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beautifulbows924 · 5 days

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Common Ground

Act One!Astarion x Gender Neutral!Reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 650+

A/N: This fic is sort of a combination of a few of the (comparatively) similar requests I received, along with one particular scene that’s been running wild and ping ponging around in my brain for far too long. I somehow convinced my partner (who could not care less about fanfiction, but adores me) to proofread this for me. So any complaints should definitely be addressed to them—as I was, unfortunately, far too sleep deprived to read over this anymore than I already have. As always, I hope you enjoy—feel free to leave any feedback you have in the comments, and happy reading! :)

Warnings: Angst, intentional allusions to past SA (the circumstances are left purposefully vague), concerning both Astarion and the Reader, writer will often suddenly break off into unexpected poetic tangents, a smidge of fluff—if you squint, & perhaps a bittersweet ending (depending on how you interpret it?)

“Darling”, Astarion carefully poses his words, “Are you certain that you’re quite alright?”

You’re terrified. He can see it. Your pulse is visibly thumping beneath your skin, and there’s a tremor to your hands he’s certain wasn’t there before.

But why now?

You’ve told him you trust him, demanded the others leave if they weren’t willing to accept the gift that is his company, and mere seconds ago offered yourself to him as a meal—to what you, with both intimate knowledge and first hand experience, know is a hungry vampire.

He would be questioning your sense of self preservation, or alternatively, your sanity. If he wasn’t awed by just how quickly you’ve managed to sway your companions' loyalty.

It takes a moment for you to notice he’s asked you a question. But once you have, you nod.

He sighs, clicking his tongue at you. That vacancy behind your eyes, it’s unnerving, too familiar. “Don’t lie, it doesn’t suit you. What is it?”

Your gaze shifts, opting to search for what must be a rather interesting spot somewhere behind him.

Two breaths in.

Two breaths out.

Astarion falters. That may have been harsh—if your continued silence is anything to go by. Perhaps, he should have left the lie to rest.

“Dearest”, he works to intentionally soften his tone, shoving past the honeyed lump that rises in his throat, thickly coated with syrup. This little manipulation won’t be ending in a hand naively held between his as he leads you down unassuming crypt steps.

He knows that.

“If you’ve suddenly changed your mind about”, he gestures vaguely between himself and your neck, “I’m sure I can make do with whatever animals find themselves unluckily situated in this part of the forest.”

Humble or selfless certainly isn’t his favorite role to play, but if he wants you to be his personal guard, it seems he may have to make an exception.

“No!” You blurt out, swallowing thickly at the raised brow he sends in your direction, mouth suddenly very dry, “I—It’s not that. I swear to you.”

He tuts, “Ah, but it is something. Hmm?”

You nod again, frustrated tears building in your eyes as each attempt at an explanation falls flat.

“No, it couldn’t—it”, Astarion makes a rather exaggerated motion with both of his hands, clutching his chest in theatrical shock, “Was it Gale?”

You huff, but it’s more exasperated than annoyed.

The left side of his lips lifts.

You drag your own roughly between your teeth.

“Earlier, you made a comment about being quiet, not wanting to disturb my rest”, unsteady hands bury themselves in the fabric of your pants, “Those words, the sudden realization that someone…anyone could have access to my body like that while I slept”, your head slumps forward, “The last time—I can’t.”

Two breaths in.

Two breaths out.

Astarion’s fingers slot into place beneath your chin, tilting it upwards to look at him.

And suddenly all you can see are the differences.

Everything he is appears less forced. No longer are you merely an audience and he an actor, but equals. Those that have found a common ground built upon the cruelty of others.

Far too accustomed to it.

There’s a raw familiarity held within your expression Astarion can’t quite discern.

Perhaps, in another life, someone cared for him. Once. To look at him with such fondness.

He wonders if he deserved it, then.

He allows the hold he has on you to become lighter and lighter, until his arm returns to hang at his side.

You hear a weary sigh, then, gently, “For what it’s worth, I’m truly sorry.”

A small smile flutters across your lips, light and without expectation. It’s a kindness he hasn’t yet learned how to navigate—and certainly has not earned, but he yearns for it all the same.

“Thank you, Astarion.”

BG3 Taglist: None yet!

#bg3 #Astarion x unnamed reader #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x durge #baldur's gate 3 #vampire spawn astarion #gender neutral reader #astarion x you #astarion angst #trigger warning: sa #fluff and angst #bg3 fanfiction

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vesuviannights · 4 years

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Lucio x Reader x Lucio 🍋🍋

Gender neutral, no pronouns.

You know exactly what this is.

Featuring: mmmmmmmmm. Spoilers for Lucio’s Book XI.

Dialogue and such from the game has been placed in the beginning to establish exactly where in the scene this is happening. If you haven’t read book XI of Lucio’s route yet, turn back around.

“You’ll never make it out of here alive, old man.”

Lucio whirls, a sword appearing in his hand once more.

“Who said that?” He growls. “Who’re you calling old?”

Mocking laughter fills the air, echoing off the walls. It sounds…horribly familiar.

“You’re worthless,” the faceless voice calls. “You can’t even find your way out.”

“Coward!” Lucio snaps. “Show yourself and say that to my face!”

“Prhahahaha! If you insist…it’s your funeral.”

A golden-haired man strides out of the darkness, brandishing a massive sword. He spits into the snow at Lucio’s feet.

“How pathetic,” the man sneers. “Just look at yourself.”

Lucio doesn’t answer, gaping at his younger doppelganger in disbelief.

You shift on your feet, feeling a little bolder than you should.

“Who the hell are you?” You ask.

The younger Lucio laughs and shakes his head, lazily gesturing with his sword.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He smirks. “I’m the better man. Just look at that washed-up has-been, following his betters around like a kicked dog…”

Your hands clench into fists.

“Shut up,” you spit. “You’re nothing but an imposter.”

If anything, the younger Lucio’s cruel smile growls even wider.

“Heh…” His gaze drags down your body, a new sort of twinkle in his eye. “Seems like there’s a little fight in you. I’d like to see what you’re made of…” His eyes flicker to Lucio. “After I dispose of this old man, of course.”

