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justkending · 3 years

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Moral of the Story (Prologue)

Series Summary: From childhood friends, to highschool sweethearts, the two naive, young, and lovestruck teens decided the best way to keep a strong relationship during college would be to marry right out of highschool. No one batted an eye at the idea as everyone knew they were soulmates. However, college is a big step in a person’s life. You learn new things about yourself, you make new friends, find new hobbies… And maybe being newly weds and going to different colleges across the states wasn’t the best plan… After a falling out, and a tragic heartbreaking divorce, the two now hold grudges for how the other handled the whole thing in the past. Neither not really knowing both sides of the story. 10 years later, and they both get a call from the lawyers office that settled their divorce. Somehow the papers never went through and the divorce was never completed. So now, the exes, or should we say husband and wife, have to meet back up after all these years to settle their failed marriage once and for all. (This summary will be shorter in other chapters. I just needed to get the full concept out there;)

A/N (repeat): So the other day while I was doing my hair (quite the process), I was playing music and the song Moral of the Story by Ashe came on. Mind you, I’ve heard this song hundreds of times, but for some reason, this time I got a major story idea! Listening to the lyrics brought me to this new series. Of course, the lengthy summary above will give you an idea of what came to my brain, but I recommend you listen to the song still because it plays a big part in my thought process:) (Plus it’s a good song;) Enjoy and please do not hesitate to share your thoughts and comments with me! I love each and every single one<3

(I will release the first chapter at the beginning of next week! That way I can give myself some time to write more chapters before sharing it!)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Y/N (Modern AU)

Word Count: 1200+

Prologue:

"Melody, have the papers for the Bee's Knees company come in yet?"

"Uh, no. But I can call them again and see if they faxed it or sent over a physical copy though," Melody answered from her desk, already typing away to find the company.

"Perfect. We have a meeting with a recycling plant next week and I want to get everything set before we go in with them," Y/N nodded, coming out from her office with a file in her hands. She turned to her assistant at the front desk who was about 20 emails deep and already finding the issue. "Hey, you're not coming in tomorrow, right?"

"Um, no, no. I am. I rescheduled that date," she answered bashfully as if she had been caught in the act of something.

"Melody..." Y/N drug out, hand on her hip.

"What? I- He understood. He said he was fine moving it to Saturday," the young woman shrugged, never looking back at her boss that was clearly sending her a motherly stare.

"You're already over your 40 hours this week, and you've rescheduled with him, what? 3 times now?" Y/N moved to the front of the desk so the young brunette had to make eye contact with her.

"Yes," she answered hesitantly.

"Is it just nerves or something else?" Y/N smirked.

"I'm not nervous... It's just been a while since I've had time for a date."

"Two things about what you just said in the past minute. One, clearly this guy likes you because he's rescheduled with you this many times and hasn't called it off yet. So if you're nervous about it not going well on his end, I think you're safe," Y/N pointed a finger at her.

"But-," Melody started.

"Second," Y/N cut off with a raised eyebrow. "I'm giving you time to go on a date and you're still not taking it. Work is no longer an excuse."

Melody stopped avoiding eye contact and looked up at the Y/H/C hair woman leaning on her reception desk.

"You've been talking with my mom again, haven't you?" she sighed.

"I promised I'd take care of you. So yes, I have. And though her reasoning for you dating is because she wants grandbabies, I just want you to have fun and live your life. You're 22. Don't waste your young years being scared."

"Ugh, fine. I'll text him now and see if he's still available for tonight," she groaned.

"Perfect!" Y/N grinned in victory as she started to walk back to her office. "I expect the details in the morning," she winked before she walked in.

"Oh, Y/N!" Melody stopped her. "A message came for you while you were in that last meeting."

"Who from?" Y/N quirked an eyebrow, moving back to the desk.

"Uh, I don't really know. Didn't sound familiar, but here's the name and number they said to call back from," she answered, handing her a note.

Y/N took the small paper and looked it over. Her face dropped and her eyes widened.

"You ok? Is it someone you know?" the young assistant asked, noticing what looked like horror on her face.

"Um, yeah. Yeah, an old acquaintance of mine," Y/N tried to quickly brush off. "Um, I'm going to take this. Can you hold any calls and if anyone comes to talk, tell them to just email me?"

"Oh, ok. Yeah, I'll take care of it," Melody nodded.

"Thank you."

Rushing back to her office and quickly shutting her door, she raced to her phone. She read the business name again, not sure if she was dreaming or if it was a hallucination.

Nope. Hammer Attorney was written in Melody's perfect penmanship on the paper with a number that held an area code from New York. A place she never thought she would hear from again and from a town she hadn't visited in almost 10 years._________________

"Buck, did you tell Fury about getting those new water therapy machines?" Steve shouted from his room.

"We're at home, Steve. Why are we talking about work?" Bucky groaned as he slouched on the couch. A beer in hand and a documentary with I Survived stories playing in front of him.

Steve came in from around the corner looking down at his phone in hand before moving his eye line to his roommate.

"Because I just got a call from the night crew saying that the last one that was working, finally went out tonight while they were running it for some test," Steve raised an eyebrow.

"Ugh, you would think that a facility run by a billionaire who literally makes his money on high-tech machines, wouldn't have to ask for those kinds of things," Bucky groaned, grabbing his own phone and going through emails. "Let me check to see if the email went through. He wasn't in office when I went to tell him."

As he was sorting through the hundreds of emails sent back and forth just this week alone, he found the reply message.

"Yeah, management confirmed it. They should be in by Saturday it looks like. Guess Stark was still working out the kinks to a new one and was waiting to send one our way until the last one died to get more time on his newest model."

Steve nodded before walking to the kitchen and typing Bucky's response to the other crew members.

"The man is always finding new ways to upgrade them before he can even send them to us."

Just as Bucky was about to throw his phone to the side again though, it started ringing. Looking at the caller ID, he didn't recognize the unknown number. It was from in-state but in his hometown area of Brooklyn. He pinched his eyebrows together confused at the call, but answered it anyway, thinking it must be someone from home.

"Hello?"

"Hello. Is this Mr. Barnes?" The other voice answered.

"Yes, this is him. Who's this?" he asked, sitting up a little and putting the beer on the end table.

"My name is Matthew Murdock. I work at Nelson and Murdock Law firm," he went on. Bucky shook his head not knowing what that was supposed to mean. "Well, you may actually know us previously as Hammer Attorney. We recently just took over their business after some fraud issues."

Bucky's heart stopped. He knew what that name meant.

"I hate to inform you, but we were going through some of their old files. Ones we were informed could be incomplete or done completely incorrectly due to little care in the actual cases, but more so in taking the money."

"Incomplete cases?" Bucky said softly. His brain was still trying to wrap around the conversation.

"Yes, unfortunately, it looks like a lot of cases having to deal with divorces that the past owners handled, were done strictly in order to launder money. They weren't actually certified, nor trained in handling divorce settlements."

Bucky froze. Eyes wide. Mouth agape.

He stuttered out a response when the man on the other line didn't continue.

"A-And talking about incomplete divorce settlements, you called because..." Bucky knew. He needed to hear it out loud because if he didn't, it wasn't true. It couldn't be.

"I'm so sorry Mr. Barnes, but it looks as though you and your wife, Y/N Y/L/N or sorry, Y/N Barnes, are actually not divorced."

(I will release the first chapter at the beginning of next week! That way I can give myself some time to write more chapters before sharing it!)

Moral of the Story Taglist:

@taylormobley @ximaginx @vicmc624

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx @death-unbecomes-you @heyiamthatbitch @lizzymacy555 @srrymydood @xa-dia @redhairedfeistynerd @morganclaire4 @connie326 @captain-asguard @mollygetssherlockcoffee @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses @pham-tastical

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon @lauravicente @kakakatey @traceyaudette @notyourtypicalrose @laneygthememequeen @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sandlee44 @thorne93 @thefaithfulwriter @essie1876 @greyeyedsmile14 @capsiclehan @xostephanie @averyrogers83 @awesomenursingstudent @gh0stgurl @cs-please @carls1022 @jjlevin @rainbowkisses31 @carls1022 @anise-d-castle6 @deannotmoose @their-bibliophile @kitkatd7 @willowbleedsonpaper @mariaenchanted @snffbeebee @couldabeenamermaid @rebekahdawkins @alyispunk

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker @charmedbysarge @jbarness @bellamy-barnes @katiaw2 @aikeia

#bucky barnes x reader au #bucky barnes highschool sweetheart #bucky barnes collge au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #justkending #new series #new marvel series #marvel au

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pink-flame · 3 years

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Wrap me up

This fic is dedicated to @blush-and-books who wrote fanfic about my fanfic and made my life infinitely better for it. I hope you enjoy this indulgent Juke sickfic. 😊

Sorry that I keep giving you the flu, Julie. It’s in the name of the fluff which we all desperately need right now. And always. Definitely always need the fluff.

Enjoy! 💜

Julie was absolutely miserable.

She was home sick which on its own shouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world. She was never one of those kids who went for the perfect attendance award, her mom always ranting about how some parents were willing to let their precious children infect the entire school in pursuit of a useless paper certificate. There were generally a few days every school year where Julie caught some cold and got to spend the day propped up on the couch watching trashy daytime tv and chugging hot tea. Overall, even with the slight discomfort of a stuffy nose and a headache it usually evened out to be a relatively enjoyable experience.

The problem was that she didn’t have a cold. She had this new strain of flu that was going around that was twice as contagious and notably more intense than the normal one, leaving Julie feeling a lot more than slightly inconvenienced by her illness.

She was exhausted.

She was sore.

She was burning up and freezing at the same time.

She was...absolutely miserable.

She was also more or less on her own.

Her dad had of course wanted to nurse Julie as hands on as possible but Julie had insisted that he try to keep his distance. It was her abuela’s birthday that weekend and it was a big tradition that the whole family would go visit her. She was in her 90s and living in an assisted living facility. She didn’t get many visitors and she looked forward to them coming for weeks ahead of time. That family togetherness meant a lot to her especially after losing Julie’s mom.

So it was sad enough that Julie wouldn’t be able to attend but if her dad or tia caught her flu there would be no birthday visit at all. Carlos wasn’t exactly offering to come in and tend to Julie but she wouldn’t have let him even if he was. So despite her dad and her aunt protesting she had eventually convinced them to check on her from a healthy distance away and leave her meals and tea in the doorway to her room. Julie did her best to act as though she wasn’t feeling too bad when one of them popped in just to keep them feeling comfortable with the arrangement. As soon they left for the hour or so drive to her abuela’s facility, promising to call and check in frequently, Julie had sagged more fully against her pillows letting her true feelings about the situation wash over her fully for the first time.

Her head was pounding, she was shivering, her throat burned and every breath she took rattled in her chest. There was more than that though. She wasn’t with her family going to visit her abuela and she wouldn’t be...she wouldn’t be performing at the music program showcase the next night. It was meant to be her first solo performance, well at least the first officially sanctioned one, since she had lost her mom.

Yes, she had come so far and yes the boys had given her the confidence to perform in places she never would have believed six months ago. But this was different. This was supposed to be her opportunity to prove to everyone at school that she was back to her old self, that she could stand on that stage alone and rock it. This was supposed to be her opportunity to prove it to herself.

Instead here she was sick. Alone.

Miserable.

Julie suddenly felt a familiar burning sensation pricking at her eyes as tears welled up, threatening to fall. She tried to blink them back, frustration rising up at the thought that she would not only be miserably ill but also cry over it. Unfortunately, being incredibly frustrated was just as likely to make her cry as being sad was so she now had no chance of avoiding a full on emotional outburst.

She pressed the side of her face against her pillow and squeezed her eyes shut harshly, as though if she buried her head far enough into its fluffy surface she could convince herself that the tears weren’t falling, and her head wasn’t throbbing and…

“Jules?”

Julie blinked her eyes open sluggishly, waiting until her vision cleared enough to let her see who was standing over her bed. Not that she needed to see him to know that. She would recognize that voice anywhere at this point.

Luke.

He stood beside her bed staring down at her, his forehead creased with worry as he shifted from foot to foot with anxious energy.

“Julie are you ok? I had this weird tugging feeling and then I just thought I should come see how you were doing. Are you...are you crying?”

Julie fully intended to open her mouth and say yes, to say she was fine, that her eyes were just watering because her sinuses were backed up but actually she was feeling much better.

Instead when she opened her mouth all that escaped was a sob.

She raised one hand quickly to slap it over her mouth as though she could somehow take back the sound that had just escaped before Luke registered it. That was of course wishful thinking.

Luke’s expression immediately descended into panic, his hands flapping uselessly around her bundled up form as though searching for the spot he could touch to fix whatever was wrong with her.

“Hey, Julie...Julie...Jules, what’s wrong?”

His face was so worried and sweet and concerned and it only made Julie cry harder.

“Don’t cry,” He begged, before seemingly coming to a decision.

Even though he was only a step away from her bed he poofed out of existence and reappeared lying horizontally next to her, his hands instantly reaching out to stroke down the sides of her face, chasing the tears that tracked down its surface.

“Don’t cry,” He repeated, his voice softer and less alarmed as her breathing calmed under his touch. “Don’t cry, Jules.”

Her tears started to slow and finally dried up entirely as though his words had been a command and not a desperate plea. She thought for not the first time in the last few weeks how grateful she was that the boys were tangible to her now. It would probably never stop feeling like magic to her when Reggie bumped his shoulder against hers conspiratorially or Alex leaned down to rest his chin on the top of her head. But when Luke’s hand brushed against hers when he handed her his lyrics journal or he pulled her into a warm hug, just because?

That would probably never stop feeling like a miracle.

Her tears were gone but Luke’s hands were still resting gently on her cheeks, his fingers dancing softly up and down her skin soothingly, finding the perfect rhythm, just like he always did.

“Hey.”

He broke her from her thoughts with a single word before continuing quietly as though afraid to startle her back into tears.

“You ok?”

She nodded then thought better of it, exhaled a shaky breath and shook her head.

“I was supposed to perform at the showcase tomorrow and now I can’t and I feel awful but I have to be alone so I don’t get anyone sick.”

One of Luke’s hands slid down to rest on the top of her arm, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the skin he found there as an affectionate smile tugged at his lips.

“You can’t get me sick,” He reminded her. “And you’re not alone.”

Even through her raging headache and her lingering emotions she couldn’t help but mirror his small smile with one of her own.

“Cause we’ve always got each other?”

His smile grew into a certified grin, the kind that had quickly become something she looked forward to and did her best to bring out of him as often as humanly possible, even if she didn’t want him to know that. It’s power was definitely not diminished from this close.

“Exactly,” He answered, biting his lip as he jerked his head in a quick nod.

She thought his eyes might have dropped to her lips for a moment but it was so quick she thought she also might have imagined it. Given the fact that she knew she looked like an absolute mess at the moment the odds were pretty good that she had. She definitely hadn’t intended to summon him when she was in that state but she didn’t exactly have a handle on how she was doing it in the first place so she hadn’t had much choice. She didn’t regret it though. Not during their show at the Orpheum and not even now, dripping nose and frizzy hair and all.

“Why didn’t you tell me...uh, us...you were feeling this bad?” Luke asked, his face sinking back into a frown.

It was true the boys had come to visit her as soon as she came home from school feeling feverish and had slunk directly to her room instead of heading out to the studio for band practice. They had hovered around her, expressing concern in their well meaning but chaotic way before she had assured them that it was a cold and she would be back to rehearsing in no time. They had popped in a few times since, Luke especially, to offer a distraction or company. She had always sent them away in the name of rest even though the truth was she just didn’t want them to see her like this.

With Luke’s soft gaze trained on her now though...she was having a hard time remembering why she had spent so much effort keeping him away.

She didn’t say any of that out loud, choosing to simply shrug and lift her eyes up slightly to meet his.

Luckily he seemed ready to let it go, letting her lack of answer pass as he shifted a few inches closer to her until she knew she would be able to feel his breath on her face if he had still needed to breathe at all.

“What can I do?” He asked, the hand still on her cheek rising up to trace a tingling line from her temple to her jaw.

Julie let her eyes drift shut so she could take in the sensation of his calloused fingertips dragging gently against her skin even more intensely.

“This is a good start,” She muttered, smirking a little as she heard his answering chuckle rumble out.

Unfortunately she didn’t have long to enjoy such an amazing moment as a particularly intense throb of pain exploded across her forehead and behind her eyes. She managed not to groan but her discomfort must have shown on her face because Luke withdrew both of his hands from where they touched her.

“Where does it hurt?” He asked, his tone more serious than she was used to hearing it.

Julie forced her eyes open though even the dull light of the lamp next to her bed suddenly seemed a little unbearable.

“Kind of...everywhere,” She admitted, her voice catching with a slight croak. “But mostly my head.”

“Stay here,” Luke instructed firmly as though she had any plans to be anywhere but her bed for the foreseeable future.

Before Julie could point that out though he had already poofed out of the room. When he returned a few minutes later he took the long way, the boys having not managed to master poofing any objects with them other than their instruments and their clothes. Thank God, for that second part. Although...she would be lying if she said those barely shirts Luke had a habit of wearing didn’t make her curious to see the few parts of his upper body they left to her imagination.

Julie realized too late that Luke had said something to her and quickly stammered out a response, hoping it was the right one.

“Nothing!”

He raised an eyebrow as he set a box of crackers and two tylenol down on her bedside table.

“I asked if you wanted a warm washcloth for your head,” He said, the hint of a laugh behind his words.

“Oh,” She could feel herself blushing and thanked whoever was listening that she could at least blame the flush of her cheeks on her fever. “No thank you.”

She sat up sluggishly and Luke handed her the pills and a glass of water and she took them gratefully, swallowing the pills with a little difficulty due to her swollen throat.

“You should try to eat something too,” Luke insisted, nudging the box of crackers towards her. “I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to take pain medicine on an empty stomach.”

Julie forced down a couple of crackers even though she hadn’t been hungry all day. Luke sat down on the edge of her bed.

“You’re pretty good at this,” She told Luke as she slouched down a little further, the energy required to sit up quickly draining out of her.

His eyes darted away for a moment before returning to meet hers again.

“I’m just trying stuff my mom used to do for me.”

Julie knew that just because Luke had finally gotten some closure with his parents didn’t mean that it wasn’t still hard for him to linger on his thoughts of them. Especially his mom. She also knew that if the last few months had taught her anything it was that sometimes doing the hard thing was the right thing in the long run. Thinking of people you had loved and lost was hard at first but it could become a source of happiness if you let it. She had that with the memory of her mom and she wanted the same for him, even if they were dealing with different kinds of ghosts.

Julie reached out and pulled Luke’s hand into her somewhat clammy one, giving it a gentle squeeze and pointedly ignoring the questioning look he sent her in response.

“What else did she do?” She asked.

Luke hesitated for a moment but then a soft smile appeared on his face and Julie felt a surge of warmth that cut straight through the ache in her chest.

“She would wrap me up in a blanket like a burrito,” He told her, an excited tone edging into his voice. “And let me watch all my favorite movies.”

Julie turned Luke’s hand over and traced gentle patterns across his palm with the tips of her fingers.

“That sounds really nice.”

