#Lincoln just created a new personality
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Never Say Never
Chapter 3
Pairing: SingleDad!StevexReader
Summary: You are a 32 year old single mother, raising your seven year old son on your own. After being widowed at 30 and going out on awful dates with disgusting men for the past month, you have decided that you're giving up. You already had your great love. One person can't possibly get lucky enough to have two in their lifetime. But then your son starts playing baseball and the coach might just change your mind about that.
No posting schedule.
18+ only for eventual smut
Word Count: 7.1K
1 2
“Jeremiah and I are going to build a fort when I spend the night,” Eli told you from the back seat as you drove him to school. This sleepover tomorrow was all he had been able to talk about all morning. “He said his daddy builds the most epic forts that take up the whole living room and he’s gonna ask him if he’ll build us one. And we’re going to watch Scooby Doo and the Alien Invaders. And Jeremiah has a Gameboy and he said he’s going to let me play on it! I think I’m going to ask Santa for a Gameboy this Christmas!”
“Wow,” you replied, smiling to yourself as your eyes darted to the rearview mirror, relishing the excitement on your son’s face. “Well, Christmas is pretty far away, buddy, but you save that idea.”
“Well, Christmas is way closer than my birthday now because that already happened and I have to wait a whole ten months for my birthday to come again but Christmas is only eight months away.”
“You’re right. Christmas is closer.”
“Yeah, and the Easter bunny doesn’t bring stuff like Gameboys. He just brings some candy and small stuff.”
“That’s right. I think asking Santa for it is a really good idea.” Plus, that would give you some time to save up for it. You made good money but working off of a single income meant you started saving for Christmas long before the holiday arrived.
“Yeah, I think so too,” your son replied, his little face serious. “Maybe I’ll start working on my list so it’s all ready. Oh! And Jeremiah said that we can ask his dad if we can go for a night walk. They take their flashlights and Miles and walk around in the dark! Isn’t that cool?”
“The coolest! That all sounds pretty amazing, buddy. You’re going to have the best time.”
“I know! And we get to spend the whole day together! We have baseball and then we’re going to get ice cream and then I’m sleeping at his house. It’s going to be the best day of my whole life!”
You laughed, “Well, that’s a pretty big statement. You still have a lot of life yet to go, but I am sure it will be the best day of your seven years so far.”
Turning into the drop-off line, you waved to Ms. Lincoln, Eli’s kindergarten teacher, who was standing to the side, greeting the kids as they came in. She’d been so vital to Eli that year. He’d lost his dad just a couple months into the year and she’d been so empathetic and kind to him. You would forever be grateful for the way she’d helped your son navigate such a confusing and awful time.
It had been difficult for Eli to understand the permanence of what had happened, especially when his dad being gone for a long period of time was not unusual. He continually asked when Justin was coming home, each inquiry another ice pick straight into your chest, when you would have to explain, again, that daddy couldn’t come home this time. He couldn’t ever come home again.
Ms. Lincoln had taken a special interest in him, knowing his love of superheroes, something that had come about because you had told him once that his daddy was one. Eli envisioned his dad like Superman, saving people’s lives, which wasn’t entirely untrue. His teacher was the one who encouraged him to draw. That was when he’d created Master Marine, a superhero with blond hair and blue eyes just like his dad that swooped in and saved the day, defeating the bad guys.
Every single time a new picture made its way onto your fridge, you would battle back the darkness. The darkness that sat just to the side, waiting to swallow you whole. The darkness you fought every morning, knowing you had to get up, knowing you had to keep moving or you would become stuck. And you couldn’t become stuck because your son needed you.
He needed you to be his mother, needed you to be strong and show him that everything was okay, needed you to keep going to your job so you had a place to live and food to eat. So as much as those pictures used to tear you up, take whatever pieces you'd managed to tape back together and run them through the shredder each time they appeared, you knew they were helping your son cope. Even his therapist had said art was an excellent outlet for him. So, when he would present you with a new one, Master Marine saving a young child that looked just like Eli from a bully at school or saving a woman with your hair and eyes from an evil mastermind, you would smile and gush about how amazing it was, sticking it to the fridge with a magnet.