You feel Lucio tense beside you, prepared to do battle without question. Both versions of himself shift on their feet, and it’s mere second off being a potential bloodbath, when—

“Or…”

The younger Lucio has looked back to you, his eyes fixated in a strange way, one that makes you feel transparent, seen in all the ways that make your cheeks heat.

“Or?” You ask, voice barely above a murmur.

“Or perhaps there is a way everyone might win in this situation.”

The younger Lucio sheaths his sword and steps forward. Lucio acts on impulse, stepping into the path.

His younger self tuts at him.

“You haven’t tasted your magician yet, have you?” Lucio’s eyes go wide for a moment, and then narrow. His younger self grins victorious. “I didn’t think so. Not in the ways that matter.”

A gust of wind blows through the chasm, swirling fog around your feet and in the air between you. Your vision goes cloudy for a moment, and when it clears, it is just Lucio standing in front of you.

“So many interruptions…”

You startle at the sudden voice behind you, at the body pressed against your back. Your eyes flicker slowly up to Lucio as his younger self leans into your neck, pressing the tip of his nose there and dragging it up with a deep, almost feral breath.

“…and never a chance to really taste.”

You swallow thickly when his teeth graze your pulse; they’re sharper than his older self’s, and an almost perfect match to his wolfish grin.

Lucio seems to catch up to himself, gripping his sword tighter as he steps forward. “You step away from—”

A hand settles at your waist, a warm palm that makes you shiver with delight.

“Your magician is warm, old man,” the younger Lucio sighs into your shoulder. “And wonderful. Too wonderful for a coward like you.”

“Take that back!” Lucio growls.

“No, I don’t think I will.”

And then his lips are at your neck, soothing the little scratches his teeth have made along your pulse.

The world spins for a moment, and you’re sure that if he hadn’t had a hand at your waist to steady you, you would have fallen.

“Oh now,” the younger Lucio purrs into your neck. “Where’s that fight I saw not so long ago?”

You swallow, and rather than pushing him away like you should, you tilt your neck and open more of yourself up to him, pressing a hand to his against your waist.

And with your other, you offer it out to Lucio.

His eyes go wide, and for a moment he seems speechless. A first for him, most definitely.

His younger self hums happily at each of your reactions, and pauses in his kisses to address the Lucio before you.

“Let’s see who’s the better fuck, mmm?” The younger one purrs. “If you’re as practised as you claim, you should beat me easy. Or does certain equipment not work anymore, old man?”

“I’ll have you know everything works just fine!”

“Mmmhmm…”

Your world is starting to go a little foggy again, the younger Lucio’s hands and lips and teeth moving everywhere they can.

“Lucio…” You sigh softly.

Lucio’s eyes fly wide, and you can see little beads of sweat budding at his temples despite the brisk temperature.

“No,” he growls. “No! I—I won’t.”

The younger Lucio chuckles into your neck, and his hand slips into your undergarments.

“I shouldn’t have expected anything else from an old man.”

And then Lucio pounces.

Throwing his sword to the ground with a clang, he steps forward and pulls you from his younger self’s grasp.

Your lips smash together, teeth on teeth as he holds you to him with a hand on either side of your face.

You moan into the kiss, and when the familiar tang of blood rushes in your mouth, your knees threaten to collapse once more.

“Oh, love,” Lucio moans.

His hands are everywhere, greedy and impatient, and you know you should take the option to stop him, but you refuse to give up the first moment of peace you’ve had in so long.

As he shifts the material from your top half, you feel a new warmth press against your back as the younger Lucio presses himself to you.

In perfect sync, one moves to the left and the other to the right, each attacking a side of your neck with careful nips of their teeth and soothing sweeps of their hot little tongues.

“O-oh…” You sigh, the noise getting caught in your throat along with a low moan.

From behind you, Lucio’s younger self purrs and rolls his hips. You feel the hard heat of his cock even through your clothes, and within seconds you’re pressing back and keening, begging for more.

“Oh no no no—” Lucio tuts at you, and you lift your hazy gaze to spy a glint in his eye as he pulls back to stare you down. “Now, that won’t do, love.”

You feel the pressure of his hands at your hips, stopping your grinding movements as you shift back against his younger self’s cock. You have barely moaned out your protest when he pulls them forward and grinds his own length against your upper thigh, just short of where you want him.

“Lucio!”

“Yes?”

You hardly hear the echo of their voices, one taunting and one smug. Reaching back and forward, you burry a hand in the hair of each, gripping them hard and tugging them back to your neck.

The younger Lucio chuckles into your skin, already working on adding new little marks.

“So impatient,” he purrs. “Are we doing things to you?”

“Of course we are,” Lucio replies. “Have you seen us? We’re both delicious. But mainly me.”

His hands have shifted beneath your clothes, massaging your hips, inching closer to where his cock is pressed against you.

The younger Lucio grins against your shoulder. “Oh, but we both know who the better choice is, don’t we?”

Lucio hmphs. “Clearly experience is more important.”

“Not if you no longer have the stamina. What’s your record time, old man? Twenty seconds?”

The growl that flies from Lucio’s throat reverberates through your entire body, and before you realise what’s happening you are being walked backward and slammed into the rocky chasm wall, the younger Lucio groaning behind you from the force.

You moan impatiently, so sick of hearing them squabble. It never mattered to you who was better, you always knew your choice, you just need to get off, to satisfy the burn racing through your entire body.

“Please!” You whine.

Your hips jerk, simultaneously trying to grind back and press forward.

Each of them responds in sync, and you are sandwiched between them as each of their hard cocks press against all of your most sensitive places. The younger Lucio’s teeth have started marking the back of your neck, and the older Lucio has begun trailing his hot, open-mouthed kisses down your chest.

“Do you need something, love?” Lucio croons.

“You just need to ask, we’re very accommodating,” his younger self adds.

“I—I—”

You’ve never been so lost for words before, so completely taken by the heat of your body that true coherency was out of your reach.