He seemed distracted by her actions but he managed to stutter out a reply.

“Yeah...uh, yeah, it was.”

“Anything else?” She asked, her fingers not ceasing their circular route around his palm.

“Um…” Luke dragged his eyes away from what she was doing as he ducked his head bashfully. “She would tell me stories sometimes.”

Julie finally stopped her motions, folding her hand softly over his.

“That’s so cute.”

“I mean, I was a little kid,” Luke shrugged, but he didn’t seem to entirely hate her using the word cute to describe something even distantly connected to him.

Maybe it was the fever or the exhaustion or the gratitude to not be alone but Julie was having a hard time mustering up any of the awkwardness or self-doubt or nerves that would normally plague her if she was this close to Luke. She wanted to be close to him and she felt too rotten to deny herself.

An involuntary shiver ran through her and as much as she would have liked to blame it on the proximity of a certain dead guitarist, she was pretty sure this one was due to this damn flu.

“Are you cold?” Luke asked, that familiar, concerned frown settling back onto his face.

Julie nodded.

“A little.”

Luke jumped up from his spot on the edge of her bed and rushed over to the chair sitting against the wall, grabbing the fuzzy blanket she always kept folded over the back of it. He was back at her bed in an instant, pulling down her comforter and letting a rush of cool air wash over her.

Julie stared at him in confusion, another shiver travelling through her body.

“What are you doing?”

Luke stretched out his arms, her blanket extending until he was just peeking over it, only his eyes and floppy hair visible.

“Blanket burrito,” He explained excitedly. “Is that ok?”

Julie couldn’t help but smile a little at his enthusiasm and she nodded.

He was instantly leaning forward to wrap the blanket tightly around her, pulling it all the way up to her chin and tucking it under her all along the edges of her body until she felt like a toasty...well, burrito. When he was satisfied with his work, Luke pulled her comforter back up, patting it with satisfaction before sinking back onto the bed next to her.

“Better?”

Julie nodded.

“Better.”

In the end the blanket burrito wasn’t the only sick day tip they borrowed from his mother. Luke fetched her laptop and managed to follow her instructions clunkily to pull up Netflix. They watched Thirteen Going on Thirty because it’s one of her favorites, and because it’s full of 80s references which Luke gets too.

“Isn’t it a little creepy that she’s really 13?” He asked at one point.

“Only if you think about it too hard,” Julie rolled her eyes. “Besides they’re obviously soulmates. They were always meant to end up together somehow.”

“Hmmm…” Luke hummed, seeming to seriously consider her words even as a comedic scene played out on the screen. “You believe in stuff like that?”

“Soulmates?” Julie hesitated for a moment, hoping that her face wasn’t giving away just how much she had invested in this question. “Yeah, I guess I do. What about you?”

Luke’s answer didn’t come right away and when it did it was spoken in an impossibly soft voice.

“Yeah, I guess I do too.”

After that they don’t talk until the movie is finished, but he does make a point to reach out and rub comfortingly at her shoulder whenever a ragged breath or cough escapes her.

When the movie is over Julie started to lose what little energy she had, slumping further and further down involuntarily until she finds herself completely horizontal again. She fought to keep her eyes open but it was a losing battle.

“You should go to sleep,” Luke told her, affection clear in his tone. “I’ll keep you company.”

Julie nodded and he stretched out behind her as she rolled onto her side, the blanket burrito hindering her for a moment before she managed to wriggle free. She hesitated for a few seconds then reached back and pulled one of his arms forward to drape over her waist. She knew she was really pushing the limits now of their friendship, of the tightrope they had been walking ever since “interesting little relationship” and “no regrets” and the heady realization that they could touch each other. She just couldn’t quite bring herself to care about the implications in the moment.

Luke’s hand flexed awkwardly on her side before he seemed to reach a similar conclusion, sliding it around to settle against her stomach, tugging her more firmly against him. She could feel his head nudging at her hair and was filled with a sudden rush of concern.

“My hair’s in your face.”

“It’s fine,” He mumbled, his voice closer to her ear than she was prepared for.

“No really, you’re going to smother yourself,” Julie insisted. “We don’t have to cuddle. You don’t have to stay at all if you don’t want to. You’ve already…”

“Jules,” He cut off her nervous rambling, using his arm to guide her gently onto her other side until she was facing him.

He hadn’t moved back at all and their faces were now so close that their noses were almost brushing. Her first thought was that it was a good thing that she couldn’t get him sick because this position would definitely have done it. Her second thought was that she was this close to Luke and how delightfully overwhelming that experience was.

“Better?” He breathed through a chuckle.

Julie managed a nod.

“Better.”

Luke’s arm remained firmly wrapped around her waist, his fingers starting to trace random shapes along her back.

“Go to sleep, Julie,” He instructed, and once again her body seemed to take his words as an order.

An order she didn’t have the strength to disobey, not that she was trying very hard.

Her eyes slid closed.

This moment was so close to perfect (as perfect as anything could be when she felt this sick) it felt selfish to push her luck for more. But Julie wasn’t the type to settle and Luke wasn’t the type to deny her what she asked (anything, Julie, you know that). So she spoke up, eyes still firmly shut.

“Tell me a story.”

There was a pause before his answer came, his voice embarrassed but something else lingering in his tone that she was too afraid to call love and too smart to call anything else.

“I don’t remember any,” He admitted.

“Make one up,” She suggested, one of her hands finding its way to his arm, running her nails gently from his elbow to his wrist and back again.

This time it was his turn to shiver and if she felt a rush of satisfaction at that she did her best to keep the evidence of it off of her face. She was pretty sure he knew anyway.

“Once upon a time,” He started finally, his voice soft and amused. “There was a princess with a gift for music. She was a wicked beauty but she was lonely. She lived in a tower without anyone to sing with. Then one day the princess found this cd and three princes who also happened to be ghosts showed up…”

Julie let his voice lull her into a sleep more restful than any she had experienced in the past week. She kept up her motions tracing gently along his arm until finally as she drifted off her hand sagged down to wrap around his hip. The last thing she was aware of before losing consciousness completely was his warm fingers stroking her spine, the music in his fingers present even when his guitar was out of reach.

She was exhausted.

She was sore.

She was burning up and freezing at the same time.

But she wasn’t alone.

And she was definitely, definitely not miserable.

#juke #jatp #my fics #fluff #all the fluff #sickfic #Julie molina #Luke patterson #Julie and the phantoms #SOULMATES

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detroitbydark · 4 years

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Chapter 4

Characters: Hound/Nuna (OC) , Ryk (Clone OC), Tully (OC)

Warnings: Not a one!

A/N: went back and forth on wether this chapter would be sweet or spicy. In the end I’m happy with the direction I chose because these two are absolutely cinnamon rolls and I love them.

———

“So…uh, that guy? He seemed like kind of a sleen, right?” Oh Fett. He was saying the wrong thing wasn’t he? He was going to blow this whole thing to the Outer Rim and-

Nuna laughs. Not just a soft feminine laugh but one that builds and bubbles up from deep inside her. It’s a laugh that leaves her cheeks adorably pink and her chest heaving to pull in breaths.

“A sleen? Maker! That is literally the best thing I’ve ever heard. Yes, absolutely!” She yells over the music as one song shifts seamlessly to the next. The bass pumps in his chest like a second heartbeat. Hound glances over his shoulder to see Ryk and Rule in conversation with Nuna’s friend, also apparently his new friend, Tully. The Pantoran gives him a wink when she catches his eye and he turns back to Nuna quickly.

“Do you wanna drink?” She beats him to the punch. “I feel like after that rescue mission I probably owe you. Also, this song?” She looks up as if the music were an actual entity hovering above them. “I love it.”

Kriff. He was supposed to be the one getting her a drink. Right? He never realized how utterly useless at this he was. No wonder Mouse never gave him the time of day.

That wasn't exactly fair though, was it? Looking back now, Hound can see that his failure had nothing to do with him being himself and everything to do with him not being Commander Fox.

Mouse had eyes for the Commander before she probably even realized it. When it came down to it, the Commander was happy and that made it easier on them all. Al’verde deserved something nice, good, and all his own.

They all did.

“I guess that would be nice, but I don’t want you feeling like you have to because you don’t.”

Nuna rolls her eyes dramatically. “My treat. You can get the next one. Sound like a plan?”

The next one. He liked that idea. He gives her an affirmative nod and her bright smile lights up the darkened club. His chest squeezes uncomfortably and he takes just a moment to wonder what the kriff was going on but then he’s watching her side step through the crowd and he wonders if he shouldn’t have gone with her.

Tully joins him as the pair watch her finally get to the bar.

”Took ages to get her to realize she didn’t look like the wrong end of a Hutt,” Tully offers.

“Huh?” He glances at her out of the corner of his eye.

“After things went sideways with Alistar and let me tell you they went sideways.” She emphasizes the syllables on the last words as she clarifies.

Hound doesn’t press even though he wants to know. Instead he chooses the next question on his mind.

“Which end is the wrong one?”

“Take your pick.”

He can’t help the grin that crosses his face as he looks over at the Pantoran. She’s grinning back.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because she won’t and she deserves better than the likes of him and his kind of scum. You seem like a good guy.”

Hound rubs at the back of his neck. He wasn’t used to compliments outside of the backhanded one he and his vode threw about jokingly. ‘Good guy’ seems like a big deal coming from Tully.

“I try?”

Tully laughs. “No you don’t. It shows when someone is trying. You’re a natural.” Maybe she can sense he’s about to argue because she gives him a serious look. “Deal with it trooper.”

Something about the way she says it tickles him. A bark of laughter rises up in his chest and spills out. “Ok, yeah, roger that Commander.”

“Who’s the Commander now?” Ryk is pressing between the pair, an arm coming to rest on each of their shoulders. Rule is talking up a pretty green twi’lek and in a world of his own a few steps behind them.

“I’m the Commander, pretty boy,” she hums, tapping the younger Sargeant’s nose with a finger.

Ryk turns to Hound with wide, slightly drunk eyes as Nuna slides back up to the group. She hands Hound his drink.

“Did you hear that, Hound dog? I’m pretty.” His head snaps back to Tully.

“You think I’m pretty?”

The smile that fills the Pantorans face is almost feral. “I can think of a few ways you’d be prettier.” The way her eyes trace over his face is unmistakable and Hound hides a cough in his drink. It’s like watching some fragged up mating dance.

“Can you get your hands on some cuffs?” Tully asks sweetly.

Ryk’s jaw nearly hits the liquor sticky floor. “Stasis cuffs? So fast it would make your head spin, beautiful.”

Hound watches the pair, head snapping back and forth. Nuna leans against his side and rises to her toes. She rocks idly to the sound of the music as if it was second nature for her body to find a beat and follow it.

“Do you think he realizes that she would eat him alive?”

“I think he’s kind of into that.”

Ryk was into that. No question about it. It just wasn’t Hounds place to say.

They all had their own proclivities (except for maybe Thire). Ryk just chose to wave his freak flag a little bit harder than the rest.

Nuna chokes off a laugh and takes a drink. Tully, long legged and stunning, was absolutely a hunter on the prowl and tonight 79’s was her natural habitat.

Hound hasn’t seen Ryk so keyed up in ages.

“Good for him,” Nuna says after a long drink, “If she has her way, neither of them will walk straight for a week.” There’s a wistful tone to her voice that throws his mind into immediate overdrive.

He nearly swallows his tongue as he looks down at her. He was used to pretty frank locker room talk. Even shinies who’d only just seen their first woman getting off the transport in the Triple Zero had “stories” to tell.

There was nothing new or fascinating about talking sex. Except… he hadn’t realized that girls - women - could and would talk about it just as openly. The fact that the one he was feeling all google-eyed for was the one doing it made a heat rise up in his cheeks - and then sink low in his belly.

Nuna offers him a sweet smile, completely oblivious to what she was doing to him.

“So do you like to dance?”

Wait a minute she was just talking about- how could she just move past that-

“Uhh, not really. I mean- I really never have. I’m more of a wall holder-upper,” he offers as the DJ of the night begins to morph one song to the next.

“Oh…” she glances at the dance floor, “because I really love this song.”

“I feel like you’ve loved every song you’ve heard,” he teases. Her smile is bashful as she shrugs.

“Occupational hazard?”

“If you want to dance don’t let me stop you. I can hold your drink.” He offers as Nuna bites at her lower lip glancing between him and the pair of Tully and Ryk.

“Ok then... but you can join me if you get bored.”

“Noted,” he says with a laugh as she grabs onto her friend's arm. Ryk pouts as the pretty pink Pantoran blows him a kiss and stumbles to catch up with Nuna’s insistent pull.

”Do you think she’d step on me if I asked really nice?”

Hound’s head whips to the side and the toothy grin of Ryk standing next to him.

“What?!”

“Tully vod, keep up. I would lick that woman’s boots if she told me to.”

“You are a freak. Certifiable,” Hound laughs shaking his head.

The troopers watch silently. Hound sips at his drink and holds Nuna’s safely in the opposite hand. The girls dance close, smiling and laughing as the beat drops. Tully’s hand wraps around the back of Nuna’s waist and holds her close.

It reminds Hound of the affection batted around by his brothers. A playful, physical grounding touch that told a vod that they were cared for. Usually for him it was a sparring match or a quick bit of boxing but for the two women they watched dancing seemed to do the trick.

“While I do find watching can be rewarding in its own right” Ryk says nodding lazily toward Nuna and Tully. “I think participating would be much more rewarding”

Hound grunts as he watches. Nuna’s hips swirl and roll with the beat of the music. It’s kriffing mesmerizing and he can think of nothing better than having his hands on them as they move in tight little circles and figure eights.

“I don’t dance… at least not like that.”

Ryk laughs, “Vod! It’s flash training! If you can’t pick up a simple dance you are a failure as an ARF trooper.”

Just the accusation makes Hound bristle. He’d done far more difficult things during advanced recon training. It was just dancing. It wasn’t that intimidating.

Except he was feeling very intimidated.

Ryk runs a hand over his face before slinging an arm around Hound’s shoulders.

“Listen, you can choose to stay here, but if you do I can guarantee at least one of those shinies over there is going to do it for you.”

Hound's eyes follow Ryk’s line of sight to the group of shines off to their opposite side. Their heads are close together but their eyes are on Tully and Nuna. Watching their mouths, Hound can make out every third or fourth word and he’s not impressed.

Ryk doesn’t let his brother's indecision stop him. Hound watches with frustration as the other trooper makes his way to the two girls and slots in behind Tully. She gives him an appraising look before she relaxes back into his grip. Nuna steps back. While she’s still with the pair she’s definitely on her own. It doesn’t seem to bother her though. She really did seem to enjoy being out there.

Hound glances back to the shinies. One of them is bouncing on his toes while the ones on each side slap at his armor hyping him up.

Uh no. Not happening punk.

It was the sense of pride alone that finally gives him enough courage to move away from their table. He downs both the remainder of his drink and hers as he goes, setting the empties on a passing tray.

Nuna catches him in the flashing lights just as he reaches her. She doesn’t quit moving and he finds it even more distracting up close.

“The wall ok to hold itself up?”

“Yeah, I guess…” he lets out a rough breath.

Flash training, he reminds himself. This was no different than the rapid learning expected of them on Kamino. There wasn’t even any live fire to deal with. He could do this. A warm tingling ignites in his belly as the pair of drinks slosh around.

“I have no clue what I’m doing,” he admits. Nuna offers a soft smile.

“I can help.”

She’s in his space in the blink of an eye, already pressing In close enough where he can feel her body heat through his armor. Her arms move around his neck and he relaxes down just a little to make it more comfortable for them both.

Tully and Ryk are in their own little world just feet away. Hound can see the way his vods fingers flex on her hips. Tully has her head resting back on Ryk’s shoulder and her mouth turned in toward his neck. She’s whispering things that have both of them heavy lidded. Their bodies move together in a precursor of what was probably to come later.

“Hot, right?” Nuna asks looking up with bright mischievous eyes.

Hound is too dumbfounded to speak. She laughs at his silent nod, reaching up and ruffling his hair. She’s less shy now then she’d been earlier, more relaxed and less guarded.

“We’ll get you there.”

Hound stumbles through the next few minutes as she instructs him on the quick-quick-slow steps the music called for. His hands rest high in her waist. It’s frustrating and he knows his nerves are making it worse. Ryk’s chuckle from behind doesn’t do a thing to help.

“Easy on her toes trooper!”

Hound turns his head to bark something at his brother but Nuna’s hand grips his jaw and turns it back to her.

“Be a good boy and pay attention-“ she winces as he steps on her foot, “to me.”

If he wasn’t so embarrassed, he may have noticed how funny it was to have such an unintimidating creature ordering him around but his cheeks are hot and he’s mentally berating himself.

“Hound?” She dips a little lower to catch his eyes that are busy following their feet. “Look at me, not my feet.” She beams when he does as she’s asked and he finds he gets a little lost in the pale blue of her eyes and the way her dark lashes fan across her cheeks each time she blinks.

“That’s much better,” she praises. Her hands slip down over his and press them lower. His pinkies span over the top of the round ass he’s been admiring the better part of the night, while the others rest around her hips.

“You’ll be able to feel me better like this.”

Yeah, he could certainly feel a lot of her this way. No doubt about that. The music slows and transitions to the next song and Nuna makes a sound of approval. The beat is more sedate and the lyrics, though in a language he’s not familiar with, have a sensuality to them that is unmistakable. Nuna’s boot taps at his own.

“Wider stance,” she orders, nodding to herself when he complies. Hound watches as she steps closer, nearly straddling one of his slightly bent legs. His focus is honed in like a laser as she twists her hips slowly. He can feel the bunch and release of muscles in his hands and tries to mimic and mirror what she’s doing, adding the steps tentatively.

Her voice comes out as a purr. “That’s so much better already.”

Her hand slips behind his head and pulls him close til his forehead is pressed to hers. “Now stop thinking and just go with it.”

It’s a novel way to learn something, but it works. Like any other flash training he’s completed something suddenly clicks. The steps become second nature the movements of his own pelvis against hers become smoother.

“You're a good teacher. Has anyone told you that?”

Nuna looks away, hiding a blossom of pink high on her cheeks. It’s Hound’s turn to take control. Fingers trail up her back and tangle in her hair, turning her face back to him.

“You need to learn to take a compliment, Mesh’la.”

Her eyes go wide. Glitter strategically placed on her face catches the flashing lights and sparkles.

“I’m not- I’m not beautiful,” she stutters out, her body falling off rhythm for a second before he takes the lead and guides her back to it.

Couples press in around them, the temperature rising steadily. Hound barely notes it in shock of his own. It doesn’t even register that she’s translated the sweet endearment- a tactic troopers had learned would win women over in a heartbeat. He’s more awestruck that she didn’t see how amazing she was. Not just pretty - though he felt the term fit perfectly.

“Of course you are and fun and nice and-“ her finger presses to his lips stopping anymore words from slipping from his mouth.

“You’re embarrassing me,” she whines playfully, trying to lean back. Hound reels her back in.

“These are things you should hear all the time.” Alcohol and a little bit of confidence from picking up a new skill leaves him feeling a little bolder then he’s been.