“Bye mommy!” Eli yelled as you moved up to the front of the school, one of the fourth grade teachers opening the back door for him.
“Bye buddy. Have a good day. I love you!”
“Love you too!”
He turned back and waved to you over his shoulder before disappearing into the red brick building, his Batman backpack bobbing on his back. You turned out of the school and onto the road, heading for your favorite coffee shop.
You had a rare Friday off and you were starting it off by meeting Janice for coffee, a little ritual you had whenever you had a weekday off. It didn’t happen often but when it did, you savored every single moment of it. Your life was a constant cycle of work, running errands, doing household chores, and being a mom. To have six hours of time where no one required anything from you was a gift, one you didn’t get very often, and one you never took for granted.
Some people might use that extra day to catch up on household chores or run errands. But you didn’t, not if you could help it. You used that time to meet your friend, enjoying a slow coffee that you could savor instead of inhaling it just to get the caffeine to kick in. You used it to actually sit down and read a book or lay on the couch and watch tv shows you couldn’t ever watch when Eli was around. The laundry and the messy house would still be there tomorrow. The grocery store wouldn’t cease to exist if you didn’t go today.
Opening up the door to Brewed Awakening, you instantly felt like you were home, the atmosphere always so warm and welcoming. June, the owner, a woman around your age with long black hair and startling green eyes, waved from behind the counter. You waved back, inhaling the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee, already feeling that zing of energy, as if your body knew what was coming and was preparing for it.
You had been coming here for coffee since June had opened the place four years ago. Your love of coffee is what had brought you to the door but the atmosphere and the friendly owner is what kept you coming back. It didn’t hurt that June made an excellent cinnamon mocha. But what she’d done with the space turned it into an inviting place that kept you wanting to come back.
The decor was like a warm hug, full of comfortable furniture and cozy blankets. People often curled up in the squishy armchairs with their mug of coffee, reading a book, a blanket draped across their lap. Or they might be cross legged, on one of the wide chairs at a table, working on their laptop. The walls were a canvas of photos and artwork, small cafes from all around the world, allowing you to imagine that you were sipping a cappuccino in Vienna or enjoying a cafe latte in Paris.
“Hey girl,” June greeted with a smile as you approached the counter. “Cinnamon latte as usual?”
“Yes, please. I’m actually meeting Janice but she’s not here yet, of course.”
June winked, “Of course. Our Janice prefers to be fashionably late. Want me to get her Flat White ready?”
There it was, that feeling of belonging, like you were old friends even if the only encounters you ever had were at this counter. June had to serve hundreds of coffees a day but she knew every single regular’s order and often took the time to learn personal things about them as well. Often, you would approach to find your drink already ready, June preparing it the moment she saw you walk in.
“Yes please.”
“How’s my favorite little guy doing?” asked June as she steamed the milk.
“Oh, he’s great. He actually started playing baseball. His first practice was yesterday and he loved it,” you told her, slipping your credit card into the reader.
“Yeah? That’s great. I played softball all through school and I loved it. I can’t wait for him to come in with you so he can tell me all about it.”
“I’ll have to pop in with him sometime this weekend. You know how much he loves your hot chocolate.”
June laughed, setting the cups on the counter and leaning in, whispering, “Just so you know, that’s my Eli special. Not everyone gets extra whipped cream, chocolate chips, and crushed candy canes on their hot chocolate. Just my favorites.”
She winked and you smiled as you took the two coffees and headed over to two squishy armchairs that were free. You sat, sipping on your blessed caffeine, only waiting a few moments before Janice came swirling into the coffee shop like the tornado she was, apologies already falling from her lips for being late. Not that they were necessary. Late was just her perpetual way of being. You'd accepted that about your friend. You learned long ago that if you needed Janice ready at five, then you had to tell her four or you’d be waiting a while.
You held up your friend’s coffee and Janice took it with a smile, flopping down into the chair with a dramatic sigh, “Thank you. You are my favorite person ever.”