And so you can only push at Lucio’s shoulder with your hand, urging him downward. His eyes become cast over by shadows, and a predatory grin twists his lips.

“Oh, I knew you liked me on my knees,” he smirks.

And then he drops.

They seem to work as though they were the same mind, and you know enough of the realms to understand that at least some part of them are the same mind.

On his knees before you, Lucio shifts aside your garments to access between your legs, and his younger self shifts and unbuttons his own pants to free his cock. You can already feel it grinding against the heat of your ass, seeking more friction to get himself off.

When Lucio’s mouth makes contact with you, your world goes black for a few moments before returning in blazing spots of white.

You gasp and throw your head back, and your neck is immediately set upon by the younger Lucio as his older self works you toward your orgasm.

You hiss your encouragement under your breath, a hand in Lucio’s hair to hold him close as you thrust and grind, and a hand in his younger self’s hair to guide him to your shoulder, where he suckles and moans.

Within moments, you feel yourself crashing, and you can hear each of them murmur their approval at the sounds you make, at the way your body twists and writhes against them.

And then your body sags, and suddenly it’s against the rocky wall and not against a hard body. His younger self has vanished, leaving just the two of you to burn out.

You watch through hooded eyes as Lucio, now the sole owner of his own face, rises to his feet. His gaze locks with yours, and he brushes the wetness at the corner of his mouth away with his thumb.

“Well?” He asks. “How did I do?”

You exhale in one long shaking breath.

You don’t think you can really put the ache in your body into words, the heat still flushing every inch of skin both versions of Lucio had been touching not even moments before.

His lips twist into a familiar, vaguely cocky grin.

“That good, huh?”

He kisses your jaw, and then your cheek, and then your nose, and then with a sigh he begins to help you redress and right yourself. You don’t feel at all presentable or strong in your knees, but you do notice that the set of stairs have appeared on the other wall of the chasm.

Lucio turns to follow your gaze, and then makes a curious noise.

“Huh,” he murmurs.

You shrug. “Maybe it wasn’t any specific kind of battle you had to defeat him in?”

He turns back to you, that wicked glint back in his eye.

“Be glad that my younger self was a selfish and clueless lover,” he tells you. “It’s one of the many things I’ve become better at.”

He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you in for one last kiss, then turns back to the stairs. A ray of sunlight catches on the two of you, as though guiding you toward the surface.

You tug on Lucio’s hand, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Come on,” you tell him, nodding toward the stairs. “Let’s go.”

🍑 Requesting | Masterlist | My Ao3

#the arcana #lucio #count lucio #lucio x reader #the arcana lucio #lemon #writing #gender neutral reader #gn reader #lucio x apprentice #lucio/reader #lucio/apprentice

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joie-university-rp · 4 years

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Dear VITYA CRISTO,

It is with great pleasure we invite you admission to Joie University! Welcome to the Thunderclap family!

Congratulations, KEN! Please be sure to check the New Members’ Checklist and send in your character’s account within 24 hours from now. We cannot wait to see all that you will bring to this roleplay! We love you already!

OOC INFORMATION:

Name/Alias; pronouns: Ken, he/him

Age, Timezone: 22, PST

Activity, short explanation: New job so activity will be lower but I’m still here!!

Ships: Vitya/Anyone (Sexually), Vitya/Men (Romantically)

Anti-Ships: None.

Triggers: None!

Preferred photo for Character’s ID : https://i.ytimg.com/vi/1mfjly7Dgd4/maxresdefault.jpg

Anything else: My feet hurt from this new job. Also, if there are any typos, I’m sorry, I wrote this tired.

IC INFORMATION:

Full Name: Vitya Alexsi Cristo

FC: Bill Skarsgard

Age/Year at University: 19, Freshman

Birth date: November 18th, 2000.

Hometown: Vladivostok, Russia.

Gender/Pronouns: Male, he/him.

Sexuality: Pansexual

Major(s): Creative Arts - Illustration

Minor(s): Gemology

Housing request: Beiste Dorms, Room 226

Extracurriculars: Freerunning/Parkour Club, Esports Club, Gymnastics

Greek Life Affiliation: None.

CHARACTER PROFILE (TW; Depression, suicidal tendencies, under age sex/drinking):

Vitya Cristo has always been the baby of his family. It was not due to his age, or order in the births of his siblings, but more his health. It was discovered in his infancy he was born with a congenital heart defect. His skin was pale, he would lose his breath while feeding, and his hands and feet would swell up. His father, being a rich man in the pharmaceutical industry, wanted to fix his boy, but the medical professionals said the case was not severe enough for infant surgery. In fact, he should live a relatively normal life. His father did not see it that way. While his siblings would wander their large, mansion-like house in Vladivostok, Vitya was ordered to stay indoors. He was not allowed to play sports if not escorted, and was even monitored by a personal nanny to most of his schooling. He was isolated, unable to be a regular child because of his helicopter-like father.

Vitya’s mother was the light of his life. The woman had a fire in her, one that was freer and looser than her husband. She loved the man, of course, but disagreed with how protective he was of their son. On nights where he was away, she would sneak Vitya into the fields and courtyards and let him run around and be free. One of Vitya’s most prized memories is running through their lawn with the fireflies. He loved these moments with his mother and he learned to never take the good things for granted.

When Vitya started to enter his teen years, his father would take him to work more and more. Some days, his father would show him the labs and workers that were developing medicines, pills, and more. His father was introducing him into the business, with the obvious intent to pass it on to him. It was a cushiony job, with minimal risk, and little to no physical activity and enough money to set him up for life. It was clear was his father was trying his best to keep his son sheltered as he entered those rebellious years. It was also during this time that Vitya started displaying depressive symptoms, including self-destructive tendencies like playing with lighters and razor knives. In a hope to loosen the leash, Vitya’s mother convinced her husband to send him to school instead of teaching him at home. He, woefully, agreed.

