distance, lips finally meeting yours. Your eyes flutter shut, as you continue to cradle his face in your palms. You focus on conveying all your love for him into the kiss. You pull away briefly to move on to his lap as he leans back into the couch. His hands naturally fall on your hips as you get impossibly close.

You break the kiss again, “Promise not to leave me again,” you plead, but your tone is much lighter this time. You never wanted to leave his arms again.

He looks up at you, eyebrows furrowing a bit, “I can’t promise that,” you give him a sad smile, already knowing that. His hand leaves your hip to push a stray hair behind your ear, “but I can promise that I will talk to you more and show you how much you mean to me more often. ”

You genuinely smile at that.

“This is important to me,” he says, pulling you closer, emphasizing his words, “you’re important to me.”

“I love you”

“I love you too,”

You lean back in to kiss him again, smiling in between because you’re happy to have your Steve back. And you know things will get better from here. There’s still going to be some tough nights when you miss him and he can’t be there, but you know he’ll be missing you just as much. You won’t have to doubt his love for you again.

You pull away once more, “Remember how you said, you’d make it up to me?” you question with a mischievous look in your eye.

“Yeah,” he says looking at you expectantly.

You simply raise your eyebrows and smirk at him. He catches on and mouths an “oh”.

You’re lifted from the couch so you latch onto Steve’s shoulders, giggling loudly at the sudden movement. He carries you into your bedroom, where he definitely made up for lost time.

You slept much easier that night.

hope you enjoyed reading! 🤍 reblogs and feedback are much appreciated!! let me know if you liked it :)

#steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers oneshot

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nat-20s · 3 years

Text

Part 8 of the wonderful! Au: the boys answer some questions! Up to you to decide if they actually clarify anything!

(also on AO3)

~*~

Martin: Hey everyone! I know what some of you are thinking right now: it's not Tuesday, why is this episode in my feed? I know significantly more of you are thinking: I don't consistently keep up with podcast releases, how much free time do you think I have, buddy? To answer your queries: this is a bonus episode! We're answering listener questions to clear the air and/or have fun. Also, I don't know, around 20 to 40 minutes a week, as that is the average amount of time per episode? Maybe during your commute? My husband's omnipotence has been gone for five years, we just have to guess at that sort of thing now.

Jon: For legal reasons, that last statement was a joke. In fact, to cover all of our bases, we do not guarantee that any of our responses are genuine.

Martin: Just because we say we'll answer things doesn't mean we'll answer truthfully. Though, honestly, I think we might make it more enjoyable if we do tell the truth. Like, I don't necessarily have a fun lie prepared for our first question from konspiracyking97: "What's their fuckin deal anyway?"

Jon: Is this referring to the oblique references we've made about being from a parallel reality and only ending up here as a consequence of ending one apocalypse and potentially starting another or the general premise of the show?

Martin: Oh, it's gotta be general premise, yeah?

Jon: In that case, I'm Jon, the other voice you're hearing is Martin, we're married, and we talk about things that are..nice? Good? Usually generally but occasionally rather specifically pleasant.

Martin: That pretty much covers it. It's not a complicated show. Uhh, next question comes from Shane: are either or both of you aliens? Nope!

Jon: Well..

Martin: No. We are 100% human people from Earth, we are under no definition extraterrestrial.

Jon: Eh..

Martin: Okay, first off, I know the tone of that 'eh' and "not fully human" is not synonymous with alien, so even if 100% is being a bit generous, we're still from the same planet as our listeners.

Jon:..

Jon: But. We sort of aren't though. Technically speaking.

Martin: No no no no no. I don't care if it's parallel, Earth is Earth is Earth, regardless of whatever nonsense metaphysics might be occurring.

Jon: So what you're saying is that if you got sucked through a portal and landed on an Earth where dinosaurs were still the predominant species, you wouldn't consider yourself to be an alien?

Martin: Nope!

Jon: I'm certain that they would consider you an alien. All of their mammals are probably shrew sized.

Martin: Sounds like a them problem.

Jon: Sounds like a-?! You know what, no, this will be an off the record debate, for now, I suppose I concede that the two Earths and our physiologies are similar enough that we might, maybe, not count as aliens.

Martin: Thank you. Anyway, our next question is from anonymous, and asks, "Is all of this an ARG?"

Jon: A whomst?

Martin: Alternate reality game. It's a method of storytelling that's interactive with audience, and usually has, I dunno, a certain suspension of disbelief to it where it pretends to be something actually happening in the real world until a dramatic reveal. A lot times it was used as a marketing gimmick, but others have done it just for fun. I can show you some examples after the show?

Jon: So it's in essence a more involved creepypasta?

Martin, delighted: Aw, babe, I'm never going to have a handle on what pop culture you are and aren't aware of, huh?

Jon: We were born within a year of each other, and I've told you that I was a deeply morbid teenager, you should probably be able to intuit some of things, love.

Martin: This coming from a man who has yet to see "It's a Wonderful Life", but has seen every film in the "Banjo Cannibals" franchise, including the Easter special. Jesus doesn't exist in the Banjo Cannibals universe, why does it have an Easter special?

Jon: The movies are rather shoddily translated from Russian, so I'm fairly certain the Easter component of that special was invented wholesale in the English version.

Martin: You say that like it answers more questions than it raises.

Jon: Yes, because it does. Oh, and to answer anonymous's question, no, this isn't an ARG. From my understanding of it, if it were, it'd be a poorly constructed one, as there's no real game element to any of this.

Martin: Hmm. Well, sometimes the game component is just trying to figure out what's going on with the story, or if there's any deeper content, and people are definitely doing that with this show.

Jon: That's not by design though. It's more a side effect of us having poor brain to mouth filters, I'd say.

Martin: Harsh, but fair. Oh, this next one is from Zac, no K, who asks, "Are you two actually even married?"

Jon, flat: We are, but it's under false names because this whole thing is an elaborate insurance scam.

Jon, incredulous: Yes, obviously, we're married. What did you hear in this podcast that would make you wonder otherwise, and how do we rectify it?

Martin: Clearly we need to up our quota for how "disgustingly in love" and "horrifically sappy" we are per episode. Which segues nicely into the next question from Gwen, "What's your favourite wonderful thing you've brought so far?" My answer: my husband. He's kind of my favourite in most things, you know?

Jon: Boooooo

Martin: Why, what's your favourite thing?

[Jon reluctantly sighs]

Jon, indulgent: being married.

Martin: A: serves you right for trying to pretend you're the less horrifically sappy and romantic one even though earlier today someone put a love note in the lunch they packed for me-

Jon:- Lies and slander! I have never, in my life, done that, even once.

Martin: Oh, sure, not even once. And you definitely don't reserve the lilac sticky notes specifically for my lunches because you know I like the colour.

Jon: I..I don't.. you're rather ruining my image here.

[Martin snorts]

Martin: Can't have the audience think that you are, on occasion, an incredibly doting husband-

Jon: -A title I would argue we both share-

Martin: - which is obviously why, even with it being your favourite thing you've brought, being married to me is just a small wonder-

Jon, audibly rolling his eyes: As I already explained-

[A Pause}

Jon: Actually, you're right-

Martin: Wait-

Jon:- I really should have brought it as a larger wonder-

Martin: Wait-

Jon: though I should warn you, I think I'd have far too much material for just one little segment-

Martin: No no no no no-

Jon:- In fact, I think I might have too much material for just one little episode-

Martin: Joo-oon-

Jon: I might have to do a whole series! Where would I even start? I mean I could talk about how every day I get to watch the early morning sun highlight your curls when I get up first, or hear you quietly humming and shuffling around the kitchen when you do, or I could talk about how the lunch notes only started in the first place as retaliation to the notes you would leave on the mirror for me to find, or how every time I get to see you at ease in a way that you aren't with anyone else, it takes my breath away, or I could talk about how cute I find the lines between your eyebrows that you only get when you're thinking something petty, but you know it's petty so you don't want to say anything-

Martin: Okay, okay, Christ, I give !up I surrender, and will cease my teasing on this particular topic.

Jon, probably making the :3 face: You don't have to stop. I mean, I could also discuss how very, very attractive I find your voice when it takes on a teasi-mmph!

[There's a pleased hum, then a pause.]

[The audio quality is slightly changed, as if the recording has been stopped and then started later]

Martin, giddy: Uh, heh, anyway, Eric asked what the least favourite thing we've brought was, and because of Jon's attempt to embarrass me live-

Jon, overlapping: It's definitely not live-

Martin:- on air, I'm gonna say it's my husband.

[Jon scoffs]

Jon : If the past few minutes are any sort of indication, I'm going to go ahead and saying that you are lying.

Martin, sighing contentedly: Maybe a bit, but how was I supposed to resist when your indigance gives you that adorable little nose scrunch? In reality, my least favourite thing was probably, um, mini golf? Which, I still don't think is inherently bad, definitely superior to regular golf, but when it's the only thing a next door two year old wants to do with you, the charm begins to wear off a bit.

Jon: Wow. A rather scathing review of a toddler.

Martin: Not so much a scathing review of a toddler as it's a scathing review of minigolf's inability to keep its appeal after the third time in the same week.

Jon: Mmm, the sound effects rather quickly go from part of the atmosphere to part of the irritation, don't they?

Martin: So what's your least favorite thing we've covered here?

Jon: Oh, love, I'm not going to pretend to have nearly enough memory of what we've covered so far to have a least favorite.

Martin: Really? Nothing that you regret or rescind?

Jon: Well, regret, certainly. It was one of the weeks where you went first, and your second item was mutual aid funds, and what they can do for marginalized communities, and I had to follow it with fucking Slapchop.

Martin, poorly suppressing laughter: In your defence, Slapchop, or whatever offbrand we have, is pretty useful, especially when either your scar or my arthritis is acting up.

Jon: I'm still not convinced you didn't somehow see my notes for the recording and decided you get revenge for the first year that we knew each other.

Martin, no longer suppressing his laughter: Yep, you got me! This marriage wasn't an act of insurance fraud, but it was a near decade long con to humiliate you on a podcast that about twenty people listen to. I'll draft up the divorce papers immediately, and then we can finally go our separate ways.

Jon: I'm glad you've at last admitted it. Such a weight off of my shoulders. Goodbye forever then.

Martin: Right.

Jon: Right.

[A beat.]

[There's a pfft from one of them, before both dissolve into giggles that lasts a good 30 seconds.]

Martin, slightly out of breath: I can't believe we're the kind of people that talk this much about speciality kitchen gadgets.

Jon: Sorry about that.

Martin: God, don't apologize. I'm, like, deliriously happy with our varying degrees of useful cooking ware filled life. If you had told 25 year old me that one day he'd be debating the merits of getting a tortilla press with his husband, he'd have wept, I tell you.

Jon: Funny, if you told 25 year old me the same thing, he would've said "You don't know the future,piss off" and then quietly have a bit of a panic at 3 am that night.

Martin: I bet you were insufferable in your mid-twenties.

Jon: First of all, who isn't, secondly, I was fresh out of Oxford, and third, I was insufferable in my late twenties, as you can attest to, and I'm insufferable now, as you can further attest to, so extrapolation would indicate that, yes, I was insufferable back then.

Martin: Probably a different kind of insufferable, though.

Jon: There are different kinds?

Martin: Of course! You used to be "prick boss" insufferable and now you're "smug in a way that I can't admit I find hot or it will go straight to your head" insufferable.

Jon, in the aforementioned smug tone: Oh, really?

Martin: See, see! Straight to your head.

Jon: Well straight is probably the wrong descriptor-

Martin: Oof, 4 out of 10 joke, babe.

Jon: That would be a far more convincing rating if you weren't grinning right now.

Martin: It's a genuine review, I'm just well known to be a sucker.

Jon: You and me both, darling.

Martin: Okay, if you're pulling out darling, you're clearly in too giddy of a mood to be focused on recording. Last question, from Jess, "You two mentioned meeting at work, but how did you actually end up together?" That's easy, Jon pulled me out of a hell dimension and then we went on the lam together to Scotland.

Jon: If that's not the way to tell a cute boy you like him, I don't know what is.

Martin: All right, that wraps up this bonus episode, and as the old saying goes, hiding from murderers in a cottage is more conducive to romance than suggesting you gouge out your eyes together.

Jon, cut off: Hey-!

#tma #jonmartin #jon sims #martin blackwood #post canon #wonderful! au #my fic

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grailfinders · 3 years

Text

Fate and Phantasms Anniversary Special

Today on Fate and Phantasms we celebrate our 1 year anniversary! If it wasn't for all our fans we'd probably have given up ages ago, so we're going with a fan-picked character! (Don't worry if yours didn't get picked this time around, we'll hold onto them for another day)

Now we're building Romulus-Quirinus, the divine ancestor of Rome and King of Nation Building!

They're an Order Cleric to make civilization building easy, and an Astral Self Monk to make clearing the way even easier.

Check out their build breakdown below the cut, or their character sheet over here!

Next up: Fear leads to hanger. Hanger leads to hate. Hate leads to... pocky??

Race and Background

Despite ascending to godhood, you start as a Human, which gives you +1 Dexterity and Wisdom, proficiency with Religion for obvious reasons, and the Fighting Initiate feat for unarmed fighting so you can punch real good.

You're also an outlander because it's hard to be anything else before the country's built. You get proficiency with Athletics and Survival.

Ability Scores

Everything should be 40, but we're going with the standard array to make arguing with your DM a bit easier. Make your Wisdom super high for a better time ruling people and smiting them, follow it up with Strength because you really like that fancy gold armor. Your Dexterity is also pretty good, because that armor is optional. Charisma helps with ruling people too, so keep that above average. This leaves your Constitution lower than we'd like, but we're dumping Intelligence. You are by no means dumb, it's just the score that affects the build the least.

Class Levels

1. Monk 1: Starting off as a monk is pretty much mandatory so we have a martial weapon for the feat we just took, but this also means you start off with your first ascension's Unarmored Defense, adding your wisdom modifier to your AC while you aren't wearing armor.

Also while not wearing armor you can use Martial Arts, which lets you use dexterity instead of strength for your punches and you can attack as a bonus action if you attack with your main action. It also gives you a d4 martial arts die, but your fighting style is better, so...

On top of all that, you get proficiency with Strength and Dexterity saves, as well as History and Insight. You kinda are history.

2. Monk 2: Second level monks get Unarmored Movement, making you a little bit faster without the giant gold platemail. Aside from that, you get Ki points equal to your monk level per short rest, which you can spend to attack twice, dodge, disengage, or dash as a bonus action. You get something next level that is way more useful though.

3. Monk 3: Third level monks can Deflect Missiles as a reaction, rendering arrows and slingshots slightly less effective. You also gain the Arms of the Astral Self, letting you beef up your arms as a bonus action. Your anchor arms last for 10 minutes, and while active you can use wisdom instead of strength or dexterity to make attacks and strength saves/checks. You also get a long range on your unarmed attacks, and they deal force damage instead of bludgeoning. I'd love it if it was radiant, but force is kind of an upgrade, so I'll take it. The cool part is you can totally use this with armor, which will be useful in a bit.

4. Cleric 1: Oh hey it's useful now. As an Order Cleric you get proficiency with Heavy Armor, as well as Persuasion to make getting those pesky zoning ordinances in order a bit easier.

You also become a Voice of Authority, meaning that if you cast a spell targeting one or more allies, one of those allies can use their reaction to attack, because there's nothing more romantic than giving your all on the battlefield.

Speaking of, you can cast and prepare Spells now using your Wisdom. For cantrips, grab Thaumaturgy for religion funnies, and Resistance to make yourself a bit tougher than is reasonable. You also get the cantrip Hand of Radiance for a shinier punch. It's a melee range spell that deals 1d6 radiant damage if the target fails a constitution save. It's not as powerful as your punches, but it ignores armor!

You also get first level spells, and your freebies are Command and Heroism, great for when you need to build Roma from the ground up. Some other good city-building spells are Ceremony, Create or Destroy Water, and Purify Food and Drink.

5. Cleric 2: Second level clerics can Channel Divinity once per short rest. You can either use the classic Turn Undead to wig out any undead who fail a wisdom save, or you can issue Order's Demand to charm nearby creatures for a round. You can also force those creatures to drop whatever they're holding.

6. Cleric 3: Third level clerics get second level spells, like Hold Person and Zone of Truth. You can also use Continual Flame to make eternal torches, Calm Emotions to settle disputes peacefully, and Spiritual Weapon to not settle things peacefully.

7. Cleric 4: When you finally get your first Ability Score Improvement, bump up your Wisdom for a better unarmored AC, Astral Arms attacks, and spells. You really like wisdom, it's good to you.

You can also use Guidance to make yourself a little better than everyone else at ability checks.

8. Cleric 5: Fifth level clerics see their Turn Undead turn into Destroy Undead, instantly destroying undead of CR 1/2 or lower who fail their wisdom save. You also get third level spells, like Mass Healing Word and Slow. I'd also suggest Clairvoyance for a bit of omniscience, Daylight for the aesthetic, and Spirit Shroud for a bit of power building. It's fine, beating up a god needs power building, so it's in character.

9. Cleric 6: This level lets you Channel Divinity twice per rest, and you become an Embodiment of the Law, letting you cast enchantment spells as a bonus action instead of an action. You can speed things up this way Wisdom Modifier per long rest. Now you can hold someone down and slap the shit out of them in the same turn!

10. Cleric 7: Continuing the trend you've probably figured out by now, seventh level clerics get fourth level spells, like Compulsion and Locate Creature. You can also use Control Water to make your harbor more or less hospitable.

11. Cleric 8: As an eighth level order cleric, your Divine Strike lets you add psychic damage to one of your attacks each turn. Since this applies to a "weapon attack" and not a "melee weapon attack", your fists qualify. Yes, they are a melee "weapon attack", not a "melee weapon attack". Makes perfect sense.

You also get another ASI, which will let you max out your Wisdom for so many good reasons. Punching, spells, AC, they're all a bit better.

Destroy Undead also kills creatures of CR 1 or lower now.

12. Cleric 9: Ninth level clerics get fifth level spells, like Commune and Dominate Person. You can also use your Noble Phantasms on the offensive thanks to Flame Strike, or on the defensive as Mass Cure Wounds or Hallow. The former is basically a giant laser, the middle one is Cure Wounds But Multiple People, and the latter will turn an area into a great spot to build a city. As long as you aren't building a city for Celestials, Elementals, Fey, Fiends, or Undead.

13. Cleric 10: If you're tired of slapping people around with a hand of radiance, you can just use a Word of Radiance instead! It's literally the same thing as Hand of Radiance, but it uses a holy symbol instead of somatic components.

That being said you can also use Divine Intervention now, letting you call up your god (read: you) for a favor once per day. It only has a 1 in 10 chance of succeeding, but if it does the DM's the limit on what kind of help you'll get. After getting help you have to wait a week for it to recharge. You’d think you’d be willing to call in favors for you more often, but I’m not a god, so I wouldn’t know.

14. Cleric 11: Eleventh level clerics get sixth level spells, and sadly we're out of freebies. That being said, you could use Sunbeam for a reusable Per Aspera Ad Astra, or create a Heroes' Feast for a good time on the town.

Also, your Destroy Undead bumps up again to CR 2.

15. Cleric 12: This ASI will bump your Strength up, both so you can have stronger attacks when your Astral Arms are down, and so you can wear full plate armor without an issue.

16. Cleric 13: With the advent of seventh level spells, we finally get the only cleric spell in the game that actually lets you build a structure. Temple to the Gods lets you build a temple of your own design within a 120' square, and while it normally ends a day later, casting the spell in the same spot for a year makes the spell permanent. Honestly 1 building a year seems a bit slow for a city, I'd suggest just building them the old fashioned way. You can also use Divine Words to send extraplanar creatures back to where they came from, and you weaken other creatures with status effects dependent on how many hit points they have left.

17. Cleric 14: Destroy Undead kills CR 3 creatures now. Not fancy, but at least those skeletal owlbears will leave you alone. Also your Divine Strike is better now.

18. Cleric 15: Eighth level spells are always fun. You can now do stuff like Control Weather, cause an Earthquake, shed a Holy Aura to protect allies, or use a Sunburst to launch a big blob of light at enemies.

19. Cleric 16: Use your last ASI to become Tough for an extra 38 HP. The one problem with cleric; super squishy class.

20. Cleric 17: Your capstone level is surprisingly busy. Your Destroy Undead hits CR 4 creatures, and you can invoke Order's Wrath on creatures when you hit them. If you hit a creature with your Divine Strike, you can curse them until the start of your next turn. If an ally hits the cursed creature, they take another round of Divine Strike damage!

And that's not all! You also get ninth level spells! None of them particularly scream "Romulus" to me, but I mean you're a god, you can use whatever you want.