“I already had that title. I’ve had that title for a very long time. I didn’t need to buy you coffee for that so maybe you should pay me back. What a waste of my money,” you teased.
Janice stuck her tongue out. “You only stay my favorite because you supply my caffeine habit. Sorry I’m late. I was editing photos from that wedding I had a few weeks ago and I completely lost track of time. Then I raced out the door and got in my car and realized I didn’t have my purse. So, then I had to run back in and then the house phone rang and it was my mom and you know how hard it is to get her off the phone. And then when I told her I was meeting you, she had to know how you were doing and if you’ve found a guy from online dating so I was filling her in on what a disaster that was. And…”
“It’s fine,” you laughed, not surprised at all that Janice had told her mom all about your online dating escapades. The two were more like best friends, only sixteen years between them, than mother and daughter. “I never expect you to be on time anyway.”
“You know, I should be offended but that’s fair,” your friend shrugged and then she lurched forward, hand on the arm of your chair. “But I really was trying to get here on time today because I am dying to know how last night went with the hot dad.”
“You know it wasn’t a date, right?”
Janice waved her hand, groaning loudly, “He brought dinner to your place. It’s practically date adjacent.”
“Our kids were there. I told you that. Do you even listen when I talk? Eli and Jeremiah were just having a playdate. He brought pizza. It wasn’t even in the same zip code as a date.”
“So…you’re not interested in him at all?” Janice’s eyebrows lifted to her hairline, coffee cup brought to her lips, challenging you. Damn, she knew you too well. “Aha! I knew it! It’s all over your face. You are a smitten kitten and I love it! You’re definitely interested.”
You groaned, your head resting against the back of the chair. “Maybe…I don’t know. Janice, this is all very strange for me. And he’s just the dad of my kid’s friend. It’s not like he asked me out or hit on me or gave me any sign that he’s interested in me at all. He didn’t approach me at some bar and buy me a drink. I approached him to ask about his son coming to my house to play. I don’t even know if he’s single.”
“Well, that’s easy enough to figure out. Just ask him. When are you going to see him again?”
“Tomorrow. The boys have baseball practice again and then Eli is going to spend the night at their house.”
You looked down at your coffee, focusing on the dots of cinnamon speckled across the foam, not wanting Janice to read your expression. You did not want her to see how excited you felt at the idea of seeing him again and to read too much into it because you didn’t even know how you felt about it.
Yeah, you were lonely sometimes. Eli was your entire world and you had Janice and Matt. You weren't alone but sometimes you wished for someone to be around. Someone that was yours. Someone who might take care of you, offer to rub your feet or handle things while you took a bath. Someone you could curl up with while you watched a movie or who would make the salad while you prepared dinner. Someone to talk to, to share about your day, to hold your hand while you strolled through the grocery store.
It was dumb, really. Silly. You knew that. You should be perfectly content with everything you had, everything you'd had before you lost Justin. Not everyone got to experience a love like you had. But even when you had him, because of his job, he wasn’t always there. You'd spent lots of evenings alone. Being alone was not anything new for you but there was something vastly different about being alone, knowing your person was coming home to you at some point versus being alone knowing they never would.
“Okay, perfect. So you ask him tomorrow.”
“How am I supposed to ask him if he’s single?” you scoffed, appalled at the idea. Clearly, Eli had a mom. He’d spoken about her last night. Maybe he just didn’t like to wear a ring. Maybe she was simply out of town for work or something.
“Just like that. You tell him that you enjoyed your evening together and you wondered if he was single.”
“Janice, I can’t do that.”
“Of course you can. It’s a simple question.”
“There’s nothing simple about that. I haven’t asked a guy out in over a decade. And even back then, I was awful at it. I was always so nervous. Do you remember when tripped over my own feet and spilled that drink all over Josh Day in college? It was mortifying. Just because you’re all confident and brave doesn’t mean everyone is. Besides, I don’t even know if I want to know. I don’t know what I want.”
“Honey, we’ve been over this.”