When Vitya was sent away to an all-boys boarding school, the hope was he would become a fine young man, ready to inherit the family riches and pharmaceutical business. At first, he lived every day as if his father was there, as if his nanny still tended to him. It all changed when one night, his dorm mate woke him up to sneak out for the night and meet several other boys at the river nearby. It was near mid-terms, and the boys needed a break. Little Vitya could barely contain himself when he saw all the contraband they brought along. Booze, weed, satellite internet for porn, and hours to get through it all. That night, he partied like an actual teen for the first time in his life. He had his first kiss that night, his first blowjob, and later, at around five in the morning, his first partner. He dove into the deep-end, his sheltered soul yearning for the release and freedom all this brought him. And he reveled in it.

Vitya lived a double life from then on. During his time at home, he was the model son. Well-behaved, well-spoken. But at school, away from prying eyes, he was an absolute devil. Hours of drunken parties, bad habits like casual sex and smoking being his two favorites, and sometimes, getting into physical fights when his anger got out of hand. Vitya and his growing band of misfits found a way to bypass the school’s firewall, getting access to explicit content without hindrance. Vitya’s grades started to slip, but he didn’t care. He kept them up enough so his father would be satisfied, but that did not mean he was studying more. There was many-a-teacher he had dirt on, blackmailing his way to reasonable grades. He became a terror on the innocent boarding school almost overnight.

With his time at the school coming to an end, Vitya knew one thing for certain; there was no way he was going to be some CEO ass, dominating over people he would never bother to learn the name of. He still played the model son, faking his way into his father’s good graces, but each sideways glance to his mother told her what he really wanted; to get out. So, she did the impossible. Under the sleeping eyes of his nanny and father, his mother woke him up and snuck him outside, just like when he was a child. This time, though, she handed him a packed bag, keys to one of the cars, and a plane ticket, telling him to go. She may love her life of luxury and easy living, but she knew this was not the place for her baby. She only asked that Vitya keep an eye on his health, and use those American doctors for all their worth.

Vitya left that night and never looked back. He started out in New York, wandering to all the sites. He went to Pittsburg, New Orleans, Austin, Los Angeles; he went everywhere, explored everything, and fucked anything that gave him ‘the look’. Vitya would even set up in some motels and just let anyone in, if they had cash in hand and a bottle of booze. He got into some hairier situations, too, when those very customers would catch him clearing out their wallet. He had been cut off from his father’s fortunes when he discovered his actions, so he needed to make money somehow!

It was sheer luck when he applied as a foreign student at Joie University. He really just needed a place to stay, running out of motels to sell his ‘services’ out of. He knew he’d have to get an actual job at some point, selecting an easy degree to go after. He did enjoy drawing while growing up, and left his lovely rock collection in Russia, so illustration and gemology seemed a perfect fit. If only he could kick the Russian accent, then maybe he could fit in a bit better.

STUDENT CENSUS SURVEY:

(Please answer the following questions IN CHARACTER. Responses can be as long or short as you see fit!)

What made you want to attend Joie University?

It is a secure campus with a good curriculum. The housing seems nice and the students friendly enough. I am looking for a place to plan roots, to get started in life, and I want it to be here. There are loads of opportunities here and I want to find them.

What are at least 3 positive or neutral and at least 3 negative traits that you believe you possess?

I’m intelligent. Beyond the classroom. I am good at reading people, what they want or need from me, which helps me understand my task. I know what I want, so I am very direct and leave little room for misinterpretation. I also have a morbid curiosity that can get me into trouble. All of these combined makes me somewhat abrasive, but that is their loss. And I am not very personable. I’ll do what needs to be done of me, but ask if I want to watch a rom-com with some popcorn, and I’m going to have to say no.

Which of your traits do you value most?

My directness. If I know what I want, and it isn’t what someone else wants, then I know I need to look elsewhere. I’m not going to waste time, which is better for both involved.

How can that trait benefit the University (or its student body) as a whole?

Being Russian, I’m a cultural novelty that many haven’t seen before. The fact you Americans have to wait to twenty one to drink was a major newsflash for me, so now I have to wait three more years when I already was drinking back home. The more I learn about America, the more others can learn about the motherland, beyond what some media figurehead tells us.

What do you hope to gain from your experience at JU?

The obvious answer to this is a degree, but anther answer is possible dual citizenship. I hope through this, I will be able to travel between Russia and America with more than just a student visa. I truly believe I can call America home, if given the chance.

What is a quote or song lyric that describes you?

“Do you realize I’m the man and I’m in my prime? And it’s my time, I swear to God I won’t waste no time. You ain’t worth a dime, no, you ain’t worth a dime. Still on my mind, you’re still on my mind.” – ‘Let Me Know (I Wonder Why Freestyle)’ by Juice Wrld

#Accepted

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greetingfromthedead · 6 years

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Bucky Barnes - Safe

Reader gender: Neutral

Warning!: I’m a DramaQueen, so don’t expect anything less from my oneshots!

Summary: No Infinity War spoilers, only Black Panther’s. You are the best neuroscientist around so naturally you will be assigned to fix Bucky, but after all hell breaks loose in Wakanda, you are confronted with a very hard decision that will have its consequences.

Author’s note: This is an entry for the wonderful @true-queen-of-mischief‘s writing challenge. Prompt: “I need you to focus”. I hope you enjoy! ^^

You sit by your workstation and tinker on the Kimoyo Beads. You work on the neuroscience part of the contraption and on improving the technology. You are the best in your field and you try your best to live up to your reputation. At first it wasn’t easy as an outsider, but they quickly learned your value and you became good friends with Shuri and T’Challa.

“Y/n?” you hear a familiar voice.

“T’Challa,” you say as you turn to face the man. You stand up and walk to him to wrap your arms around him.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” you say as you let go, “Your father was a great man and a wonderful king.”

“Thank you,” he smiles a sad smile, “But that’s not why I’m here. I have a new project for you.”

“A new project?” you ask him, curious, just as two men walk into the lab. You recognize them from the news. One of them is Steve Rogers, the other one is the Winter Soldier.

T’Challa fills you in on Bucky’s condition and what had happened.

“So you ask me to undo the brainwashing he has went through for decades?” you ask as you look at the broken man.

“Can you do it?” Steve asks.