Pros:

You might only have one attack per round, but you really make them count. Each swing deals 3d8+5 damage per hit, and they deal psychic and force damage, two of the hardest types to avoid. And that's all before you get into spells to buff yourself like Spirit Shroud. It's not flashy, but it is consistent.

You've got a maxed out casting modifier and plenty of charming spells, meaning you're pretty good at controlling others.

Embodiment of the Law is huge, it lets you buff and debuff as a bonus action, freeing up your main action for direct support or combat.

Cons:

With only three monk levels, you don't have a lot of Ki to go around. You'll probably have to save all of it for your Astral Arms, as you're a lot weaker without them.

On a related note, multiclassing the way we did is also pretty awkward. The 20th level of cleric is super powerful, and if we spent two more levels as monk you could attack more often per turn and get more ki points.

Your constitution isn't great, meaning you can drop concentration easily and you're kind of squishy for a god. That's especially not good considering your main form of combat is slapping people in the face.

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utterlyinevitable · 3 years

Note

NSFW alphabet for ethan x mc??

I’m assuming you’re referring to the nsfw alphabet otp asks?

If so, Ethan x Odette are below the cut!

Aftercare: What they’re like after sex Odette likes to lay around and cuddle for no longer than five minutes. After which she’ll hop up, trying not to make a bigger mess, and pad to the bathroom to pee and shower. Ethan definitely likes to relish in their closeness no matter who’s on top. As their relationship progresses and Odette relaxes a bit more, he actually likes to clean her up afterwards. He’ll kiss her forehead before he leaves her laying there to grab a wet cloth and wipe them both up gently, all the while looking down at her with glittering eyes and a private smile.

Body part: Their favorite body part of theirs and of their partner’s Odette loves her long, naturally straight hair and her tiny ears. She loves Ethan’s dimple and a beauty mark he has on his left ring finger. He doesn’t have a favorite part of his body. It’s a body. It functions. But if he had to choose it may as well be his toned calves. Ethan really loves her boobs, but his absolute favorite part of her is the glow of her emerald eyes of her brightest smile.

Cum: Use your imagination for this one aha (what are they like when they finish, how do they feel about their partner’s cum/face, etc) Ethan’s face changes each time with the varying degree of his orgasm - if it’s a deep and good one his entire face scrunches together and he breathlessly curses. The one constant in every orgasm is the way his nose scrunches and jaw slacks into the sexiest “0″ face. His deep, ragged breaths so erotic. Odette tries to hide her face - she hates how ugly it looks to the point that in the early stages she’d really try to keep herself from coming. But Ethan’s a giver and all it took was his loving gaze and a soft “i want to see you” as he tugged her arm off her face for her to not give a shit. The sex is fucking fantastic. Ethan thinks she’s absolutely breathtaking, and Odette adores how young he looks. They both appreciate the others vulnerability.

Dirty Secret: Do they have any secrets that would come to light during sex (not kinks) Ummm... Odette has a weird relationship with intimacy. She’s not about it, not really. She’s got to be in the right mood for sex or any sort of touching. She gets better as the relationship progresses, which is why she doesn’t sleep with someone until she’s sure they’re going to be around long-term. Usually, with her last few partners, her rule has been 6 months dating before sex. She made an exception for the rule with Ethan (just shy of 5 month mark). For Ethan it would just be that he hasn’t been intimate with anyone in about two years by the time the two get together.

Experience: How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing? Odette knows her way around a body. She’s only had two sexual partners besides Ethan, but the girl knows where everything goes and really can a girl really be bad at sex? Ethan has ten years more experience than Ode and a total of 11 sexual partners. He’s a giver and has gotten very good at perfecting his tongue technique. He knows he’s relatively easy when it comes to finishing so it’s always about his partner.

Favorite Position (Bonus horny points for including a visual) Too lazy to get a visual. Ode likes to be fucked against a wall, and Ethan prefers to have her on top.

Goofy: Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc They take turns depending on who’s initiating and where they are lol but Ethan is usually the goof. Ode likes to tease Ethan and throw little remarks his way for foreplay. Ethan is mostly more sultry and praising in the moment. He jokes back with her, matching her banter like always.

Hair: How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc. Odette is completely hairless. She’s had all her hair lasered off, except for a patch of her bush where she likes to keep the option open. She bleaches her hair so her pubic hair is a dark blonde. Ethan scapes pretty well. He’s never had any complaints.

Intimacy: How are they during the moment, romantic aspect… Odette likes romance. She actually needs it to get anything out of the act. She’s not one to be able to separate sex and her feelings. She needs mental stimulation to help get her off whether it be dimmed lights and closed eyes or Ethan talking dirty. When she’s really trying to catch an orgasm that seems like it’ll never come her way she tends to be a bit removed from the moment than Ethan would like. Ethan is very much present and very tuned into her needs. It is all and always about her. Sometimes he’s much to selfless in the bedroom for her liking. Like, when she knows she’s not gonna cum that session he doesn’t really accept that and keeps drawling it out. And then she’s gotta pull out a secret weapon to finish him off and not hurt his feelings. These two never lack intimacy - they both make sure it’s always present. Their favorite positions are the ones where they’re facing and can look and leave lingering kisses on the other’s face. Very disgustingly cute.

Jack Off: Masturbation headcanons perhaps Ode has a bullet Jackie got her ask a gag gift one Secret Snowflake. She’s only used it a handful of times while she was reading something erotic. Ethan doesn’t see the need to masturbate. Nothing could ever compare to the real thing, so why bother. Though when he did it was usually in the shower.

Kink: Does the character have a kink or a few? Ode likes roleplay and edging, being dominated and even a little bit of bondage. Once she’s comfortable enough (a year into their relationship or so) their sex gets really really fun. Ethan’s a boob man. And we know he’s an exhibitionist. He likes his balls fondled and maybe a finger up the butt if he’s drunk enough 😉

Location: Favorite places to get down and dirty She prefers to keep their business in the comfort of their own home. Ethan would like to convince her to try it in the office or their car, the sun lounger of their forever home. But he’s okay with taking things however slow she needs. Ode did let him feel up her skirt on a long Amtrak once and it’s the highlight of his year.

Motivation: What turns them on, gets them going etc Ode needs the romantic aspect of it all. She needs the validation and assertion of their relationship to be that vulnerable with someone. Bickering turns them both on immensely. Both Ethan and Ode are wildly attracted to the other’s mind so any sort of stimulating conversation or argument would get them both hot and bothered.

NO: Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs Neither would do anything degrading. Ethan’s a lil freak and willing to try most things once. Her biggest turn off is smell. There’s a difference between sultry musk and man stank. Lucky for her Ethan’s very good at cleaning himself.

Oral: Preferences in giving or receiving, skill, etc She prefers to receive. Laying there and doing nothing but running her fingers through his hair is her bread and butter, sometimes even the dessert too. As for skill level she’s average. She’s very picky about circumstances and therefore lacks lots of practice. Though she does a very wonderful thing of rolling her wrist while she’s sucking him and swirling her tongue around his tip that throws him over the edge. She keeps that little skill in her pocket and only breaks it out absolutely necessary. Ethan’s a giver. Always has been. That’s it. That’s the explanation 😂

Pace: Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc. They’re slow 90% of the time. Always savoring the moment. These two don’t have sex frequently, possibly 3x a month so it’s always a special lengthy time. The only time it’s fast and rough is if the moment calls for it and they have an understanding.

Quickie: Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc. Ode finds quickies difficult. Deep in the relationship she’s more inclined because the relationship and feels are so strong and stable she’s able to get more out of it. Ethan’s on the same wavelength. He’s not opposed to a quickie. Though he says he’s not a man of endless patience, he is for her. He’ll gladly spend hours making her feel good.

Risk: Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc. Yes, they’re okay with experimenting later in the relationship. Slow and steady they’ll make their way through all their fantasies.

Stamina: How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last… Ethan goes for rounds. Two preferably at a minimum. A normal round lasts 40 minutes; foreplay galore!!!!! Before they move in together deep relationship, Ode tends to feel gross after sex and needs to clean up and move on immediately. Ethan helps her work through this just by loving her.

Toy: Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves? Ethan finds her bullet and they use it together sometimes.

Unfair: How much they like to tease? They like to tease one another a lot. It’s a form of foreplay and declaration of love.

Volume: How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc Ethan is a grunter. And a dirty talker when coaxed. He’s also perfected his voice - low, gruff baritone that oozes sex. He’s stupidly athletic so he doesn’t run out of breath easily which is an advantage for rough play and the inevitable rounds. His mouth is usually busy kissing, sucking, biting, licking to really make any other noise than grunts or moans. He is partial to a gasp and groan when she is driving the affair and he’s utterly powerless against them 😏 Ode whines. and gasps. and tries not to make a sound because she doesn’t want to ruin the little bubble they created. if she ruins it odds are she won’t be able to finish.

Wild Card: How wild are they in the moment? Kinda touched upon above, they’re really gentle and sensual with one another. These two are figuring things out and treat one another like the most precious thing on the planet.

X-Ray: Describe what’s going on in their pants through pictures or words Ethan is well-endowed and scaped. Ode is generally bald.

Yearning: How high is their sex drive? For an old man, Ethan’s got stamina. If it was biologically possible he would always be inside her, right where he belongs. Sometimes round two is just him going down on them. Ode needs some convincing. They both know when she’s ovulating because she’s much more forward than normal.

ZZZ: How quickly they fall asleep afterwards Once she’s showered and fresh, Ode climbs into bed and reads whilst snuggled up to Ethan’s side. Ethan is always on clean up duty. It’s very rare that he’ll be too tired to roll out of bed after a session. Normally, if they had late-night sex, he’ll fall asleep 15-20 minutes later.

#boink boink #odette hall #ethan x mc #Anonymous #asked

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dangerousconnoisseurdonut · 3 years

Text

Omega Auction of the Century Preview

@jeromiah and @nostalgic90s proposed a most intriguing idea of Omegas being so rare, they are auctioned off, and Bruce would go for a frankly insane amount as he is the most eligible of Omegas around. This is just the start of an idea, but I have to get ready for work and want to know what people think of it so far!

Bruce couldn’t completely withhold his shudder of fear and revulsion as he heard the second Omega on the auction block went for a cool ten million, upped from the eight million the last one went for, simply because the first one had been a male and this one was a slightly pudgy (but not unattractive) female who came from a family of six, so she had a good chance for being a strong breeder. Oh, but how he and Brooke hated being referred to that way; as if they were cows or horses just waiting for a stud to come along. In school, they had both received a lot of flack from their peers, often being referred to as breeding stock or even whores once (Brooke had broken Grace Van Dhal’s nose when she said that). It was only their parents large donations to the school that they had taught them proper courses at all as many just enrolled Omega’s in more simple math courses, home economics, home estate management courses, and the like. When their parents had died, the school had tried to put them in those courses, thankfully their Uncles Lucius Fox and Ed Nygma, with their Alpha Dr. Leslie Thompkins, had simply pulled them from the school and taught them everything they needed to know.

Sadly, he thought as the third Omega was taken out for the block, it was probably all going to be for naught; rich Alphas and Betas didn’t really care how smart the Omega was so long as they were fertile and not an imbecile as they worried about the child inheriting such a thing (too bad you couldn’t keep stupid Alphas from mating). And, as Bruce was a rare intersex Omega, his fertility was somewhere around 89%, meaning he would probably get pregnant right away when they took him on his birthday and went into Heat. This was one of the reasons he was being saved for last; his high fertility rate combined with his company and his higher than average intelligence made him a very appealing Omega. Combined with the fact his twin sister was also an Omega, Bruce and Brooke could very well break the record for highest auctioned Omega in the United States, possibly all of North America, which was a steep forty million last year when Lex Luthor bought his Omega, a farm boy by the name of Clark Kent. Some people thought he overpaid, until the rumours started circulating that Lex had had a crush on the boy through their high school years, but the boy had largely appeared straight. At least, he thought as the third Omega, a boy that went for only seven million due to him having a scar on his abdomen from when he had needed to have his appendix taken out as well as his sister having had a miscarriage, Lee, Lucius, and Ed would get a large ‘dowry’ for them as the family of the Omega got around 40% of the bid.

As the fourth, and last Omega before them was hauled out, he bemoaned what they were making him and Brooke wear; all Omega’s had to wear very revealing clothes so as to entice the Alphas into spending big bucks on them. They had originally wanted Bruce and Brooke in something not even a prostitute would be caught dead in; some kind of lacy piece that frankly looked more like lingerie than any type of clothing. But, after a few well placed threats from Ed and Lee, what they was wearing was more fit for a rave or rock concert, but at least it wasn’t entirely see-through. They had put him in tight leather pants, a mesh t-shirt that left nothing to the imagination, and Lee had given him his favourite leather jacket to wear. Brooke was wearing some kind of leather halter top the covered her breasts and did nothing else, as well as a short skirt and fishnet stockings and her favourite knee high boots, all covered by her favourite leather duster. Soon though, he heard the last Omega, a beautiful young girl who came from a long line of strong Alphas and other beautiful Omegas, no Betas found in her family tree, even if her family wasn’t that well off, no doubt they would enjoy the 40% of the twenty million she was just sold for. They were soon being ushered onto the stage, and barely managed to hold in his whimpers as all the men and women in the room were looking at them like they were rib-eyes and they were all starving. Brooke had his hand clamped in a death grip as she looked out as well.

“And here we have, Ladies and Gentlemen, saved the best for last; twin Omegas, Bruce and Brooke Wayne! The last of the Wayne’s, they actually score high in mathematics and sciences, Bruce is intersex…” Bruce drowned out the announcer as his and Brooke’s ‘accomplishments’ were listed, and took stock of just who was there, and felt more than a little sick at who he saw; crime bosses like Thorn, Falcone, and Maroni were there (God, but he hoped Maroni didn’t win them as the man had four Omega’s already, and more than one of them had been accidentally photographed with shiners). There were creeps like Hugo Strange, who was rumoured to experiment on Betas, and Kathryn Monroe, who was rumoured to be something of a cult leader. Then, there were just straight up assholes like Roland Daggett, an unscrupulous CEO that was suspected of taking several shortcuts to get what he wanted, their old classmate Brant Jones, and the one who made him the sickest of all; Theo Galavan. Bruce prayed to whatever powers were listening that Galavan didn’t get them as he would no doubt dissolve Wayne Enterprises as he despised the Wayne’s, and it had been all Thomas, and later Lee, could do to keep Galavan away from Bruce and Brooke when they were younger.

“Shall we start the bidding at $500,000? Thank you, Mr. Daggett, that’s $500,000 to start us off.”

“$550,000!”

“You insult the pair, Salvatore! $750,000!” Bruce was pretty sure that was Carmine Falcone, and prayed that either they were going to be the old man’s, or his son Mario, who was said to actually be rather kind, as opposed to the daughter Sofia; word had it the woman was a straight up whack-job.

“You both insult such fine specimens; $1,000,000!” Hugo Strange bid, and Bruce quickly hoped someone outbid the man quickly as he was losing feeling in his hand due to Brooke’s squeezing.

“$1,500,000!” Bruce saw another acquaintance, Tommy Elliot enter the ring, and really hoped he had matured some since he punched his lights out.

“$5,000,000!” Please, God, no was all Bruce could think as Galavan threw his own hat into the ring.

“$6,000,000!” Bruce was both relieved someone outbid Galavan, but also a little disturbed as it was Kathryn Monroe who bid; he had nothing against older women taking younger lovers (he refused to call them cougars as he found it offensive), but it wasn’t really his thing and besides which, while he may be bisexual, he largely swung for his own team.

“$10,000,000!” Bruce looked up at the familiar voice and saw Barbara Kean and her partner Tabitha Galavan had just thrown down a substantial gauntlet, and he wondered why as not only were Barbara and Tabitha lesbians, they had two Omegas already, and one Beta; his friends Ivy Pepper, Bridgit Pike, and Selina Kyle. He figured this way, he would carry the pups and they wouldn’t have to worry about it. They were probably his and Brooke’s best hope as they would be with their friends and while Barbara could be a little intense (and Tabitha was well known for her whip), he didn’t think either woman would be abusive to their Omegas; Selina had certainly never complained about how Bridgit and Ivy were treated.

“$15,000,000!” Daggett came back into the ring with a strong bid, and Bruce was beginning to feel a little sick as he placed his other hand over Bryce, who whispered a sorry into his ear.

“$23,000,000!” Bruce was rather surprised when Fish Mooney threw a bid out as the woman was usually too busy to have much to do with Omegas, but among the crime bosses littering Gotham, she was one of the better ones to be owned by.

“$30,000,000!” Bruce gripped Brooke back as Galavan countered with a number not many would be willing to counter, even for twin Omegas.

“$40,000,000!” Barbara and Tabitha countered, and it seemed like they were in a vacuum as there didn’t seem to be any noise whatsoever. Bruce prayed that it was too much for Galavan to go above his sister as the announcer exclaimed,

“We have $40,000,000! Thank you Miss. Kean and Miss. Galavan! Do I have anymore bids? That’s $40,000,000 for the Wayne twins to Miss. Kean and Miss. Galavan going once! Going Twice! Going Three ti-!”

“$50,000,000!” Bruce was almost certain he or Brooke were going to pass out as they felt the air pressure drop at an unprecedented number, even for a pair of Omegas. He looked out into the audience and saw that many had mentally withdrawn from the battle, and felt his heart sink as he knew not even Barbara and Tabitha would go against such a bid.

“We now have $50,000,000 to Mr. Theo Galavan! That is a new record! Thank you, Mr. Galavan! Do I have anymore bids? Sirs? Ladies? Well, then that is $50,000,000 to Mr. Theo Galavan, going once!” Bruce prayed anyone would outbid Galavan; he would gladly cover the difference if at least his sister was safe, but none raised their hands.

“Going twice!” Bruce felt Brooke clutch his shoulder as her own shook with the realization that no one was going to outbid their worst nightmare.

“Going three times!” Bruce saw Galavan smirk as his dream of destroying the Wayne legacy was about to come to fruition.

“So-”

“$98,316,010.99!” Everyone was stunned and swirled their heads, trying to figure out who had placed such an outlandish (and rather peculiar) bid, only to see a man decked out in a tight leather outfit and completely bald; he didn’t even have eyebrows, but all knew who this man was. Victor Zsasz, one of, if not the most, Gotham’s most deadly assassins, the Penguin’s bodyguard and enforcer; a man not to be trifled with under any circumstances.

“S-sir?” The announcer, who before had been annoyingly enthusiastic about selling off young men and women, was now very scared as the assassin actually walked up on stage with two of his Zsaszette’s as others referred to them, both of whom smiled gently at the frightened Omegas.

“That, is a joint bid from my boss, Oswald Cobblepot, Jervis Tetch, Victor Fries, Jim Gordon, Alfred Pennyworth, and the Valeska twins, Jerome and Jeremiah. They couldn’t decide which one they wanted, so they pooled their resources for the pair of them.” Zsasz explained before he took a good look at the twins and asked,

“Do either of you feel comfortable wearing that?” Bruce shook his head as Brooke whispered,

“No, Mr. Zsasz.”

“OK, we got some clothes in the car you can change into before we leave, make you look less like a pair of hookers and more like a pair of wealthy brats. Unless, of course, someone wishes to bid against the seven most dangerous men in the city?” Zsasz looked out toward the crowd, making eye contact with Galavan in particular, who actually looked to be gearing up to try and outbid the psychopath, when the announcer said,

“Going once, going twice, going thrice, sold! Sold to -”

“Just call them the Legion of Horribles; it’s quite the mouthful otherwise.” Zsasz said as he and his girls checked the pair for any bruising or scars, and somewhat surprised to see a few here and there, but they weren’t abuse scars; these were battle scars.

“Sold to the Legion of Horribles! They just have to do one final check-up and then you can pick them up at the side entrance.”

“Most valuable darlings in the world, and you make them sound like a pair of cheap hookers, nice.” One of the Zsaszette’s complained before the pair were escorted off the stage.

Please tell me what you think of it so far, as there’s a lot more to come!

#Gotham #gotham au #bruce wayne #brooke wayne #abo #victor zsasz

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pi-cat000 · 3 years

Text

Premise: Everyone in the world is born with a Curse (part 2)

Part 1: here

Curse-AU world-building thing: Based of this post by writing-prompt-s

Fandom: Mystery Skulls Animated

Pairings: Lewvithur

...

“Oh, there he is,” Vivi bumps him, nodding towards a nervous Arthur who slips out from around the makeshift barrier. Lewis frowns, noting how the other man has his arms crossed, body language closed off. A member of the security catches Arthur before he can head over to them, handing him an official-looking envelope.

“That doesn’t look like it was good news,” He mutters to Vivi and he gets a small nod of agreement. No one else had been given an envelope. Several other bystanders are also eyeing it with undisguised unease. Arthur shuffles up, eyes downcast, fiddling with his wrist band. His other, free hand is holding a semi crumpled piece of paper. Probably containing his Curse description.