“Well that’s definitely one opinion.”

Hound leans in close, nosing next to her ear as her body rolls against his. Her shampoo smells like candy, like something he’d crave time and again after having it. “I think it’s a pretty important one.”

Nuna sighs dreamily, wrapping one leg behind his. His hand drops down to her thigh, feeling where the fabric of her skirt rode up. “So it would seem. Hound-“

He gives her thigh a gentle squeeze. The feel of her so close is more intoxicating than the boozy drinks she’d brought them.

Her voice isn’t any higher than a gentle whisper but this close he can hear desire lacing it. He wasn’t the most experienced of all his vode but he’d certainly had a few… educational ones and what he lacked in experience he had the likes of Ryk and Rule to make up for in reconnaissance.

It’s hard to imagine things not going further with the way she presses against him. The mental images become that much more clear when he releases her leg and she turns in his grip, leaning back against his chest the way he’d seen Tully and Ryk earlier. The way her round ass presses against him makes him both despise and thank the codpiece of his armor. It’s gotten uncomfortably tight, but it was still doing wonders to hide that fact.

One of Nuna’s hands slides up and around the back of his neck and he lets his own trail from her wrist on down her arm before finding its home on her hip. Tiny goosebumps breakout along the trail his fingers leave. When her body rolls next, his stays locked with hers. She tips her head back and glances up at him.

He’s going to lean in and kiss her. With her head upside down. In the middle of a crowded dance floor. Where everyone can see.

The Maker must take pity on him because that’s no way to kiss a girl for the first time and certainly not how he wanted the first of (hopefully) many to go. The song cuts out just as his nose brushes against hers and a soft puff of her breath tickles over his chin. She smells sweet and the honeyed candy scent sticks with him as she pulls away. He wants to know what her mouth tastes like, what her skin tastes like, what her-

“Not bad for your first time,” she hums with big blown pupils as she turns and presses her hands into his chest.

“I’ll take your word on it.”

“Nunz?” Tully slides behind Nuna, bending to rest her chin on the shorter woman’s shoulder. “Imma drag this one down to the arcade a level down.” She glances back at Ryk who is smiling like the Tooka who ate the Tik-Tak.

“He says he’s got excellent aim and there’s a stuffed wampa I want. You two wanna come?”

It feels like Tully is asking a different question but Hound isn’t sure how to decipher it. Ryk looks smug, like he already knows the correct answer.

Nuna’s pale blue eyes flash to him for a split second. “I think I’m getting tired. I’ll probably head home in the not so distant future.”

Hound’s heart sinks. Time was not something he had a lot of extra sitting around. He wanted to spend it with her. He’s feeling the creeping of disappointment when he catches Tully’s smile lengthening from ear to ear.

“Hound? You wouldn’t mind seeing her home, right? I’d feel so much better knowing she wasn’t by herself after that run in earlier.”

——-

Nuna hadn’t foreseen this, sitting in the backseat of a speeder taxi pressed against the far door with Hound next to her and a pair of strangers sucking face next to him.

He lets out an irritated puff, the sound coming out augmented through his bucket, as the Rodian and Twi’lek to his right continue to go at it.

“They’re really… enjoying themselves, huh?”

The sound he makes has more humor in it. “Yeah, I wasn’t familiar with Rodian mating habits, but it didn’t mean I needed a crash course.” Hound jerks forward, his bucket coming within centimeters of her own head as she snickers. If looks could kill, she’s sure the one he shoots over his shoulder at the unaware couple would have them both in an early grave.

“Just ignore them.” She offers.

“Yeah? How do I do that?.”

Nuna bites at her lip trying to hold back a smile. “Pay more attention to me.”

The way his helmet quirks, to the side and just a little back, is comical.

It’s another one of those things she’s finding she really does like about Hound. He made her smile. Not even just smile. He made her laugh like she hadn’t in ages and not the sexy girly giggle. No, these were full on belly laughs that made the abs, hidden deep down under a layer of fluff, ache.

The game Tully had been playing hadn’t been subtle and Nuna loved her for it. She hadn’t wanted the night to end after a drink and some dancing. She wanted more. It was exhilarating and nerve wracking in the best possible way. It left her tummy full of butterflies. It had been a let down when the other couple had piled into the taxi behind them. It only got worse when the noises had started.

Nuna wonders, not for the first time, if Hound was blushing as hard under his helmet as she was sitting next to him.

“More attention?” There’s a distinct humor in his voice. The sound of it is warm and inviting. “Maybe something like this?”

Nuna feels the soft nudge of his gloved hand against her own fist balled at her side. She wills her nervous fingers to relax. The second they do Hound is slipping and twining his in between them.

Did all clones radiate so much heat? Nuna can feel the burn of his skin through the thick tactical gloves he wore. Was he warm like that all over? The thought makes her cheeks burn.

“I think that’s a good start,” she murmurs, glancing down at their interlocked hands and avoiding his eyes.

“Looking at me would make it better,” he says quietly, nudging her chin up with his free hand.

It takes a deep breath and another minute of thought before Nuna has it in her to look. His helmet is cocked just slightly to the side and she can imagine him smiling underneath it, all toothy and smug.

“I’m looking now.”

“Looking beautiful.”

A laugh sputters past her lips despite his earnest tone. How was she even supposed to respond to that? He was legitimately being serious and she’s almost afraid to look in the mirror because the person he was seeing really couldn’t be the same one she saw staring back at her everyday. So, instead of thinking harder on it or, you know, accepting the compliment, she does what she’s always done best - deflect.

“Do you wanna maybe come up for some caf?”

“That sounds really good.”

And it was really as easy as that.

The amorous pair next them finds the ability to separate for long enough to give the cabbie notice of their building. It’s a relief to be free of them. Hound moves allowing them more room but his hand doesn’t leave hers. He uses it to bring her along with him, moving her away from the door but allowing no real distance between them. Nuna approves, leaning her head against his armored shoulder as the taxi dips back into the sky lanes.

“That can’t be comfortable”

“It’s not so bad,” she manages, trying to stifle a yawn, “I’ve had worse.”

“I’m aiming for best here Mesh’la.” Not only can she hear his warm voice but she can hear it rumble through his body. Paired with the soft circles his thumb is making in the back of her hand Nuna feels the first traitorous pulls of sleep begin to take hold.

“M’not beautiful,” she hums without any real fight to it.

“Y’are too.” He mimics her speech pattern and Nuna laughs quietly.

“I’m not gonna be able to fight you on this, am I?”

He surprises her when he turns his head and rests his helmet for just a second against the mess of hair he can reach. “You can try. I’m always up for a challenge.”

She should come up with something sassy or witty to say but she’s literally lost for words. Her mind is a perfect blank. So instead she snuggles into plastoid and enjoys the attention.

It’s only another few minutes before the taxi speeder is pulling up to her landing platform and the pair are stepping out. Nuna slips her hand from Hounds long enough to hand a few credits to the driver.

When she turns back to him, Hound is giving her a bewildered look or what she assumes to be bewildered behind the dark visor of his bucket.

“This isn’t the building you had me drop you off at the day we met.”

“Oh… oh! Yeah. That?” Nuna offers him a shy smile. “We don’t let strange men know where we live.”

“We?” If anything, the bewilderment only seems to intensify.

“Women silly,” she pauses as he reaches up to pop the seal on his helmet. She most assuredly does not ogle him as he pulls it off and tucks it under his arm. Her heart definitely doesn’t start beating double time when he runs a hair through the messy strip of hair atop his head and shoots her a sweet smile, waiting for her to continue.

Stars, she was in trouble with this one.

“I guess you really don’t know? You gotta play it safe. Stranger danger and all that? Anything ringing any bells?”

Hound shrugs, good-natured smile firmly in place. “I don’t think I’ve ever had to worry about the dangerous sort. Unless…” his voice turns teasing as he reaches for her hands. “Ms. Skii, do you have anything unsavory planned for me?”

Nuna doesn’t resist when he laces their fingers and draws her in.

“Do I look dangerous to you?”

“You have no idea how dangerous you really are,” he says softly, tipping his head toward her.

Nuna tips her chin up, rises to meet him. Her eyes flutter shut at the warm breath so close that it tickles her lips. Alas, what she assumes to be the best first kiss of her life is thwarted by the blare of a speeders horn.

Because they were still on the platform.

Jumping back she shoots the driver a look that she hoped spoke volumes. She thinks maybe it’s the arms crossed over her chest that has the driver suddenly gesturing in apology but a glance over her shoulder shows an extremely unhappy clone trooper. Her look hadn’t killed, but a few more seconds and maiming was possible from Hound’s

Nuna nearly laughs before latching onto his arm and pulling him into the building and toward the turbo lift. It’s cute because he comes along without any real trying on her part and by the time the lift is in motion, the mean mug has melted back into a grin.

The nerves don’t hit until the lift has stopped. She hasn’t brought a man to this apartment. Ever.

After Alistar she’d made a promise to herself of a fresh start and Tully had said there were openings in her building and the price was right and then natural lighting was to die for and-

It’s been two years since she’s brought a man home and the thought is suddenly terrifying as she leads the way down the hall. Hound is pressed in close. One short step and he’d crash into her back. She wasn’t ready for this. As much as she thought she was, as much as she thought she could bring him home and fool around and do all the fun, reckless things that any single woman her age would be up for doing with such a fine specimen of a man has her bordering on panic with each step she takes.

By the time she’s reaching for the keypad her hand is trembling enough that Hound notices.

“Is something wrong?” Everything about his presence is warm, from the heat he radiates to the rich deep timbre of his voice. It should be perfect, but Nuna just can’t shake her nerves.

“No- I mean. I’ve never brought someone home before for… you know…” She flinches as she turns around and presses her back to the door.

Hound’s brows furrow together before he softens, “For caf? I mean, it’s not a big deal. You don’t have to go through the trouble. I’m fine with tea.”

Nuna lets out a shaky laugh, “You nerfherder! You know what I meant-“

“I did- I do and I want you to know I didn’t come here expecting anything from you. I just wanted to spend some more time with you and, if it makes you more comfortable, I’ll say goodnight right now.”

“You're serious?” Nuna asks after a moment's pause, “I mean you’re not going to hit hyperspace trying to get away from me if I don’t want to sleep with you?”

The look of offense that darkens his features is instant. “Listen, I don’t know what kind of guy you think I am, but” he takes a deep breath and runs a hand over his face. His voice gentles, “I like you. I get it. There’s been some scum in your past and I don’t know what you had to go through but know this. I’m not him.”

“Hound, I’m sorry.” He holds his hand up.

“All I ask is that, whether it’s today or tomorrow are a standard month from now, you give me a chance.”

“My turn to be honest,” she says quietly “I’m out of caf but if you still want to I’ve got a comfy couch and a few bottles of ne’tra gal chilled. We can watch something on the Holonet?”

“Ne’tra gal. Like real Mandalorian Ne’tra gal?”

Nuna shrugs as she half turns to finish punching in the access code. The door slides open and the pair enter.

“Yeah, I get it from Ordo’s. Near little Corellia?”

———

Hound feels like he’s gotta be the luckiest trooper that’s this side of wild space. He’s got a bottle of sweet Mandalorian ale in one hand and the other gently stroking the hair of the prettiest girl he's ever met. Nuna looks up at him and gives him a small smile as the next round of commercials start up.

“What?” He takes another quick pull of his Ne’tra gal.

“Just remembering that I’d been about to kiss you earlier.”

“Yeah. Shame that speeder pulled up and ruined it.” He sets the near empty bottle on the end table. Nuna’s eyes flash mischievously. He’d been really worried when they’d gotten to her door earlier that she was going to send him packing immediately. It’s not like he wouldn’t have left the second she said goodnight but he’d hoped, and the Maker had seen fit to give him a small blessing.

They’d been watching and laughing over Holocomedies for over an hour when she’d tucked in close, wiggling slowly up under his arm. She felt right against him, even through the armor he’d refused to shed. If she was nervous just to have him there, he wasn’t about to do anything to encourage further anxiety. The armor stayed on even though the thought of feeling her pressed against his actual flesh and blood body made him a little dizzy.

“Hound?” She cranes her neck up to look at him.

He hums quietly, fingers ghosting over and through her hair. He’s struck again by how soft everything about her was. He wasn’t used to soft. Not on Kamino and not here on Coruscant. Even Grizzer, though he wasn’t complaining, came with a rough and tough hide.

“Yeah?” She squirms out from under his arm and turns on her knees facing him.

“If I asked you to kiss me, would you?”

“Is this you asking, Mesh’la?”

By Fett and the Maker he hoped this was her asking. Nuna’s chin bobs up and down and she bites back a grin.

He can’t deny one of his own as he leans in slowly.

Her lips are soft as his fall against hers, a test run as his hand cradles the back of her head. She’s soft like flowers though he’s never had much experience with flowers. He should bring her flowers. Something just as special as she is, maybe those little ones he’s seen that smell like summer rain and sunshine.

Nuna sighs softly and Hound opens his eyes to see hers still shut and a pink flush creeping into her round cheeks.

He pecks her again. And again.

Soft feather light brushes that draw more soft sighs from her each time he pulls away. Innocent, teasing brushes of his mouth against hers that have a tension drawing tight in his belly.

When he does finally pull away it takes a moment to realize the trembling he’s feeling is coming from his own hands.

Nuna’s pale eyes flutter open and he’s trapped. A shy smile is tucked away at the corner of her mouth.

“Again please?”

Yeah, he really was the luckiest son of a rancor this side of wild space.

#sergeant hound #sergeant hound/oc #hound/oc #tcw #the clone wars

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wolf-pearl · 3 years

Text

I desperatly need to screech excitedly about the age of calamity demo, so obviously massive spoiler warning:

Ok so I was not expecting time travel, but you know what I'm 100% down lets muck up the time line together you funky lil eggy fella.

Sure I thought the game was going to be a proper prequel, but I'm honestly just as hyped for a timeline split. And honestly I can see why they would go with this instead of a direct prequel. They're probably trying to avoid the "yay you beat the boss! But actually you still loose" conundrum. From a gameplay standpoint, that's not fun or satisfying. It's rather frustrating actually. It also makes you more invested in the characters and the plot, because you can actually see a chance of them winning.

As for the timeloop theory I've seen floating around, I personally don't think the time travel is creating a time loop in this scenario. If they were going for a time loop scenario there would be no need to have changes to the timeline. And there definitely are already changes happening from what happened in the botw timeline. For one, Link getting the sheikah slate. It's implied in botw that the reason the shrines and towers never activated pre the calamity hitting was because Link was never given the sheikah slate. The slate has some sort of technology that makes it only fully activate if it senses the hero (probably meant as a safety protocol to keep it from being used by someone who wasn't supposed to.). In the botw timeline, link was never given the sheikah slate, thus the slate didn't activate it's runes, and the towers never rise. In age of calamity Link ends up holding the slate, causing it to activate and send out a signal to activate the tower.

Here's what I think is going on with the time travel: the egg guardian moves to/creates a separate timeline. Alternate timelines are already an established concept in the loz lore, so it's not a stretch. The timeline the egg leaves leads to the events of botw, while the timeline the egg arrives in leads to a different outcome thanks to the egg's meddling. It's like the ending of oot: Link leaves behind the timeline where gannondorf rose to power, and ends up in a timeline where gannondorf hasn't made his move yet. The timeline he left behind (adult timeline) continues without him, eventually leading to the events of wind waker. The timeline Link ends up in isn't actually necessarily the past, it's a alternate timeline (the child timeline). One where he hasn't met zelda yet, and gannondorf hasn't taken over. The timeline the egg leaves behind to result in botw is like the adult timeline in this case, and age of calamity is like the child timeline. They split into separate outcomes.

Also the whole timeline shenanigans explains why the egg guardian is no where to be found in botw. It no longer exists in that timeline. Also, since it was in a box in the opening cut scene, I feel it's safe to say it wasn't activated in the botw time line until the moments we see in aoc. It's not that unreasonable to think that they wouldn't have spent the time and resources on a small guardian that didn't apear to have any useful abilities. It had probably been shelved upon being found as a potential pet project if there was extra time. The outward appearance of the egg doesn't exactly scream powerful. I could see them thinking it was some kind of early prototype of the larger guardians. And a prototype isn't as useful as the finished product.

So anyways, other thoughts: Impa may look like her granddaughter, but she is still definitely a certified badass. Impa is the definition of 'looks like a cinnamon roll but could kill you". I am so here for it. Also: the king is once again proving that he is a dick by being mean to the lil egg guardian.

Also, yes I do have a lot of thoughts about the whole "the towers and shrines didn't activate because Link wasn't given the sheikah slate" thing. First off, why wasn't he given it? Zelda herself states in one of the memories in botw that "it appears that this structure (the shrine) was designed to be exclusively accessed by the sword's chosen one". So logically the solution to not being able to activate the shrine is give Link the slate and have him try. But that's not what she does. Instead she immediately goes "welp time to find a loophole". Why do it the hard why when you have the proper key right there in the form of Link? Was Link forbidden from handling the slate? Was Zelda being petty and refusing to let Link touch the slate? What is going on here?? Link not being given the object designed to only activate when held by him probably didn't help them in the fight against the calamity, in fact it probably helped lead to their defeat. Not only was zelda not ready, neither was Link because he couldn't receive the training he was meant to get from the shrines. This also brings up something interesting; Link not being given the slate is probably part of the reason they were having difficulty learning to control the guardians and the devine beasts. Instead of being given direct access, they had been trying to break through their programming by brute force. No wonder it took a while for Daruk to get the hang of controlling his devine beast, he was trying to operate it without having proper access. It could also explain the difference between sheikah tech that is all blue vs sheikah tech that is orange and blue. Blue tech has been fully activated by the hero, while blue and orange is operational but not properly "unlocked".

#loz botw #loz breath of the wild #hyrule warriors age of calamity #hw aoc #hw age of calamity #egg guardian #aoc demo #loz age of calamity #age of calamity

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gimme-a-hand-scaevola · 3 years

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A review of the book The Rook by Daniel O’Malley that nobody ever asked for...

Ok so @chemcat92 recommended me this book and I listened to it on audiobook and I just... have a lot of thoughts. I haven’t read the sequel and I’m torn if I will. Having watched some AMVs of the show, it’s a hard pass. My review is going to be in three parts:

1. The plot

2. Wasted Potential - In General

3. Wasted Potential - Gestalt the Most Wasted Character Potential I’ve Read since Drizzt Do’Urden

Obviously spoilers under the cut.

Part 1: The Plot - i.e. I think Daniel discovered books four days before he started writing

Ok so... The plot of this book. It starts off STRONG I will give it that. Myfanwy Thomas wakes up in a rainy part surrounded by bodies wearing latex gloves and no memories. She soon discovers her previous self lost her memories but because she was organized and knew it was coming, she has eased new Myfanwy’s transition. She gets to choose to stay in her life through letters and then we get an easy way to give flashbacks. Anyway this part RULES.

Honestly, the book starts strong as hell. Myfanwy discovers she has supernatural powers over people’s nervous systems and is a trained bureaucrat for a supernatural wing of the government. This all runs sort of like a combination of Heroes and Harry Potter in the best way possible. And here is where we find the strongest part of the book: the superpowers.