“It may take me a little while to get to the bottom of it all, but I think I can fix him, yes,” you look at the blonde man, “Why don’t we start now.”

You call for some of the lab assistants to bring you the tech you need and you get to work. The others soon leave and you are left alone with the soldier.

“I don’t think you should be alone with me,” the man says quietly.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you say as you look at the scans from your machines, “You are quite yourself right now, besides, this lab is filled with all kinds of high tech toys I know how to use while you don’t. So if anyone is in danger, it is you.”

You smile at the man and throw around the holograms around the room.

“The damage is deep,” you say as you look at the brain scan, “It will take me a week or two for sure to figure out how to reverse it, but you will be back to your old self after some recovery, I promise that to you, Sargent Barnes. And I’m sure Shuri will be more than pleased to give you a new and improved arm too.”

“A few weeks?” the man seems a bit disappointed, but also terrified, “What if I lose myself again?”

You look at him, but you aren’t sure what to say to him.

“HYDRA kept me frozen when they didn’t need me. Is there anything you can do to keep me from losing control? I don’t want to hurt anyone,” he looks at you, “Please.”

“We do have the tech,” you hesitate, “I don’t think there is any need for that, but we could but you into hibernation. We have very advanced cryostasis chambers.”

“Do it,” he cuts you off.

“As you please,” you give in after a moment.

“Come out of your cave already!” you hear Shuri’s voice by the door.

Your chin is still resting on your hands as you watch the frozen man. You are in a small room down the hall of the lab. The cryostasis chamber is hooked to the wall with big cables and you could feel the cold air coming from it. You sit behind your table surrounded by holograms of his brain and formulas that could help you fix him.

“I’m sorry,” you say without looking, “I need to help him.”

“You need to help yourself, it has been a week,” she walk in, “T’Challa will come back today, please, come out of your hole.”

“I can help him. If anyone can it is me, but I have never seen anything like this. All these horrible things that he has been made to do. I want to help him, but I can’t figure it out.”

“All the horrible things...” she echoes you, “So it has nothing to do with his looks?”

You finally look at Shuri, a little bit surprised, but also embarrassed. She only laughs and walk out of the door again.

You gather yourself and scoff before turning your gaze back to the frozen man.ˇ

All hell has broken loose.

T’Challa is dead. The royal family is running. An outsider is sitting on the throne. You know that this is very bad. You try to look normal and not let anything on as you walk towards the lab. You know the views of this man, you know what he will do so you must do everything you can to stop him.

You slip into the building and sneak down the stairs, but you see the Dora Milaje guarding the entrance to the room with the weapons. Your plan was to destroy as much of them as possible, but you could never take on the women so you go back up. You almost run down another hall and finally you get to your lab’s door without being spotted. Silently you push it open. You sit behind your computer. If you can’t destroy the weapons that are already built, maybe you can stop them from creating more. You try to access the blueprints and all the data related to the inventions to delete them, but Shuri’s security is too good, you can’t do it from here and there is no way of getting into the lab. You download what you can and then look at the cryostasis chamber. They will kill him, you know that, but you can’t take the chamber with you, there is no way. You are about to leave out of the door as you turn around and run to the contraption. You push the revive button and hear the pressure change inside the chamber and the frost disappears. You know this is too fast and it is dangerous to wake him up like this, but the only other choice you have would be to leave him to die.

The glass moves away and the man almost falls onto you, but you catch him. You can hear him making incoherent noises and he opens his eyes. He can’t stand on his own so you have his arm around your neck and you try to support the heavy man. You throw a robe around him that you had with you and struggling under his weight you make your way out of the lab.

The more you tire the more he starts to wake up. He isn’t himself, still confused, disoriented and weak as you walk over the grassy field down the hill. You don’t like being this exposed, but this is the fastest and the safest way to cover. You hadn’t really thought ahead when you took the man. You don’t know where you could hide him or how you could possibly even manage to survive yourself.

After a couple of miles he starts to walk by himself and doesn’t need your support. The two of you slowly make your way through the forest into the mountains. He follows you, but still hasn’t said a word and you haven’t made conversation either. You try to see and hear everything to make sure your path is safe, but soon all noises are drowned out by the waterfalls as you walk behind the curtain they create.

You are so tired and when you find an opening in the wall you give into the temptation and walk in. It is a cave leading into the cliff and you follow it until the sound of the water fades a little. The cave is illuminated by cracks in the ceiling and you sit by the wall and rest you back against it. You are hungry and exhausted. You look at the man. He looks nervous and confused, he keeps looking over his shoulder back towards where you had come from.

“I’m sorry, we need to rest, I do,” you say, but his restlessness only grows.

“Sargent Barnes?” you say as you slowly get back up. He breathes heavily and his hand turns into a fist. You realize the effects of waking him up this quickly are catching up.

“Sargent Barnes,” you say in a more commanding manner, but you feel your guts in your throat. As you see his muscles move you know he doesn’t need his metal arm to squeeze the life out of you.

“Sargent... I need you to...” you say more carefully, but you are cut off by his wild growl as he comes towards you.

You back up, but you have nowhere to go as your back slams against the rocky wall.

“Sargent Barnes, please!” you almost squeal in fear of the man, but he doesn’t stop.

“James!” you try his first name, anything to jog his memory in the right direction.

The rage in his eyes dissipates for a moment, but you noticed it.

“James, please,” you remember another name you heard his friend use, “Bucky!”

The man stops. He still looks very dangerous and you feel the fine line between your life and your death. His eyes dash between you and the exit. You see him being confused and unsure.

“Bucky...” you almost whisper, “Bucky, I need you to focus.”

You dare to take a step away from the wall and towards him. He looks at you careful like a wild animal from behind his messy hair. You take it as confirmation that he is coming back through.

“Bucky, you are all right, you are fine, you are safe,” you take another step towards him and you could see him calming down, “Nothing and no one will hurt you. You are your own master. You are safe.”

You stand right in front of him. You see that his hand is still in a fist, but it doesn’t feel threatening anymore. You reach out and touch his white knuckles with your fingertips.

“You are safe,” you look at his face as you feel his fist opening, you move up his arm, “Everything will be all right.”