“I got an Orange danger rating…I’m, apparently, a high risk to bystanders,” Arthur mutters, motioning to the envelope, “Or I will be in a year or so…I have a travel pass until then…then ah…travel restrictions and isolation protocols….”

Lewis immediately reaches out, wrapping his arm around the smaller man’s shoulder so he is standing between Arthur and the judgmental eyes following him. With all the attention Vivi had attracted earlier and now this, their group has been given a wide berth so there is an empty circle around it.

“Bullshit.” Vivi snaps, “Uncle Lance has a Yellow rating. Your curse can’t be that different? Right?”

Arthur grimaces and looks conflicted, leaning into him for physical support in a mirror of how he had been leaning into Vivi earlier.

“It’s a variant of it,” Arthur starts, “You know how my Uncle has a higher chance of running into dangerous situations. Well, mine is the same except the situations will involve unnatural, monstrous or spiritual entities…” He trails off, the last few words sounding like a quote probably read off his Curse Certificate. He sounds both fearful and resigned. Lewis frowns, glancing at Vivi. Going off her renewed expression of interest, he can see that the relevance of Arthur’s curse hasn’t escaped her.

"Arthur!" She speaks as evenly as possible but her enthusiasm is poorly contained, "You know what this means right?" Arthur, to his credit, does seem somewhat aware of Vivi’s keenness and he waits patiently for her to continue.

"A destiny of hunting monsters and someone who has a higher than average chance of running into monsters? Our Curses are compatible. You know how rare that is!” She slows, “Sure, the danger rating sucks. But, hey, you can get it reassessed later. I know for a fact that they do the initial ratings higher to cover their asses. Mine was classed as Yellow but I know that’s wrong because both my dad and gran have a Blue rating and it’s the exact same Curse. Hey, we can put in our reassessment forms together. Also, even if you can’t get it lowered, I bet I get you permission to travel once I’m a registered Hunter.”

"It's illegal to hire based on a person’s Curse and Nullification tech is always improving. You could probably get away with asking for off-site or long-distance employment. If the monster hunting thing doesn't work out," Lewis adds just to give some other options, though, going of Arthur’s relieved smile, it’s not needed.

Vivi blushes, calming herself, "Yeah, I mean, the monster-hunting is just one option. I'll get dad to give you some training...and I'll help too,"

Arthur relaxes more against him, "Thanks, guys..."

"I wonder if your Curse type had an effect on my Curse type." Arthur wonders out loud after a brief silence.

Lewis hums, “It is very convenient.” He isn’t too surprised, despite being around for almost 100 years now, Curses still weren’t entirely understood.

"Oh, I wouldn't be surprised,” Vivi elaborates, “A Curse’s main effect doesn’t hit till your mid-20s but there is plenty of speculation that the more powerful ones are active before that. Destiny Curses are stronger than most. Or maybe it's an effect of your probability curse…I mean, you're more likely to run into a monster if you're dating someone who hunts them."

Arthur and Vivi throw a few more theories around and Lewis relaxes, listening to the two of them become increasingly animated. Now the band-aids off, so to speak, Arthur has calmed considerably. Sure, he is still a bit fidgety and his grip on the envelope is painfully tight, but that’s nothing a home-cooked diner and night relaxing together on the couch won’t go a long way to soothe. Lewis knows the road ahead of them wouldn’t be easy, not by a long shot, but it would be manageable. Now all he needs is get some mundane Innocuous shoe-lace Curse to finish off the whole experience.

’Lot 65’ The metallic voice is back, calling them to attention again. Vivi and Arthur glance towards him, Vivi quickly wrapping both him and Arthur in a hug. “Go on. You’ll be fine,” She encourages, pulling away just a quickly.

“Whatever you get we’ll work it out,” Arthur reiterates the advice he had given earlier also pulling back. Lewis can’t but smile at their affection as he turns away.

...

WORLD BUILDING:

Curse threat ratings:

- Black (Catastrophic Risk): Life threatening to the bearer and catastrophic risk to bystanders. Full travel ban effective immediately. Isolations protocols apply.

- Red (Extreme Risk): Life threatening to the curse bearer, extreme risks to bystanders. Travel restrictions apply. Some isolations protocols apply.

- Orange (High Risk): Extreme risks to curse bearer and high risk to bystanders. Some travel restrictions apply.

- Yellow (Considerable Risk): High risks to curse bearer and a considerable risk to bystanders. Some travel restrictions apply.

- Blue (Moderate Risk): Considerable risk to the curse bearer and moderate risk to bystanders.

- Green (Low Risk): Moderate risk to the curse bearer and low risk to bystanders.

- White (Very low Risk): Low risk to curse bearer low or zero risk to bystanders.

- Grey (No Risk): Danger level null.

(Notes: Ratings are based primarily on the risk Curses pose to bystanders with the Curse bearer being a secondary consideration. The more bystanders considered at risk, the higher the rating.

Statistics: Percentage approximations. Amount of populous with specific Curse ratings:

- Grey 2% (a rating usually reserved for the rare Curseless individual)

- Green- 40% Blue- 30% White- 10% (most Innocuous Curses would have these ratings)

- Yellow -10%, Orange - 6%, Red- 2% (Restricted and dangerous Curses. Bad Luck curses would usually get this sort of rating)

- Black .001% (astronomically rare)

#MSA #mystery skulls animated #curse au #lewvithur #more world building stuff #world building #another section of this because I just love the premises so much #end of year WIPs

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maprron · 3 years

Text

Crush Culture

Chapter 4

Chapter 1| Chapter 2| Chapter 3

Summary: Lucy is your average teenage girl... but she's not, it's complicated but not in a "OH I'm actually a supernatural being" but in a "OH I have to get married as soon as I turn 18" type of way. Problem #1 she doesn't like anyone and problem #2 she might have to marry her dad's friend's son... yay

Disclaimer: This story was created mainly for my friend and has no romance but they are gay so... also I did read over this a bunch but if something doesn’t make sense blame my dyslexia... okay let’s continue (yes the disclaimer is the same each time, I’m lazy :) )

Gray Fullbuster is one of the most popular guys in town and if you asked most of anyone they would say hottest as well.

Out of nowhere his family up and moved to Magnolia 6 years ago. Many businessmen were ecstatic to have THE Silver Fullbuster, a businessman who is equally rich as he is influential. This includes Lucy’s father. And this is how Lucy knows him.

That is also how Natsu knows him.

All those years ago both of their fathers dragged them to a fancy dinner party with the Fullbusters and other business families.

Lucy, who was 11 at the time, noticed that Gray felt nervous all night. He kept playing with the collar of his shirt, his tie, or kept twisting his short, curly, black hair around his fingers. Every time either of his parents would introduce him Lucy saw him tense up.

She thought it was odd.

Then when Natsu got bored in the middle of dinner, something that only ever happens at these dumb parties, he whispered something in Lucy’s ear

“I’m going to go talk to him,” his eyes fell on Gray, whose eyes quickly shifted away from Natsu’s gaze “wanna come?”

“Are you an idiot?” Lucy whispered back to the boy that was seated right next to her but it was too late and Natsu only had to prove the obvious, that he was an idiot. He got out of his chair suddenly and Lucy desperately tried to pull him back down to his seat beside her. She couldn’t so she ended up jumping up instead and flustered said “may we be excused?” quickly with her hands on her thighs and her head bowed a little.

“Yes, you may sweetie,” Gray’s mother said with a smile. Lucy lifted her head up to smile at the woman before going after Natsu.

“Hey, Gray is it? Uh my me and my friend-”

“Don’t bring me into this” Lucy whisper yelled at him, elbowing him in his side

“Ow what was that for?” He rubbed his side before continuing “anyway, I’m Natsu and this is Lucy and I wanted to know if you wanted to hangout or something” his goofy grin was present on his face

“Oh… I’m not sure if I should” Gray voice was quite as he tried to avoid their gaze, opting to look at his lap instead

“Aw come on it’ll be fun” he smiled once again

‘Natsu stop showing him that stupid grin you are probably making him uncomfortable’ Lucy thought to herself as she also thought of all the ways her father was going to kill her later

“Oh… okay” Gray said, still in that quiet voice. He gently took the dinner cloth off of is lap and placed it by his plate as he stood up “may I also be excused” this time it was his father that nodded his head

“NATSU HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND DO YOU KNOW MY OUR- NO MY DAD WILL DO TO ME FOR LEAVING A DINNER EARLY, HE HATES WHEN I-” Lucy yelled at Natsu as soon as they walked outside the house. Natsu swiftly covered the blonde’s mouth to shut her up

“Aw come on can’t you have a little fun in your life, besides I think he needs a friend” Lucy’s muffled screams could be heard behind Natsu’s hot hand. Natsu took his hand off of Lucy's mouth. “We,” he motioned to the both of them in a goofy manner “could be those friends”

“Gray I am so sorry if this idiot has bothered you” she sighed, reaching a hand out towards him “I’m Lucy and if anyone asks I am in no way associated with him.” That comment made Gray laugh

“You have a beautiful smile and laugh, how come you haven't used it all night?” Lucy asked, smiling back at the boy

“Oh… uh… I guess i’m just self conscious about it” he fiddled with his hand nervously

“You shouldn’t be it looks so good on you” her smile still showed

“Thank you” he mumbled

Hey Gray,” Natsu’s loud mouth decided to ruin the moment “why did your family move here in the first place?”

“Natsu!” Lucy rolled her eyes, placing her hands on her hips

“What? You know you were thinking it too” he said mimicking her pose

“Oh uh… my father… YEAH my father he thought it would be a better place to live” Gray nervously said

“You sure, you don’t sound confident?” Natsu said as he got�� way too close to Gray

“Uh YEAH, why wouldn’t it be? Is it hot in here it feels hot in here…”

“We’re outside…” Natsu said

“Oh right… um… I guess it’s too hot outside i’m going to go in” he was flustered as he walked back inside, fanning his face with both of his hands

“Natsu!” She turned to face the pink haired boy “what have I said about questioning what people say?” her face was full of anger as she walked off after Gray

“Not to do it” he said even though Lucy was too far away to hear him now

Lucy walked through the big house looking for Gray. She decided to stop in the dining room and ask if anyone had seen him.

“Excuse me” she smiled as she walked through the archway of the dining room. “Has Gray come through or past here?”

“No, honey, why do you want to know?” Gray’s mother replied to Lucy

“Oh… um… we’re playing hide n seek” Lucy lied but it was believable unlike the lies that Natsu would tell their parents about them “going to the zoo for the past” a real thing he said once.

“Well wouldn’t this be cheating” Natsu’s father replied with a laugh, Natsu has the same laugh, she guessed the apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree

Lucy softly laughed “oh yes sir, I just couldn’t find him, he must be go” she smiled “I’ll be going now, thank you”

She then continued to walk the long hallways of the home, looking in almost every room until she found him.

“I’m so sorry about him, Gray” Lucy sighed as she found Gray sitting in one of the studies “he likes asking too many questions, he’s working on it” she found herself laughing at the joke that he was working on anything, no he is the same Natsu as he will be in 40 years, he won’t change

“Oh no, it’s fine” Gray mumbled into his knees with tears rolling down his face. Lucy saw them but chose not the comment on them.

“Are you still down to talk? I won’t ask any invasive questions” she said with a smile as she sat down beside the boy

“Sure” he looked up, wiping his tears off of his face with his sleeves. Lucy hoped that his parents wouldn’t care if he had tear covered sleeves and pants like her father or he would be dead as soon as he walked down those stairs.

“Alright” she clasped her hands together “uh let’s start easy, what’s your favorite color?”