We don’t have to look that far to find Heroes type shows or books where everyone has a special ability, so if you’re going to go that route, you’ve gotta bring it. And honestly, Daniel brings it. They powers are cool as hell, they’re inventive, they’re well bounded. I felt like I understood what people’s powers and limitations were. We were in a land with magic, but it never felt cheap. This is going to dovetail into my absolute RANT about Gestalt but give me a sec to get there.

Ok. So honestly I don’t even have any complaints until the third act. Act one gives us the set up, act two introduced the big bad the Grafters and so far so good. We’ve got good but elitist supernatural guys vs. bad but more egalitarian supernatural guys. We also know that it was someone in the supernatural org (it has a name but the name is so stupid I can’t spell it) that betrayed our protag and stole her memories and they’re still around and teamed up with the evil Grafters. Intrigue?? Don’t know who to trust???? Love it.

For some reason everyone is either old, or hot, or so inhuman it’s viscerally horrifying. Love this touch. Eleanor from the Good Place taught us that it’s totally free to imagine everyone in a story as super hot. And it is. So they’re all super hot. Love it. Good commitment, Daniel.

But then we get to Act three. So, this was a big swing on ol Danny’s part because a lot of the effect of this had to do with carrying out mystery. We’d built a lot of tension on the suspense Who Betrayed Myfanwy. So obviously it’s really important for me to be surprised or at least satisfied with who this is. (As an aside, I would have been ok with guessing correctly, I definitely don’t subscribe to surprise trumping cohesive plot). Ok. With that on paper... like... holy shit. What a stupid “reveal.”

So in part 1, like the first scene we get of old Myfanwy’s letters giving us context, she says that her apartment at work was inherited from a dude Conrad something that got promoted. And then she says it’s super badly decorated, and later we see it and this shit is straight out of Austin Powers, mirror over a round bed, The Whole Shebang. But she also says that this guy who otherwise is supposed to be very smooth and charismatic like... asks her about the decor.... every time they interact. Every Time They Interact. The second this was mentioned (WHICH IS AFTER WE KNOW SHE WAS BETRAYED) I'm like “oh ok so this guy bugged her room he’s the villain” and I only wasn’t sure because it was WAY too obvious.

But no. He’s the villain. He has a big reveal where he’s like “AND I BUGGED YOUR ROOM” and I'm like... well... yeah. Of course you did. But here’s the thing tho... Myfanwy’s like... WHOLE ASS JOB is planning covert ops. So... is she good at her job??? IS SHE????

But we also don’t actually show how characters are based on their actions, we are just told how they are. But we will circle back to that in the Gestalt part. That’s honestly the sum of my rant about the plot. It was nothing. It put all its eggs in the basket of the worst most boring reveal of all time. Daniel, I think you might just be boring.

Part 2: Wasted Potential - Everything but Gestalt who gets a special part to themselves.

The big sin of this book might just be too many good ideas. There’s a lot of characters, they all do cool stuff, but we have like 200 pages, so there wasn’t enough time to do anything with all these guys. I got lost about who was who like 80 times because they’re basically all sneaky hot magic guys. One of them smokes and is a soldier and he seems chill.

There’s a vampire and he gets a scene and a long intro that reads more like a wiki page. Like it was interesting but you would have lost NOTHING cutting him as a character except that he was cool. You never ever believe that he was the bad guy because it’s super well established in the Certified Back Story that he could give two shits about the politics of the humans. He’s there bc he’s an adorably young vampire who is very curious so his dad set him up as a powerful government agent as though it was enrolling him in a prep school. Love it, but again, we don’t.... need him around.

There’s a lady who can walk through dreams and I thought she was going to be important based on the fanfare of her introduction but then we forget about her basically entirely.

There’s a whole American wing that we also only see anything interesting about in side story. Basically the world building is really good. Like pretty superb to be honest. But it’s bracketing a story that is nothing so it makes even good characters seems really random. And that bring us to:

Part 3: My Darling, Gestalt. My Type. My Weakness. What a Sad Little Thing You Are (Also misogyny)

Alright... if the rest of this review wasn’t salty enough for you... let the salt begin. Gestalt. So named because of the word meaning larger than the sum of its parts. And so they were destined to be. And so they were most definitely not. So Gestalt’s whole thing is that they are one consciousness with four bodies. They can either control one body at a time and sort of shut the others down or they can control them all at once but that becomes harder if one of them requires more attention than another, like if one is in a fight.

Two twins (men), one fraternal brother, and a sister. If anyone is thinking “uhoh, only one girl, hmm can Daniel handle that? Seems like maybe some Smurfette style misogyny-lite is coming,” you would be wrong. Super wrong. Because it is not misogyny-lite. It’s aggressive Fight-Me-In-A-Perkins-Parking-Lot misogyny. So go fuck yourself, Dan.

Alright, so to number Gestalt’s sins.

1. Scrape off some of that intro mustard.

They’re introduced in the LONGEST fucking passage I’ve ever read telling me that this dude is hard to talk to and weird. Like, I’m in an urban fantasy book already, I'm all set. Also... bitch SHOW ME they’re weird. Like can I see some interactions that give me second hand embarrassment??? No. It is actually never uncomfortable to talk to Gestalt. I only know that because people are super fucking rude about them. But it is never earned. So I don’t feel sympathy when people are like “Oh noooo you have to spend a car ride with Gestalt? Ewwwww sorry.” I’m just like, “What’s your fucking problem? They seem fine.”

2. They’re supposed to be Bad At Planning but when??

Alright so there ARE times they’re bad at planning and we will GET TO THAT. But it’s only post-reveal like... what we are told during a monologue that they were dumb as shit. And that wasn’t even like not being good w/ details like it’s implied they are, it’s literally like doing dumb ass stuff. And it felt more like my bud Dan didn’t have a good handle on why stuff was dumb as rain than Gestalt being silly.

Also.... this is a stupid use of this sort of character. They’re dumb and bad at planning??? THEY’RE A JOINT CONSCIOUSNESS why would you waste that making them “Good at kicking ass.” ugh. Fine.

3. They get sidelined IMMEDIATELY

So a guy named Pumice Stone or Kettle or Lil boy Bad At This or something outs that Gestalt is working with the Grafters because he like.... wasn’t paying attention. It was boring. But anyway so they capture two of the bodies and then stop addressing Gestalt until the end. They have one weird scene where the protagonist like.... freaks them out but ok. Fine. Why is Gestalt so Yelly. Why are so many villains in this book yelly. Ew.

4. The REVEAL MONOLOGUE.

I know this is a long ass review already. But my Feelings Must be Heard. So in the end when Conrad surprises no one but “smart” Myfanwy that he was the bad guy, we also get a reveal from the surviving Gestalt bodies that:

a. There’s an incest baby

b. They’re afraid of death

c. They’re so phenomenally stupid I have lost all interest in them

So... this is where the misogyny comes in. I’ll note here that the only time we interact w/ Eliza, the special girl body, is when she takes a carried to Hogwarts the super secret magic school with Myfanwy and she doesn’t do anything except we get the internal note that she’s like... gained weight. This is the misogyny-lite we expect. (And no, Dan, you don't get any points bc a female character is the only pleased she got pudgy bc YOU wrote the female character so we’re all set there.)

And then we discover that the weird blonde (lol oh yeah they’re all hot blondes) baby that Conrad “Evil Austin Powers” British-Last-Name has with his weird wife is actually a Gestalt body that Eliza had after she boned down with her other body who is genetically a brother and consciously herself.

K. Ok. I have. Ok. Alright. Daniel. Ok.

SUBPART A: My Feelings about Gestalt: Oh Eliza, my darling, my dear, would that I could bring you Justice

So after Eliza is shot dead one of the interchangeable boy bodies of Gestalt yells at Myfanwy about how terrible that is bc it was the only body who could bear children so now THE HORROR they’ll die.

For god’s fucking sake Daniel O’Malley. What the fuck is your goddamn problem. You LITERALLY wrote a Smurfette Syndrome character who is only important because she can have babies. She is literally just there to be a baby-box. What the fuck. Get fucking wrecked. Thank GOD Starz cut your program and fuck the Aurealis Awards for giving you an award for this fucking book. But they’re a sci-fi award so this is probably super progressive for them. I was pleasantly annoyed by the basic nature of this book until this part. Now I am just done with your content. This was more overtly sexist that Supernatural. So... real swing and a miss.

ANYWAY FORTUNATELY this opens a whole new can of worms that I get to ruthlessly mock certified Basic Bitch Daniel O’Malley for.

SubPart 2: Gestalt Raises Interesting Philosophical Questions Daniel Isn’t Smart Enough to Address

So, remember, I would have cut this dude more slack if he didn’t do that to Eliza. Gestalt, to be honest, this whole review is dedicated to what you Could Have Been.

Interesting Questions or Comments We Could Have Asked:

Does having a baby being one of five of your bodies affect your consciousness? That thing doesn’t have object permanence? Is there like an intellectual cost to having another baby body? No, we don’t care. I think we just had there be a baby bc “Weird sister-sex” was as interesting as Daniel could get. Side Note: The obvious question of “lol haha lol is it incest or mAsTurBation is not going to be addressed here bc it is literally too boring to consider)

Does having a body who textually is said to have post-partum depression affect your joint consciousness? If not, why bring it up?? Bc she has “weird lady disease” is that why???

Are they....afraid of death????? Why didn’t you ever bring this up? Why have they showed only excitement at the prospect of very dangerous fights up to this point? Why are all four bodies in the field.

WHY ARE ALL FOUR BODIES IN THE FIELD. Ok so here is one of those points that is definitely stupid but stupid in a dumb as dirt way. If you were afraid to lose your baby-box body, why would you send her into battle?

Why didn’t they freeze a bunch of her eggs? In fact, why did she bear it at all? Why put your one female body that you only want for babies through that sort of danger? Canonically they all get paid an absurd amount and Gestalt is paid for each body, they can afford a surrogate.

Why let a weird dude who is at best contemptuous of you raise your baby body? Why wouldn’t you want to do that? Doesn’t that give him a huge amount of leverage over you?

Is the quality fo Gestalt’s form destined to decline if genetically they can only make more bodies by full genetic sibling offspring? Does that scare them? Again... does their physical brain affect their consciousness?

If so... maybe that would be a good reason for them to want to join up with the Grafters who are way ahead in genetic research and engineering.

ANYWAY Gestalt is sexist as shit and boring as hell and had SO MUCH WEIRD POTENTIAL.

In summary: It was definitely fun but Fuck you, Daniel O’Malley

#the rook #Daniel O'Malley #Myfanwy Thomas #Gestalt #Book review #the rook starz

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ruffiorocks · 5 years

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Lena isn't hypocritical if she gets mad at Kara.

Ok, so I'm still seeing some people saying that Lena is hypocritical to be mad at Kara because she was keeping secrets from her. The main one being the Harun El and giving humans superpowers.

Again, I don't think we're watching the same show, or if we are these folk really arent paying attention.

Lena told EVERYONE at Thanksgiving her hypothetical theory of giving people super powers and was immediately shot down. Now Lena doesn't need to stop doing something just because her friends only gave the idea 60 seconds of thought. The Superfriends aren't Lena's board, or her bosses. So why would she bother to tell them she was going ahead with her research when she knows they already disapprove? That would just be pointless.

Now cast your minds back, Lena TOLD James what she was doing. James APPROVED and praised her for it. His dubious look while she was sleeping was for him and him alone. He never told Lena he had reservations. The only issue James had with her research was her partnering with the government, not the idea itself. (Plus someone seemed pretty happy to keep those powers, or am I the only one who saw James enjoying training at the Fortress?)

Alex, Alex wasnt a fan of the idea, but then she was mind wiped and no longer had a personal connection to Supergirl. When Alex was working with Lena at the DEO she looked through that microscope and realized what Lena was doing. "So that conversation at Thanksgiving wasn't hypothetical?" She wasn't against the idea at all, the only concern Alex had was that it could put Lena in danger. Then you know what she did? She worked every day with Lena on it. She even told James when she visited Cat Co to see Kara that she was working with Lena. James acted butt hurt at the mere mention of his ex but he didn't protest what they were doing even though he already knew.

Brainy, he wasn't all that interested at Thanksgiving if I remember correctly. But Brainy was at the DEO and he worked work Lena and Alex on the Harun El without any protest. Brainy knowing full well what Lena was doing, what Alex was helping with and yet still devoted to being Lena's friend. To be honest Brainy seems to understand Lena better than anyone including Kara.

So Kara didn't know? Now here's the thing, Kara was there when Lena suggested it and didn't like the idea. Now remember Kara to Lena is just a civilian reporter, one that again already said she didn't want to give this idea the time of day. Lena may be best friends with Kara but there is a line that Lena won't cross when it comes to her research or business dealings. Why would she tell her civilian (reporter) best friend her secret work with the DEO? She wouldn't of course, technically there should be a bloody clause in the government contract to prevent that. "No telling Media acting CEO's or reporters". I mean that's just common sense. Lena didn't give Kara all the info when she was working with Rhea, even when Kara asked. She didn't even tell Kara about her work on the Lexo suit, because why would she tell Kara the reporter EVERYTHING she does?

Alex didn't tell Kara either, because just like Lena she believes her sister is just a civilian reporter. Alex the super secret DEO Director isn't going to go home and have sister night with Kara and tell her all the governments secrets. ( She would of it she knew she was Supergirl, but she's in the same oblivious boat that Lena's in). Alex may not know who Kara is, but it doesn't change her morals. It just meant she was finally free to see another picture without Supergirl blinders on.

You know who else didn't tell Kara? James didn't. Not one word. Actually kudos to him for not betraying Lena (again!)

You know who else didn't tell Kara? Brainy didn't either.

Kara only found out that Lena had been working with Harun El and manufacturing Super powers when she, Lena and Alex searched Eve's lab and found a chunk of it in a safe. Kara wasn't happy, but you know who defended Lena? Alex did!

Lena didn't tell Kara (or anyone) that she was working with Lex to save his life? I've already addr this in a previous post, but to summarize Lena doesn't have to tell her civilian REPORTER best friend everything she does. She already knows (or thinks she does) what people would say. But remember Lena was as far as she knew working legally with Lex. We all thought that to, until we found out he had the prison under his control. But still Lena didn't have to tell Kara any of this.

So yeah, Kara lying and decieving Lena about WHO she really is, letting her believe she's in danger, letting her freak out when she thinks she could have died, being a jackass ass to her as Supergirl then besties with her as Kara, manipulating Lena's boyfriend into breaking and entering and violating her privacy? Shall I go on? None of that is the same as Lena not telling civilian everything that's going on her in her life.

Lena keeps secrets because Kara as far as she is aware isn't effected by them. Kara keeps secrets and lies to Lena every 5 minutes. Lena has never betrayed Kara's friendship, Kara betrays it all the time. Lena has never taken Kara for a mug, Kara does all the time. Lena never went to Mon El as asked him to betray Kara, Kara did this with James.

People say that Lena is responsible for most of her own (or any) of the shows problems? Well you know who else to could have prevented many of the problems? Kara could have if she had trusted her best friend.

Even Lena would have questioned Kara's sanity if she had revealed herself immediately. But by season 3 Lena has ready saved the world and was Supergirls ally and Kara's supposed best friend. The whole Kryptonite issue could have been avoided completely if Kara has been honest, she course have just talked to Lena, Lena would also have known she could trust the DEO to help Sam.

Honestly I'm just bored of Kara's lies, deciet and manipulations getting a free pass because she's the certified hero and Lena who doesn't share everything she does with a civilian being condemned as the liar and responsible for every bad thing that happens. No one condemned Alex, Brainy or James for not keeping Kara on the loop, why? Is it because they are the 'heroes' and Lena who only ever tries to help people and has saved the world A LOT is automatically seen as the one who will go bad? Note that Kara would be dead a good few times over and couldn't have saved the day without Lena. The finale is being a prime example, Kara, Alex, Jonn, Brainy, Nia, James? The didn't make that space suit, they didn't make anti Kryptonite shields for Kara. (Winn did once). Lena also isnt the only one to make mistakes. But she's the only one condemned for them. Remember when Alex and Jonn just 'trusted' Jeramiah? Oh and he stole the alien register? Yeah no one was condemning them, it was just an 'accident'.

#supergirl #lena luthor #kara danvers #alex danvers #supercorp #anti james olsen #lex luthor #jonn jonzz #eve teschmacher #anti guardiancorp #nia nal #brainac 5 #brainy

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ofphcenixes · 5 years

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THE PHOENIX || BLUE HAWTHORNE.

ok i won’t lie i stole this intro from veritas 2 kdJKDGF BUT ! if you want to get to know this guy definitely hit the readmore below *shaky eye emoji*. also hi i’m lilac i’m an admin and also a sims enthusiast anyways, back onto what’s important here, this lil bean called red blue !

personality

THANK YOU FOR SUBSCRIBING TO BLUE FACTS. PLEASE TEXT ‘STOPBLUE’ TO CANCEL YOUR SUBSCRIPTION.

but if you have seen blue’s blog sidebar and title, i feel like you will gather a LOT about his personality lmfao

he is playful, jocular, and honestly? immature

always looking for the childhood he never got to have, y’know?

he is secretly very insecure and always has a need to please. if someone doesn’t like him, he’ll tear himself apart to figure out why.

he’s always telling jokes and always laughing. he’s known for his Memes and is always a good time to be around… if you know what i mean ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

but also Anti-( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) because ya boi has commitment issues so high they’re past the inevitable spaghetti monster that’s probably floating out there in space

he can also be very maternal when the need arises. he is not good at talking about emotions but he’ll give you a meme or a plate of cookies to Heal You

honestly? the human embodiment of a puppy. cannot be alone for very long, has a short attention span, and craves validation lmfao. give him a squeaky toy and he will be Contented

as a footballer he can be Tough on field when he needs to be but he’s also v sensitive and talks to birds he passes on his morning runs like he’s a disney princess djkgfdk

he struggles academically as he has a short attention span most of the time and thinks too little of himself. however, he’s a lot brighter than most people give him credit for. he’s incredibly creative and a lateral thinker. maths makes him want to die, tho.

also what’s money? blue does not know

to many, blue’s known as the troubled kid who turned his life around. to others, he’s known as the local Meme Dealer. but to a lucky few, he’s known as a friend who would do anything for you.

most just know him as the moron named after a colour tho. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

history. (trigger warning: illness, death, drugs, depression)

WHO’S READY FOR SOME CHROMATIC CONTENT

blue hawthorne, who never goes by his birthname bc he hates it dfkjgdgdf ( what is his birthname ? he’ll never tell ┌( ಠ‿ಠ)┘ ) was born right here in ashmont.

despite not having a lot - he grew up with just him and his mum ( his father left before he was born, never knew a thing about him ), in a tiny trailer park on the outskirts of town. a far cry from the opulent manors peppered all throughout town, and the very lifestyle blue’s mother was accustomed to as a child. however, the pair were content as long as they were together.

despite not having much, blue loved every second of his childhood. he wore his mischief like a crown, smiling wherever he went. he’d always resonated with a love of music and dance, and like his mother before him, danced. ballet was his passion growing up, and started as young as 5.