He is calm an you can feel him relax so you just put both of your arms around his neck and try to pull him closer. He collapses onto himself and you fall to the ground. As you kneel, you still hug him and you feel his face against your neck. His arm is around you and you feel him holding you close to him.

“Nothing can hurt you now,” you assure him.

“Shuri, you’ll do fine, you don’t need me here,” you say, “I thought you everything I know, but if you need me, I won’t be far.”

“I still can’t believe you are leaving me for that dude,” she says and looks at Bucky and you turn to look at him too.

“He needs to rest,” you smile a little to yourself, “As much as possible. He is finally his own man again, he’s free from the torment they caused him.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to take a vacation,” the girl protests.

“I will see you around, Shuri,” you smile at her and make an X with your arms on your chest and then turn around to walk towards Bucky who is wearing simple Wakandan robes.

He isn’t quite back to himself, there is a lot of work still to be done and a long recovery ahead, but he is free from his brainwashing and that is good enough for now. You take his hand and start walking towards the little village he had taken a liking to that you had found while on the run from the new monarch.

“Thank you,” you hear his voice, “For saving me.”

“My pleasure,” you laugh lightly and place a kiss on his cheek without stopping.

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youarenotthewalrus · 6 years

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Thoughts on that that “enforced monogamy” article (cn: NY Times paywall):

Mr. Peterson’s home is a carefully curated house of horror. He has filled it with a sprawl of art that covers the walls from floor to ceiling. Most of it is communist propaganda from the Soviet Union (execution scenes, soldiers looking noble) — a constant reminder, he says, of atrocities and oppression. He wants to feel their imprisonment, though he lives here on a quiet residential street in Toronto and is quite free.

“Marxism is resurgent,” Mr. Peterson says, looking ashen and stricken.

I say it seems unnecessarily stressful to live like this. He tells me life is stressful.

This is hilarious.

So he was radicalized, he says, because the “radical left” wants to eliminate hierarchies, which he says are the natural order of the world.

That seems like kind of a jump from “some of my patients had bad experiences with people going overboard on political correctness.” I’ve seen plenty of people burned out and disillusioned with tumblr sj, for example, and they’re still pretty strongly committed to things like racial and gender equality.

The left, he believes, refuses to admit that men might be in charge because they are better at it. “The people who hold that our culture is an oppressive patriarchy, they don’t want to admit that the current hierarchy might be predicated on competence,” he said.

Are there really people who think this guy isn’t a misogynist?

Mr. Peterson illustrates his arguments with copious references to ancient myths — bringing up stories of witches, biblical allegories and ancient traditions. I ask why these old stories should guide us today.

“It makes sense that a witch lives in a swamp. Yeah,” he says. “Why?”

It’s a hard one.

“Right. That’s right. You don’t know. It’s because those things hang together at a very deep level. Right. Yeah. And it makes sense that an old king lives in a desiccated tower.”

But witches don’t exist, and they don’t live in swamps, I say.

“Yeah, they do. They do exist. They just don’t exist the way you think they exist. They certainly exist. You may say well dragons don’t exist. It’s, like, yes they do — the category predator and the category dragon are the same category. It absolutely exists. It’s a superordinate category. It exists absolutely more than anything else. In fact, it really exists. What exists is not obvious. You say, ‘Well, there’s no such thing as witches.’ Yeah, I know what you mean, but that isn’t what you think when you go see a movie about them. You can’t help but fall into these categories. There’s no escape from them.”

Archetypes are objectively real and therefore we should live according to the Bible??? I hope he’s clearer in his lectures because when your ideas are this weird and dubious it is very important to make sure you’re being understood.

Violent attacks are what happens when men do not have partners, Mr. Peterson says, and society needs to work to make sure those men are married.

“He was angry at God because women were rejecting him,” Mr. Peterson says of the Toronto killer. “The cure for that is enforced monogamy. That’s actually why monogamy emerges.”

Mr. Peterson does not pause when he says this. Enforced monogamy is, to him, simply a rational solution. Otherwise women will all only go for the most high-status men, he explains, and that couldn’t make either gender happy in the end.

“Half the men fail,” he says, meaning that they don’t procreate. “And no one cares about the men who fail.”

The situation he is describing is that of a stereotypical polygamous society, where a bunch of rich dudes have lots of wives and consequently a bunch of poor dudes don’t have any, with the attendant social problems. Why he thinks this applies to Canada or anywhere else in the Western world, where monogamy is pretty well enforced outside of select subcultures and women often do not rely on the husband for financial support, is beyond my understanding.

I laugh, because it is absurd.

“You’re laughing about them,” he says, giving me a disappointed look. “That’s because you’re female.”

Perhaps a reporter of the more competent sex would have understood that we wouldn’t have mass shootings if the Chads didn’t steal all the gfs?

But aside from interventions that would redistribute sex, Mr. Peterson is staunchly against what he calls “equality of outcomes,” or efforts to equalize society. He usually calls them pathological or evil.

He agrees that this is inconsistent. But preventing hordes of single men from violence, he believes, is necessary for the stability of society. Enforced monogamy helps neutralize that.

I really don’t think he understands he doesn’t live in a polygamous country. I am very interested as to where he got the impression that he does.

In situations where there is too much mate choice, “a small percentage of the guys have hyper-access to women, and so they don’t form relationships with women,” he said. “And the women hate that.”

There is a lot wrong here. The idea that men want nothing from women except for sex, that women want nothing from men except long-term relationships, that there is a single, unified hierarchy of romantic/sexuality desirability... I really don’t understand how anyone can take this guy seriously.

(And then the rest of the article is about his fans, who either hate feminism or hate gay people or just enjoy the mixture of self-help and prejudice flattering.)

#uncharitable i know but his gender analysis is sexist nonsense and i'm not really inclined to take him seriously #walrus grumbles

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21stcenturymen · 6 years

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Women Do Not Want to Be Raped

RATING: Mature

I want to be clear about this week’s rating. The content I’m going to reference is the worst kind of hateful misinformation, and it’s not healthy for… really, anyone to be exposed to. That said, the post itself is only mildly “mature” in content. I want men in particular to read all the way to the end, but for anyone who’s been victimized by men who spew hateful, misogynist rhetoric, this post may not be for you.