As Lucy asked the question, Gray's eyes lit up, something they hadn’t done in a long time.

~~~

“Ah, well I see you two finally got over your differences?” Gray stood in front of the two that were sitting next to each other at lunch. Lucy was reading a book and Natsu leaned against her shoulder mumbling something about “how are you reading so fast” and “slow down”.

“Not quite,” Lucy said, looking up from her book to stare at the blue eyed boy in front of her “he’s still the same idiot he has always been”

“He’s working on it” Gray quoted Lucy from all those years ago

“You know I was lying when I told you that” Lucy laughed

“Yeah, but it cheered me up a little”

“What?” A confused Natsu looked back and forth at the two.

“I’m glad you aren’t mad at me for making empty promises” she giggled as she avoided the question

Gray smiled at Lucy’s comment, tucking his hands into his baggy hoodie that it seemed like he always wore.

Many people questioned why he never joined a sport, he was the perfect fit for it after all. “Was being popular the perfect fit?” He questioned every time he was told that. He chuckled to himself as he left the cafeteria, heading for the bathroom. He is reminded of all the times coaches had begged him to at least try out as they claimed he had the perfect body for it.

But that’s just it. It is because he doesn’t have the perfect body that he can’t.

But they don’t know that

Gray stood alone in a school bathroom that no one ever went to, or so it seemed. The truth was he wasn’t alone. He heard the crying. He knew he wasn’t alone because he followed the source of the tears in there after he left Lucy and Natsu alone in the cafeteria.

They didn’t know he had but the moment they saw his shoes from under the stall, as he stood in front of the sink staring at his reflection, they tried desperately to stop crying.

It didn’t work.

Gray could hear the sniffles from them.

He heard the pain.

Pain that they tried so desperately to hide.

He wishes he could cry out to them, that it gets better, but it doesn’t.

And that is pain

No, Gray realized that none of it ever is easy, the world doesn’t work that way.

“You don’t have to quiet your pain” he heard his mouth say before his brain could even think of it.

“Doesn’t that make me weak?” He heard the soft voice of the person that is said to have never spoken. Of course that is just a joke because he can hear it right now

“No” he spoke gently

“Yes it does” they cried more. They heard his shoes sound like they were walking away so they assumed he had given up and just left the bathroom. They were startled when that turned to not be the truth.

“Open the door” Gray suddenly said as he stood in front of the closed stall door

“N-no… then you’ll know who I am and leave… like everyone else” they cried louder as if the world was crushing in on them

“I know who you are” he said “now open the door”

They were confused on how he knew them but they unlocked the door and opened it slowly anyway, they knew who they were talking to. Who wouldn’t recognize Gray Fullbuster’s voice.

“Why would you want to talk to me?” They said as they opened the door

“Why would you want to hide from yourself?” Gray said observing the person in front of him. They had short, curly, blue hair that stopped right above their shoulders. They wore a baggy blue sweater that went just below their butt with some baggy jeans. Gray thought the outfit suited them yet also showed them running from themselves. It represented them hiding, like a turtle in its shell.

But who was he to say anything about it? He has worn the same hoodie for years to hide.

“I’m not,” they remarked. A lie

“You are, it’s okay if you don’t want to talk I just figured you needed someone to talk to” he rubbed his next and let out a sigh

“But why you? We have nothing in common” they said, rubbing their hand up and down their arm

“You might be surprised how much we actually do,” he smiled down at them.

They remained silent for a moment before Gray reached out a hand to them and said “Gray Fullbuster”

“I know who you are,'' they laughed. Gray shot them a glare that told them to tell him their name “Juvin-”

“Your real name” he looked at them and they were taken aback.

“Whatdoyoumeanthatismyrealnamewhywouldn’t-” they nervously said

“Slow down,” he cut them off “just tell me your name”

They sighed “um… Ju… Juvia Lockser”

He smiled at her “hm Juvia? Nice name”

“T-thanks” she smiled, probably for the first time in her life

#I think every time I write these Nia hates romance more and more #lucy heartfilia #natsu dragneel #gray fullbuster #Juvia Lockser #fairy tail #fairy tail fanfiction

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malikmata · 3 years

Text

Notes from a Brown Boy - Kansas Diaries

*Author’s Note: Some people’s names have been changed to protect their identities

The rain was the first thing to greet me when I landed in Wichita. Overhead the gray clouds loomed, shadowing the farmland that yawned in the distance. Distance. At first glance, the city seemed like one long stretch of prairies and cracked parking lots, occasionally punctuated by billboards of grinning injury lawyers and lit up restaurant road signs.

If you spend enough time here amid the crumbling old buildings, watching the weeds sway in the vacant lots, you’ll feel the slow, inevitable creep of dread or something like it.

It’s easy to feel lonely here.

But, if you’re receptive enough, you’ll run into many friendly folks. Sometimes too friendly.

For example: During my first week, I went to Freddy’s, a local fast food chain, and ordered a crispy chicken sandwich with fries. The cashier, a young woman with glasses and short blonde hair, suddenly started confessing her fear that her 8-year old chihuahua wouldn’t live a long life.

“I still think of him as a teenager,” she said.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “He’s a chihuahua. They live long lives.”

Out here, in the most middle-of-the-road cities, you sometimes get a chance to show an act of passing kindness. While waiting in line at one of the hip, new cafes downtown, a place called Milkfloat, a tall elderly gentleman recommended which coffee and pastry to get.

“My wife says this place has the best cold brew in town.” Afterwards, grabbing his pastry and coffee, he wished me a good day. Most folks here always do and you better hope it comes true. Because here, like elsewhere, a day is filled with ordinary heartbreaks.

I will simply call her “Tita.” She works as a tailor at a department store, the only tailor working there, hemming and tapering racks full of suit pants under fluorescent lights. The nature of the job requires exact measurements and a keen eye for detail. She works hard, often skips lunch, and comes home dead tired. Her husband is recovering from 4 broken ribs after a car repair job went awry. Nothing can be done but wait until he gets better.

They live in a languid suburb on Wichita’s east side, a street with few sidewalks but plenty of lawn.

And noise. Plenty of noise. The neighborhood sits next to a car dealership. The skies overhead rumble continuously with airplanes and thunderstorms. Dogs bark at anyone who gets too close. A pickup truck blasts a corny country song as the cicadas and frogs belt out their lonely mating calls. Occasionally, a child’s laughter rises above it all.

Gossip is one of the great pastimes in towns like these. Even if you shut yourself up in your home, stories trickle in.

The neighbor across the street shot himself in the head.

The elderly couple that used to live next door got committed to a nursing home.

A fellow around the corner is on his third attempt to grow weed.

A college student starves himself morning to night so that he can save money for college.

Down the street, a kid lifts weights and punches the heavy bag hanging on his front porch.

Here, dumb luck seems, more so than in the big cities, the providence of God.

A man told me he got a job installing new carpets at a friend’s house. He was in desperate need of money, having sent most of it to his mother back home, who proceeded to gamble it away. When he ripped out the old carpet, he found a bundle of $10,000 dollars just lying there. His co-worker said, “We should split it.”

“No, no, we can’t take it.” the man said. He gave the money to his friend.

Sometime later, he went to the casino and couldn’t stop winning jackpot after jackpot. He brought home close to $16,000 in one night.

“So, if you do something good,” he told me, “God will remember that.”

Many people have come to live and die here, all of them wrapped up in the melancholic churning of faded ambitions and familial obligations.

Some people here have found something that returns them to the placidity they once felt in their youth. Sometimes that’s enough to keep them going.

For example:

I met Phil Uhlik, the namesake of the music store on E Douglas. He heard me playing an old Martin acoustic in one of the rooms. He shuffled in slightly hunched over, wearing a blue paisley shirt and brown shorts. He looked at the sunburst guitar in my hands and said, “It’s got a little beauty mark there.” He pointed to a small nick just above the sound hole. “All girls have beauty marks.” He pointed to his cheeks and smiled.

Uhlik started this music store 51 years ago and enjoys every moment of it.

“When you go to work for Boeing, that’s work,” he said. “But this, it doesn’t feel like work.” He motioned to the instruments all around him.

“How’d you get started?” I asked.

“I started off playing one of these,” he said, taking one of the accordions off a nearby shelf. As he strapped it on, all the years seemed to disappear. With a big crooked-teeth grin, he breathed life into the old accordion, his hands dancing up and down the keys. The smile never left his face as we bid farewell to each other.

I wish everyone in this world were as lucky as Phil.

I’m always seeking indie bookstores when I travel. Eighth Day Books provides much needed shelter from the summer heat. The shop was built 33 years ago and used to be located about half a mile east, in Clifton Square Village. About 17 years ago they moved to their current location, a 1920 Dutch-style colonial house on the corner of E Douglas and N Erie. Its blue trimmed windows peek through the foliage of neighboring trees.

When you walk in, you’ll see shelves of books on Christianity and Theological studies, most notably in the Eastern Orthodox tradition. I’ve never seen a bookshop with a section dedicated to Iconography.

Wichita, despite its size, feels like a small place. And with that cramped spaciousness, you’re likely to run into someone you may remember or who may remember you. Here I ran into my girlfriend’s 8th grade English teacher. A bald, bespectacled man with a gentle demeanor. After a bit of catching up, he said to us with a smile, “I hope all your dreams come true.”

The short story writer, Raymond Carver, once wrote: “Dreams… are what you wake up from.”

Wichita is a land that hypnotizes you; it makes you dream, dream of something beyond the miles of strip malls and airplane factories, beyond the shocks of wheat and windswept plains, beyond the doldrums and ennui. But it also shakes you awake, reminds you that you’re in it, that you better stop dreaming.

I’m not the religious sort anymore, having survived the regime laid down by my Catholic parents. But there is something enthralling, maybe even inspirational, when I look at the rows of beautifully painted portraits of saints and martyrs. Such solemn faces surrounded by golden halos. According to the Eastern Orthodox tradition, such paintings transcend art; they’re supposed to be windows through which you can glimpse the divine. They remind me of my grandparents with their judging eyes and moral seriousness.

My book haul for the day:

Snow Country by Yasunari Kawabata

The Diary of Anne Frank

Earthly Signs: Moscow Diaries by Marina Tsvetaeva

Near to the Wild Heart by Clarice Lispector

In that last book, I found this lovely little passage:

…”in the Revolution, as always, the weight of everyday life falls on women: previously--in sheaves, now in sacks. Everyday life is a sack with holes. And you carry it anyway.”

From Earthly Signs, P. 40

According to the 2019 United States census bureau, 15.9% of Wichita's population lives below the poverty line. That’s higher than the state average, which hovers around 11.4%. That’s not the lowest nor is it the highest in the country. As befitting its location, Kansas is right in the middle.

The minimum wage in Kansas is still $7.25 despite efforts to increase it to $15. When Covid-19 hit, city and service workers bore the brunt of the impact. You can keep all your empty slogans like “We Love Our Frontline Workers.” Congratulate me all you want for my hard work but where’s my pay?

When you see that business here has returned to normal--people freely walking around without masks, no longer socially distancing--it still feels all too strange; we spent an entire year under lockdown. There’s still a pandemic by the way.

Loved ones fell ill, died alone, hooked up to ventilators in closed off hospital rooms. I believe every interaction now carries the weight of all those deaths. My family, like so many others, didn’t escape unscathed from the pandemic. My grandpa, Amang, caught Covid. Since he was an elderly citizen (and suffering from emphysema to boot), he was among those considered most at risk. We all feared the worst. Somehow he survived. The doctors called him a “trailblazer.”

Now, with businesses back to 100% capacity, I’m afraid that, just like the 1918 Flu epidemic, the past will fade like a nightmare upon waking. But it was so much more than that; it was an avoidable tragedy.

If you want to know what this pandemic has done to people and their livelihoods, is still doing to them, take a ride through downtown.

Things were already going bad before Covid hit. Back in 2004, the writer Thomas Frank wrote,

“There were so many closed shops in Wichita… that you could drive for blocks without ever leaving their empty parking lots, running parallel to the city streets past the shut-down sporting goods stores and toy stores and farm implement stores.”

What’s the Matter with Kansas: How Conservatives Won the Heart of America, P. 75

What led to all this blight? Frank attributes the decline to:

“the conservatives’ beloved free market capitalism, a system that, at its most unrestrained, has little use for smalltown merchants or the agricultural system that supported the small towns in the first place.”

-P. 79

The same story happens in a lot of places. A megacorporation keeps eating everything around it and leaves nothing else at the table.

The people are left hurting, a pit in their stomachs, and some asshole somewhere profits off of it.

While at the DMV, I overheard this:

“You have a good day now,” the security guard said.

“I’ll try my best,” a woman said.

My girlfriend heard them too and laughed.

“You really do have to try your best in order to have a good day here.”

At some point, we hit the town with a couple friends: Monica, and her boyfriend Will. Both are musicians trying to carve out their niche in a place that, on the surface, seems apathetic to creative pursuits.

It’s impossible to not be captured by their energy. As soon as we walk into their house, Monica, with her dark blonde hair draped over her shoulders, reached in for a hug. Will, a tall and bearded fellow with a bear-like presence, also went in for the hug.

“Ready to experience some Wichita nightlife?” Monica asked.

What is the nightlife here like? A group of high school punks wanted to fight us over a couple movie theater seats. Bored kids play rounds of “Chinese Fire Drill” at stop lights. I heard a nazi biker gang rolled into town at some point during my stay. Regular things like that.

At a low-key bar downtown called Luckys, I met a guy named Cory. He told me how he met a 15 year old kid loitering here, looking lost and forlorn.

“I don’t know what kind of advice I can give you but I’ll do the best I can,” Cory said.

This is the spirit I’ve often come across during my stay: A sort of slightly intrusive compassion. For a cynical Californian like me, the behavior seems a little strange, maybe even a little annoying. But I’ve come to appreciate the candor of it.

“Guaranteed we’ll know half the people here,” Will said.

Right away, he shook hands with the bartender—a high school friend of his—and asked him how his band was doing. Afterwards, we sat down and talked. Talking, after a year of pandemic lockdown, has become a lost art to me. But a little alcohol loosened the lips and suddenly I talked as though I’d known these people my whole life.

Will sipped his whisky on the rocks and told me:

“If everything in this world is meant to break down eventually, then any act of creation becomes an act of defiance.”

It may sound naive but to me, it’s true. I think about the words of the writer, John Berger:

Compassion defies the laws of necessity. To forget yourself and identify with a stranger has a power that defies the supposed natural order of things.

--The Shape of a Pocket, P. 179

Making art has to be, in some way, a compassion act, because it involves letting the environment and the people you meet speak for themselves, allowing a collaboration.

“When a painting is lifeless it is the result of the painter not having the nerve to get close enough for a collaboration to start… Every authentic painting demonstrates a collaboration.”

--The Shape of a Pocket, P. 16

You need to open yourself up, feel what someone is saying behind their words, and hopefully, feel what they feel.

Art, like Compassion, is defiant.

Among the 4 or so Asian markets here, you can find all the ingredients you need to cook up something good. During my first week, I stopped at a place called Grace Market. Like a lot of small Asian markets, it’s family run. A father from Taiwan. A mother from Korea. The son usually helps out when he can. Today (June 23), On this warm Wednesday morning, the son is manning the cash register.

“You’re from California? I’m from there too,” he said.

“Where at?” I asked.

“Sacramento. How about you? So Cal?”

“Nah, Bay Area.”

“Funny. That’s where my parents met.”

“Small world.”

On a different day, we met the father, a jovial man who never fails to say hi when you walk in. He came here over a couple decades ago from California, doing work for the US Army in Garden City. Once his service was over, he decided to stay in Kansas.

“I think you know why,” he said.

More and more young folks these days are leaving California. The high cost of living is presumably what’s driving this exodus. I told him I was also thinking of leaving the Golden State, as much as I love the place.

“Well, a town like this has a lot of potential if you want to save money,” he said. “If I tried to start this business in California, I don’t think I could’ve done it.”

The summer heat can, with the suddenness of a lightning flash, give way to thunderous storms. Speaking as someone from California, whose home has gone through excruciating periods of drought and wildfire, these nightly downpours are a startling yet relaxing sight.

The distant boom of thunder in the distance reminds you of how much of our lives depend on the weather, how small we are in comparison, how we are never separate from the goings-on of nature. The rain doesn’t come down lightly here. At night, it smacks and drums against the window pane with all the force of an animal trying to get inside.

But I don’t find myself frightened by it so much as awed by the combined power of wind and rain colliding against our rickety old house.

Kansas lies in the Great Plains, where layers of cool and warm air often combine into a low-level jet stream. Unimpeded by any natural obstacles on the wide flat plains, the wind roars across the expanse. Thunder growls over the prairie. And lightning flashes on the horizon in a fearsome red tinge.

The storm rages throughout the night, the only source of light in an ocean-sized plain.

“In general, the gods of the Wichita are spoken of as "dreams," and they are divided into four groups: Dreams-that-are-Above (Itskasanakatadiwaha), or, as the Skidi would say, the heavenly gods; and (2) Dreams-down-Here (Howwitsnetskasade), which, according to the Skidi terminology, are the earthly gods. The latter "dreams" in turn are divided into two groups: Dreams-living-in-Water (Itska-sanidwaha), and the Dreams-closest-to-Man (Tedetskasade)”

From The Mythology of the Wichita, P. 33

If you go downtown, you’ll see a sculpture called “The Keeper of the Plains.”

It’s almost 9 o’ clock when I get there, so large crowds have gathered to watch the ring of fire lit around its perimeter.

The statue was designed by indigenous artist and craftsman, Blackbear Bosin. Born in Cyril, Oklahoma, but living much of his adult life in Wichita, Kansas, Bosin was of Comanche and Kiowa descent and almost entirely self-taught as an artist.

When you come upon the Keeper of the Plains, standing tall on the fork of the Arkansas and Little Arkansas Rivers, you can’t help but feel a mix of admiration and sadness. It’s a striking statue, especially when set against the beautiful orange and lavender hues of the setting sun. But monuments like these end up reminding you of the Wichita peoples who were killed, displaced, driven from their land, and left to die in reservations, forgotten. The tribes that once lived here along the southern plains still show traces of their culture but now, you’ll see it mostly as a memory in a museum or as art hanging on the walls of a library.

I learned from a video by the Wichita Eagle that the last speaker of the Wichita language, Doris Jean Lamar, died back in 2016. It must be indescribably lonely to be the last speaker of a language. There is no one to have a conversation with, no one to whom you can confess your hopes or your regrets. But in the video, Lamar, even knowing that she is the last speaker, expresses hope that future generations will know what the language sounded like.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ScPkN_xGRI

Is forgiveness even possible when injustices are still committed today against native peoples everywhere?

Not enough can be said about the skies here, which seem at times so brilliantly marbled with peach and lavender colors that you begin to walk with your head perpetually craned upwards.

It’s this aspect, the overwhelming sense of the sublime, that will probably stay with me long after I’ve left Kansas.

I think again about the nature of dreams. It isn’t such a sin to dream about things, about things that haven’t happened yet, and about things that have happened. To quit dreaming seems too cynical, like admitting from the outset that everything is screwed, that you should stop trying.

During my stay here, I’ve met many people who aren’t so irony poisoned yet, people who are achingly sincere and kind. They haven’t stopped trying. There isn’t much room for cynicism here. I appreciate that a lot.

Farewell to you, Kansas, you and your clumps of cumulus and vast fields of cows and grass. I’ll see you again.

Check out Will’s music! It’s gloomy, melancholy, and LOUD!: https://teamtremolo.bandcamp.com/album/intruder

#diary #photoblog #photo diary #midwest #kansas #travel diaries

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acousticcheeze · 3 years

Text

Here's my 100 questions for my OC thing!

My OC is Laureli, a 6'2 Altmer trying to make his way in Skyrim

1. What do they smell like?

Whatever alchemy ingredient he’s been working with, really. Lavender is what he smells like most often, though.

2. What is their voice like?

A smooth-ish medium pitch Altmer voice that has elements of calm and irritation.

3. What is their biggest motivator?

Helping others through his alchemy. He wants to improve medicine for Skyrim, as well as all of Tamriel.

4. What is their most embarrassing memory?

He had a whole scientific presentation one year that ended up being completely wrong. He got humiliated in front of everyone.

5. How do they deal with/react to pain?

Winces at it, curses, and then gets to treating the problem.

6. What do they like to wear?

Functional clothes that keep him warm and allow him to carry alchemy ingredients in his pockets.

7. Which of their relationships have impacted them most positively?

The relationships with some of the people he’s helped over the years. It gave him a sense of purpose and fulfillment knowing that he could help people, save people.

8. What’s the weirdest thing they’ve ever eaten?

He’s an alchemist...in Skyrim...I’m pretty sure there are a few contenders… (giants toe, large/small antlers, ectoplasm, the list goes on)

9. Describe the way that they sleep.

Normal side sleeper. Prefers to sleep on his left side.

10. What is their favorite food/kind of food?

Horker stew. It’s actually way better than he thought it would be.

11. What do they feel most insecure about?

If what he’s doing is good enough. He has big problems with perfectionism that still persist with him even after leaving Summerset.

12. How do they like to dress?

Robes with an alchemy enchantment and a hood.

13. How do they react to feelings of guilt?

He tries to shake them off, but has panic attacks and whatnot sometimes as a result of them.

14. How do they react to/deal with betrayal?

Is completely shattered by it. He’s dealt with this so many times before, though, so he keeps his cards close to his chest.

15. What is their greatest achievement?

Creating potions that help much more than the average cure disease potion would, as well as all sorts of other concoctions. Also, he’s created a sort of disinfectant and is working on a hand sanitizer.

16. What are they like when they’ve gotten too little sleep?

Cranky, cranky, cranky.

17. What are they like when they’re drunk?

Drunk? Oh no no no no Laureli does not drink (and even if he did he’d be out real quick)

18. What kind of music do they enjoy?

He isn’t really into music, but he enjoys the songs the bard plays at the Bannered Mare.

19. Are they right or left handed?

Right, but is practicing with his left hand too in case something happens to his right.

20. Fears?

Death and failure, mostly.

21. Favorite kind of weather?

As the sun rises and there’s dew all over the grass, the light reflecting through each drop.

22. Favorite color?

The color of eyes. Or, more specifically, the hundreds of little pinpricks of different colors inside of eyes, It’s really quite fascinating.

23. Do they collect anything?

OH YEAH. So many different alchemy ingredients and random stuff to be used in his next works-

24. Do they prefer either hot or cold weather more?

Cold, which is good since he lives in Skyrim.

25. What is their eye color?

Chartreuse (like most Altmer)

26. What is their race/ethnicity?

Altmer

27. Hair color?

White

28. Are they happy where they are currently?

Yup. Breezehome is small, but manageable, and Whiterun is a decent hold to live in.

29. Are they a morning person?

Yes. He gets tired around 9 and can’t stay up past 12.

30. Sunrise or sunset?

Sunrise.

31. Are they more messy or more organized?

Very organized. Again, he’s a perfectionist.

32. Pet peeves?

People touching his things as well as people inserting themselves into his business.

33. Do they own any objects of significant personal importance?

An amulet of Talos a Nord gave him. He hadn’t gotten the chance to learn much about Talos at home, and he found it very interesting talking to the local Nords about their beliefs. That amulet reminds him of his first day in Skyrim, the first day of his new life.

34. Least favorite food?

Taffy treats, or anything with that sort of texture and stickiness that can get stuck to his teeth very easily.

35. Least favorite color?

Very pale green. It looks gross.