“Yeah. We have. And you’re the one who wants this for me,” you groaned, “but Janice, you’re not in my shoes. You have no idea. You can’t know what this is like and I hope you never have to. You say it’s been long enough and that I need to move on. Maybe you’re right but that doesn’t mean I can wave some magic wand and be ready. They didn’t exactly give me a manual on how to get over your grief when your husband suddenly dies. They didn’t give me some step-by-step instruction booklet for how to start dating after losing the love of your life. And how to do that when you’re also a single mother who has a kid to consider in all of it. I tried. I went on four dates and every single one of them was awful and just reminded me of what I was missing. They didn’t make me want to move on. They made me want to hang on for dear life to what I used to have.”
“I know. I know they were awful. But I don’t want to see you close yourself off to the possibility because you’re scared. Online dating sucked. I hear you. But this isn’t that. This is a guy, right in front of you, who you obviously are interested in. And it’s a guy who already knows Eli and your son likes him. He’s already organically a part of your world. You spent a whole evening with him. Do you have another horror story to tell me about him?”
“No,” you admitted, sinking down into the comforting cushion of the chair. “No. He seems wonderful. He was great with the boys. I mean, obviously he’s good with his kid but he was great with Eli too. He had them both laughing. And he has a good job. He’s a project manager for a construction company. Not that it should matter but I definitely don’t need a manchild in my life. Raising Eli is enough.”
“And…?”
“And what? Isn’t that enough?”
“He’s cute obviously?”
You flushed, bringing a hand to your face as those eyes and that smile came back to you, “I already told you he’s good looking. I mean…hazel eyes, ridiculously good hair, and a smile that could power up the whole of New York City. He’s that kind of good looking that makes you wonder what he’s doing here and not on your television screen.”
Janice giggled, her feet bouncing against the floor, arm smacking her chair, “See? Come on. Take your shot, honey.”
“But what about Eli?”
“What about Eli? Didn’t you say he liked him?”
“He did but he barely knows him. And this isn’t the kind of thing where I could wait to introduce them until I knew it was something real because he’s already in Eli’s life now. And Eli is best friends with his son. I can’t screw that up for him. Because how would we be able to still set up playdates if we had some horrible breakup? We wouldn’t be able to be in the same room and then Eli would be crushed. And what if Eli isn’t ready to see me with someone else? He’s only ever seen me with his dad. He might think I’m betraying Justin. And what if…”
“Whoa, okay, let’s back the truck up a bit here,” Janice soothed, her hand coming to rest on your arm. “It’s just a date, one date honey, not a lifetime commitment. Ask him out on one date and see how it goes. Keep it simple and come here for coffee. No pressure. Not some fancy restaurant with low lighting. Just a nice coffee. If there’s nothing there then you just move on as friends and it doesn’t have to affect the boys. They don’t even have to know that you two went out. And you know I’ll watch Eli for you if you need me to. Name the time and Matt and I will be there.”
“I don’t know. This all just feels weird and wrong…I mean, Justin…”
“Justin wouldn’t want you to be alone for the rest of your life. Justin loved you like Sam loved Annie, like Wesley loved Buttercup, like Harry loved Sally. He would want you to have the world. He would hate the idea of you sitting in that house all alone. You are far too young to be facing the rest of your life alone. Take the leap, my friend. Take a chance on this movie star man. Be happy. It’s okay.”
But was it okay? You would like to think that Justin would want you to be happy, that he wouldn’t want you to spend the rest of your life alone at only thirty-two. But would he look at it as a betrayal? Would you be dishonoring him and everything you'd shared if you replaced him like an old couch?
And was any of this even relevant? You didn’t even know if Steve was single. Maybe he was still married or maybe he wasn’t but he was already seeing someone else. You couldn’t imagine a guy like that staying single for long. There had to be women lined up just waiting for their turn. If the moms at practice the other day were any indication, that was certainly the case.
But did you want to keep being alone? Maybe you didn’t straight up ask him but maybe you could find out. You were hanging out tomorrow for a bit anyway. Maybe if you were crafty, you could figure out his status without just coming out and asking if he was single.
“I’ll think about it,” you finally relented.
“I guess I’ll take what I can get,” sighed Janice.