I’m going to begin by discussing the man who essentially started the “Red Pill” movement. It would be easy to call folks like Robert Fisher “garbage” or “toxic” or any of those epithets for people we wish we could block from taking up space in our minds. But there’s so much more to this than the quality of person he is. Robert Fisher is a symptom, not a cause. His belief - that women want to be raped or that there’s some magic potion (e.g. the red pill) that would make everyone see that subservience to cis-men is the right and just state of being for humanity - didn’t begin with him. It began ages ago, and for who knows what reason.

Perhaps somewhere in prehistory a dude realized that men couldn’t give birth and insisted on holding women accountable for all of humanity’s flaws to make up for it. It’s likely this jealousy is part of why Abrahamic religions latch onto the Eve story: women suffer childbirth because Eve was foolish and took the apple from the serpent. But let’s be real, here. That’s bullshit. That story was passed down through oral tradition as an allegory for having faith in the design of a creator, and inked into permanence as Eve’s sin (as opposed to Adam’s) to ensure we blame women specifically instead of just the poor schmuck who happened to be tempted first. If it’s an allegory for lacking faith, it shouldn’t matter who sinned. But as it’s clearly a tool for creating subservience, the choice of Eve as the sinner is no mistake.*

Fast forward a few millennia, and we have Return of Kings, The Spearhead (thankfully, now defunct), A Voice For Men (‘cause we’re lacking, apparently), The Red Pill, and a host of other cellar-dwelling sites that cater to our basest fears of inadequacy. If we can’t succeed with women, it’s clearly their fault, and these sites will not only tell us why, but arm us with all the tools we need to win** every internet debate about gender rights. I’m going to tell you right now, they’re wrong.

Shocking, right? Yeah, this isn’t one of those “I see where they’re coming from, but…” types of situations. These guys are wrong. Their hypotheses are flawed, their arguments contradictory, and their evidence not only lacking, but completely fabricated. It requires an advanced course in cognitive dissonance to even comprehend how these guys hold the competing thoughts they do. While I wish to encourage debate, free thought, and compassionate discourse, I will hold no quarter for out-and-out lies, distortions, and self pitying slander of half the human race. The men who run these sites are sad, pathetic men. And here’s what they do.

Men like Paul Elam take their own failings, fears, and inadequacies, align them with those of other men, and package and sell a solution - of sorts. Elam coined his ex’s dislike of him “misandry” and packaged it as an explanation for any time a woman doesn’t do whatever the hell he wants. And that’s easy, right? We take our own failings and blame them on other people as a quick way to feel better about ourselves. But it’s not a permanent one.

As a metaphor: When you want to build a house on an already-developed plot, you don’t just start building on the ruins of the previous structure, do you? Of course not. That’d be a surefire way to collapse your new structure. Elam, Fisher, and the soon-to-be-discussed Roy Den Hollander would tell you otherwise, though. You just blame your neighbors for not care-taking land they didn’t own, build on top of the ruins, and keep piling on junk until there’s the appearance of something stable. This is true both of their paper-thin arguments and their personal lives.

Admitting you’re wrong and seeking to change is the moment when you clear off the junk and fix the foundation. It sucks. Personal growth is hard and sad and disappointing at times, but the long-term result is much more structurally sound. These men sell ideas and prop up their personal lives with garbage, and it shows.

Roy Den Hollander has filed federal lawsuits over such things as NYC “Ladies Nights” and forcing women to register for the draft. He continually has his suits thrown out due to a complete lack of legal footing, and the fact the courts consistently determine he’s basing the suits on his own personal preferences. Elam started A Voice For Men as a way to pile vitriol on top of his own failings, and Fisher started the Red Pill as a way to push his completely fictional agenda for subjugating women.

They preach hate as a salve for self doubt, and for a painfully vocal number of men, it’s quite appealing. This hate is rooted in fear. The fear of being bad, of being “less than,” of not meeting the desires of others. We turn fear around as loathing of those who might reject us. This is a self defense mechanism, and a very poor one, because we just keep heaping that shit on top of an already dysfunctional foundation.

And there's a difference between playing on fears and discussing subject matter that makes people afraid. For example, when CNN, NPR, or Al Jazeera talk about the U.S. President threatening nuclear holocaust on North Korea, that's not "playing on people's fears." Though there are certainly sensationalistic ways to present it, the information itself isn't playing on pre-existing fears. There's a narcissistic, ignorant man with access to the nuclear football. As a human who enjoys existing on this planet, you should be afraid of that.

When I say "playing on fears" in reference to sites like Return of Kings and the others, I'm talking about creating news and sensation out of things you were already afraid of. Everyone is afraid of losing their job. Everyone is afraid of being emasculated and made to be subservient when we haven't given consent to do so. Everyone is afraid of feeling "less than." So, in come these hate sites, knowing you're afraid of those things, and whether your fear is legitimate or not, they already know who to blame. Convenient, isn't it?

Women taking over society isn't real, and it couldn't be even if they wanted to. And here, for the first and only time, are you allowed to compare feminists to Nazis, because if actual fucking Nazis couldn't take over the world, do you really think women or people of color who want the right to vote without being intimidated are going to accomplish what the Third Reich couldn't? And with far fewer firearms? Because, let’s face it, white men own more firearms than anyone else. Supposedly to protect themselves from… something? Trust me. Feminists, LGBTQIA folks, and people of color are not attempting to take over anything except their own peace of mind and personal safety.

Where these sites want you to take stock of all your faults, all your frailties, and all your fears, and lay the blame at women as if it's common sense to do so, I want you to use actual common sense and say, "Yeah, that's ridiculous. A forced takeover of half the planet's population is super unlikely, so I should get back to managing my own damn life."