as a child blue was often teased for this, and the fact that he was so close with his mother. he was also very outspoken and strong-willed, and never let his peers get the best of him. he danced, he laughed, he bruised his knees at any given opportunity. what he lacked in possessions he gained in the abundance of joy he felt in his heart growing up. his mother and a few of his close friends were his world.

when blue turned ten, everything changed.

the jubilant, mischievous, but altogether kind-hearted boy was given the heart-breaking news that his mother had been diagnosed with cancer. margarette hawthorne, much like her son, was a fighter - and didn’t let such a diagnosis keep her down. despite their dwindling lack of funds now going towards medical bills, and the fact blue began sacrificing his own childhood as he took to the role of a caretaker of sorts for his mother, he never took his time with her for granted.

things were okay for a while. there was a point where the doctors were convinced that she was going to make it. blue was a fool. blue believed them.

at the age of thirteen, blue lost everything. he lost his place to live, he lost his childhood and lust for life, and he lost the person he loved most in the world. he lost his best friend.

it wasn’t long before the overbearing sympathy from those around him soured blue. he was sick of being bullied, people not liking him, and altogether not being in control. so what did this boy do ? he quit ballet (the thing he’d loved since he was able to stand), he started drinking, he got involved in a very bad crowd and became a frequenter of the local ashmont police station. blue became a certified Bad Boy™

blue was sent to live with the grandparents that despised him and never acknowledged his existence before that moment. righteous and conservative in their views, they had cast aside their daughter when she had blue out of wedlock, and only reached out to her in her final months. for this reason, blue despised these people (he refused to call them family). he tried his best to be appreciative of a house and food ( which was much better than anything he had growing up ). but he was cold. always cold.

as a teenager, blue fell into a rapid succession of bad decisions. still small, still frail in stature, he found himself at a dissonance with his image and began growing insecure about his looks, the years of torment weighing on him. he found anesthetic in the party scene outside of school, taking to alcohol and drugs as a sedative from the life he felt forced to lead. his grandparents were pigeon-holing him into a preppy, studious boy who’d go on to be a banker or a lawyer, when all blue had wanted to do was be himself. he couldn’t decide if he hated himself or he hated the world more.

at the age of 16, his rap sheet seemed to grow with each rising of the sun. he’d fallen in with a bad crowd, hardly ever heading ‘home’ and couch surfed. at the age of 16 he’d gotten his own car and lived more out of that than the stuffy house on top of the hill where he was supposed to stay. his grades were sinking towards the bottom of the barrel, he was always looking for validation from the bad kids he hung around with and made some very poor decisions in the hopes he’d be liked. in the hopes he’d find a new family.

the partying, the stream of hook ups, his criminal record (mainly with traffic offences, a few write ups for public intoxication and fighting), sobriety, the instability of his living situation and his future all came to boil just before he turned 17. physically he’d started to fill out, and look more like the man people know today. he was no longer frail and no longer weak, and when asked, he used to his fists to forge that path he thought he wanted.

after a dark night, it became apparent to blue that his path of self destruction was hurting no one but himself. whether by choice or by accident, he knew he wasn’t ready to see his mother again. so… he’d hit rock bottom with a spectacular thud. but blue knew the only way to go from there was up.

through nothing short than a McMiracle (sponsored by Ronald McDonald, bc no one else is rich enough to pull it off lmfao) blue managed to scrape by and complete high school.

blue had no doubt his family name (that of his grandparents) helped him secure an athletic scholarship to st etienne. in his year of transformation from 17 to 18 his grandmother had softened to the boy she’d always hated and was riddled with guilt for the years of mistreatment, and promised to pay for his education (that wasn’t covered by his scholarship) as long as he promised to make something of himself. his first year of college, things really started looking up for blue. he was finally back on track.

then woops, grim came a-knocking again

bidding farewell to the grandmother he was only beginning to know, his grandfather had no reason to extend her kindnesses, and cut blue off. at the age of 18 he was homeless, with nothing but a car and a handful of pokemon cards he’d had as a kid. not worth anything or even particularly sentimental, he just likes pokemond kgfjfd.

living in his car for a while before eventually crashing with a close friend, blue managed to absorb his days in study and in work. he quickly found his passion in helping kids, and giving them the childhoods that he never got. going into teaching seemed like a no-brainer.

although blue’s wild days are behind him, there are some things locked in his past that still haunt him. there are doors he never hopes to open again. but he got his fresh start, and is determined to live the life a young blue would have wanted for him, and one his mother could be proud of.

then the grim reaper came back a third time, his scythe begging for daisey rutherford.

the investigation.

blue’s connection to daisey is that they danced in ballet classes together… as you can imagine, daisey had to put on her Evil Training Wheels somewhere and unfortunately, blue was one of her earliest victims. teased constantly for his appearance, his love of ballet, his lack of wealth, and on awful days, his single parent household.

for the most part blue had grown resilient in ignoring these comments. but he never forgot how daisey mistreated him, and sparked a wave of similar comments from people in their year when they were only children.

hey now im not gonna rEVEAL (bc what if he is ??? :o ) anything relating to the crime if he was the murderer, but know he is Lorge and Strong and could probably push daisey over with his finger lmfao

it’s also worth noting that one of daisey’s parents, a beloved surgeon, treated blue’s mother whilst she was in hospital with cancer. the late detection of its return is what caused her death, and blue has been vocal in his blame in the rutherford family for the loss of the person closest to him ever since.

now i’m not saying blue did anything… but if he did, his ‘eye for an eye’ motive ? maybe not as crazy as you may think. especially when you consider your boi already has a criminal record. ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

plots.

atm i am still working on blue’s blob and getting his stats/connections page up BUT !! here are a few fun lil plots beyond his skeleton connections that i’d absolutely love to explore. also here’s his current connections page for further ideas !

CHILDHOOD FRIENDS - blue grew up in ashmont, and didn’t have a lot of friends kfgjfd. if your muse would have been down for a Young Memey Mess that’s fond of a pirouette, blue is your Man. on the flip side, if your muse is one of the Cool Kids and is looking for potential animosity, i’d love someone who tried to squash blue like a bug in their youth (~:

FLIRTATIONSHIP - blue is currently in a (hidden) relationship, and for the first time in his life, gasp, might have feelings. but he’s a fucking walnut and refuses to admit that, so a plot of someone with an unrequited crush, a fun flirtationship, or even someone that just wants to be his wingman would not only be fun, but also incredibly painful - which is what we deserve. 8) (also note, blue is bisexual so any muse would work. <3)

COWORKERS - blue works as a trainer at the ashmont fitness centre ( …. dont @ maaria for the page not being done fgjdgkdf WE ARE IN THE PROCESS OF UPDATING THE PAGES NOW KDFJGDKFJ). but i’d always be down for plots in the workplace !!

UBER - sorry for the lame ass name lmao but dkjfgfkd blue is not about the party scene anymore ( lowkey bc he’s afraid to get addicted again and throw away everything he’s worked so hard for). but he does care a lot about people, and a pal of his is v much still hooked to that lifestyle and he very dkfgjdf determinedly drives them home every time to ensure they’re safe. could be former party friends, could be current friends in some capacity. maybe there was an incident in their past that blue feels guilt over ( a fight perhaps, trigger warning - maybe an overdose?) and so now he looks after them. or even just having a sibling-like bond, which (as blue is an only child) i’d also love something like that!

STUDY BUDDY - blue is a moron and needs someone to help him not fail kdfjgdf. he may not be naturally adept at getting good grades, but unlike many, he’s trying his absolute hardest. in return, he’s more than happy to be your Meme Dealer. bonus points if it’s unlikely friends, or if they didn’t exactly get along at first. :D

FELLOW FOOTBALLERS - 2 bros sitting in a hot tub five feet apart bc they’re not gay. dkjgdgdf but for REAL. exploring the team dynamic of the football team would be so fun, especially with blue’s reputation and the fact he only started taking up the sport when he was about 15-16, which may be a lot later than other guys in the team.

RIVALS - god they’re probably rivals about memes and i hate that but that’s just what it is :/

ok i have nothing else to say other than thank you for being a sweetheart and reading through this ??? i know it was a McMess but, if you’d like to plot with said mcmess definitely hit me up - or wait it out a lil bc i plan to do some starter stuff and plotting later today. (~: love you all, and viva la daisey !

#veritasintro #IDK WHAT THIS IS IM SORRY DJKFGDF

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mikeconphoto · 5 years

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"FIT FEATURE: ALLYSON FRANCO" #WEARORANGE -BY MIKECON PHOTOGRAPHY

This is dedicated to Evan, all of the survivors and the victims of senseless gun violence.

I’ve been meaning to write this blog for a while about this phenomenal athlete, wife and mother named Allyson Franco. With current events in play, I figured that today’s that day. Before I share the interview with Allyson, let me tell you a bit about her.

Allyson and I met in 2016 at a gym in Castle Rock, Colorado. She was working there as a Personal Trainer, and I hired her to help me get back into better shape. As she trained me, we began to talk and get to know one another, and eventually became really great friends. Coincidentally, we’re both from Georgia, close in age, and appreciate family, food, and running. After some major convincing between myself and her husband we FINALLY got her to do a photo shoot with me. Allyson is a natural in front of the camera!! Not once did she ever tense up, or give up on the all day marathon shoot we did.

On May 7th 2019, the Highlands Ranch, Colorado community was forever changed when a shooting occurred at the Highlands Rance STEM School. There were 8 students hurt and 1 was killed. For me this hit pretty personal because Allyson’s one and only son is currently a student there. Living here in Germany, I rarely see the news going on in the U.S., however Allyson made this post on social media that she shared with me, and has allowed me to share with you all:

“I rarely post very personal things on Facebook, but what happened today is bigger than just my family unit. There was a shooting at Evan’s school today, STEM. He was in the classroom next door to where one of the shooters opened fired. At least 3 bullets came through the wall into his room and one grazed a boy in his class on the leg. His soccer coach was the teacher leading class at that time. One of his teammates was actually in the room where it happened (his teammate is physically ok). He knew the student that did not survive his injuries and, though not very well, he knew the 18 yr old shooter. This is a small school, everybody knows everybody on some level. Our son heard and saw things today that nobody should ever be exposed to, least of all someone his age whose biggest concern should be his upcoming game and what he’s going to do on Friday night. He heard all of the gunshots that happened in that room. He heard a student yell “He has a gun!” He heard the confrontation that happened between a shooter and an officer. He heard the confrontation stop after more gunfire. He helped gather his classmates into the area where they were supposed to be during a lockdown, including collecting two classmates who were hiding together in a deemed unsafe spot, which left him positioned on the floor in the middle of the room instead of up against the wall where, he was supposed to be because he was one of the last two people to take cover. He saw blood pools on the floor and blood on the wall as he was evacuated from the school by armed officers. To the depths of my soul I mourn what happened today. I mourn the loss of life, I mourn for those that suffered injuries, I mourn the lives of the shooters and I mourn for their parents, and I mourn for the rest of these kids that should never have been exposed to everything that happened today. I am immensely proud of how our son handled himself today. Yet I am devastated at his loss of innocence. I am an adult, yet I am unsure of how to deal with the feelings I have. How do we as parents help our kids through this who, at this age, struggle with simply processing their regular daily emotional load?

I worry every time this boy gets in his car and leaves my sight. So much so that I make fun of myself in my head for being such a ‘mom’. Every fear came to life today when I got the text that said “don’t call me because my phone can’t ring...there is an active shooter...which is where I am...” I’m surely going to freak the eff out when he leaves home now.

I’m not looking to be political. That’s not what this post is about. I’m heartbroken. So many children are hurting. I cannot thank God enough for the moment when I was able to hug my son after hours of standing in a gymnasium with hundreds of other scared parents. Honestly, I don’t really know why I’m posting this other than I need a place to ‘put’ what I’m feeling (imagine how all of these students feel). And that feelings about what happened today should not be kept inside.

Hug your kids for me. I love them all. “

As a Marine that has experience in combat zones I hate the fact that this happened to these kids, or anyone that has had to deal with this when they’re supposed to be safe on our own soil. I’m not here to politicize this, however I will bring awareness to this as the rest of the world has by wearing orange today to honor gun violence victims and survivors. Now, here’s more about Allyson. #wearorange

Describe your life before you started training. I grew up being uncomfortable in my skin. I was always the “skinny girl”. In fact, the mom of my best friend while I was growing up used to say I looked like a “refugee from Guam”. She didn’t mean any harm behind it, she loved me almost like a daughter, but it still stung and it definitely stuck. I spent some time trying out different types of dancing in my youth, and while I enjoyed it, it wasn’t my “thing” so I didn’t stay with it as I got older. I spent my high school years trying to come to terms with myself as a whole, just like everybody else did. I feel like I didn’t really start coming into my own until after I graduated. I’d have to say that the best I’ve ever felt about myself was in my early to mid twenties. Whether it’s related or not, that’s when I began to dabble in the gym. My then fiancée and I joined Lifetime Fitness and started working out to get ready for our wedding. I wasn’t nearly at the level physically that I’ve since become, and there have been many evolutions in my fitness journey since then, but after I started that one gym membership, I haven’t stopped.

How different do you feel now compared to then? Night and day. But sprinklings of that very insecure girl still show up more often than I’d like. There are moments when being a 45 year old, pre-menopausal mom and wife catch up with me. But my time that I spend training is what helps to keep those demons at bay. I’ve learned to appreciate my strength and the feats my body has been able to accomplish over the years.

Was there is pivotal moment that motivated you to start training? If so, what was it? Not really. At the time, John and I joined a gym in preparation for our upcoming wedding. It just seemed like the thing to do. We didn’t realize that we had begun what was to become one of the biggest parts of our daily lives.

Do you remember your first training session? How different is your training today? I remember when I first joined a gym after having my son. That was more significant to me than my first time ever training in a gym was. I was a new mom and needed to get out of the house and find a community. I found it when I came back to the gym. (I’d had to give up the gym during my pregnancy due to complications.)

What has been the most rewarding aspect of training for you? Why? By far, my sense of self. I feel more confident and secure in my station when I have my outlet. I am a better wife and mother when I’m able to get my training in. My personal fitness evolution also lead me to becoming a personal trainer, which became my career passion the minute I started.

What has continued to motivate you throughout your training? Why? Setting a good example for my son is a huge motivation. I want to show him that just because we have to age, it doesn’t mean we have to get old. And also to show him that taking care of yourself is a foundation to leading a good life. Training is also my outlet. I’m a better version of myself when my training is on point. My family and my clients deserve my best.

What are your qualifications - why did you set out to achieve these? Professionally, my personal training certifications are through NASM - National Academy of Sports Medicine. I have my Certified Personal Trainer certification, Corrective Exercise Specialist certification, Fitness Nutrition Specialist certification, Weight Loss Specialist certification, Women’s Fitness Specialist certification, and Youth Exercise Specialist certification. NASM is one of the most highly regarded institutions from which to become certified. I figured that I’d be wasting my time, and my clients’ time, if I didn’t set high standards for myself from the beginning. Each new certification I acquire makes me a more effective and well rounded personal trainer. My clients deserve my best effort, and that includes not only my attitude, but also my knowledge. Beyond my professional certifications, I try to practice what I preach. I have tried to be accomplished both professionally and personally. I have finished multiple 30 hour adventure races, completed multiple marathons, completed a 50k ultramarathon, finished two 70.3 distance triathlons, and also crossed the finish line at the inaugural Chattanooga Ironman 140.6 triathlon.

What have you had to overcome to get to where you are today? Did that change you in any way? If so, describe how. I’ve been blessed that my road to becoming a personal trainer has been a fairly smooth one. My husband has supported me 100% since day 1, and he’s my biggest fan. He has trained along my side and in many of my personal endeavors too. We trained together and held hands as we both crossed the finish line in the Chattanooga Ironman. My son has also been consistently positive about everything I’ve done. My support system is strong.

What is the number one lesson you have learned about health and fitness through your training? Sustainability is key. Each person has to find a nutrition and training regimen that they can stick with long term. Health and fitness should be a lifelong endeavor.

What do you wish you had known when you were 16? That great things happen when I push myself outside of my comfort zone, both mentally and physically.

Describe how training makes you feel. Strong. Capable. Beautiful. Centered.

Do you have a quote that you live by? If so, why this one? “If it doesn’t challenge you, it won’t change you.” We all can become complacent in a blink if we aren’t paying attention. This applies to all areas of life - physical, mental, social, professional....Nothing progresses if we are stagnant and comfortable.

What was your reason for taking health and fitness to the level you have? Why is it so important to you? It’s been an evolution for me. As I gained more confidence in what my body could do, I kept pushing my limits. Every time I completed a race, even though I was beat down and exhausted, I felt strong and accomplished. I also want to be strong and healthy for my family. I try to lead by example so they will be encouraged to be strong and healthy as well.

What advice would you give to women wanting to get into the best shape of their life? Don’t get discouraged. No one thing works for every person. Don’t be afraid to try different avenues of exercise.

What is the most important thing women need to remember when training? Why? That it’s ok to take that time for yourself. We tend to feel that by doing something that seems like it is for us alone, we are taking away from the people that we love. That’s not the case. The truth is, this small amount of time that we take, makes us better for the people that count on us.

We all have days where motivation is low – how do you overcome these? Have you always been able to do this? I am a “doer.” I’m very task oriented. If something needs to be done, and I’m the one that is supposed to do it, I complete the task regardless of how I feel about doing it. The same principle applies for me with regard to my training. If it’s on the schedule for the day, I do it. That said, there are occasional days where I might be particularly low energy or run down. Perhaps those will turn into unscheduled rest days. I’m trying to listen to my body more. I was not very good at doing so a few years ago. My last line of defense, though, is my husband. If I’m really failing to get myself moving, he’s very good about stepping in. He’s been known to create a butt-kicking workout for me so that I don’t have to think about it. I just show up.

Do you enjoy training alone or with a partner? Why? Really, it depends on the day and what I’m doing. There is something great about being in my fitness studio alone, my music turned up loud, and doing my thing. But I also have fun when my friend comes to join me and we help push each other. I love the times when my husband and I can get in the gym together too. My son will come workout with me sometimes as well, especially during summer vacation. Those are great opportunities for us to spend time together.

What would you like to see change in the health and fitness industry? I’d like to see some regulation on vitamins, proteins, and supplements. So many people think that all supplements are created equal. They’re under the impression that these products are all safe because they’re sold over the counter. That’s not true and it makes it difficult for the average person to make informed decisions about what they are putting in their bodies.

What would a perfect Sunday involve for you? A perfect Sunday would come at the end of a successful training week. There would be snow on the ground, I’d sleep in with my husband, stay in sweats all day, there would be a big pot of homemade spaghetti gravy on the stove, and I’d finish off my evening with a couple of glasses of red wine.