36. Least favorite smell?

Death. (Yes, death has a smell)

37. When was the last time they cried?

Recently.

38. Were they with anybody the last time they cried?

No. Oh Auri-el, no no no no. He cries alone and he makes sure of it.

39. Tell us about one of the times they got injured?

Was in a fire when he was younger, he has a burn going up the inner leg on his right leg.

40. Do they have any scars?

Only mental ones. (and the burn scar on his leg)

41. Do they struggle with any mental health issues?

Perfectionism, past abuse, self hate, among others.

42. Do they have any bad habits?

Picking at his nails. He knows it makes them hurt and get bloody, but sometimes he just can’t help it.

43. Why might someone dislike them?

He can be very rude if he’s working, but to be fair, it is really annoying to be bothered in the middle of your work.

44. Why might someone love them?

Who wouldn’t love an overworked science boye? But in all seriousness, if he loves someone, he will be very caring towards them and is also just great listener. Tries not to care any more though because of personal trauma.

45. Do they believe in ghosts?

Yup. He’s heard of people’s encounters with them. Honestly, you’d be stupid to not believe in them.

46. Is there anyone they would trust with their lives?

At this point? No. Farkas later down the line? Yes.

47. Are they romantically interested in anyone?

Farkas, but we ain’t talking about that yet~

48. Are they dating/married to anyone?

49. Do they like surprises?

No. Please do not surprise this poor man he will stagger back and crash into everything.

50. When is their birthday?

9th of Hearthfire (September 9th)

51. How do they usually celebrate their birthday?

He takes a few seconds to acknowledge it and then gets on with his work.

52. Do they have any family?

Yup! A Mom, a Dad, a younger sister, and a male cousin that lives nearby (he’s in the Thalmor and the whole family has very Pro-Thalmor views)

53. Are they close to their family?

HAH- no~

54. What is their MBTI type?

INTJ (Damn this list for making me look up stereotypes for this. Honestly I hate the MBTI system so much-)

55. What is their zodiac sign?

Virgo

56. What Hogwarts House would they be in?

Ravenclaw

57. What D&D alignment are they?

If lawful chaotic good was a thing then yes

58. Do they ever have nightmares? If so, what about?

Yes, but they are often so tangled up that it’s hard to get any real meaning from them.

59. What are their views on death?

“It’s fine, it’s fine, I’ll be fine-” Hopes that he’ll be fine but is really scared about it.

60. What is something that they’re sure to laugh at?

Bad science puns. He will stifle a chuckle before telling you how bad your joke was.

61. When bored, how do they pass time?

This man does not get bored. He will always find something alchemy related to study or look into.

62. Do they enjoy being outside?

Yes. Laureli loves the Skyrim weather (for the most part. Places like Dawnstar and Winterhold suck)

63. Do they have an accent?

Yes. He has the typical Altmer accent.

64. Upon seeing a slice of chocolate cake, what is their first reaction?

“Why is this here? This isn’t mine.”

65. If they knew they were going to die, what would they do/say

He would probably take too long deciding and die before he could do/say anything.

66. How do they feel about sex?

Sex repulsed asexual.

67. What is their sexuality?

GAY

68. Do they become squeamish at the sight of blood?

Nope.

69. Is there anything that they find really gross?

He’s seen so much it would take a lot to surprise him here.

70. Which TV Trope(s) best describes them?

Grumpy scientist with no people skills.

71. Do they enjoy helping people?

Yes, definitely

72. Are they allergic to anything?

Not really. (Lucky)

73. Do they have a pet?

74. Are they quick to anger? What are they like when they loose their temper?

Nope, unless you press his buttons. His anger is pretty much “What in the name of Auri-el is wrong with you?! Don’t touch my equipment!!”

75. How patient are they?

Very...until you hit his limit. Then he gets passive aggressive.

76. Are they good at cooking?

Not really. He can be good at it, he just chose not to learn in favor of working on his projects. Can make enough to live on, though.

77. Favorite insult? Do they insult people often?

He doesn't have a favorite insult (he rarely insults people).

78. How do they act when they’re particularly happy?

Talking fast, pacing, flappy hands.

79. What do they do when they learn about other people’s fears?

Try to avoid bringing those fears up around them and avoiding making fun of them. If their fear is nearby, he will either tell them or take care of it. (which is good because Farkas is scared of spiders)

80. Are they trustworthy?

Yes, but you have to be a very certain kind of person to work with him.

81. Do they try to hide their emotions? Are they good at it?

Sometimes, especially romantic feelings. Romantic attraction? Nope, not possible- (It totally is; he’s in denial)

82. Do they exercise regularly?

With all of the walking he does around various holds, yes.

83. Are they comfortable with the way they look?

Yes. He’s a perfectionist with many things, but has learned to let go a bit more when it comes to his appearance. He still will take ages to get ready, though.

84. What are some physical features that they find attractive on people?

Tattoos, braids, basically everything you’d see on a typical Nord. It’s so different from his home and he’s completely enamored.

85. What kind of personalities do they find attractive?

Himbo nord men. Sweet morons basically.

86. Do they like sweet foods?

Not really. Sweet foods do have their place, but he isn’t wanting to get any cavities, so he tries to limit his sugar. (Especially since Altmer live 200-300 years aprox)

87. What is their age?

52 (~20s for an Altmer)

88. Are they tall or short or somewhere in between?

Tall, but about average for an Altmer

89. Do they wear glasses or contacts?

No, but if he did he would have half-moon spectacles.

90. Do they consider themselves attractive?

Not really. He doesn’t really think anyone is attractive. (Well, except for Nord himbos, but he doesn’t know that until he meets Farkas)

91. What is their sense of humor like?

Practically nonexistent, but when there is humor it’s mostly dry and sardonic.

92. What mood are they most often in?

That sort of focused work mode you get in when you’re really concentrating, as well as somewhat-sociable-but-still-kind-of-tired-and-grumpy

93. What kinds of things anger them?

People messing up his equipment. Oh sweet Auri-el, if you touch his things he will explode. Also, he hates the racism that the Thalmor promote. (He hates racism in general, but he hates the Thalmor’s views the most).

94. Outlook on life?

“It sucks, but I do find quite a bit fascinating and I’ll help where I can.”

95. What kind of things make them sad/depressed?

His perfectionism, how lonely he knows he is, and more.

96. What is their greatest weakness?

Again, his perfectionism, as well as having his work dictate more in his life than he should.

97. What is the greatest strength?

His brain. He remembers small details extremely well, and is practically an encyclopedia when it comes to alchemy.

98. Something that they regret?

How awful he used to be to everyone back home. He got a lot of pushback on his dreams and who he was, so he lashed out. Even though there wasn’t much he could do there, he still regrets hiring his family and wants to try at a relationship again with them (lol good luck).

99. Biggest accomplishment?

How is this different from “Greatest Achievement”?

100. Create your own! (Why is his alchemy so different from the norm?)

Because he’s trying to do something much more along the lines of modern medicine as opposed to just potions.

101. (Bonus!) Why is he in Skyrim?

Because it’s rather lacking in the medicine department compared to the other provinces, so he decided his talents would be best used there. Obviously, his family protested, but he went anyways.

#oc #laureli #skyrim

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theuniversitychallengereview · 3 years

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UC 50.35 - Imperial vs Warwick

This is episode thirty five of this years University Challenge. Almost exactly one year ago, on 23rd March 2020, the UK was plunged into what we thought would be its only lockdown. Instead it was the first of going on three, four? Where does a lockdown end and a Tier 4 start? Manchester, where I live, has basically been in lockdown for most of the twelve months since then, and who knows how much longer this one is going to actually last.

There is a peculiar magic to a revolution of the sun, with the circularity giving meaning to the meaningless marker of three hundred and sixty five days. Somehow it feels so much more momentous that a year will have passed than that a day less than a year has passed. You remember what you were doing as the lockdown was announced, where you watched Boris make his serious address from. The tingles of fear, and maybe even guilty nervous excitement made me restless. No one knew what any of it meant. So many things have changed since then, but in some ways we are exactly where we were. Stuck inside, nowhere to go, with no concept of when life will return to normal.

There was also a University Challenge match on the 23rd March. I don’t know if I watched it on the day. Probably not. I wrote about it six days later, by which point I was working from home with a pile of books stacked underneath my laptop acting as a makeshift stand. There is something strange about being able to read exactly what I was thinking at the time everything was starting. The following paragraphs are taken directly from that blog, and it still feels like we are in the same limbo state.

What is going on? When I wrote the last blog it was pretty clear that we were in a dire situation, but the inaction of the Government left it feeling like we were in some kind of limbo state, just waiting for the disaster to hit us. But then action was taken. Lockdown.

We now know exactly what we have to do (I was going to list the ‘Stay Home’ instructions here, but if you’re getting your lockdown lowdown from a University Challenge blog then frankly there’s no hope for you anyway), but it still feels really surreal. You’ve never done a home workout in your life, but you’ve done two in the past three days. People say ‘social distancing’ as if its always been a well-known term that was commonly used in daily life. There are never any beans (screw your toilet paper shortages, its the beans that really matter).

We’re still in limbo, really, because we have no idea how long this is going to last. And we’re still waiting for the disaster to hit, because the worst of it hasn’t yet, and the lockdown won’t start properly helping for a few weeks. So what do we do? What can we do? You feel like you want to be distracted from all that is going on, but also to be clued up to the eyeballs with the latest news.

So we do what we can. We stay inside. We call our friends and family and play that stupid ‘chips and guac’ game on Houseparty. We take solace in books, or films, or TV…

As I did a year ago, I’ll try and distract you all (and myself too), with some words about a television quiz show. Let’s not bother with the rules, here’s your first starter for ten...

Imperial and Warwick have already played each other in this years tournament, with the Avonsiders coming out convincing winners, 200 to 120. They then beat another of the semi finalists, Magdalene, Cambridge, by 200 to 160. Fans of a nice round number, it seems.

But I wouldn’t write Imperial off. They followed up their loss to Warwick with magnificent wins over King’s and Durham. Their skipper Kohn is the most in-form player left in the competition, and has averaged more than six starters a game.

Having lost their first round match to Strathclyde, Imperial were given a reprieve via the high-scoring loser play-offs, and boy did they take advantage of it. This coincided with the gap in filming caused by Covid, and Kohn used the extra time to train intensely - think Stallone in Rocky but its just a guy furiously reading (with the same music playing, obviously).

Warwick, meanwhile, have had a relatively smooth path to the last four, winning by an average of 92.5 points. However, if you dive a bit deeper into those statistics, the margin has been decreasing each time (150, 100, 80, 40...), so if Imperial could get stuck into them early on then we’d have a real match on our hands.

Kohn is quickest on the buzzer for the first starter, and they take three bonuses, with Kohn saying that ‘this is giving me strong Dr Faustus vibes’, before giving Dr Faustus as the correct answer for the third. His speed is his downfall on the next starter though, and he loses five points with a neg, allowing his opposite number Rout to pick up the scraps.

A very long-winded biology question falls to no one, before another Imperial neg, this time from Wong, let Braid in to take the lead for Warwick. An incredibly easy bonuse set on Shakespeare extended this for them, though they didn’t recognise ‘Night of the Living Dead’ from its description.

Marrow, Imperial’s resident smiler, took the first picture starter to her evident delight, and a couple of bonuses tied the game at thirty fives. Braid is unlucky with his guess of ‘suffer no fools’ on the next starter - the answer is ‘suffer fools gladly’.

A trademark rapid-buzz from Kohn took the lead back to London, before a second neg from Wong allowed Braid to level the game again. Imperial’s tactic seems to be to win the buzzer race, regardless of whether or not they know the answer. So far they have three negs to three correct starters. An inspired guess of semi-colon from Marrow stole back the initiative. Neither side could string together a run of starters yet.

Not wanting to let Kohn have all the credit, Rout comes in super early on the next starter with Hamiltonian Operator. By now we have reached the music round, in a riveting but so-far low-scoring match. Kohn takes us to seventy apiece with the musical starter, giving Miles Davis and Dave Brubeck as his answer, even though the question had only asked for one person (to be fair to him, the question asked for ‘a bandleader and soloist’, making it seem as though they were two different people, but anyway, Paxman lets him off).

Both teams are making a dangerous habit of dropping bonuses, and six pass in succession with no correct answers. A pair of starters from Burrell, along with a few made five pointers, including some on Bulgarian football teams, gave Warwick the biggest lead of the match so far - fifty.

Kohn isn’t content to give up so easily, and takes the second picture starter, along with a pair of bonuses. Braid stumbles on a chemical elements question, and again Kohn takes advantage. Dismissing some of the bonuses as too easy, Imperial close to within ten.

Pollard gets his first starter of the evening with Yuri Gagarin, and a rare full set from Warwick gave them a thirty five point lead. A supremely clutch buzz from Kohn keeps Imperial in it, but Braid is quickest to identify/guess that a million seconds is two weeks (to the closest week), possibly putting the game beyond the reach of the Londoners. Paxman wastes some time by going on about how stupid it is to know that fact, and Warwick waste some more time with a lengthy conference on the bonuses. They are forty points clear, and probably heading to the final.

But HANG ON!

Braid negs. Thirty five points.

Kohn trips over his tongue, but gets the answer out in the end. Twenty five points. Could they do it?

No (sorry to have built up your hopes, if I did). The gong follows soon after, with Imperial still twenty five points adrift.

Final Score: Imperial 135 - 160 Warwick

Probably a deserved win for Warwick that, but Imperial were an absolute delight and it was a pleasure to watch their evolution over the course of the tournament, especially Kohn’s performances on the buzzer.

I’m looking forward to the second semi-final next week, which also promises to be a barnstormer. See you then.

If you’ve enjoyed this, but can’t wait until next week for another fix of University Challenge, then you can check out my Patreon, where I’ve been reviewing the 2015/16 series.

#university challenge #bbc2 #warwick #imperial #jeremy paxman

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livingdeadinsideyourhead · 3 years

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Free Music in a Capitalist Society - Iggy Pop's Keynote Speech Transcript

Hi, I'm Iggy Pop. I've held a steady job at BBC 6 Music now for almost a year, which is a long time in my game. I always hated radio and the jerks who pushed that shit music into my tender mind, with rare exceptions. When I was a boy, I used to sit for hours suffering through the entire US radio top 40 waiting for that one song by The Beatles and the other one by The Kinks. Had there been anything like John Peel available in my Midwestern town I would have been thrilled. So it's an honor to be here. I understand that. I appreciate it.

Some months ago when the idea of this talk came up I thought it might be okay to talk about free music in a Capitalist society. So that's what I'm gonna try to talk about. A society in which the Capitalist system dominates all the others, and seeks their destruction when they get in its way. Since then, the shit has really hit the fan on the subject, thanks to U2 and Apple. I worked half of my life for free. I didn't really think about that one way or the other, until the masters of the record industry kept complaining that I wasn't making them any money. To tell you the truth, when it comes to art, money is an unimportant detail. It just happens to be a huge one unimportant detail. But, a good LP is a being, it's not a product. It has a life-force, a personality, and a history, just like you and me. It can be your friend. Try explaining that to a weasel.

As I learned when I hit 30 +, and realized I was penniless, and almost unable to get my music released, music had become an industrial art and it was the people who excelled at the industry who got to make the art. I had to sell most of my future rights to keep making records to keep going. And now, thanks to digital advances, we have a very large industry, which is laughably maybe almost entirely pirate so nobody can collect shit. Well, it was to be expected. Everybody made a lot of money reselling all of recorded musical history in CD form back in the 90s, but now the cat is out of the bag and the new electronic devices which estrange people from their morals also make it easier to steal music than to pay for it. So there's gonna be a correction.

When I started The Stooges we were organized as a group of Utopian communists. All the money was held communally and we lived together while we shared the pursuit of a radical ideal. We shared all song writing, publishing and royalty credits equally – didn’t matter who wrote it - because we'd seen it on the back of a Doors album and thought it was cool, at least I did. Yeah. I thought songwriting was about the glory, I didn't know you'd get paid for it. We practiced a total immersion to try to forge a new approach which would be something of our own. Something of lasting value. Something that was going to be revealed and created and was not yet known.

We are now in the age of the schemer and the plan is always big, big, big, but it's the nature of the technology created in the service of the various schemes that the pond, while wide, is very shallow. Nobody cares about anything too deeply expect money. Running out of it, getting it. I never sincerely wanted to be rich. There is a, in the US, we have this guy “Do you sincerely wanna be rich? You can do it!” I didn’t sincerely want to be rich. I never sincerely felt like making anyone else that way. That made me a kind of a wild card in the 60's and 70's. I got into the game because it felt good to play and it felt like being free. I'm still hearing today about how my early works with The Stooges were flops. But they're still in print and they sell 45 years later, they sell. Okay, it took 20 or 25 years for the first royalties to roll in. So sue me.

Some of us who couldn't get anywhere for years kept beating our heads against the same wall to no avail. No one did that better than my friends The Ramones. They kept putting out album after album, frustrated that they weren't getting the hit. They even tried Phil Spector and his handgun. After the first couple of records, which made a big impact, they couldn't sustain the quality, but I noticed that every album had at least one great song and I thought, wow if these guys would just stop and give it a rest, society would for sure catch up to them. And that's what's happening now, but they're not around to enjoy it. I used to run into Johnny at a little rehearsal joint in New York and he'd be in a big room all alone with a Marshall stack just going "dum, dum, dum, dum, dum" all my himself. I asked him why and he said if he didn't practice doing that exactly the way he did it live he'd lose it. He was devoted and obsessive, so were Joey and Deedee. I like that. Johnny asked me one day - Iggy don't you hate Offspring and the way they're so popular with that crap they play. That should be us, they stole it from us. I told him look, some guys are born and raised to be the captain of the football team and some guys are just gonna be James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause and that's the way it is. Not everybody is meant to be big. Not everybody big is any good.

I only ever wanted the money because it was symbolic of love and the best thing I ever did was to make a lifetime commitment to continue playing music no matter what, which is what I resolved to do at the age of 18. If who you are is who you are that is really hard to steal, and it can lead you in all sorts of useful directions when the road ahead of you is blocked and it will get blocked. Now I'm older and I need all the dough I can get. So I too am concerned about losing those lovely royalties, now that they've finally arrived, in the maze of the Internet. But I'm also diversifying my income, because a stream will dry up. I'm not here to complain about that, I'm here to survive it.

When I was starting out as a full time musician I was walking down the street one bright afternoon in the seedier part of my Midwestern college town. I passed a dive bar and from it emerged a portly balding pallid middle aged musician in a white tux with a drink in one hand and a guitar in the other. He was blinking in the daylight. I had a strong intuition that this was a fate to be avoided. He seemed cut off from society and resigned to an oblivious obscurity. A bar fly. An accessory to booze. So how do you engage society as an artist and get them to pay you? Well, that's a matter of art. And endurance.

To start with, I cannot stress enough the importance of study. I was lucky to work in a discount record store in Ann Arbor Michigan as a stock boy where I was exposed to a little bit of every form of music imaginable on record at the time. I listened to it all whether I liked it or not. Be curious. And I played in my high school orchestra and I learned the joy of the warm organic instruments working together in the service of a classical piece. That sticks with you forever. If anyone out there can get a chance to put an instrument and some knowledge in some kids hand, you've done a great, great thing.

Comparative information is a key to freedom. I found other people who were smarter than me. To teach me. My first pro band was a blues band called The Prime Movers and the leader Michael Erlewine was a very bright hippy beatnik with a beautifully organized record collection in library form of The Blues. I'd never really heard the Blues. That part of our American heritage was kept off the major media. It was system up, people down. No Big Bill Broonzy on BBC for us. Boy I wish! No money in it. But everything I learned from Michael's beautiful library became the building blocks for anything good I've done since. Guys like this are priceless. If you find one, follow him, or her. Get the knowledge.

Once in secondary school in the 60's some class clowns dressed up the tallest guy in school in a trench coat, shades and a fedora and rushed him in to a school dance with great hubbub proclaiming "Del Shannon is here, Del Shannon is here." And until they got to the stage we all believed them, because nobody knew what Del Shannon looked like. He was just a voice on some great records. He had no social ID. By the early 60's that had really changed with the invasion of The Beatles and The Stones. This time TV was added to the mix and print media too. So you knew who they were, or so you thought anyway. I'm mentioning this because the best way to survive the death or change of an industry is to transcend its form. You're better off with an identity of your own or maybe a few of them. Something special.

It is my own personal view having lived through it that in America The Beatles replaced our assassinated president Kennedy, who represented our hopes for a certain kind of society. Didn’t get there. And The Stones replaced our assassinated folk music which our own leaders suppressed for cultural, racial, and financial reasons. It wasn't okay with everybody to be Kennedy or Muddy Waters, but those messages could be accepted if they came through white entertainers from the parent culture. That's why they’re still around.

Years later I had the impression that Apple, the corporation, had successfully co-opted the good feelings that the average American felt about the culture of the Beatles, by kind of stealing the name of their company so I bought a little stock. Good move. 1992. Woo! But look, everybody is subject to the rip off and has to change affiliations from time to time. Even Superman and Barbie were German before America tempted them to come over. Tough luck, Nietzche.

So who owns what anyway. Or as Bob Dylan said "The relationships of ownership." That’s gates of Eden. Nobody knows for long, especially these days. Apparently when BBC radio was founded, the record companies in England wouldn't allow the BBC to play their master recordings because they thought no one would buy them for their personal use if they could hear them free on the radio. So they were really confused about what they had. They didn’t get it. And how people feel about music. ‘Cause it’s a feel thing, and it resists logic. It’s not binary code. Later when CD's came in, the retail merchants in American all panicked because they were just too damn tiny and they thought that Americans want something that looks big, like a vinyl record. Well they had a point but their solution was a kind of Frankenstein called "The Long Box." It didn't fool anybody because half of it was empty. It had a little CD in the bottom. You’d open it up and it was empty. Now we have people in the Sahara using GPS to bury huge wads of Euros under sand dunes for safe keeping. But GPS was created for military spying from the high ground, not radical banking so any sophisticated system, along with the bounty it brings, is subject to primitive hijacking.

I wanna talk about a type of entrepreneur who functions as a kind of popular music patron of the arts. It’s good to know a patron. I call him El Padron because his relationship to the artist is essentially feudal, though benign. He or she (La Padrona) if you will, is someone, usually the product of successful, enlightened parents, who owns a record company, but has had benefit of a very good education, and can see a bigger picture than a petty business person. If they like an artists’ style and it suits them, they'll support you even if you’re not a big money spinner. I can tell you, some of these powerful guys get so bored that if you are fun in the office, you’ll go places. Their ancestors, the old time record crooks just made it their business to make great, great records, but also to rip off the artist 100%, copyright, publishing, royalty splits, agency fees, you name it. If anyone complained the line was "Pay you? We worship you!" God bless Bo Diddley.