___________________________________________________________
After listening to Janice spend the next hour trying to convince you why you needed to grab the bull by the horns, your friend’s words and not yours, you were ready to get the hell out of there. Janice was not going to let this go. You'd hugged your annoying, but well-meaning, friend and headed off to the grocery store.
As you'd just had pizza last night, Eli had asked if you could change pizza Friday to nacho Friday. So, here you were, even though you usually avoided doing things like this on a bonus day, grabbing all the fixings you would need to make the best nachos ever. Or really, what you would need because when Eli said nachos, all he really wanted was melted cheese on tortilla chips and some salsa to dip them in.
Not you. You had every intention of loading yours up with all the good stuff. Grabbing a cart, you wandered through the aisles, grabbing avocados to make guacamole, ground beef, taco seasoning, black olives, sour cream, and one jalapeno. Deciding a bottle of wine would be a nice addition, you turned down the liquor aisle and almost plowed right into another cart with your cart.
“Oh my god. I am so sorry. I wasn’t even looking…”
Your heart stopped, along with the entire grocery store, as if someone had hit the pause button, when you saw who you almost ran into. Steve gave you that megawatt smile, blinding even under the fluorescent lights of the grocery store. He stood there in a plaid button down and jeans, a baseball cap on his head.
Seriously? You'd met this guy two days ago and you had never seen him before. You definitely would have noticed if he’d ever been anywhere in your vicinity. Who wouldn’t notice a guy who looked like that just having the nerve to exist? Now you were running into him in the grocery store? Could you have just been blind?
To be fair, after Justin had passed, for a long time you felt like you w were moving through life in a fog. Your grief had been so thick that you barely noticed anything, simply going through the motions that were required of you. Maybe you had seen him before but never even noticed, blinders that were you just trying to function keeping you from seeing this beautiful man that lived in your town.
“Hey there,” he laughed, taking his hands off the cart and holding them out wide.
“Hey. Grocery shopping?”
Your eyes closed as you inwardly cursed yourself. Obviously he was grocery shopping. He had a cart in the middle of a grocery store. Why were you so bad at this? And Janice really thought you had a shot in hell of flirting with him, of asking him out when you couldn’t come up with anything better than asking him if he was grocery shopping in a grocery store?
“I mean, it is a store full of food so, you know?” Steve shrugged, gesturing to his basket. “I had a few hours before I had to be out to check on a job site so I figured I’d grab all the provisions for the big sleepover tomorrow. It’s way easier to do it now than to lug Jere with me. He’ll have this cart overflowing and my wallet completely drained by the time we checkout.”
You looked down. His cart was full of everything two seven year old boys might want. He had burgers, hot dogs, buns, four kinds of chips, cookies, ice cream, popcorn, juice boxes, cereal, and milk. You also noticed the six pack of beer that was probably his own personal little treat for having two seven year old boys in his house all night. Your eyes met his, eyebrows lifting.
“The beer is just…I mean, I won’t drink it all when they’re there or anything. Just like to have one or two in the evening sometimes. I promise you I am a responsible adult.”
“No, that’s not it. I don’t care if you enjoy a beer. You’ll probably need it. It’s just that’s a lot of food for one overnight. Looks more like you’re planning on twelve kids or possibly stealing my child for a whole week,” you teased, pressing your lips together. “I warn you. You can try to take him if you want but you’ll want to give him back after the first night. I’ll be impressed if you make it through night two. He’s amazing but he’s a handful.”
One of his hands ran through his hair as he chuckled, “No. I wasn’t planning on keeping him. Trust me, one seven year old is more than enough for me to handle on a regular basis. Besides, Jere’s mom will be home Sunday night so he’ll be heading back with her until I get him again on Wednesday.”
“Oh?” So she was in the picture but definitely not in the picture as in them together. Here was your opening, your way of finding out more information without blatantly letting him know you were interested. Just a casual conversation between two acquaintances who ran into each other. “Shared custody?”