Contest history - do you have a highlight? Why? I’ve completed multiple 30-hour adventure races, several marathons, a 50k ultra marathon, two 70.3 distance Ironman Triathlons, and the Inaugural Chattanooga 140.6 Ironman Triathlon. The highlight would have to be the Chattanooga Ironman. My training had been sidelined by a few unexpected surgeries I’d had at the beginning of that year. I had come to terms with not being able to participate in this race that coming September as I hadn’t been able to train at all for the first 6 months of the year. But at the last minute, I decided to go for it. I trained hard for two months and, while my time wasn’t as good as it would have been if I’d been able to train properly, I crossed the finish line next to my husband. Running down that finisher’s chute was one of the highlights of my entire life.

Diet/Workout week:

[Please outline a typical day’s meals and your workout]

Monday

Breakfast - Isagenix IsaLean Strawberry shake, coffee

Snack - small handful of raw almonds and an apple

Later lunch/ post workout - 2 Mediterranean grilled chicken skewers, 2 tbsp hummus, cucumber slices

Dinner - roasted chicken, roasted red potatoes, and a salad

Tuesday

Breakfast - Isa shake, coffee

Snack - 2 slices sharp cheddar cheese and an apple

Later lunch / post workout - Just Shredded Chicken from Sprouts, 2 tbsp Frank’s Red Hot wing sauce, and baby carrots

Dinner - baked salmon, brown rice pilaf (made from scratch), steamed asparagus

Wednesday

Breakfast - Isa shake, coffee

Snack - beef jerky

Late lunch / post workout - one of the two lunches described above

Dinner - chicken stir fry with carrots, baby bok choy, and bell peppers, served over brown rice

Thursday

Breakfast - same

Snack - same

Lunch / post workout - same

Dinner - baked chicken breasts, roasted potatoes, baked Parmesan squash and zucchini “chips” (dipped in Greek yogurt ranch dressing)

Friday

Brakfast - same

Snack - same

Lunch / post workout - same

Dinner - chicken tinga tacos from Yolanda’s

Saturday

Breakfast - avocado toast on Ezekiel bread with 2 eggs and a sliced tomato, coffee

Lunch - 5 marinated mozzarella balls and a chopped tomato with a drizzle of balsamic vinegar

Snack - almonds or beef jerky and an apple

Dinner - sweet and spicy honey-sriracha chicken thighs with honey-soy glazed carrots served over brown rice

Sunday

Breakfast - scrambled eggs (made by my husband), Ezekiel toast, coffee

Lunch - turkey and cheddar flat sandwich from Pot Belly with all the toppings except mayo and oil

Dinner - either some form of leftovers from previous dinners, or homemade spaghetti gravy over whole wheat pasta

QUICK QUESTIONS:

Describe yourself in three words. Stubborn, dependable, feisty (Editor’s note: Allyson is half Italian and Puerto Rican, so those three words might make better sense!)

What is your favorite food to indulge on? How often do you treat yourself? I love cheese! I don’t think I’ve ever met a cheese that I didn’t like. I don’t eat it as often as I’d like. Maybe once a month I’ll put together a big tray of cheese and charcuterie and my husband and I will have that for dinner with a couple of glasses of wine.

What is your favorite non-cheat food? Tomatoes. I’ve had an obsession with them the last few months.

What is your favorite home-cooked meal? Who cooks it? Homemade spaghetti gravy with handmade ravioli. We make the ravioli by hand as a family, but I make the gravy. This is what we have for Christmas dinner every year.

What are the staples in your fridge? Just shredded chicken from Sprouts, sliced cucumbers, romaine letuce, we always have lots of veggies, Perfect Bars, Organic Valley 2% milk, Silk soy creamer, eggs.

What is your favorite body part to train? Why? Legs, because I’ve always felt that they require the most work for me. If I’m not training them hard, then they become too skinny.

What is your least favorite body part to train? Why? Chest, because I hate push-ups.

Do you prefer to train outdoors or indoors? Why? Indoors, but my training studio is in my garage so I love to have the big bay door open. I get the best of both worlds that way.

Describe the atmosphere in your favorite place to train – what can you see/feel/hear etc.? The lights are low and the rock music is loud. The vibe is strong and positive. I must have some personal space too, and be able to see outside.

Do you prefer cardio or weights? Why? I used to be a cardio junkie. I’m not like that now though, At this point, I’d have to say that I prefer weight training. I think I burned myself out running 10 miles a day, several days a week for such a long period of time. I just don’t have it in me to do that anymore. I also discovered that I prefer the way my body looks when I’m doing more lifting and HIIT training than the way it looked when I was running so much.

Do you have a favorite book? Why this one? ‘The Outlander’ series by Diana Gabaldon, because I’m a sucker for a good romance and strong lead characters.

What is your favorite feature? Why? My skin. I try very hard to take good care of it and keep it healthy and youthful looking. I was blessed with good genes. My mother and my grandmother both have beautiful skin. I have big shoes to fill in that regard.

Name five (5) things you can't live without. Other than my guys (John & Evan)? Blue jeans, boots, wine, my pets, and my workouts.

Name three (3) things most people don’t know about you. I don’t like crowds, I sang in the chorus in high school, and I love to cook.

What is on your bedside table? Water, hand lotion, Burt’s Bees lip treatment, 2 pictures of my son as a baby, and a lamp.

What is your best beauty secret? Eye cream! I’ve been using it since I was in my 20s. And serious sunscreen on my face.

Who inspires you? Why? My son. He exudes a quiet, but fierce confidence that I wish I’d had at his age. Or that I wish I had even now! The intelligence and maturity that he possesses is inspiring to watch grow.

Who is your fitness and body role model? Why? I can’t actually say that I have one. I just try to be the best version of myself that I can put out there. I spent too many years dangerously comparing myself to other people out there. I try not to do that anymore.

What do you have in store for the future? What do you want to improve on? Looking towards the future I’ll be focusing on expanding my business model and figuring out how to do that while not falling short on the daily running my household. I want to improve upon my ability to do both.

I'm currently preparing for: Nothing physical. I am working on building my brand professionally, while keeping my own training consistent.

Website? www.afitlifeforyou.com

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momofaddict · 5 years

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What a difference a day makes

4 score & 30 weeks ago (ok, just 30 weeks - Aug 31, 2018), M was implanted with Nexplanon (birth control implant). She'd gone to the doctor a couple of weeks previously, got a pregnancy test, and all was golden - negative. Implant was implanted.

Fast-forward 30 weeks & M is coming home for an impromptu visit to my house from her Gma's (she's remained sober since her one-night slip in late November & before that, hasn't used since May). On the hour & a half drive home, she talked about this strange gas that she'd had for a while. A lot of movement, but not actually toots. Frequent heartburn. Weird poop. A LOT of weight gain. I asked if there was ANY chance of her being pregnant. Nope! She'd had the implant since August, she DID have it removed in Jan 2019 because she thought it was affecting her moods a great deal. But the last sex she'd had was Nov... With D, the ex. Ok cool! She was covered.

She came to visit on a Friday. We spent a wonderful weekend together! We left my house Sunday to head back to her Grandma's & 5 minutes into our mini-roadtrip, she says that maybe we should buy a pregnancy test just to rule it out. We made a beeline to CVS, bought the test, & she took the test in the CVS bathroom. The first test was measured by a blue line (neg) vs a blue cross (pos) test. It came out with a cross (positive) BUT the horizontal line was grey, while the vertical line was blue. I was strongly optimistic that it was negative, but she was not.

I immediately bought another test. This one had 2 tests in it, both using the words "pregnant" vs "not pregnant". No question there.

We decided that she could not face her VERY judgmental grandma without knowing for sure, so we headed back to my house, her gulping down lots of water. She tried to pee on the next stick, only got a trickle & got an error. Probably not enough pee... It had only been 10 min since her last test.

She finished a 20 oz bottle of Bai plus more water. 20 min later she tried again. "Pregnant". She was completely freaked!

We talked for hours. She got her shift covered for work that night. I called out for work for the next day. We texted her grandma & let her know we would come the next day. We did math, counted weeks (we estimated 16) & months trying to figure out when she got pregnant and determined she was the 1% of people that get pregnant on Nexplanon. We determined she got pregnant sometime in November, googled how far along she was, how big the baby was, realized she was already around 4 months in, & freaked out about how little time she had left. Our heads we're spinning.

She already knew she was planning to go back to her old sober house. She'd made plans & the ball was rolling. But she wasn't sure how the pregnancy would affect that. She was also supposed to start a certified nurses assistant training class on the upcoming Tuesday after our weekend visit, which was supposed to help her find better work in her original sober community. A topic she was already struggling to tell her Gma about. Lastly, she was working at a restaurant in a city near her Grandma's, had gotten coverage Saturday to come visit me, & as mentioned, gotten coverage again Sunday to have a pregnancy melt down - which missing so much work would of course piss off her judgy gma. All this said, she is an addict, an albeit clean one, for several months, with no real home & a baby on the way.

We determined during our Sunday freak out that with the implant being in her as long as it was, an emergency doctor's appointment was the 1st thing to tackle. So using my called-out day off on Monday we went to the local poor person's hospital.

The initial estimation, just by the nurse feeling her belly, was 24 weeks. A LOT more than 16. Insert freakout #2. Next came the basic sonogram... Next estimation: 33 weeks. Holy fucking shit! Next came the measurements sonogram, which was quickly deemed necessary. Final verdict: 30 weeks & 1 day, 3 lbs, 3 oz, boy, due day MAY 12! We have 10 fucking weeks to make a plan!!!!

She's 7 months pregnant & never knew.

We finally took her back to her grandma's. She broke the news to her & they had their 1st real "yelling" fight ever. Gma was mostly pissed that M wouldn't be going thru with her CNA class. (Gma was a nurse all her life & has always wanted her granddaughter to follow in her footsteps, fervently.) But there JUST isn't TIME!

Gma told her she should give up this baby to the couple that adopted her 1st baby. Low goddamn blow. Told her she would be a waitress for the rest of her life. Wow... Just wow. We knew she would trip, but this was next level, low down & dirty.

I know she's 75 & thinks she's the wise old owl that knows all. But M has had 1 abortion, 1 miscarriage & one baby adopted out. She wants to keep this baby. And as crazy as it sounds, I'm 100% behind her decision. She's doing great in her sobriety & she's excited for this little baby boy. She deserves a family that supports her. I'm so fucking pissed at this woman (gma). I'm ready to dump her like the rest of my shitty family (she's my ex's mother)!

I was a single mom for a fucking long ass time, because HER POS son refused to step up. But by God I did it, & so can M.

To end this tale with the kicker of all kickers, being 30 weeks & 1 day pregnant, it was determined that she was pregnant when she got the birth control implant. But she wasn't far enough along to have a positive pregnancy test result. How's THAT for a kick in the pants?!

As one of the nurses today said, "Well, this baby was clearly meant to be." I'm taking her words to heart. There was something very wonderful bubbling inside me during this helluva 24 hours. THIS time I get to put my heart into this. THIS time I get to grow attached. THIS time I get to be a part of this beautiful baby boy's life. I'm going to be a grandma. Or "Jamma" (pronounced jammaw) as my daughter would have it. If M stays clean, this can be a glorious time in my life. But I have to state the obvious - if she doesn't stay clean, this could be my baby, because I'm not letting another one go. A somber, scary thought. But a thought I would set aside and make it work for the love of my new grandchild.

M's grandmother's hurtful words just make me want this baby more in our lives. Shame on her, but God bless us.

#addiction #heroin #sober living #sober #soberlife #soberliving #addict #baby #love #family #na #aa #miracles

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meshugana1 · 6 years

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Blond girl called Gina, fights her way through the university to become a doctor. Everybody made fun of her becasue she was blonde. Now she is the one who laugh, as she stand in the row to get her diploma. As she walks up the stage she remembers how the ppl around her always expected her to be a drop-out, a stupid blonde fuckdoll etc. But as she walks and think of it her reality shifts. She freaks out as she got a nurse diploma. As she walks off, she turns into a big breasted bimbo stripper.

I felt the warm light of the stadium trained on me and my classmates. The flutter in my heart had been with me all day, It’s funny how even knowing everything that’s going to happen today and I’m still nervous. Even now, with my diploma seconds away, it’s hard to think its all really real. Dr. Gina Glover, part of me still thought I was sleeping. But my toes were sore from standing and from being bound up in my new heels, and my boobs were squeezed into the top of a sleek new dress. All of it was covered in the ancient, stuffy graduation robes that they bestowed on the lucky few. I chose a modest bun for my hair today, it was mostly hidden under the cap, I was pretty thankful for that.

You wouldn’t think a person like me would get bullied but truth is stranger than fiction I suppose. I never saw any of it in high school, people were still surprised by my grades and my dream to be a doctor. I usually got “oh yeah, I’m sure that’ll happen” and “have you considered a less stressful career?”, people always judged me on my looks. They only saw blonde hair, pouty lips, big boobs and a big butt. It got pretty bad in college, the other students leered at me all the time. Most people called me GeeGee, that’s what everyone thought of me, a trumped-up hooker. Even the teachers chimed in with their two cents. Anytime I got a less than perfect score on something they always wanted a sit down with me. “Are you sure this is the path you want to follow?”, “Maybe you’d be happier as a housewife”, “If your set on this maybe a nursing degree would suit you better?”. Had mom to thank for that one. I honestly don’t think I would’ve made it if it wasn’t for Wendy.

She’s just so supportive and the best little sister anyone could ask for. Even better, she’s standing right behind me. We even have the same specialty! Earlier this year I was a little worried that she might be getting resentful. We’re both pretty smart but I was the one cursed with the family good looks, after puberty I kinda got the feeling we weren’t as close. But these last few years have been great between us. She even gave me a necklace just last night, it’s so beautiful and it looked like it was old. She said she found it in a curio shop, but I think she might have spent more than she should have. It’s really beautiful though, it has a long pink crystal and it looks like an empty space in the center. Maybe it’s supposed to represent love or something?

“Gina Glover,” finally they call my name. It’s time for me to talk the last walk through the sea of doubting faces. The corners of my mouth hurt from the smile I’ve had on since I sat down to listen to all the boring speeches. I see professor Stein, his droopy jowls are pulled up in a smile, his eyes are locked on my ass as I pass him by. “Who would’ve thought the bimbo would pass, I certainly didn’t,” how could Professor Stein say that now? I turn to give him a piece of my mind, but he isn’t facing me and he’s speaking with Wendy. But I swear I just…oh well, just imagining things. I shake Ms. Powell’s hand, one of my only female teachers and honestly the only one I really respect, for a moment my smile is genuine. No words pass between us, but I hear her voice all the same. “Poor girl, she should’ve been a nurse. I wish I would have done that, but I’m sure she’ll change her mind when she finds a cute man to hang off of,” how? How could she think that? How did she say that? It was crystal clear, but her mouth never moved. The crystal on my necklace starts to feel a little bit warm, but I feel my sisters hand on my shoulder urging me forward.

It kept repeating like that, I would shake someone’s hand and it’s like I could hear their thoughts or something. It had to be stress and excitement mixing together in my head, had to be. All the thoughts were about me, and none of them were good. It couldn’t be real, most of these people I would expect to think that stuff, but not Ms. Powell. I just need to calm down, calm down, I can see my diploma, it’s barely ten feet away. The sweat collects on my forehead as I finally take hold of my future. But when the dean lets go it suddenly feels like every single person in the stadium is talking about me and I can hear all of them at once. My ears ring and all the voices speak at once. I can’t understand all of what they say, but I can hear some words, bimbo, cow tits, fat ass, stupid, slut, whore, in and amongst all the chatter.

The vines throb in my skull and my head becomes so hot. I continue on off the stage, stumbling in my fugue. It was ok though, I’d just get an aspirin from mom and everything would be perfect. I hold up my achievement, and my face pales and my palms become slick with sweat. It’s…it’s a CNA, a worthless CNA?! Is this a joke? A prank?! I didn’t spend the past seven years working my ass off and memorizing my textbooks so I could become some certified nursing assistant! These assholes are gonna pay, this is not funny. Wendy runs up beside me, I can’t even hear her voice, she’s showing me her surgical degree, her future. Mom and Dad embrace us as I try to point out the mistake, but it’s like they don’t care. They’re all over Wendy, so proud of their little girl, my anger just keeps boiling. How can they ignore this? I’m not some stupid, vapid valley girl! I’m a doctor now for God’s sake! The heat from my sisters necklace peaks, almost singing my skin, then it bursts in a brilliant light. I can’t focus, everything is turning white, my skull hits the hard floor and for a moment the world disappears.

“GeeGee? GeeGee? Honey, you need to wake up! You’re set’s starting soon,” Candy says. I groggily rise, my naked tits pull down my ribs. These implants are so heavy but damn do they bring in good tips. “Mmm, thanks, candy. I just like to take a little cat nap, where’s my outfit?”“It should be in the closet. What do you think of my new look?” Candy twirled in place for me, she loved the new act. She was practically poured into a latex tube dress that left nothing to the imagination. It was pretty cheap but that was because she could tear the latex anywhere and basically rip herself out of it. The guys all seemed to love it like she was a ferocious little kitten. “Love it, babe! You even make me hot with that act, now it’s my turn,” I hoped up and let the blanket on me fall, giving all the girls a free show, hehe. My outfit was pretty cute, it was a super sexed up nurse outfit, a little joke since that’s my degree, but stripping makes so much more and it’s so fun. It’s about two sizes too small in the ass, just how I like my clothes, my kitties were making an ocean of cleavage to drown those silly boys in, my blonde hair was done up so I could remove the clip and send it down my shoulders in waves, guys loved that. I never wore underwear anymore, why bother?

“And now it’s time for one of our favorites, Nurse GeeGee!” I strut about the stage, making coy spins around the pole, then my clip is tossed from my hair, the top three buttons on my costume pop off, a little trick one of the girls taught me, and I grind into my aluminum lover. God, I love the attention my sexy body gets me, that and all sweet cash. But I have to remember to not blow too many of these guys in the private rooms, today is my little sis’s graduation day. I know I’m just a silly blonde bimbo but I still love my sissy!

The end. Hope Y'all like it!

#bimbo tf #reality change #breast inflation #request

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it-sy-bit-sy · 6 years

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Sweet Baam

(No it’s not like I fetishize relatively young, soft spoken black haired boys in general or anything, no no no)

Sweet, sweet Baam... Or Bam, I dunno. I’ll use the latter this time.

He’s easily one of my favorite characters in all media that I’ve consumed up to this point.

Why?

LOOK at him. Oh my god.

Anyway, I suppose it’s how gentle he is. His ability* would be Serene Grace if he were a Pokemon.

*I dunno about this hidden ability stuff. I’ve played gen 5-7 but man I’m not certified to talk about that business.

He isn’t as uncompromising or headstrong like the average shounen character. He doesn’t lecture people about how they should be, because he doesn’t know the answer either. His eyes are open (if not in wonderment and horror), simply absorbing what he sees; he becomes aware of his own faults and isn’t trying to carry himself as some all-righteous being. It’s tempting to become a god but is it what he really wants? Is it even possible? He’s pondering these things as he climbs up the tower.

Now, that being said, there are still some things he is hiding from us. A lot.