PURPOSE: Take responsibility for your fears and failings. If you think someone’s going to ‘take something away’ from you, odds are you just fear that and the threat isn’t real. Don’t lash out in search of conflict where there isn’t any. Keep your own house in order. In fact, knock it down and fix the foundation and remember that’s your task to undertake. No one else’s.

Learn to spot bullshit. When you see news, or websites, or resources that identify a specific cause of an issue (a corporation that pollutes a reservoir or a jerk who defrauds investors and takes advantage of sick people) and they have legitimate sources to cover their asses? You can probably trust them, but always keep a watchful eye. When you see links and content that blame entire groups of people (Like FOX news blaming Muslims in general for violence or any of the sites above blaming women for… really anything) don’t just turn it down. Turn it off. Familiarize yourself with bullshit enough to spot it and refuse to give it your time or attention.

Women do not want to be raped, and if you have a friend who starts quoting Robert Fisher, Roy Den Hollander, Paul Elam, or any of their hateful acolytes saying women do want to be raped, call them out. Tell them they’re quoting hate mongers. Tell them they’re seeking to avoid blame for their own feelings of inadequacy. Tell them they’re on a dangerous slope toward true emotional annihilation and alienation. Tell them you smell their bullshit and you won’t stand for it.

Next Up: Misdirected Rage

*I’m aware most established religions and denominations of Christianity in general try to shy away from blaming Eve specifically. If your church is referring to this story as gender neutral, awesome! I understand not all believers are cut from the same cloth. This is about the many denominations and sects of the Abrahamic religions who do choose to subjugate women and use Eve as one of the many reasons why. Also, it’s just an example. Try not to get too hung up on literality.

**Does anyone ever really “win” an internet debate?

#21stcenturymen #red pill #men's rights activism #MRA #bullshit #a voice for men #original sin #EveWasFramed #personal responsibility

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cryptnus-blog · 6 years

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How Blockchain Could Close the Gender Pay Gap

New Post has been published on https://cryptnus.com/2018/08/how-blockchain-could-close-the-gender-pay-gap/

How Blockchain Could Close the Gender Pay Gap

Image credit: Hyejin Kang/Shutterstock

Gender pay inequality is still a big issue in the workforce. Blockchain technology, with its increased transparency, has the potential to reduce the problem, especially in the sharing economy.

With the advent of sophisticated technology, freelancing has become a popular alternative to the 9-to-5 office work model. Many people have chosen to keep their traditional job but work from home more frequently. Others have kept their jobs but taken extra online work on the side. And some have ditched the office altogether to freelance full time.

One would assume that a predominantly online workspace would eliminate any gender pay gap. Unfortunately, this is not yet the case. Even though the pay gap is narrower for freelancers than for those in offices, it still exists.

Luckily, technology such as blockchain could eliminate (or at least lessen) wage inequality based on gender. Blockchain could also provide women in less developed markets with the opportunity to work.

Why do many choose freelancing?

Freelancing offers a freedom that traditional office jobs do not. People can work whenever and wherever they please, as long as their tasks are completed. This is a huge benefit for two main reasons.

Firstly, being able to work anywhere means people with responsibilities that require a lot of time at home can tend to their responsibilities without compromising their work. Location independence also means people aren’t limited to a specific city or country. They can work anywhere with reliable Wi-Fi.

The second benefit is that freelancers can choose exactly when they want to work. Everyone is different, so expecting every employee to function optimally between 9 a.m. and 5 p.m. is unrealistic. Freelancers are free to work whenever they please. Thus, people who work best at the crack of dawn may do so, and the same goes for those who prefer burning the midnight oil.

The gender pay gap meets blockchain

In the traditional job market, women earn just 79 cents for every dollar earned by their male counterparts – and even less if they are a woman of color. Even though the numbers are much better for freelancers, the independent workforce is not yet gender-neutral.

One might think that because freelancers set their rates, that would take care of the problem. But that isn’t the case. In reality, many of the issues with the pay gap in the traditional workforce trickle down into freelancing. If a woman has earned 79 percent of what her male colleagues have earned for years on end, she is likely to charge less than she should when she turns to freelancing.

Blockchain can be of assistance here. If a blockchain-based system has a network only for freelancers, whereby they are able to create a community, these freelancers can communicate with each other. Forging connections and relationships with other freelancers helps people gauge what they should be charging.

Additionally, blockchain technology is decentralized, meaning there is no single authority. Thus, money is based on a freelancer’s results and output, instead of factors irrelevant to performance, such as race and gender. The open ledgers that blockchain-based systems employ also create more transparency, which would further help in closing the pay gap, because it would be easier to see when inequality was present.

Women in developing countries

In some developing countries, laws regarding women are not the same as those for men. In a country where women have just earned the right to have a job, there may not be infrastructure or support systems in place for them to actually exercise that right.

The World Bank states that women in developing countries are less likely to have an ID or birth certificate. Since blockchain technology can store personal records, women could be provided with digital IDs so their information is always secure. With a reliable source keeping their official identification, women in these countries may be able to look for formal jobs.

Women without bank accounts

According to Fortune, 42 percent of the world’s women do not have bank accounts. This is a staggering number, but blockchain could be useful here too. Blockchain is secure and decentralized and does not require banks or other third parties to be involved in financial transactions. Therefore, a woman would not need access to a bank to receive money.

Because blockchain allows for the seamless transfer of money between two parties, costs typically associated with money transfers could also be lower. This is especially helpful for women in developing nations, who may not be able to afford transaction fees. Additionally, they can save money by opening a cryptocurrency wallet because, unlike banks, they do not have maintenance fees.

Equal opportunity for all genders possible

The workforce is, unfortunately, still very gendered. Even in freelancing, there is a discrepancy between the rates men and women charge. Blockchain can help by connecting women to other freelancers in their field who can show them what they should be charging. Blockchain can also help empower women in developing nations, who may not have the means necessary to find a job or open a bank account.

Will Lee

Will Lee, CEO of Blue Whale and Verlocal. He studied Artificial Intelligence at Stanford. His mission is to convert individuals to one-person business owners and fully maximize their full potential. Through his mission, he aspires to create a human-centered industry where humans can continue to develop and better themselves through self-discovery.

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