By the time I came along, there was a new brand of Padron. People like this are still around and some can help you. One was named Jack Holzman. Jack had a beautiful label called Elektra Records, they put out Judy Collins, Tim Buckley, the Doors and Love. He'd started working in his family record store, like Brian Epstein. He dressed mod and he treated us very gently. He was a civilized man. He obviously loved the arts, but what he really wanted to do was build his business - and he did. He had his own concerns, and style, and you had to serve them, and of course when he sold out, as all indies do, you were stranded culturally in the hands of a cold clumsy conglomerate. But he put us in the right studios with the right producers and he tried to get us seen in the right venues and it really helped. This is a good example of the industry.

Another good guy I met is Sir Richard Branson. I ended up serving my full term at Virgin Records having been removed from every other label. And he created a superior culture there. People were happier and nicer than the weasels at some other places. The first time he tried to sign me it didn't work out, because I had my sights set on A&M, a company I thought would help make me respectable. After all they had Sting! Richard was secretly starting his own company at the time in the US and he phoned me in my tiny flat with no furniture. He said he'd give me a longer term deal with more dough than the other guys and he was very, very polite and soft spoken. But I had just smoked a joint that day and I couldn't make a decision. So I went with the other guys who soon got sick of me. Virgin picked me up again later on the rebound. And on the cheap. Damn. My own fault.

Another kind of indie legend who is slightly more contemporary is Long Gone John of the label Sympathy for the Record Industry. Good name. John is famous with some artists for his disinterest in paying royalties. He has a very interesting music themed folk art collection – its visible online - which includes my leather jacket. I wish he'd give it back. There are lots of indie people with a gift for organization who just kind of collect freaks and throw them up at the wall to see who sticks. You gotta watch 'em.

When you go a step down creatively from the Padrons who are actually entrepreneurs you get to the executives. You don't wanna know these guys. They usually came over from legal or accounting. They have protégés usually called A&R men to do their dirty work. You can become a favorite with them if your fame or image might reflect limelight on their career. They tend to have no personalities to speak of, which is their strength. Strangely they're never really thinking about the good of their parent company as much as old number one. Avoid them. If you’re an artist, they’ll make you sick or suicidal. The only good thing the conglomerate can do for you – and they’ve done it recently for me - is make you really, really ubiquitous. They do that well. But, when the company is your banker, then you are basically gonna be the Beverly Hill Billies. So it's best not to take their money. Especially when you’re young. These are very tough people, and they can hurt you.

So who are the good guys?! They asked me when they read this thing at BBC 6 Music. Well there are lots of them. If fact, today there are more than ever and they are just about all indies, but first I want to mention Peter Gabriel and WOMAD for everything they've done for what seems like forever to help the greatest musicians in the world, the so called world musicians to gain a foothold and make a living in the modern screwed up cash and carry world. Traditional music was never a for profit enterprise, all the best forms were developed as a kind of you’re job in the community. It was pretty good, it was “Yeah, I’m a musician, I’m gonna skip like doing the dishes or taking the trash out.” It's not surprising that all the greatest singers and players come from parts of the world where everybody is broke and the old ways are getting paved over. So it's crucial for everyone that these treasures not be lost. There are other people of means and intelligence who help others in this way like Philip Glass through Tibet House, David Burn with Luaka Bop, Damon Albarn through Honest John Records. Shout out to Hypnotic Brass Ensemble. Almost all the best music is coming out on indies today like XL Matador, Burger, Anti, Epitaph, Mute, Rough Trade, 4 A D, Sub Pop, etc. etc.

But now YouTube is trying to put the squeeze on these people because it's just easier for a power nerd to negotiate with a couple big labels who own the kind of music that people listen to when they're really not that into music, which of course is most people. So they've got the numbers. But the indies kind of have the guns. I've noticed that indies are showing strength at some of the established streaming services like Spotify and Rhapsody – people are choosing that music. And it's also great that some people are starting their own outlets, like Pledge Music, Band Camp or Drip. As the commercial trade swings more into general show biz the indies will be the only place to go for new talent, outside the Mickey Mouse Club, so I think they were right to band together and sign the Fair Digital Deals Declaration.

There are just so many ways to screw an artist that it's unbelievable. In the old vinyl days they would deduct 10% "breakage fees" for records supposedly broken in shipping, whether that happened or not, and now they have unattributed digital revenue, whatever the **** that means. It means money for some guy’s triple bypass. I actually think that what Thom Yorke has done with Bit Torrent is very good. I was gonna say here: “Sure the guy is a pirate at Bit Torrent” but I was warned legally, so I’ll say: “Sure the guy a Bit Torrent is a pirate’s friend” But all pirates want to go legit, just like I wanted to be respectable. It’s normal. After a while people feel like you’re a crook, it’s too hard to do business. So it’s good in this case that Thom Yorke is encouraging a positive change. The music is good. It’s being offered at a low price direct to people who care.

I want to try to define what I am talking about when I say free. For me in the arts or in the media, there are two kinds of free. One kind of free is when the process is something that people just feel for you. You feel a sense of possibility. You feel a lack of constraint. This leads to powerful, energetic, sometimes kind of loony situations.

Vice Media is an interesting case of this because they started as a free handout, using public funds, and they had open, free-wheeling minds. Originally a free handout was called Voice and these kids were like “Just get rid of the old! I don’t wanna be Vice, yeah!” Okay. By taking an immersive approach with no particular preconceptions to their reporting, they've become a huge success, also through corporate advertising, at attracting big, big money investment hundreds of millions of dollars now pumped into Fox Media and a couple of others bigger than that in the US. And they get it because they attract lots of little boy eyeballs. So they brought us Dennis Rodman in North Korea. And it’s kind of a travesty, but it’s kind of spunky. It's interesting that capital investment, for all its posturing, never really leads, it always follows. They follow the action. So if it's money you're after, be the yourself in a consistent way and you might get it. You’ll at least end up getting what you are worth and feel better. Just follow your nose.

The second kind of freedom to me that is important in the media is the idea of giving freely. When you feel or sense that someone that someone is giving you something not out of profit, but out of self-respect, Christian charity, whatever it is. That has a very powerful energy. The Guardian, in my understanding, was founded by an endowment by a successful man with a social conscience who wanted to help create a voice for what I would call the little guy. So they have a kind of moral mission or imperative. This has given them the latitude to try to be interesting, thoughtful, helpful. And they bring Edward Snowden to the world stage. Something that is not pleasant for a lot of people to hear about, but we need to know.

These two approaches couldn't be more different. To justify their new mega bucks Vice will have to expand and expand in capital terms. Presumably they'll have to titillate a dumb, but energetic audience. Of course all capitalist expansions are subject to the big bang – balloon, bust, poof, and you’re gone. As for the Guardian I would imagine that the task involves gaining the trust and support of a more discerning, less definable reader, without spending the principal. There is usually an antipathy between cultural poles, but these two actually have a lot in common in terms of the energy and nuisance to power that they are willing to generate. I wish red and blue could come together somehow.

Sometimes I'd rather read than listen to music. One of my favourite odd books is Bootleg: The Secret History of the Other Recording Industry by Clinton Heylin. I bought the book in the 90's because a couple of my bootlegs were mentioned. I loved my bootlegs. They did a lot for me. I never really thought about the dough much. I liked the titles, like Suck on This, Stow Away DOA or Metalic KO. The packaging was always way more creative and edgy than most of my official stuff. So I just liked being seen and heard, like anybody else. These bootleggers were creative. Here are two quotes from the dust jacket by veteran industry stalwarts on the subject of bootlegs in 1994.

"Bootleg is the thoroughly researched and highly entertaining tale of those colorful brigands, hapless amateurs, and true believers who have done wonders for my record collection. Rock and roll doesn't get more underground than this." – that was David Fricke, the music editor of Rolling Stone "I think that bootlegs keep the flame of the music alive by keeping it out of not only the industry's conception of the artist, but also the artist's conception of the artist." – that was Lenny Kaye from the Patti Smith group, musician, critic and my friend.

Wow!! Sounds heroic and vital!

I wonder what these guys feel about all of this now, because things have changed, haven't they? We are now talking about Megaupload, Kim Dot Com, big money, political power, and varying definitions of theft that are legally way over my head. But I know a con man when I see one. I want to include a rant from an early bootlegger in this discussion because it's so passionate and I just think it's funny.

This is Lou Cohan "If anybody thinks that if I have purchased every single Rolling Stones album in existence, and I have bought all the Rolling Stones albums that have been released in England, France, Japan, Italy, and Brazil that if I have an extra $100 in my pocket instead of buying a Rolling Stones bootleg I am going to buy a John Denver album or a Sinead O'Conner album, they are retarded."

So the guy is trying to say don't try to force me. And don't steal my choice. And the people who don't want the free U2 download are trying to say, don't try to force me. And they've got a point. Part of the process when you buy something from an artist. It’s a kind of anointing, you are giving people love. It’s your choice to give or withhold. You are giving a lot of yourself, besides the money. But in this particular case, without the convention, maybe some people felt like they were robbed of that chance and they have a point. It’s not the only point. These are not bad guys. But now, everybody's a bootlegger, but not as cute, and there are people out there just stealing the stuff and saying don't try to force me to pay. And that act of thieving will become a habit and that’s bad for everything. So we are exchanging the corporate rip off for the public one. Aided by power nerds. Kind of computer Putins. They just wanna get rich and powerful. And now the biggest bands are charging insane ticket prices or giving away music before it can flop, in an effort to stay huge. And there's something in this huge thing that kind of sucks.

Which brings us to Punk. The most punk thing I ever saw in my life was Malcolm McLaren's cardboard box full of dirty old winkle pinkers. It was the first thing I saw walking in the door of Let It Rock in 1972 which was his shop at Worlds End on the Kings Road. It was a huge ugly cardboard bin full of mismatched unpolished dried out winkle pickers without laces at some crazy price like maybe five pounds each. Another 200 yards up the street was Granny Takes a Trip, where they sold proper Rockstar clothes like scarves, velvet jackets, and snake skin platform boy boots. Malcolm's obviously worthless box of shit was like a fire bomb against the status quo because it was saying that these violent shoes have the right idea and they are worth more than your fashion, which serves a false value. This is right out of the French enlightenment.

So is the thieving that big a deal? Ethically, yes, and it destroys people because it's a bad road you take. But I don't think that's the biggest problem for the music biz. I think people are just a little bit bored, and more than a little bit broke. No money. Especially simple working people who have been totally left out, screwed and abandoned. If I had to depend on what I actually get from sales I’d be tending bars between sets. I mean honestly it’s become a patronage system. There’s a lot of corps involved and I don’t fault any of them but it’s not as much fun as playing at the Music Machine in Camden Town in 1977. There is a general atmosphere of resentment, pressure, kind of strange perpetual war, dripping on all the time. And I think that prosecuting some college kid because she shared a file is a lot like sending somebody to Australia 200 years ago for poaching his lordship's rabbit. That's how it must seem to poor people who just want to watch a crappy movie for free after they’ve been working themselves to death all day at Tesco or whatever, you know.

If I wanna make music, at this point in my life I'd rather do what I want, and do it for free, which I do, or cheap, if I can afford to. I can. And fund through alternative means, like a film budget, or a fashion website, both of which I've done. Those seem to be turning out better for me than the official rock n roll company albums I struggle through. Sorry. If I wanna make money, well how about selling car insurance? At least I'm honest. It's an ad and that's all it is. Every free media platform I've ever known has been a front for advertising or propaganda or both. And it always colors the content. In other words, you hear crap on the commercial radio. The licensing of music by films, corps, and TV has become a flood, because these people know they're not a hell of a lot of fun so they throw in some music that is. I'm all for that, because that's the way the door opened for me. I got heard on tv before radio would take a chance. But then I was ok. Good. And others too. I notice there are a lot of people, younger and younger, getting their exposure that way. But it's a personal choice. I think it’s an aesthetic one, not an ethical one.

Now with the Internet people can choose to hear stuff and investigate it in their own way. If they want to see me jump around the Manchester Apollo with a horse tail instead of trying to be a proper Rockstar, they can look. Good. Personally I don't worry too much about how much I get paid for any given thing, because I never expected much in the first place and the whole industry has become bloated in its expectations. Look, Howling Wolf would work for a sandwich. This whole thing started in Honky Tonk bars. It's more important to do something important or just make people feel something and then just trust in God. If you're an entertainer your God is the public. They'll take care of you somehow. I want them to hear my music any old which way. Period. There is an unseen hand that turns the pages of existence in ways no one can predict. But while you’re waiting for God to show up and try to find a good entertainment lawyer.

It's good to remember that this is a dream job, whether you're performing or working in broadcasting, or writing or the biz. So dream. Dream. Be generous, don’t be stingy. Please. I can't help but note that it always seems to be the pursuit of the money that coincides with the great art, but not its arrival. It's just kind of a death agent. It kills everything that fails to reflect its own image, so your home turns into money, your friends turn into money, and your music turns into money. No fun, binary code – zero one, zero one - no risk, no nothing. What you gotta do you gotta do, life's a hurly-burly, so I would say try hard to diversify your skills and interests. Stay away from drugs and talent judges. Get organized. Big or little, that helps a lot.

I'd like you to do better than I did. Keep your dreams out of the stinky business, or you'll go crazy, and the money won't help you. Be careful to maintain a spiritual EXIT. Don't live by this game because it's not worth dying for. Hang onto your hopes. You know what they are. They’re private. Because that's who you really are and if you can hang around long enough you should get paid. I hope it makes you happy. It's the ending that counts, and the best things in life really are free.

#iggy pop #idk if anyone posted it here already #I'm just too lazy to look up so #here it is!

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thenakedgingerwrites · 4 years

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Would You Rather [Chapter 1]

The guys laughed at my addition to game night but were, at minimum, sarcastically supportive to try. The weekly ritual of me and a couple of my friends from work consisted of beer and board games every Thursday.

Matt and Jim both worked on my team, sort of, while John was our boss’s peer. Honestly having John invited to these probably wasn’t the most ‘ethical’ thing but we all genuinely enjoyed each others’ company and all loved games. I didn’t think John’s presence would be an issue and it hadn’t been.

Oh, and me, Kyle.

Sometimes another guy, Robert, came but he was spotty. He worked near us but was usually busy with something or another. Tonight it was just the four of us.

The game I found was from one of my favorite online board game stores and included very little in the box. There was, believe it or not, a DVD for the instructions, some stacks of paper and pencils, what looked to be a scorecard for up to 8 players, and a baggie of different board game pieces (dice, little colored squares, some coins, and other loose garbage). Online it had pretty good reviews and promised to be a unique experience unlike any other.

So after the laughter of the DVD instructions and clear scam I submitted to, we popped over to the living room and put the disc into my xBox. Man was this video old. It looked like a DVD copy of an early 90’s VHS.

A man came on screen and welcomed us to the game of “Would You Rather?” I had personally played a game by the same name where you had to guess what the other players would answer. It was a cute quick game that spawned good conversation. I assumed this would be similar.

As the host went on, I started to feel a little tired. Long day at the office I suppose. I accidentally dropped my head for a second but came too quickly just as he got to the rules of the game.

“Each player should write 2 options on a piece of paper for another player to choose from. That player will then have to choose to do one of the options or lose a point. Each player starts with 3 points and the last player standing is the winner.

Please pause the video now and have each player write a card for each other player. Resume the video once that is complete.”

Matt asked, “So I write one option per paper?”

“No,” John answered. “I think you write both options on a single sheet and then do the same for two other sheets. So you have a ‘would you rather’ question for each person.” “Oh, got it.” Matt looked up to the ceiling and scrunched his face while thinking of his options.

I added a bit of my strategy out loud, “So, I want you guys to pass on these right? That’s how you lose points.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jim confirmed. “I guess they should be pretty hard then.”

“Well that’s pretty easy then, right?” Matt asked. “I’ll just make you get naked.”

“And who said I wouldn’t do that?” Jim joked.

The guys were all straight, to my knowledge. Maybe bi, who knows. Each of them were married though with kids, except Robert who wasn’t here. I myself was gay and I think they knew it but we never really talked about it. The idea of any of them getting naked was kind of hot I had to admit.

Matt was pretty short but proportioned so nicely. I found myself staring at his butt through the week. Jim was like the complete opposite: a walking bear. Probably 6’5” and big all-around. I’d be lying if I didn’t secretly wonder if everything was big. John was the oldest in the group, maybe late 40s, but in great shape for his age. He had started to get some salt in his dark hair the past couple years and it suited him well. I, myself, was pretty average across the board. I kept in shape but mainly due to diet. I only hit the gym a couple times a week at best.

Back to the game.

I scribbled down some would you rathers that were pretty tame; mostly embarrassing stuff even though I would have loved to write out explicit acts. I didn’t want to weird anyone out.

When we had finished writing ours down, we put them face-down in front of us. Matt and Jim had been snickering the entire time. I pressed play on the video to figure out more specifics on the rules.

“Ready to continue and start the game? Good! Don’t turn away and keep watching and listening to me. You may not have known, but you’ve been hypnotized from an earlier part of this video. Sorry about that, but we found it to be a much more exciting game this way.”

What the fuck, I thought. I wanted to turn to see the other guys’ reaction but I couldn’t stop looking at the screen. I couldn’t even speak.

“The game will go as follows. You’ll all put your pieces of paper in a bowl or hat and take turns drawing them until all slips have been taken. Which means it’s possible to get your own card. I hope you weren’t too hard on your fellow players…

Also, there’s no opting out. Tonight is about the thrill of learning what your friends or family really would rather do. Once you read the options, you have to pick one and complete it unless physically impossible.”

What the fuck?!

“The game is over once all cards have been read. That’s it! Two final little adverts before I let you get on with your night. Firstly, once the game is over all you’ll remember is that this game was really fun, so be sure to leave us a good review online. And secondly, while leaving us a good review, check out our other selection of amazing games for your next party.

And with that, this video will finish and you can begin the game. Youngest player goes first and will continue in that order. Have fun!”

Once the video ended I was back to myself but we all exclaimed the same things. What the fuck. What is this shit. Oh my god. Fucking fuckers. Holy fuck. Etcetera.

“Kyle, what the fuck man?! Did you know about this!?” Matt asked.

“No! Honestly! It just had good reviews so I bought it. I had no idea!”

Jim layered on, “and you didn’t think to look over the rules first before you brought us into this shit?”

“You saw me open it up with you guys! Why would I have thought this was a possibility?!”

There was clearly anger in the room. There was very little question in anyone’s mind that it was real because I’m sure everyone had tried to turn away or speak or something during that monologue and none were successful. That’s when a tingling started in my mind, forcing me towards my first move. I knew I was the youngest.

“Fuck.”

“Me too,” John said. “It’s like I’m physically getting pushed back towards the table to play.”

We all tried to fight it but couldn’t and walked back to the table with our slips of paper. I went into the kitchen to grab a popcorn bowl and brought it to the center of the table. We each threw our cards into it and I mixed them around.

“I’m so sorry guys.” Matt had anguish on his face. “I just wanted you all to pass on my cards.”

“Fuck! Same. Shit fuck fuck,” Jim said.

I mixed the cards around and pulled the first one out. It felt like I was playing Russian Roulette. I recognized Jim’s sloppy handwriting instantly and my eyes darted to him.

He just closed his eyes in shame.

“Piss your pants or put hot sauce on your dick.”

“Sorry.” Jim clearly was ashamed but I assumed we would all feel that and many other emotions tonight.

“I.. I get it. No sorries, Jim. I guess… I’d rather piss myself.” I decided to stand, for some reason. It took me like 30 seconds to start since it’s foreign to piss with your clothes still on but was finally able to let loose. The warm liquid filled around my crotch and went down my leg, darkening a path on my jeans as it went. Luckily I had gone before the guys came over but I was still one beer in and had some volume backed up.

“Not what I was hoping to do with my night but better that then getting an infection on my junk or something…” I sat back down.

We all knew each others’ ages, relatively at least, and knew that Jim was next. He scrunched his eyes, clearly not wanting to grab a slip but couldn’t really help himself. He pulled one out and yelled, “Fucking A!”

We were all silently looking at him as he read aloud, “WYR, I assume that means ‘would you rather,’” Shit, I thought. It was one of my cards. “Do a naked hula dance or eat a tub of mayonnaise.”

I think we all wanted to laugh but were all still intimidated by the night to come. I should make it clear that none of us had seen each other in any sort of undress. Matt and I went to the same gym but almost never were there at the same time and never in the locker room together.

“My answer would probably have been different, but I’m hoping the hypnosis was right and no one will remember this tomorrow… Fuck me. I’d rather do the hula fucking dance.”

Oh god! Jim was going to get naked? I honestly expected the mayonnaise, while gross, wasn’t that bad and I only had like a fourth of the container left in my fridge. It was a couple spoonfuls at best. Should I tell him?

The internal debate was immediately thrown away when he reached for the button on his jeans. He slid down his denim and then removed his shirt as well. Standing in front of me in just his boxers I was speechless. He really was bit everywhere. His gut was big and hairy, pecs were massive, shoulders, arms, legs, …bulge. I couldn’t tell too much with his semi-baggy boxers but a second later he shucked them to the ground as well.

Jim stood there covering himself with his hands with another heavy sigh. “Okay, here we go.” He raised both arms and started to do his, admittedly poor, attempt at a Hawaiian hula dance. I was curious why he didn’t keep one hand down to cover himself but perhaps it was this hypnosis shit or maybe he just didn’t think of it. Either way, I got to prove out my theory that he was indeed big everywhere.