It’s true that in TOG many aspects of a person’s past don’t come to light until it’s necessary to explain. But Bam, hailing from the outside of the tower, has to be putting together certain things that he’s internalizing neither in internal dialogue nor to his teammates. Here’s an example of what I’m trying to say:

In some chapter flashback I recall Bam telling Rachel something to the effect that he’d show her a place in the cave where there are three huge eyes. To me, that sounds like the crest of Jahad. Now we’ve seen that very crest adorning the princesses’ hair pieces for example or on Wagnan’s and Karaka’s rings. Say the first time that Bam noticed them on one of his companions, he could have said something about it then--no but I suppose his priority was to remain as inconspicuous as possible to not be found out as an irregular. Even internal dialogue would have sufficed though; he could have been like “that looks familiar...” or something right? But we don’t get that from him.

What we did get is him as Viole--while giving Wagnan his ring back--saying that it seemed like something important. So he does recognize the significance of these items but he doesn’t raise the issue.

Rachel took this one step further. While the yellow prince and Miseng were being held by her team, she called him the Prince of the Red Light District, so SHE definitely knows a lot of secrets concerning the tower. I don’t know if Bam knows all of that. Probably not. Now may I transition this conversation from Bam’s individual character to an overarching theme?

I don’t necessarily want Bam’s entire life to have been orchestrated from a higher organization in the shadows, but after the deep sea fish/bull arc (established that tests are rigged, Hansung Yu’s significance, etc.) and then again with the Hoaqin arc (Gustang reporting to a hidden person about Rachel being given a power) I am getting that feeling. Here’s what I mean:

Currently Rachel’s motivations don’t make sense. I think Bam is supposed to chase her, and for this reason she doesn’t give him answers as to WHY she has done what she has done. This in turn frustrates Bam to keep seeking answers (think to the confrontation before Rachel boarded the train and the thorn went berserk: face to face, she seemed to have trouble coming up with inflammatory words to say to my boi. All the fist clenching and having to build up resolve against him. When she’s being a little h0 elsewhere it doesn’t take all that to throw insults or act crazy and stab up somebody’s legs. And I think Bam is so persistent because he knew her personally and is calling bullshit on the things she said like “uhh y0u wEre suPposed to be de@D” like she really means that? Bam’s like Hell no get real with me girl what the hell is going on? But she wouldn’t tell ‘im and he got mad mad mario. (watch that if you haven’t)). They were friends on good terms, and they could have gone up the tower together. She doesn’t want Bam around her, and this is why I think that is:

There’s some sort of bet. Or conditions, whatever you want to call it. I believe, especially because of that new information we got from Eduan (Hansung Yu’s data telling him that V’s son would eventually come through the data world), that Rachel is simply the motivation for Bam to go up. He had to have a reason to enter the tower, and whatever organization found out about his existence chose Rachel to be the person who groomed him and became dear to him. She knows about Arlene Grace, the secret of the 13 months and rings, etc, so I think she is personally invested in this process of changing the tower and accepted this role but with bitterness that Bam would be the main character so to speak.

I’m thinking that whatever deal she made with Headon and others, it wasn’t to eliminate Bam. She had many opportunities to do that herself, even with the Hoaqin arc concerning the lava (Khun even mentioned that if she hates him that much she could have raised the level of lava as he was diving down and killed him). And if higher ups wanted him dead they could have easily done that. No, they FABRICATED his death and made a new slayer candidate. So for whatever reason, she’s chosen Hoaqin as her “sword” rather than Bam and wants Bam to lose--I’m thinking that if she fulfills what the organization (FUG or perhaps someone else) wants in her own way before Bam (their choice) does, then her wish, whatever it is, will be granted even though she’s not allowed to be in the tower. Otherwise, the higher ups who are running things will be like “honey you were just fodder for the big guns, you can step aside now~ We told you you couldn’t do sh!t. Wasted our time on you...well at least we still got what we wanted.” And that’s probably why she fights so hard against his success.

Hansung Yu is another dude to look out for; he knows a lot of stuff and he’s with FUG man, like he’s DEEP in the system with his test director ass. He was sitting there waiting for Bam to walk through, wait for the betrayal, and snatch his pretty self to FUG. I’m so sh0ok.

Ok dang this has gone off topic. Well my purpose was to say that Bam is so sweet and cute and he’s hiding stuff from us but actually everyone’s hiding stuff from us so f!ck all of you for being so mysterious. I’m going to post something else about him soon so uh stay tuned if you do that. My number one series hands down, thank you SIU.

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voltronlegendaryimagines · 6 years

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Ok ok ok so I just watched a voltron animatic by ordinary dreamer on YouTube and was inspired but like I don’t feel like writing my own stuff lol. Can you do a scenario where Keith has a crush on the reader and Lance knows, but the reader (who hasn’t actually realized they have feelings for Keith) has been kinda sorta with this other guy and he’s a certified Fuckboy™ who’s like playing the perfect guy the get in the readers pants. But Lance is all like nope. He’s a ho. And pushes them to Keith

I went and looked up the animatic when i got this ask and holy shit I love it. If you wanted more so the Keith + reader interaction from this scenario let me know bc I’d be down to write more for this c;

“No. No way.”

“Oh come on, Lance. He’s not like that!”

It was late at night and yet here you two were, still hanging around in the kitchen, talking. Or, more like Lance was listening to you gush about your new… well, not quite boyfriend. While you weren’t officially together, you were definitely hoping for something. After all he seemed to be perfect… Tall, handsome, completely charming.

Well, needless to say that Lance didn’t seem convinced. At all.

“I have a bad feeling about this, Y/N. You could do so much better.”

Better as in… Well, Lance wasn’t quite sure if it was his place to give you that answer.

After all, he wasn’t even supposed to know about it. Keith had only told him under the explicit promise that he wouldn’t speak a word. It was when this new guy first showed up, and Lance had come across an extra-aggressive Keith in the training room. A few dead robots and some cuts and bruises later, Lance finally got him to sit down and tell him what was going on.

“I… have feelings for them. And I think it’s too late.” Was all he would say on the matter. Lance didn’t peg Keith to be someone who would develop a crush, but he also wasn’t the kind of person to lie about something like that.

Sure, he had a temper, was painfully awkward sometimes, and maybe he was more than a little bit of a loner… Actually, now that Lance thought about it, he was pretty much the opposite of what you had told him you were looking for in a guy.

But then again, that also didn’t line up with the fact that you blushed every time Keith held you just a little closer than necessary to show you some new move during training, or how happy you got when he saved you a spot next to him at breakfast. It was so obvious you had feelings for him— Lance just couldn’t believe that you hadn’t realized it yet. Considering the fact that Keith had feelings for you too… Honestly, it was a little frustrating to watch.

Almost as frustrating as listening to you talk about some guy who was just trying to use you. Seriously, he didn’t get how you didn’t see how sleazy and scummy that guy was!

“Listen. Y/N. This guy is a damn creep.” You balked at Lance’s sudden harsh tone, but he just kept going. “He’s just looking to get you in bed and then he’s gonna ditch. And like, if that’s all you’re looking for that’s all good. But from what you’ve been saying, I don’t think that’s the case.”

He was right about your intentions of course— although you never got that impression from him. But you trusted Lance’s opinion, and if he knew something you didn’t… Well, you couldn’t just brush him off.

Lance sighed and thought about where to go after that. He knew what he wanted to say, but if he screwed this up, not only would Keith kill him, but you just might too.

“What about Keith? I see how you look at him, you know.” Strong start Lance, you’re doin’ good.

“W-what? Keith?” You had to admit it was a thought you had entertained before, but… you hadn’t thought about it in a long, long time, and for whatever reason this time your heart fluttered in a way that it hadn’t before. “Well… Don’t get me wrong, he’s really hardworking, and even when he acts like he doesn’t I know he cares…” And he’s attractive, you wanted to say, but your voice got caught in your throat.

“You want my opinion?” Lance grinned as he leaned back in his chair. “I think you and Keith would be good together. Better than that asshole you’ve been seeing lately. If nothing else, at least he wouldn’t just be trying to get in your pants.”

“… I… Well…” All of a sudden you couldn’t get Keith’s face out of your head and you couldn’t help but wonder if it really could work. “Even if I were interested, it’s not like he’d want me, of all people.”

Yeah, sure. If it wasn’t for the serious tone of the conversation he might have laughed. “You’d have a better chance with him than you’d think.”

Your face was completely red at this point. Keith and you were close of course, but you had been so caught up in a budding romance with this new guy that you hadn’t spent much time with him lately… You were honestly worried that he had started to resent you because of it. And then outside of that, you weren’t even sure if your feelings for him were romantic or not!

Seeing how deep into your own thoughts you were getting, Lance smirked and got up from his seat. “I’ll leave you to it then. If you need any more advise on your love life, you know where to find me~”

As soon as Lance turned the corner into the hallway, he cursed his luck, coming face to face with none other than Keith himself. A very, very red-faced Keith. How long he had been listening in, Lance had no way of knowing, but he didn’t exactly wanna stick around to find out. Hoping to avoid getting his ass kicked right then and there, he just patted his friend on the shoulder and kept walking.

“Go get ‘em, buddy.”

#voltron x reader #voltron imagine #ketih x reader #keith kogane x reader #lance x reader #keith #lance #Anonymous #HI I LOVE THIS PROMPT #wingman lance gives me LIFE

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cksmart-world · 3 years

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The completely unnecessary news analysis

by Christopher Smart

January 26, 2021

GOD BLESS AMERICA — PLEASE

Dear Lord, where to start... Please tell the haters to stop hating. OK, OK, that's too general. Try this: Tell the people in Idaho that Trump didn't win the election. We know, that's really not how you work, Lord but if you can part the Red Sea this shouldn't be such a big deal. Jesus preached love and understanding, so like, Lord, what is with the evangelicals who espouse hate and that America without guns is not America, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen. And QAnon? Democrats eating babies? It would be funny, Lord, but they believe it. They prefer a false prophet to Baby-Eaters, and who can blame them? The Bible is full of tales where people are led astray by others who are up to no good. The Good Book doesn't come right out and call them Republicans, Lord but as you've always said, if the sandal fits... We know, that's Old Testament, but still. Our new shepherd, Joe Biden, has big problems to solve: the pandemic; the economy; the climate; Ted Cruz... it's a long list. As you know, Joe likes to pray a lot. So the staff here at Smart Bomb is breaking tradition — except for Wilson and the band — and we are praying that you will help him kill those Philistines with kindness. Not actually “kill” them, but you get it, right?

THE EDSEL, THE HINDENBURG AND A GONDOLA TO ALTA

After decades of study (read squabbling over free lunch) the committee to perpetuate itself has determined that the best way to get multitudes up the totally over-used Little Cottonwood Canyon is by gondola. Utah Gov. Spencer Cox, says he is “leaning toward” a gondola, rather than cog rail or enhanced bus service, because he thinks gondolas are cool. But seriously, that would join the flying tank and the vacuum beauty helmet on the list of dumbest ideas ever. First, you would need a gigantic parking lot at the base of the gondola near the canyon's mouth. Second, by the time you stand in line, get loaded and travel the nine miles up the canyon, it will be noon. The only advantage, according to Wilson, is that you could get good and stoned on the long ride up. Cox says he will wait for studies and a pubic process to make his decision official. But don't forget Greg Hughes and friends at the UTA rode trains in the Swiss Alps from one five-star lodge to the next in order to help with the analysis. Maybe if Hughes were governor (perish the thought) we'd get a train. But then you'd need a gigantic parking lot... On the other hand, we could have buses departing from many locations with little parking lots and it would save a ton of taxpayer dough. And that's why it's totally out of the question.

CHRIS STEWART SEES ABE LINCOLN IN THE MIRROR

Utah Republican Chris Stewart wrote an op-ed in the Deseret News recently with the headline, “America Needs Heroes Right Now,” in which he cited Abraham Lincoln as the nation's great healer and his hero. The staff here at Smart Bomb was hoping he wasn't looking in the mirror when he said that. If he wasn't laughing, he's an imbecile. Stewart, one of Trump's stalwart ass-kissers, says he's shocked that an angry mob overran the Capitol on Jan. 6. “I unequivocally condemn anyone who destroyed property, assaulted police or intended to commit violence... ” He forgot to mention how for weeks Trump summoned his followers to D.C. and then in a one-hour diatribe told them to march to the Capitol and take their country back. Stewart and Burgess Owens were among 147 Republicans who gave Trump's big lie — Stop the Steal — credibility by refusing to certify the election of Joe Biden. “It seems there is a sense of severe disquiet in America,” Stewart said. “Something is broken in our society.” Gee, now how did that happen? It didn't have anything to do with Democrats stealing the election, did it? It wasn't years of vilifying Nancy Pelosi as the devil, was it? It wasn't labeling AOC and Dems as socialists, was it? Abraham Lincoln? Give us a f-ing break.

Post script — Well, that's a wrap for another week here at Smart Bomb where we keep track of White Supremacists so you don't have to. One thing continues to puzzle us: Why are the so-called White Supremacists such knuckle-draggers? Purity of race? They have to be kidding. These people are giving Neanderthals a bad name. We have learned that some of those white knuckle-draggers at QAnon are bummed out because “The Storm,” otherwise known as their white lightning-induced prophecy, didn't come true. According to Qers, Trump was supposed to declare martial law and install himself as El Presidente and then there would be all kinds of public hangings: most notably Democrats and Mike Pence. Getting hanged is bad enough, but getting hanged with Mike Pence? That is cruel and unusual punishment. To make a weird story short, everyone in QLand was to live happily ever after, including crazy Michael Flynn who would be QAnon's Grand Something-Or-Other and would wear robes and a conical hat. But Trump split to Mar A Lago and the Qers had been had. They probably still don't realize that everyone who deals with Trump eventually finds themselves in a big pile of something that stinks. We call it Trumpism.

Well, Wilson here we are in a brand new post-Trump reality. If it weren't for the deadly pandemic, we'd be partying like it was Mardi Gras. But until the vaccine gets here, we'll have to stick close to home. You and the homebodies in the band surely must have a theme song for that:

Clouds so swift Rain won't lift Gate won't close Railings froze Get your mind of wintertime You ain't goin' nowhere Whoo-ee ride me high Tomorrow's the day My bride's gonna come Oh, oh, are we gonna fly Down in the easy chair! I don't care How many letters they sent Morning came and morning went Pick up your money And pack up your tent You ain't goin' nowhere Whoo-ee ride me high Tomorrow's the day My bride's gonna come Oh, oh, are we gonna fly Down in the easy chair!

(You Ain't Goin' Nowhere — Bob Dylan)

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mindwideopen · 3 years

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youtube

Money..... Oy. Money.... eep. Money.... sigh. All beliefs I currently hold about money. Money is a source of energy. It’s also a way to freedom in our society. Some people hold strong beliefs about money; both positively and negatively. My beliefs have held me back from achieving some of my desires in life.

Ok, I’m just gonna lay it out, I’m mad about money, and not in a good way. I don’t have enough of it, I’m aggravated by it, the lack of it hinders my freedom and creative progress. And I’m bitter about it. All energies I put on money. Doesn’t really leave a lot of room for change, or growth, and definitely doesn’t aid in getting to the solutions I need, to get more of it. I’ve been pretty resolute; money, is a pain, in my culo. Well, it has been, cause I believe it.

I’m currently unemployed. I worked in the entertainment industry professionally here in Chicago for about a solid 15 years, and before that I’ve basically done every minimum wage job under the sun. I started working at age 11, at my grandparents restaurant. I was taught to work. I didn’t want to. I was considered lazy by some, and an irresponsible kid by others. I was fired from a lot of my jobs for lack of good job performance and lack of interest before I was legal.

I worked at both jewel and osco (a combo grocery store and drugstore chain in the Midwest).I think I quit jewel, I worked there pushing carts in the parking lot and bagging when I was 15. I got a workers permit. I used to sit in the bins in the basement at osco. I would sing, and swing my legs. I was supposed to be bringing up supplies and refacing the merchandise on the shelves. I did it, sometimes. I got fired from there. They showed me the footage.

I was also fired from being an ice cream scooper at Petersen’s ice cream (well, it was like more laid off) but I think it was because I sampled all the ice cream every shift prior to work, plus I ate the extras, and my scoops for people were entirely too big, bordering on ridiculous. That was probably a good reason to be laid off. I didn’t think so, but it ended up being a blessing in disguise, because I had gained 16-20lbs working there (depending on what I decide when I tell this story...). They said I’d get sick of the ice cream after awhile. I never did. Dammit.

I went from job to job, place to place, trying to fit into society, and get paid in some honest capacity. I couldn’t afford to continue college (my parents were kind enough to pay for part of my associates degree, but I couldn’t afford the tuition of the 4 year I transfered to) so I quit school, started waiting tables, and eventually acting.

I liked acting. It’s something I had done since I was little. My ma’s side of the family called me, little Sarah Bernheart, after one of the first literal drama queens ever. I sang on the potty when I was really little. One of my favorite songs was the Busch beer commercial. 🎶if you’ve got the time, we’ve got the beer!🎶 I was around 4 or 5, so I started my career early, of potty singing is a career. I got paid in love, and attention, and acceptance.

I used to dance at the moose lodge with my grandparents and entertain all of their friends. I didn’t come from an entertainment family. We were middle class people, both sides came from italian decent, with the exception of my grandpa on my dads side. He was adopted, so we’re not entirely sure. My grandparents were a huge part of my life, and they were models for me as far as money was concerned. Hard workers, regular joes, working as hard as they could to make ends meet. They stretched the dollar til it sang moon river, but we always had everything we needed.

My original parents are divorced. My dad graduated college, and worked. My dad remarried (to my other mom) who also worked. & my Ma, also worked. Work was all around me. Work, and earn and try and earn more money. It costs money to live. It costs money to get the stuff you want. That’s life, and how society is set up. You learn a trade, or you go to school and you study hard, and graduate and are eligible for the job. You have a bachelors, a masters, a PhD. NOW you can be something, because now you are certified to do so. This is how I view success, and money. Basically a glass ceiling, unobtainable goal. My bad, but I’m being honest. I didn’t quite fit into that mold.

I worked pretty solid for years, from gig to gig. I self studied. Lots of classes. Shakespeare, Pinter, acting, improv, voice lessons, dance, on-camera classes to get to know casting agents, headshots, etc. everything one should do if they’re serious about their craft. So, “it takes money to make money” and “you have to invest in yourself”, all of this, also my beliefs. I had a hard time with it. I did all of this, to be better, and to get more work, but I was breaking even sometimes. You have to work to join the unions, but in order to get union jobs, you have to book them. The life of an actor. Everyone who’s in the arts has experienced this. So, depending on your nest egg, your experiences and subsequent perception of the business can vary. I wasn’t a saver. I was a “paycheck to paycheck” kind of a gal. I also, didn’t book a ton. And my sense of self, got way too wrapped up in that fact. I quit, about 17 years later, to have a family.

I was pretty low and depressed when I quit acting. I had had some “not so fantastic but enlightening in retrospect” experiences with people in the industry, probably due in part to my attitude not being so great by the time I decided to be done. So I sat around a lot, Kinda like I’m doing now, and i thought about my supposed failures, and where to go next creatively.

I also loved design which was something I could do easily on my own time while I was a mom. I self studied a ton, read a lot of books, and redid our home, on the cheap, in a lot of the design styles I loved and was inspired by. My focus changed from performing to visual 3d interior design.