Jim had a pretty big bush but even-so his soft cock was quite visible. I would guess 4ish inches soft and quite thick which sprung fantasies into my head about how big he would be hard. I imagined he was a grower and the impressive 4 soft inches would be a thick 8 when excited. I dreamed that I’d get the opportunity to see tonight.

He continued to sway his hips for a minute or so. His cock and hefty balls swinging back and forth as he did. I couldn’t turn away, for obvious reasons, but could tell the other guys were also watching intently. I’m positive they’re straight so I chalked it up again to the hypnosis power. Maybe we had to look? Maybe we had to do a lot of things the announcer didn’t make clear to us? The excitement was constantly rimmed with fear in my mind.

And like that, Jim declared he was finished, and turned around to dress. I got to see his ripe ass as well which was a wonderful, hairy treat.

“Nice moves, Jimbo,” John said with a smile.

“Haha, ass.” Jim said as he finished putting his shirt on. “I figure you guys won’t remember so why not? And I know Matty’s been wanting to see my big ol’ dick for a while now.”

“Shut up, Jim.” Matt wasn’t enthused. Maybe because it was his turn.

Without much ceremony or grandeur he reached in and grabbed a slip of paper and started to curse under his breath. “It’s one of my own damn submissions.”

John said, “Well isn’t that the best? I’d personally rather get all my own so no one else has to do what I wrote.”

“Yeah well John, I’m a fucking asshole who wanted you all to lose.”

It was true that Matt was the most competitive. Maybe it was a size thing, but he was always very competitive in all the games we played even if they were co-op.

“Would you rather suck everyone’s dick or send everyone at work a dick pic?”

“Oh…” John said.

“Yeah. Fuck me ‘oh’.” Matt wasn’t happy at all and I knew why. While our memories would hopefully be wiped clear from the night if he sent out a picture of his dick to everyone at work that would certainly be there tomorrow and would likely result in him getting fired or in the BEST case he’d get a huge warning and everyone would have a picture of his dick.

“At least you won’t remember?” Jim tried to cheer him up.

“Hard to find the silver lining in that with three dicks in my mouth, you dick.”

“Hey, you wrote it you dingus. Don’t get angry at us.”

“Fuuuuuuuck.” I could tell he wasn’t happy and was fighting it but whatever power this game had over us couldn’t be stopped and would push you towards the choice. “Get your fucking dick out, Jim.”

“Me first? Why?”

“Because you’re right next to me and I don’t fucking know or care. I just want to get this out of the way.”

Jim didn’t really protest further since it would be each of us one way or another. He unzipped his pants and lifted his butt off his chair to pull them and his underwear down a bit under his balls. He was still soft but did look a bit bigger than a minute ago.

“What if I can’t get hard?” he asked.

I answered, for some reason, “Something tells me the hypnosis will ensure we all cooperate.”

Matt got down off his chair and moved between Jim’s legs. His head actually blocked my view which frustrated me. I wanted to move around to watch but since John wasn’t moving I figured the urge was my own gay ones vs. the game. And if he was staying put I should too.

“Fuck me,” was the last thing Matt said before leaning in and taking Jim into his mouth. Jim let a little ‘ohh’ out immediately but then just leaned his head back. The sounds of a sloppy blowjob were obvious but at least Matt was using a lot of saliva. I really wish I could have watched the action. By Matt’s head bobs I’d assume he was only going down maybe 3-4 inches but was that because it was all he could take or because that’s all there was? Was Jim even hard yet?

Two minutes went by with just the sound of a wet blowjob and occasional moans from Jim. I was painfully hard and afraid that would be too ‘gay’ once it became my turn. Suddenly Jim shot his head back forward and looked down at Matt.

“Matt, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum.”

Matt didn’t stop. I’m positive it was the hypnosis because there’s no way he would swallow but I guess the blow job was inferred to be ‘to completion’ mixed with ‘spitters are quitters.’

“Fuck.. ah fuck. FUUUCK!” Jim clearly shot into Matt’s mouth. Matt continued to bob during Jim’s sensitive eruption which lead to Jim’s body just convulsing. He didn’t push Matt off and instead rode with the waves of euphoria and climax.

It wasn’t until Jim’s convulsions stopped that Matt withdrew himself from Jim’s cock. “This is so fucking gross,” was all he said as he crawled under the table. That’s when I got to see Jim’s cock. Probably deflated a bit but still hard from the BJ he had just gotten, glistening with spit and remnants of his own semen. I was pretty spot on with my estimate. He was as thick as I expected and probably just shy of 8 inches now. His balls were pulled tight against his body still as he breathed heavily, eyes closed.

That’s when I noticed Matt’s hands on John’s leg. “Okay, dick hole, get your dick out.”

John obliged but stood up to undo his belt and jeans. He slid everything all the way down to his ankles and, most surprisingly, took off his shirt. “You don’t have to get naked, man!” Matt said.

“I know, but I like being naked when I get my dick sucked, you cocksucker.” He winked at Matt as he sat back down but I wasn’t really paying attention to their words. Sitting next to me, I could see all of John’s body for the first time in my life.

He was probably the most-fit out of all us. His body hair was limited but in all the right spots. Hairy pecs, a treasure trail that turned thicker as it roped down his torso, and a manicured bush highlighting a beautiful package. Nothing about John’s cock or balls was exceptional in dimension but man was it a good-looking dick. It was like what a well sculpted, realistic dildo would look like. I did notice that he shaved his balls though. John clearly took care of himself even now into his 40s, married, with 3 kids.

The other thing, of note, was that John was already rock hard. Perhaps it was the hypnosis or perhaps John was a bit more experimental than I thought. Either way, he was ready for Matt and Matt wasn’t enthused. I’m sure he wouldn’t be enthused either way though.

I won’t bore you with the struggles of a straight guy giving a blow job but in short, he couldn’t fit much in. The 3-4 inches was all Matt was capable of taking which is probably pretty good for a guy that’s never had a dick near his face, I assume.

While Matt sucked, John played with his own nipples. He moaned a lot more than Jim and even encouraged him by name. John wasn’t living in a fantasy, picturing his wife or something, he was living in the moment.

“Oh, fuck yeah Matt. Suck my cock. Mmmm, you’re so good at his man. That feels so good, Matt.”

I looked over to Jim quickly. He had put his cock away but his hand happened to be covering his clothed cock. Was he getting hard again? He was certainly watching the show.

The blowjob went on for probably three minutes before John placed a hand behind Matt’s head. “Here it comes, Matt. You’re gonna make me blow.”

In response Matt just greedily sucked, forced to give the best blowjob he could. John’s stomach tightened up and his balls retracted as he came. Based on his own convulsions I imagine he shot 5-6 ropes into Matt’s mouth. Unfortunately, since Matt doesn’t know how to deep throat he got to taste all of John’s spunk on his tongue before swallowing. Maybe I should teach him sometime, I joked to myself.

Then fear.

I just realized it meant it was about to be my turn and the embarrassment crept up on me. Sure, they hopefully wouldn’t remember any of this tomorrow but how could I not still feel ashamed. I wasn’t some sort of exhibitionist.

When Matt finally let John’s cock out of his mouth John made no effort to redress. He just sat there, naked and still hard, looking over at me. “Your turn, buddy.”

Matt didn’t even have words at this point. He actually started to unbutton my jeans for me! They were still wet from my piss but cold and kind of gross to peel off. I decided, like John, to just remove them all-together with my underwear. I kept my shirt on but it felt much better to be without bottoms.

Matt looked at my dick, then up at me. My cock was pretty good. About 7 inches and average thickness? Maybe a hair thinner than average if I’m honest with myself but I like the shape. Straight as an arrow, unlike me.

While looking at me, Matt placed the head of my dick into his mouth. I was pleasantly surprised that Matt didn’t use any teeth. He still didn’t take much in but it really wasn’t a bad blowjob. Then again a warm mouth feels pretty good on your dick no matter what.

Perhaps due to the practice or maybe the hypnosis, Matt got a bit more into it. One hand rested on my thigh, massaging it lightly, while the other grasped me around my base. He started to jack me off a bit while he blew me. He probably just wanted me to finish quicker, actually.

Lucky for him, I did. Partly because it was a good blowjob but more-so fueled by the facts of what just transpired over the past 10 minutes I was ready to go. He maybe blew me for a minute before I shot. I’m not even going to feign embarrassment at that.

I may be relatively average on most things but I know that my dick is a bit above average length and I know I shoot well above-average. Typically I edge for a while before shooting which helps but even in my quick jack-off sessions I drench the toilet paper I use to clean up. Poor Matt had to swallow probably two tablespoons of my jiz and swallow he did. Even a bit leaked out of his mouth and when he unsheathed me from his lips he licked it up. Man was he committed.

I looked over at John after my climax and he was still naked, and still hard. Following his suit, I opted to stay naked mainly because the alternative was to put on wet, cold jeans. Instead I just scooted in further to the table to hide my own non-ceasing erection.

“So.. um,” John said.

“Please. I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to get this over with,” Matt said, back in his chair.

“I was just going to thank you, but fair enough. I guess it’s my turn then.”

John reached in and grabbed a slip. “Run to the end of the street naked or ask the neighbor for a cup of sugar in your underwear.” Another one of mine.

“Well,” John said, “that’s not so bad considering.”

“You’re damn right.” Matt added.

“I think I’d rather take my chances getting spotted running down the dark sidewalk then have to face your neighbors, Kyle. Especially since I don’t think my erection’s not going away anytime soon.”

John got up and walked over towards the front door, indeed being led by his cock right out in front of him. He had a dick like mine that pointed straight out. We all followed him to the door, me covering my own erection with my shirt, poorly. We knew he’d actually do it due to the hypnosis but general curiosity and rubbernecking meant we wanted to watch to see if he’d get spotted.

It was dark but my neighborhood has street lights so his pale body was still pretty visible. John made good time bounding down the 40 or so yards to the end of my block and back. I got to see his firm, squarish ass as he ran away and his bobbing dick and he ran back. I didn’t realize how hot it would be to see a guy naked out in public.

I couldn’t be sure no one saw him but at least no one came outside to yell at him. I had a breif thought of panic that if someone called the cops what would we do? Would we be able to stop the game to answer the door? What if we got arrested without finishing? Hopefully I wouldn’t find out.

When we were all seated I congratulated John on his ‘naked mile’ and he accepted the praise, laughing it off.

“I’m not sure why you’re so happy about all this,” Matt said, agitated.

“Well. I’m still pretty sure none of us will remember this so from my eyes nothing really matters. Plus I just got a great blowjob from this amazing cock sucker.”

Matt laughed a little, “Man, shut up.”

“Really Matt. I kind of wish you’d remember tonight. You’ve got a thing for sucking dicks.”

“You’re all gay!” Matt yelled. He couldn’t help but crack a smile though.

Jim added in, “alright, let’s please finish this. Kyle, your turn.”

“I know..”

I reached into the bowl and pulled out a slip. I saw the words before I read them out loud. I looked to Matt instantly remembering his last slip and he just grimaced. It was definitely his and was going to take tonight to a whole new level.

#hypnosis #straight #aware

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ashelbygirl · 4 years

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Dishonorable intentions. | Thomas Shelby x Reader Imagine.

Part II.

*Sidenotes: I was inspired and some anons asked me to do the second part of dishonorable intentions, soooo here it is! I’ve decided it’ll have more parts so hope you enjoy it.

*Resume: You and Tommy go on your first date.

Thomas lit another cigarette. Feeling the smoke in his lungs gave him a sense of calmness. A feeling he really needed in that exact moment. They were counted the times that Thomas Shelby had been nervous: when Hughes kidnapped Charlie, in the tunnels when he was in the war, in the birth of Charlie and Ruby and another time: when he saw YN for the very first time. YN in the war. YN as a nurse. He hit the cigarette again. Fuck. How long was she going to make him wait?

He wasn’t going to lie, he never thought a girl like YN would accept to go on a date with him. You could tell from miles away that they were completely different from the other.

First we have Thomas. The all mighty, Thomas Shelby. The son of an Irish immigrant man and a Romani gipsy woman, born and raced in Small Heath, Birmingham, England. He was in his late 30s about to jump to the 40s. A charmer by nature and way to intelligent for his time. A man who grew up without shoes to wear or food to eat, a man who growing up only had bread and lard when he dreamt and hoped that maybe one day, he’ll be able to do and have whatever he wanted. He worked hard until he created his own empire, but Tommy knew that no amount of money allows you to pass through the steel sheets that separates one class from another. He knew it cause he had lived it. But even when he born with nothing, he became one of the most powerful men in all Europe. He was brilliant, aggressive but rational, he knew what he wanted and he didn’t ask permission, he does what he wants and takes what he needs. A genius, a womanizer, millionaire, CEO of multiples business, philanthropist, and yet, he didn’t felt worthy of dating someone like YN. He dated Greta, Grace, May, Lizzie, Tatiana, Jessie, and many more, but he never felt unworthy to have them, to be with them. Only with YN.

And then we have YN. YN Casiraghi was born and raised in London. A 22 year old Heiress of one of the most influential and wealthiest families in Europe. YN was passionate about everything that could make her feel free and liberated. She loved to travel, to read, to study, to work, to learn. Her dream was to become an independent woman who didn’t have to depend of a man. YN was a free spirit. Determinate and stubborn, yet free and playful, flirty and seductive, intelligent and fearless. Growing up YN had everything she wanted or needed, she grew up being spoiled but never being a brat or a mean girl. She was a good girl and everyone wanted to be her or be with her. YN was special. Everyone loved YN, not just because she was beautiful and smart, a popular socialite who knew everyone and ruled every place she went to. They loved her because she was sweet, because she always tried to help, because she wasn’t selfish or shallow, because she cared.

YN Casiraghi and Thomas Shelby. When black meets white. When yin meets yan. When two worlds collide.

YN closed the door behind her, and with a smile she started to walk towards Tommy. . Thomas glanced toward the entrance of her house...and his mouth dries. She’s standing on the entrance, and for a second he doesn’t realize it’s her. She looked exquisite: her hair falls in soft waves to her breast on one side, and on the other it’s pinned back so it’s easier to see her delicate jawline and the gentle curve of her slender neck. She’s wearing high heels and a tight light blue dress that accentuates her alluring figure. Wow. Her lips in her classical red lipstick. A red that could drive any man crazy, including Thomas Shelby. The closer she was to him, the more his heart skipped a beat.

-Hi.-YN chuckled. Damn. Thomas Shelby looked way more handsome than he had years before when she last saw him.

-Hello love.-Tommy spoke after extinguish the fire of his cigar by throwing it away.-So, are you ready sweetheart?-He extended his hand so she could take it and help her get to the car.

-I’m YN, not your love and surely not your sweetheart, love.-The girl smiled one last time before she started walking to the Bentley parked in front of her house. She didn’t even waited for Thomas to open the door for her. She opened herself and got in the car. Thomas didn’t took long to follow. He started the car and away they go.

The ride was pretty fast before they arrived to the Hotel Café Royal, a place that both of them knew very well. It was an hotel where everyone who was a somebody hanged out.

Winston Churchill, Zelda and F. Scott Fitzgerald, Einstein, Henry Ford, George Washington, Charles Chaplin, Ernest Hemingway, Coco Chanel, you name it.

When YN got off the car, she couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes. It wasn’t funny anymore, almost every guy she went out on a date with, thought it was a great idea to have a first date in that same place. Every fucking time. When Tommy got to her side he put his hand in her waist, pushing a bit so she could start walking into the hotel. And YN could’ve sworn that electricity ran through her whole body. It wasn’t normal how nervous he could make her with a simple gesture.

-Cmon lov... YN.-Tommy killed a smile that was starting to appear on his face. She was something else. She reminded him of Dangerous, one of his most loving horses, she wasn’t scared to take what she wanted, she wasn’t afraid to do whatever that would please her, cause if freedom could be a person, it would be YN.

The both entered to the Oscar Wilde salon, filled with aristocrats and important people who tried to impress each other. The hostess and a waiter took YN and Thomas to their table, the best table in the whole place. A table with a view. YN was a sucker for a killer view, but at the end of the day, it was a view she knew way to well.

-Here you go Mr. Shelby and Mrs. Casiraghi. So, can I bring you something to drink?-The young man asked with a smile, you could tell the poor thing was really nervous. He has to serve two of the most important clients of the Hotel.

-I’ll have a glass of Sancerre.-The girl spoke with confidence, after turning his gaze to the blue eyed.

-I’ll have a whiskey. Irish.-The kid left as quickly as possible, trying to bring their drinks asap. Thomas got closer to her. -You look stunning.- He said in a whisper, and kissed her cheek. Closing his eyes, Him savoring her scent; she smelled heavenly. It didn’t took long before YN started to blush, she was very used to men giving her compliments of all kind, but there was something in the way Thomas did it that drove her crazy.

-You look pretty good too, I’m glad to see you in one piece, I’ll admit that the last time I saw you, I didn’t though you’ll make it.-She spoke with clarity, something that Tommy was starting to appreciate. Tommy chuckled, even when he was pretty used to having a poker face and nothing and no one surprised him, she did. She was something different. -So how did you found me? And what took you so long?

A smile appeared on Tommy and a minute later, the drinks were in their hands.

-Well, well, you play no games, don’t you?... When I finally went back to Birmingham, where I’m from, I wasn’t the man you met. Everything changed in me. I became a different man, all my believes, my ideas, my feelings and emotions died in France, stayed in France. But, when I came back I started looking for you and to be honest, it wasn’t hard, you’re kind of a celebrity. I know that princes, dukes, ministers, rich gals, and almost every man with eyes would kill to be by your side. I know you’re well educated, you’re probably the only woman I know that went to college. I know who you are. So now tell me, would you even say hello to the man I was before I became who I am now? No YN, you wouldn’t. Cause at the end of the day I’m not a man who could’ve dated you, cause I didn’t had anything to offer you. So how was I supposed to chase a woman like you? Let’s be honest love, you’re out of my league. -Thomas sipped from his whisky, his eyes never leaving hers.- I started my company, doing bets, protecting people, doing business and everything else for two reasons, the first one is cause I always wanted to give my family everything they deserved and the second, cause I want to get myself anything I want, anything I desire, and guess what? I desire you, YN. I want you. I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you in France.- She didn’t say a word. To be honest, she was pretty amused.

The dinner went by fast. Not much talk between them but also, they couldn’t keep their gaze to themselves. They ate and have one or two laughs. Everything was going okay. It was average. But YN always wanted more than average.

-So now that you’ve tried to impress me and clearly failed, why don’t you take me to somewhere that I can actually have fun. Somewhere you actually enjoy, somewhere we can be ourselves and stop pretending. Show me where would Thomas Shelby take a girl to have a little fun?

-You won’t like it. I’m not sure you’ll like my world.

-Hmm... I’m feeling adventurous.- a smile appeared on her face, she was challenging him.

-Okay... cmon...-He stood up after leaving some cash on the table, giving the young waiter, the tip of his life. And for the first time on the whole night YN took his hand. They drove away and YN could see how the streets of London changed from the safest and prettiest ones to the dangerous and poorest. She loved to be out of her comfort zone. Thomas parked his car and she could notice a few blocks away from they parked, lights that attracted everyone.

-A pub? You brought me to a freakin pub?

-Oi! This isn’t like a pub you’ve probably been to. This is not the type of gals you interact with. This are working men, men who fought in France, men who don’t care about money or your last name... trust me, you’ll have a blast. I promise.

-And if I don’t?-She asked challenging him again. She loved to play.

-If you don’t have fun, you’ll decide where we go the next time... but if you do have fun, I’ll kiss you.

-Who says there’s going to be a second date?

-Its a feeling love... now let’s go.

Thomas couldn’t take his eyes away from her while she walked. He had been waiting for this moment all day and looked thru out the day, repeatedly at his watch. This feels like a first date, and in a way it is, but Tommy didn’t do first dates, not until her. He had never taken a prospect girl out to dinner. He had sat through interminable meetings that day, bought a business, and fired three people. Nothing He had done today, including almost killing a man, dispelled the anxiety Tommy had wrestled with all day. That power is in the hands of YN. YN made him anxious, he hadn’t even taste her but he was already addicted.

As they entered the pub fulled with men who feared, loved and respected Thomas, everything got quiet. Not a soul would dare to speak.

-Fellas. Is this a funeral or why the scary faces? Cmon! Drinks are on me today! You deserve it! -

Every man in the room cheered, but Thomas only noticed the admiring glances from those same men, and in the case of one handsome, athletic guy, overt appreciation of his date. It’s not something Tommy have dealt with before...and to be honest, he didn’t liked it. It seemed that that night, all the men only had eyes for Miss YN. They walked while Thomas gave them a withering look that send them in retreat from the room. Taking her hand, he lead her to the bar.

-Mr. Shelby! So nice to see ya again-An old man smiled to the couple.

-What would you like to drink?- Tommy is rewarded with a knowing smile as she sits down.

-I’ll have whatever you’ll have, please.

-Two whiskeys, Irish, Tom.- Tommy said to the bartender before they slide into a booth. Thomas sitting right next to her.

-So... you’re quite de celebrity aren’t you?-She smiles to him while making fun on him. YN actually was surprised of all the love Thomas Shelby received and yet, he didn’t seem to care.

They drank the whole night, she sang to him, and he danced with her. They talked, for hours. They went to the roof of the pub and watch some fireworks. YN talked about college, about art, about her favorite books, about her fears, she even talked about Alex. Tommy talked about his family, about the company, about Ruby and Charlie, he talked about his childhood, about the games he played with his brothers, about the war. It was so easy to talk to each other. It felt like they’ve always known each other. YN was everything Tommy always wanted, she wasn’t afraid of thinking for herself, she was smart and she was passionate about almost everything that intrigued her. She was fearless and a little bit reckless, yet caring and loving. And she laughed, she laughed about everything and it was really easy for her to make new friends. She loved to party and to have fun. She wasn’t scared to be herself in a world that tells you who you are supposed to be. Fuck. Thomas really liked her. And Tommy was everything YN always craved. A rational man who didn’t fear his instincts. A man who cared about his family and everyone he loved. He was powerful and a control freak, but with her he let go. He was free and wasn’t scared of anything. He does what he wants and takes what he wants. He has ambitions and damn he’s intelligent. Oh and he’s gorgeous.

They laughed and talked for hours and hours, until it was early in the morning. 5 am marked the clock, but they wanted so much of each other that time didn’t seem to care. But they had stuff to do, even if the dreamt of staying in that little booth their whole lives, real life was starting out there.

-Let’s go YN, I’ll take you home.-He took her hand and they started to walk in the still dark sky, out of the pub they acted as if they still were in their bubble.

-I don’t want this to end...-She spoke while walking before she stopped to look at Tommy.-I feel so liberated when I’m with you.

-Well did you have fun?-Thomas asked the girl while he cornered her to a wall. Her back hitting lightly the wall. Him getting closer to her. Bodies brushing into one and other.

-Are you kidding me? This is the most fun I’ve had in a long time...-She smiled to him and Tommy could’ve sworn he could feel his heart race.

-Good. That’s good. Cause know I’m going to be able to do something I’ve been wanted to do since the first time I saw you in France.-And with that being said, Thomas kissed the red lips of the girl who had been teasing him all night. And god she felt so good. She was a goddess, of that Tommy was sure. And she tasted so heavenly.

-You’re going to be the death of me love...-Thomas said in a whisper before driving YN to her house and ending their beautiful night.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagines #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagines #thomas shelby fan fiction #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby fanfiction #arthur shelby #john shelby #michael gray #finn shelby #dishonorable intentions

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wolfhuntsmoon · 5 years

Text

Sarah Rogers and how Steve inherited ‘stubborn little shit’ from the womb

Okay, so I was noodling on Sarah after reading her Marvel wiki and some extraordinarily good posts about how EG Steve should have gone back to see his mum instead of Peggy etc and the timings of Steve’s early story struck me as... interesting.

Steve is born on 4th July 1918, before the end of WWI, meaning he would have been conceived in September or October of 1917 - that is, if he was born on time or only a few weeks premature. Which, given the tech and prognosis for preemies in the early 20th century, must have been the case because things were grim enough even if you weren’t born prematurely, for both baby and mother. If you were giving birth, you had a 6% chance of dying in Ireland in this period - roughly comparable with the rest of Europe but shockingly high by our standards. The odds were better if you were rich, but not by that much. Childbirth remained the leading cause of death for women worldwide until the late 1940s, remember. And kids fared no better. One in five children born in Dublin in this period died before their 5th birthday. Again, the figures would be better or worse depending on how well off you were, but even the richest still suffered appalling infant mortality rates.

Anyway, depressing history of women’s health aside, this means that Joseph Rogers, American solider, and her, must have been doing the do about then, and probably seeing each other on the regular before that, because believe you me, casual sex in the early 20th century was a big no no. Not to say it didn’t happen, but usually only via prostitution ESPECIALLY in Ireland, because the Catholic Church ruled supreme there even more than the British did and contact between the sexes was very restricted and frowned upon. Sex ed was nonexistent, and women knew that even a whiff of scandal about them was enough to ruin them, their entire family, and the rest of their life. It’s a hackneyed joke because it’s true: Ireland is small and everyone knows everyone. You would get found out and then suffer the consequences - sent to a mother and baby home if you were lucky, and those places were worse than prisons sometimes. That cultural context would carry over even if Sarah wasn’t actually in Ireland at the time.

So, likely they were married by then, because again: social ruin. The Marvel wiki says they were married, but not when. (I know nothing about the comics, I’m sorry) Soldiers and their sweethearts often married very quickly, and there are actually quite a few accounts of nurses falling in love and marrying the soldiers they tended. (More on this later) However, if she was widowed and could have the child respectably, why not return to Ireland? With, presumably, a support network that makes emigrating to America a worse, not better, prospect? This is the crux of my theory: Sarah Rogers was seen as an unmarried mother, and treated as such, because she married Joseph abroad, probably without permission, and when he died, had no social proof of the marriage. And in those days, unmarried mothers either: aborted in secret, had the baby concealed by the church where they were then taken and given up for adoption, or were cast out with nothing and ostracised if they decided to keep the baby. Sarah ending up in America strikes me as her taking the third option, and indeed the only option she could, to keep her baby.

But first: Joseph and Sarah need to meet in order to get down and dirty. How? He’s an American soldier who would never have set foot in Ireland in WWI - the British government kept their troops there, obviously, but the Americans were all put straight onto the continent or mainland Britain once they crossed the Atlantic from 1917 onwards (remember the US only joined in WWI in April 1917). In fact, the US wasn’t able to send significant numbers of troops to Europe until the following spring of 1918, because their army was so small and outmoded for trench warfare they basically had to send a lot of stuff over until they had enough trained bodies, which took about a year to organise. Based on this, if Joseph and Sarah were making baby Steve in September 1917, Joseph must have been in the regular US army before it entered the war, and likely in for quite a long time and experienced, to be sent over so soon. That experience would have been invaluable, meaning he never would have been assigned to stay in Ireland even if the US did send troops there. He would have been deployed straight onto the battlefield.

In which case, if Joseph never sets foot in Ireland, then how does he meet Sarah? Well, we’re told she’s a qualified nurse, and that was a solidly middle class job back then. You needed to have a good education, beyond primary level (which was all that was free for kids back then - you had to pay for secondary or tertiary level) and speak English well. In addition to that, your training to be a nurse took three years, and you weren’t paid or funded at all for those. So I don’t buy the theories that she emigrated to America only speaking Irish and totally penniless. Sarah most likely came from quite a well off family to become a nurse, although it’s not impossible she rose from much humbler circumstances as there were a number of scholarships and the like for the deserving poor set up by rich upper class ladies bored out of their minds drinking endless teas in salons who liked to do things like Help the Poor but only if they’re Pure and Mannerly. Qualified nurses were paid about £40/year in WWI by the British government, when your average domestic maid would have been earning about £20/year - quite a big difference.

Either way, Sarah, as a nurse, was exactly the kind of woman the British government was desperate to recruit by 1915-1916 when the true scale of modern attritional warfare became clear, and no longer pussyfooted around keeping women and their delicate sensibilities away from the battlefield. The Battle of the Somme between July-Nov 1916, for example, claimed the lives of over 20,000 British soldiers ON THE FIRST DAY. The British alone sustained over a million casualties (dead, missing or wounded) across the whole battle. They couldn’t afford to stay prudish. There were just too many casualties to deal with. They even opened up medical degrees to women without restrictions because they were so desperate! Which was a big part of the reason why Britiain introduced conscription for the first time in 1916, including in Ireland (which led to the Easter Rising and Irish War of Independence, hoo boy was that a mistake). Droves and droves of young women were recruited to fill all sorts of jobs while the men were away, but a large number also went overseas to the battlefields of Belgium and France. Sarah must have been one of them. If she was qualified beforehand, she would most likely have been sent to work in a field hospital abroad, because the voluntary members were mostly kept working as assistants on the British mainland. Lots of women joined these Voluntary Aid Detachments (VADs) at the start of the war to nurse wounded soldiers, but the military hated the idea of using them until they couldn’t cope in 1915. Even then, volunteers were only used for the more menial tasks. Professionals like Sarah were what was needed the most.

Now, I’ve said that she likely came from a middle class family, so money probably wasn’t a worry until after she got to America, later on. Why go, given the pay wasn’t significantly more than you’d earn as a nurse at home? Well, the rigid social hierarchy of the time broke down in some pretty major ways out there, and it was likely the only chance an unmarried woman would ever get to travel that wouldn’t immediately ruin her reputation. And if you accept more the idea she became a nurse via scholarship and was poor, the increase in pay working abroad would have been sorely appreciated. And we can also consider patriotism might play a role - not all Irish were rabidly anti-British before 1916. Indeed, many ordinary and middle class Irish only became ardently nationalist in the wake of the brutal repression following the 1916 Easter Rising. And more than that, many Irish, even if they disliked the British, disliked the idea of the Germans and Austrians-Hungarians winning the war even more. Personally, I think Sarah was an adventurer who seized her chance to escape the restrictive social confines of Ireland and didn’t once look back, even if her family disapproved.

I couldn’t find a birthdate for Sarah, or a maiden name to tell me where she might have hailed from (thanks, Marvel. Not.) But let’s say she was part of that first initial wave of volunteers who signed up in 1914 - because it was HUGE. It’s really difficult for us, so jaded now, to get into the mindset of people then, but they did sign up in huge numbers. Partly due to patriotism, partly because they thought the war would be over by Christmas, partly fear of being shamed for not ‘doing their bit’ - there were lots of reasons. But it’s very telling that the British government didn’t feel the need to introduce conscription for men until two years after the war broke out, and they never introduced a civilian equivalent. So Sarah would have been very familiar with the horrors of the battlefield and the war by the time fresh faced Joseph Rogers arrives on the scene in 1917.

How did they meet? Sarah would have most likely been working in a field hospital, overseeing a team of volunteers. Field hospitals were behind the front lines, but only by a few miles, and nurses were killed by enemy shelling and gas attacks. They were the first real point of medical care most soldiers would encounter after having bandages slapped on them at a dressing station in the trenches, before being carted off to the field hospital (if they survived the journey) by stretcher bearers, horses, or increasingly as the war continued, motorised ambulances. So Sarah and her ilk were lasses made of steel, honest to god. They were in the thick of the worst of it, men screaming and dying, and often afraid for their lives while they tried to care for them. A lot of those nurses developed PTSD (then called shell-shock) as a result. Jospeh is most likely to have met her if he was a wounded patient of hers brought in from the battlefield. But only lightly wounded - if he had been badly wounded he would have been shipped straight back to mainland Britain to convalesce as soon as he was stabilised, thwarting any budding romance.

We’re also told that Jospeh dies in a mustard gas attack. So this hospital trip must have been for something different - a broken bone perhaps, or a minor shrapnel wound that would see him off duty for a while but still stationed in the area and therefore able to court Sarah. Young people (Sarah must have been less than 28 because that was the cut off age for nurses to be recruited in 1915-1916) being young people, I imagine they fell in love, fell in to bed, and biology did its magic. The timescale on this is open to interpretation, because the ABSOLUTE earliest they could have met is May 1917 (travel time by ship from America to Europe took weeks during the war), and Steve must have been conceived by October, latest. Which is a pretty whirlwind romance, but not unusual for the time. The Germans first used mustard gas from July of 1917, but Joseph must survive up until September/October.

So, that cause of death as mustard gas? This is strange given how mustard gas was well known at the time to be the ‘best’ gas to have inflicted on you. It produced horrific blisters and burns, particularly on the inside of your throat and airways, but rarely killed. Chlorine and phosgene were MUCH deadlier. So Marvel saying this is more poor research, but let’s go with it - gas affecting you would make it that much more likely you’d be caught by machine gun or shellfire or any of the other myriad ways to die on a WWI battlefield. Here’s where things start to align quite nicely (well, badly for Sarah, but good for fic writers) as mustard gas was deployed by the Germans on a large scale between October 9th-12th to defend the Passchadaele Ridge from a joint British and French assault on the German defences. This was part of the second biggest battle of WWI, the Battle of Passchendaele, notorious for the seas of mud men had to slog through up to their waists, and one of the battles which, like the Somme, gave WWI generals such bad reputations. In three months the British lost 350,000 men and advanced just a few kilometres. They abandoned the battle on November 10th.

So, Joseph Rogers? Must have died between October 9-12th, well before Sarah realised she was pregnant even if Steve was conceived at the start of September. Likely he was caught in a mustard attack, started choking because he couldn’t get his gas mask on/hadn’t got it fitted properly, and then was killed by gun or shellfire after his initial injury. Mustard gas took time to affect the skin and membranes of the body, so if he fell while the gas was still around, it would have looked much worse by the time his body was identified and retrieved from the battlefield. The date, however, means Joseph died never knowing he was going to be a father (sad!), and Sarah, newly widowed, likely didn’t see any reason not to continue working as a distraction until she encountered the first signs of preganancy. The stiff upper lip thing was a real coping mechanism back then. She would have been kicked out as soon as anyone could tell, or she told them and got kicked out, because that was legal and expected then. Pregnant women were fired for being pregnant in any job, and the idea of a pregnant woman working in a theatre of war, as you can imagine, would have outraged everyone.

So, Sarah gets kicked out, has no job. She’s widowed and pregnant. But, the marriage would probably have taken place without her family’s permission (letters were pretty slow and heavily censored on the front lines, the timeframe likely wouldn’t allow for anything except a note telling them she married) and although she would have had a marriage certificate, turning up at home without a husband but with a baby from a military camp? Would have been a deep, deep scandal at the time. Particularly if Sarah came from a middle class family who would have been extremely conscious of their social position and the danger she and her baby posed to it. Catholic mores plus unsanctioned marriage plus Irish social structures equals daughter returning in disgrace to besmirch the family name in a way that is literally unthinkable at the time. Family therefore issues an ultimatum - come back and get rid of the baby and the marriage cert so you can be respectable, or don’t come back at all. I really cannot stress this enough - families would, and did, prefer to say the woman had died and never have any contact with them again, rather than accept an unmarried mother back into their house.

Sarah, being Sarah though, grits her teeth, spits in God’s eye, and packs her bags for the first steamship to New York. She was a lot better equipped than most to make the journey, with some savings from her salary and a profession she could rely on once she arrived. But it was still a recklessly brave thing to do because at this point in time the ENTIRE Atlantic was infested with German U-Boats who were doing their level best to sink any Allied or Allied associated ship they could get in their periscope sights. And they were terrifyingly effective in 1917, although by the end of the year when Sarah would have beeen sailing, countermeasures like the convoy system had greatly reduced this. But still scary as fuck, because by that point the German U-Boats were even sinking hospital ships - until then left alone by both sides.

She probably arrived in the US in January or February of 1918 - it would have taken time to arrange her travel and the journey itself took 3-4 weeks. Little Steven G Rogers came into the world on July 4th, 1918, without a clue as to the sacrifices his mother made to keep him and bring him to America, or the heartache she endured in the previous years. And that, my fellow nerds, is why Sarah Rogers is AWESOME and a sorely underused character and development point for Steve in the MCU. Because to do what she did, and to make it through took more than guts, it took sheer bloody-minded spite and stubbornness, and hey - who does that remind us of? Steve doesn’t grow up and get angry and fighty - no, he’s got that shit in his GENES from Sarah from the beginning.

EDIT: Part 2 is up! Consisting of Sarah’s journey and entry to America, plus how Very Not Good it was to be Irish whilst trying to do so.

#Sarah Rogers #IS AWESOME I WILL HEAR NO DISSENT IN THE RANKS #no seriously #the facts bear it out #fandom meta #captain america #backstory #character development #mcu #she was criminally underused #because you KNOW steve and bucky WORSHIPPED her #steve rogers #bucky barnes #joseph rogers #wwi #ireland #emigration

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deniscollins · 3 years

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‘Is Exxon a Survivor?’ The Oil Giant Is at a Crossroads.

Exxon, for decades one of the most profitable and valuable American businesses, lost $2.4 billion in the first nine months of the year, and its share price is down about 35 percent this year. In August, Exxon was tossed out of the Dow Jones industrial average, replaced by Salesforce, a software company. If you were an Exxon executive, would you spend (1) more, (2) the same, or (3) less on oil exploration and production? Why? What are the ethics underlying your decision?

Over the last 135 years, Exxon Mobil has survived hostile governments, ill-fated investments and the catastrophic Exxon Valdez oil spill. Through it all, the oil company made bundles of money.

But suddenly Exxon is slipping badly, its long latent vulnerabilities exposed by the coronavirus pandemic and technological shifts that promise to transform the energy world because of growing concerns about climate change.

The company, for decades one of the most profitable and valuable American businesses, lost $2.4 billion in the first nine months of the year, and its share price is down about 35 percent this year. In August, Exxon was tossed out of the Dow Jones industrial average, replaced by Salesforce, a software company. The change symbolized the passing of the baton from Big Oil to an increasingly dominant technology industry.

“Is Exxon a survivor?” asked Jennifer Rowland, an energy analyst at Edward Jones. “Of course they are, with great global assets, great people, great technical know-how. But the question really is, can they thrive? There is a lot of skepticism about that right now.”

Exxon is under growing pressure from investors. D.E. Shaw, a longtime shareholder that recently increased its stake in Exxon, is demanding that the company cut costs and improve its environmental record, according to a person briefed on the matter. Another activist investor, Engine No. 1, is pushing for similar changes in an effort backed by the California State Teachers Retirement System and the Church of England. And on Wednesday, the New York State comptroller, Thomas P. DiNapoli, said the state’s $226 billion pension fund would sell shares in oil and gas companies that did not move fast enough to reduce emissions.

Of course, every oil company is struggling with the collapse in energy demand this year and as world leaders, including President-elect Joseph R. Biden Jr., pledge to address climate change. In addition, many utilities, automakers and other businesses have pledged to greatly reduce or eliminate the use of fossil fuels, the biggest source of greenhouse gas emissions, and have embraced wind and solar power and electric vehicles.

European companies like Royal Dutch Shell and BP have already begun to pivot away from fossil fuels. But Exxon, like most American oil companies, has doubled down on its commitment to oil and gas and is making relatively small investments in technologies that could help slow down climate change.

As recently as last month, Exxon reaffirmed it plans to increase fossil fuel production, though at a slower pace. The company is investing billions of dollars to produce oil and gas in the Permian Basin, which straddles Texas and New Mexico, and in offshore fields in Guyana, Brazil and Mozambique.

Exxon committed to its strategy even as it acknowledged that one of its previous big bets did not go well. Exxon said it would write down the value of its natural gas assets, most of which it bought around 2010, by up to $20 billion. The company is also laying off about 14,000 workers, or 15 percent of its total, over the next year or so as it seeks to cut costs and protect a dividend that it had increased every year for nearly four decades until this year.

But if this crisis is an existential threat, there has been no acknowledgment from Exxon’s executive suite, still known in the company as the “God Pod.”

“Despite the current volatility and near-term uncertainty, the long-term fundamentals that drive our business remain strong and unchanged,” Darren W. Woods, the company’s chairman and chief executive since 2017, said at a recent shareholders meeting.

Exxon is known in the oil world as an insular company with a rigid culture that slows adoptive, pivotal change. It has been that way since John D. Rockefeller founded the company in the late 19th century as Standard Oil, a monopoly later broken up by the government.

An accountant by training, Rockefeller instilled a deep commitment to number crunching that remains in the company’s DNA. Exxon is primarily run by engineers who generally work their way up to senior roles. Its executives project determination in their ability to navigate every imaginable hurdle like OPEC oil embargoes, war and sanctions. Such confidence is perhaps necessary to run a company that does business in dangerous or inhospitable places.

As a trained electrical engineer and 28-year company veteran, Mr. Woods speaks with the same cool self-assurance as his more famous predecessors. But he has kept a lower profile than Lee R. Raymond, who dismissed concerns about climate change in the 1990s and early 2000s, and Rex W. Tillerson, whose international wheeling and dealing between 2006 and 2016 helped him become President Trump’s first secretary of state.

While Mr. Raymond and Mr. Tillerson were dominant figures in the industry, they left Mr. Woods with many problems that were at least partly obscured by higher oil and gas prices.

Mr. Raymond’s public skepticism of climate change damaged the company’s reputation. Mr. Tillerson was slow to take advantage of shale drilling, which lifted the American oil industry. His foray into the former Soviet Union and Iraq proved to be expensive failures. When he bought XTO a decade ago for over $30 billion to acquire fracking expertise and prized natural gas fields, gas prices were at their peak. As the commodity price declined in the years since, the company lost money and wrote off much of the investment last month.

“Darren Woods has inherited a company that has made huge bets in recent years that were not successful,” said Fadel Gheit, a retired Wall Street analyst who was an engineer in research and development at Mobil before its merger with Exxon in 1999.

“Exxon Mobil is like a big cruise ship,” he added. “You can’t change course overnight. They can weather the storm but not go far. They will have to transform to stay relevant.”

Mr. Raymond declined to comment. Mr. Tillerson did not respond to a request for comment. Exxon responded to questions mainly by referring to previous public statements by Mr. Woods and the company.

Casey Norton, a company spokesman, said the acquisition of XTO had “brought people and technology in addition to potential resources” that helped the company be successful in shale fields in the Permian Basin.

In the first few years on the job, Mr. Woods followed the broad strategy set by Mr. Tillerson by borrowing and investing heavily to expand production. The pandemic forced Mr. Woods to change direction. The company now plans to spend one-third less on exploration and production through 2025 than it had originally planned.

Yet the changes Exxon is making, while big in absolute terms, seem like tinkering compared with what European oil companies are doing. BP has announced that it will increase investments in low-emission businesses tenfold over the next decade, to $5 billion a year, while shrinking oil and gas production by 40 percent. Royal Dutch Shell, Total of France and other European companies are making similar moves at varying speeds.

The only major American oil company that comes close to setting European-style targets is Occidental Petroleum. It recently pledged to reach net zero carbon emissions from its operations by 2040 and from the use of its fuel by 2050. It is building a plant in Texas to capture carbon dioxide from the air and use it to push crude oil out of the ground while leaving the greenhouse gas underground for perpetuity.

“We’ve moved from the shale era to the energy transition era, so there is a greater divergence of strategies among the companies, the widest it’s ever been in modern times,” said Daniel Yergin, an energy historian and the author of “The New Map: Energy, Climate, and the Clash of Nations.” “Now the big debate is will oil peak in the 2020s or the 2030s or the 2050s?”

Exxon executives have said they recognize an energy transition is underway and necessary. But they have also asserted that it wouldn’t make sense for the company to get into the solar or wind energy business. Instead, the company is investing in breakthrough technologies. One such project involves using algae to produce fuel for trucks and airplanes. Exxon has been talking about that project for years but has yet to begin commercial production.

Exxon refineries might also someday become major producers of hydrogen, which many experts believe could play an important role in reducing emissions. The company is betting on carbon capture and sequestration. One project involves directing carbon emitted from industrial operations into a fuel cell that can generate power, reducing emissions while producing more power.

“Breakthroughs in these areas are critical to reducing emissions and would make a meaningful contribution to achieving the goals of the Paris agreement, which we support,” Mr. Woods said in a message to employees in October, referring to the 2016 global climate accord.

Energy experts said it was possible that Exxon could come up with new uses for carbon dioxide like strengthening concrete or making carbon fiber, which could replace steel and other materials.

“If Exxon and other major oil industry players crack those nuts, the entire discussion about hydrocarbons changes,” said Kenneth B. Medlock III, a senior director at the Center for Energy Studies at Rice University. “That kind of change is slow until it’s not. Think about wind and solar, which were slow until they weren’t.”

A big increase in oil and gas prices could also allay some of the concerns about the company, at least temporarily. In recent weeks, as oil prices have climbed on optimism about a coronavirus vaccine, so has Exxon’s stock.

Vijay Swarup, Exxon’s vice president for research and development, said in a recent interview that the company understood it needed to lower emissions and was developing better fuels, lubricants and plastics.

“As we are developing that pathway to get there, we can’t stop providing affordable, scalable energy,” Mr. Swarup said.

But John Browne, a former BP chief executive, said it was not clear that Exxon and the other big American companies would transform their businesses adequately for a low-carbon future.

“They may decide just to carry on and harvest and say, ‘Let’s see what happens in the long run,’” he said. “That’s quite a risky strategy nowadays.”

#Exxon #Climate Change

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