One evening I ended up going with my husband to a Kickstarter meet and greet. Kickstarter is an online, crowd funding platform. He had done a successful kickstarter campaign, and we decided to go to try and network with people, not either of our fortes truth be told. We stood there, staring at one another until I realized that we could do the same at home. So I said, “ok, the next person that walks through that door, we’re talking to, no matter what!” That person turned out to be a very cool visual artist/interior designer named Alyssa Miserendino, and she asked me to help her source furniture and other home accessories for her within the first 5 minutes of meeting her. She was, and probably still is, fantastic. I appreciate her taking a chance on me.

I worked with Alyssa for a few years, and she went off to go to graduate school in another state. But before she left, she gave me all of her clients. She put trust in me. She knew my background, but also knew that I had what it took to design, and to coordinate projects, and I was off and rolling. She is an extremely intuitive woman, and very cool. I was a nervous wreck.

My first client was excellent. It was a complete gut and rehab of the kitchen and bathroom rental condo. It looked gorgeous at the end, and I wanted custody so I could visit and enjoy how it turned out. I went on with other clients by word of mouth, some repeat customers, but I never knew how to advertise or continue.

All of these jobs were cool, but they didn’t exactly fulfill my complete creative itch. They were aspects of the whole of me. When I was acting people used to yell because I’d mess with the wigs, and my wardrobe, and be concerned about the look of the production as a whole. That should’ve been my first clue that acting wasn’t exactly completely cutting it. I went from thing to thing to thing... when I was designing I was designing for other people’s lives, and sensibilities. Still rewarding, but I like what I like too. I want to create from the ground up, according to what I appreciate and want.

I say all of this, because how I felt about myself... was that I was a fraud. I wasn’t, but I felt that way. I wasn’t ever formally trained. I didn’t have my 4 year degree. I had an associates in liberal arts, but I wasn’t afffiliared with anyone or any school, so I felt, alone. I carried that alone feeling, that feeling of being separate and not included throughout my entire career. I was a loner. Not a great thing to be when you rely on other people to book you for work. And I always wanted to be a success, independent, the bread winner for the family. The one that made good even when no one ever had done it in the arts in my family before. But I didn’t. I married. I tried to do it, but I didn’t achieve what I wanted to. And that’s how I felt about myself, and my beliefs about my ability to be independent and make money, all played a key role in where I’m at now.... I’m currently sitting on my chair, and writing honestly, about my past, about my feelings, and about how I felt like I have failed, me.

Writing is an escape for me. It is a blank canvas where anything is possible, and anything goes (not the musical, but myself). I can write about mountains and desert terrains, but I won’t probably, because I don’t know shit about that, but I do know where I’ve been, and where I want to go. And my self study all of these years whether I realized it or not, was me. I have finally decided to be ok, with not being something. I am writing, to gain clarity and to share my experiences in hopes that others are inspired. Or, I’m writing specifically for me, it changes from day to day. All I know, is I’m here, now, writing.

The passing of time is an interesting way to determine ones life. You were born, you did stuff, you knew people, you die. Not exactly the most uplifting way of looking at it, but the details are what makes it either good or bad, depending on your POV. And my point of view about my past, and my career to date, has been pretty dismal and not very fair to me.

I consider myself a creator. I have written, sang, danced, acted, modeled, designed, drawn, and painted. I have shared my talents with the world in only the way I can. I have written about my life, and others lives, and presented them in interesting and unique ways. I am a person worthy of love. So, I’ve proven it. But my bank account doesn’t reflect it.

What have I done wrong? Why am I not a success? Why am I not riding on a golden stallion on a beach with a tiara and jewels and a flowing gown with people throwing roses at my feet? Well, because, I’d be mortified if that was happening. I hate being the center of attention sometimes. So you see, the universe, in its infinite wisdom, gives what you want whether you know what you want or not, and there’s a reason why things you may think you want aren’t happening. Although the concept of all that horse grandeur and accolades and public acceptance is cool, in practice for me personally it’s a “no thank you”.

I’ve developed into quite the introvert over the years. And with my change, my needs and wants have changed with me. Truth is, I never wanted to ride down a beach on a horse, I don’t even know how to ride a horse, and open heights, not my thing, probably another reason that God made me 5’2. I kid, but the universe gives you what you believe. And I haven’t believed I was a success, so I made decisions in my career that supported those beliefs whether I knew it consciously or not.

Comfort is important to me. A cozy nest to call my own, a place to hide from humanity and be myself. I am pretty forthcoming online, but in person it’s not the case. I am a bit shy with people I don’t know, even though I come off bold sometimes. I am still trying to find where I belong in the world right now, and get past all of the thoughts and memories that have been hanging me out to dry over the years. So, instead I’m learning to appreciate, and be in the love, and satisfied with what I do have instead of looking at the lack. Cause crap! It’s a lot of good! And I want to try again with my career, but the truth is, I’m not quite sure what to go back to. But whatever it is, it definitely won’t be with the same energy that I did it with the first time. I am a more evolved me now. A me I’m more comfortable with being.

Love, is helping me get there. Life is not always what you planned when you were younger, but it has a way of putting you on the right path if you decide to follow its lead. I’m new to this path, but better late than never. I’m deciding to let love rule, as lenny kravitz so aptly put it when I saw his dreads bouncing on stage, cause I was waaaayyy in the back, no money for front row at the Aragon ballroom in Chicago, even though it was general admission, back in ‘94. Still a great concert, just happy to be included.

Love is how you view it. Love is money, if you view it that way. Love can envelope every subject, every person, every situation if you let it. So let it rule. ❤️

#Youtube #cabaret #money #career #self love #selfworth #self reflection #selfawareness #musings #self improvement #self healing #lawofattraction #changing my mindset #motivation #inspiration #mind wide open #kari keillor

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johnboothus · 4 years

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How Microagressions in a Sonoma Winery Made a Black Winemaker Question Her Profession

I fell in love with wine when I was in college in California. Good wine was easy to find, and it was easy to steal away to Paso Robles or drive up to Santa Barbara to visit wineries. When I graduated with a degree in engineering from Harvey Mudd College in Southern California, I contemplated going to graduate school for winemaking. Instead, I jumped into the wine industry, becoming a certified sommelier. I developed wine lists at James Beard Award-winning restaurants and worked as a sommelier at an establishment with three Michelin stars in Chicago. But after five years of working in wine, the nerd in me won out and I decided to go back to school for winemaking.

Never one to go for the easy option, I decided on a master’s degree in wine science at the University of Auckland in New Zealand, which I completed in 2019. By this time, I’d worked two harvests in New Zealand and had a diverse group of mentors and peers.

New Zealand’s diversity may surprise those who have never been. The U.S. is lauded as a country of immigrants, but in New Zealand it often feels like everyone just got here. My cohort at the university hailed from Australia, South Africa, India, China, and the Philippines. My WSET tasting group was made up of people from the U.K., Canada, and New Zealand. When my friends and I get together, almost every continent is represented. Our common language is English, but French, Spanish, and Italian are also spoken.

My Kiwi mentors are a mix of women and men, but regardless of their backgrounds and identities, they’ve always been supportive of me. They’ve shared their knowledge freely without ego or preconditions. Most importantly, they’ve listened to me, whether I’ve agreed with their opinions or not. If I dissent, it’s not the end of the world. We chat about it, learn something, and move on.

While studying, I worked as a cellar hand at a nearby winery. I’d gained practical experience but was itching to work a harvest in California. So I approached a small winery that I admired in Sonoma about harvest positions, and was accepted. In taking the role, I expected that I’d be treated with the same dignity and professionalism that I’d experienced abroad. I was wrong.

A RUDE AWAKENING

When I arrived, I was shocked.

I’ve never seen a city as monochromatic as Healdsburg in all my life. In the span of three months, I only saw 10 black people. That’s not an estimate; I counted. One was another intern, six were tourists, and three worked at the Napa tasting room of Brown Estate, one of the few Black-owned wineries in the region.

Where is everyone? Did I miss the memo?

According to the 2019 U.S. Census estimates, about 4 percent of Sonoma’s residents are Black, compared to more than 13 percent nationwide. But it wasn’t only people who look like me who were conspicuously absent; it was all people of color.

I saw a few POC around town but I was surprised at how few Latinx people I saw out and about. Sonoma has a high percentage of people from the Latinx community — 27.3 percent compared to 18.5 percent nationally — yet I only saw them when they were taking their kids to and from school, or in the grocery store. They were not shopping in boutiques, sitting at bars, or dining at restaurants. The town’s lack of diversity almost felt deliberate.

It was creepy.

Luckily, the family I was staying with was warm and welcoming. So, I shook off the bad vibes and tried to get acclimated. On a few occasions, I went to a dive bar that was highly recommended to me by wine industry veterans. When I went in with white interns, we drew a few stares, but I was able to relax and enjoy myself. When I went by myself? It was a totally different story. The bartenders were cordial, but a couple of the patrons scrutinized my every move, which made me feel anxious, and as if I wasn’t supposed to be there. It was hard to enjoy my beer, and I never went back.

There was another bar down the street that was far more welcoming — it had a big “NO BIGOTS ALLOWED” sign above its bar, and indeed offered a more hospitable atmosphere. I remember wondering: Why did anyone bother sending me to the other bar if there were more welcoming spaces for POC? The answer is simple: My white colleagues don’t think about it, and they may not even realize that racial bias exists in such an establishment. There are so few BIPOC in the industry that diversity and inclusion training likely isn’t high on the agenda at most bars — or frankly in most parts of the wine industry.

GETTING DOWN TO BUSINESS

On my first day when I was completing my new-hire paperwork, the winemaker told me, “We aren’t going to make you sign an NDA like other wineries. But just know that we won’t say anything bad about you if you don’t say anything bad about us.”

That struck me as problematic. It’s difficult to bring awareness to and solve a problem if you’re never supposed to talk about it in the first place. There is this belief among some in wine that the industry has made strides in recognizing and moving toward racial equity, and doesn’t need to do anything further. However, one look at the diversity statistics shows that that simply isn’t the case. Tough conversations are the only way to get to a better place.

This can result in performative interactions. I was proudly told by an industry veteran I worked with that he “voted for Obama and listens to NPR.” In his mind, and those of other liberal white people I’ve talked to, there’s a belief that they’re not contributing to the problems of racial inequities in the industry; that they’re exempt from doing the work to address unconscious biases that might exist. It’s as if any discussion to the contrary will fracture the internal narrative they have about themselves, their friends, and their community. When that dissonance happens, they tend to shut down and get defensive instead of continuing the conversation. That leads to a standstill where no progress can happen.

SOWING THE SEEDS OF DOUBT

After our first week, I went to an intern party along with the winemakers from my winery. I was excited to meet people and to network, but it was a big disappointment. I was the only Black person there, but I was long used to that from my time in New Zealand. There are not a lot of Black people there, either, but my race never impacted how I was treated there.

I wasn’t used to this: “Where are you from?” someone would ask me. “I’m from Chicago, but I live in New Zealand,” I’d say. The person would furrow their brow. “New Zealand?” “Yep,” I’d say. “I went there for my master’s in enology and work as an assistant winemaker down there.” “Uh huh,” they’d say, and excuse themself.

It seemed to me that most people thought I was making up my history. They didn’t believe that I had gotten my master’s degree, that I lived in New Zealand, or that I used to be a sommelier.

Later, I overheard a white female winemaker whispering to one of the winemakers I worked with: “If she’s from New Zealand, why doesn’t she have an accent — and why is she Black?” I stepped right up and interjected, “Because I’m an expat.” “Oh, right … I guess that makes sense,” she said.

FIELDING UNCONSCIOUS BIASES

All the grapes that came through the winery were hand-sorted, which meant we were in for long days at the sorting table. We were all told up front that we’d get a slot each day to play whatever music we wanted while we sorted grapes.

“And I mean whatever you want. We had this girl last year, who’d only play pop music. And a couple years back, we had this guy who’d play the filthiest hardcore rap,” one of the winemakers said.

“Ha! Well, you won’t be getting a lot of pop out of me,” I said.

We both laughed and I thought that’d be the end of it, but it wasn’t.

Every other day for the first two weeks of sorting they reminded me that I could play “whatever music I wanted.” I think they thought I was listening to things they wanted to hear, but I’m into all kinds of things. Punk and rock are my go-tos if I’ve got work to do. They reminded me of the rap intern so much, I kept thinking: If you want to hear rap so bad, then play it yourself.

ESCALATING MICROAGGRESSIONS

Typically, it was just me and a team of guys working the sorting table. When you’re hand-sorting fruit for six-plus hours a day, seven days a week, for weeks on end, it’s preferable to work alongside people you can carry a conversation with. It’s absolute torture when every conversation is full of bias and microaggressions.

The person leading most of these conversations was an industry veteran. I’d been looking forward to learning from him. But it was clear that he already had our conversations outlined in his mind, as if on autopilot, and wasn’t looking for my input — or for a real discussion.

A typical conversation would go something like: “We had a little powdery mildew this year on a couple rows in this block so keep an eye out for it. What kinds of things do you see in New Zealand, Diana?” he’d ask. “We see powdery but a big issue for us is sour rot,” I’d say. He’d talk over me. “Yea botrytis is something we deal with here too in certain years. We counter it by – ” I’d interject. “…I said sour rot. We get botrytis too, but more often than not it’s sour rot.” He’d say: “It’s easy to confuse the two and a common mistake. You see botrytis damages the cells and then bacteria come in and do the rest. That’s what you’re getting.” “OK,” I’d say, knowing full well that the issue wasn’t that cut and dried.

For context, sour rot is caused by bacteria that find their way into split or damaged grapes. Botrytis is a fungus that can indeed cause cracks in grapes that allow the bacteria in. We had a fair bit of rain right before the 2018 harvest I worked in New Zealand, which caused the grapes to split and sour rot quickly took hold in our Chardonnay grapes. I remember the rains; I walked through the vineyards weekly and saw the grapes swell, retreat, swell, retreat, swell, and then split.

I harvested them and cut out the soft discolored berries. I sorted what was left in the winery with my peers to ensure no rot remained. I saw this phenomena in our student vineyard, the one I worked at, and other vineyards on the island. When I asked Kiwi winemakers what it was, they explained the complexities of sour rot, why it had affected this vintage, what to do about it in the vineyard, and how to keep it from spoiling the wine. That’s all to say: I was there. It was sour rot.

Yet the industry veteran wasn’t interested in hearing any of this. And while he had years of professional experience on me, it was insulting and demoralizing to have him dismiss my personal experience out of hand, as if I lacked the capacity to comprehend the difference between sour rot and botrytis. After a few sessions like this, it became apparent that he wasn’t interested in having actual discussions. I stopped investing energy in these conversations. They were a waste of energy and only upset me.

MISPLACED BLAME

Whenever I noticed something was out of place or a task unfinished, I’d correct it if I could and move on. It’s harvest, it’s busy, we’re all working long hours. Mistakes happen, and no one’s infallible. However, whenever the managers found something wrong, they’d always ask me about it first.

Dirty punch-down shaft? Diana, were you on punchdowns last night? Barrel room temperature control left turned off? Diana, did you do fermentation checks this morning? Labels put on the wrong side of a barrel? Diana, did [supervisor] show you how to properly label barrels? Fork-lift not charged? Diana…?

I will not pretend that I didn’t make mistakes. I’m human, I absolutely did. But I sure as hell didn’t make all of them.

I had never been blamed for so many errors in any other job I’d had. There were times when my denial wasn’t believed, and I had to point to work-order signatures to clear my name. This was distressing because it implied that they truly believed I was incapable of doing anything correctly. I take immense pride in everything I do, and I strive to avoid making the same error twice.

I can’t say with certainty why they constantly blamed me, but as the only harvest intern of color, the only female harvest intern, and the only American intern they’d had in years, I was the one who was continually singled out.

ASKING FOR HELP

After several weeks of microaggressions, false accusations, and gaslighting, I began to question myself, and the expertise I’d built over multiple harvests and a stint as an assistant winemaker. I raised my concerns with the winemaker, who listened, paused for a moment, and told me: “I don’t know why you and those guys never hit it off. I hear what you’re saying, and I’ll talk to them about it, but I’m sure that wasn’t their intent. Look, I’ve been doing this for a while now. Whenever something challenging comes at me, I keep going. Harvest is never going to be easy, but you’ve got to just keep moving forward no matter what. That’s what winemaking is: Making it happen no matter what.”

On some level, I get that, but if the only way to “make it happen” is by sacrificing my dignity and self-respect? No thanks. I’m good.

I love making wine, but keeping my head down and plowing ahead accomplishes nothing other than making it harder for the next BIPOC employee. Furthermore, the idea that I’m supposed to ignore what’s happening and take it because it’s harvest isn’t just offensive, it’s also a false choice. The last time I looked, addressing employee concerns doesn’t negatively impact wine quality. It’s called unconscious bias for a reason, and if we don’t bring awareness to it and have conversation out in the open, nothing will change in our industry.

By this point, it was late October and I’d been at the Sonoma winery since August. I started questioning if even I wanted to make wine anymore. Maybe I could get a job as a lab tech instead? I knew that if I continued on, I’d lose my passion for wine. We’d finished processing our last lot of fruit earlier that week, and they said they wanted to go down from three interns to two. I’d seen what I’d wanted to see and felt that I’d suffered more than enough. So I volunteered to leave.

MOVING ON

In my seven years in the industry, I’ve met dozens of winemakers as a sommelier and burgeoning winemaker. I’ve traveled around the globe. I’ve had deep engaging conversations with many legends in the business, and they’ve actually listened and engaged with me instead of anticipating or imagining what I’d say. I knew what I’d just experienced in Sonoma wasn’t normal everywhere — it was just the norm there.

But how many POC don’t? How many do one harvest, have a bad time, and then swear off the entire wine industry? How many Robert Mondavis have we lost? How many Paul Drapers or Heidi Barretts has the industry turned off through its intolerance? How many budding scientists who were interested in researching smoke taint? How many up-and-coming engineers with innovative viticulture solutions?

That’s what made me want to share my experience. My hope is that it will educate allies and wineries — especially smaller companies — on how they can be more inclusive and check their unconscious biases. My hope is that it will empower domestic and foreign POC to advocate for themselves should they be faced with similar situations. That this essay encourages them to ask questions in their interviews beyond the varieties produced and the winemaking philosophy of the places they’d like to work. That vintners and winemakers start questioning their unconscious biases and ask how they can support their interns and BIPOC staff.

I need to make one thing very clear: I love California. I’ve had too many good memories there to count. It’s where I discovered my love of wine and came of age. It’s where I thought I’d cut my teeth and carve out a name for myself as a winemaker. Instead, after harvest, I packed up my things and loaded up my car. I turned the key in the ignition and headed East on I-80 as fast as my Honda would take me. While I’d completed this cross-country journey back to Chicago several times before, that was the first time I left questioning whether I’d ever be back.

The article How Microagressions in a Sonoma Winery Made a Black Winemaker Question Her Profession appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/black-winemaker-microaggressoins-sonoma/

source https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/how-microagressions-in-a-sonoma-winery-made-a-black-winemaker-question-her-profession

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