“Yeah. Nance and I divorced about four years ago but we try to co-parent the best we can. She’s been on a trip with her husband for their anniversary for the past week so I’ve had Jere all week. That’s why I needed a babysitter for the meeting. Normally, we just help each other out if we need to.”
“Wow, that’s great. It’s so nice that you two can make that work when so many can’t. Jeremiah must love that his parents can work together so well. It has to make the split a lot easier on him.”
Steve shrugged, “Yeah. I mean, we’re just better friends than we were romantic partners, you know? It wasn’t really a contentious divorce. Nobody did anything bad. No cheating or nastiness or anything. We knew we wanted to make it as easy on Jere as we could so we agreed to joint custody, splitting our time with him fifty-fifty and then if something comes up, we just move stuff around as needed.”
You were impressed. You had known quite a few people who’d gone through a divorce, more than you should for only being thirty two. Most of them were not friendly with each other. Nasty divorces where venomous words were thrown around and battles lasted for months over possessions and children and pets. To have two people just recognize that their marriage wasn’t working and decide to work together for the sake of their kid was incredibly mature and only made him that much more attractive. You really needed this guy to have a fault because it was getting harder and harder not to think he might be the most perfect guy you'd ever met.
“It’s really nice that you two are there for each other like that. It’s hard being a single parent.”
“Yeah. It is,” he agreed. “You’re always feeling like you’re doing the job of two people. But I’m very lucky to have her and my friends to help me out.”
“Yeah, I have my friend Janice and her husband Matt. They help me out a lot whenever they can. Matt is actually the one who got Eli into baseball. He started taking him to the batting cages right after him and Janice started dating. And he’s taken him to a couple games. That’s why Eli wanted to play.”
“Well, Jere is definitely glad for that. He was practically bursting to tell me that Eli was going to be on the team.”
“Those two really seem to have connected,” you said fondly. “Eli talks about him all the time. It’s nice. He…uh, he struggled to make friends the first couple years of school. He was kind of quiet and kept to himself after…well, he just was going through some stuff. So, him finding Jeremiah has been really great. Or, I guess Jeremiah found him, actually. Eli told me Jeremiah saw his Batman backpack on the first day of school and showed him his Superman one and asked if he wanted to be his best friend. It has really brought him out of his shell.”
“Well, Jere loves him. When I ask about school, he’s never talking about anything he is actually learning.” Steve chuckled. “He’s always telling me about Eli. He would not stop talking about Eli coming to sleepover after we left your house last night and it was all he talked about this morning on the drive to school.”
“Eli too.”
“Coach Harrington, is that you?” came a sing-songy voice as Laurie Streeter came sliding up next to him with her cart.
“Oh, hi Ms. Streeter,” Steve greeted with a nod.
“I thought that was you,” she beamed and was that, was she actually batting her eyelashes at him? You grimaced at the woman in her mid thirties acting like some teenage girl with a crush. “I just couldn’t pass up the chance to say hi to my favorite baseball coach. You know, Richie hasn’t been able to stop talking about how much he loves baseball ever since the first practice the other night.”
“Well, good. I’m glad he’s enjoying it. I try to make sure all the boys are learning but having fun.”
“Oh, and you do such a wonderful job.”
Her hand fell on his forearm as she leaned into him, pressing her ample cleavage against his bicep. Steve’s eyes widened and you noticed the red that was creeping along his neck, up over his jaw, coloring his cheeks. But was he blushing because he was flattered or because he was mortified?
You were certainly mortified. You couldn’t even bring yourself to ask him if he wanted to maybe get a cup of coffee sometime and this woman was practically melding their bodies into one in the liquor aisle of the grocery store.
Laurie was that mom that was always put together. You never caught her without a full face of make-up and not a hair out of place. Her husband left her for a younger model last year and instead of letting it beat her down, she’d come back with a vengeance. She’d taken up Pilates and even you had to appreciate how tight her ass looked in her yoga pants. Apparently, Laurie had decided to show her ex just what he’d given up when he walked away.
You looked down at yourself. It wasn’t that you were sloppy. You were wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, normal attire for your off days. You'd put on some concealer and mascara this morning and you'd pulled your hair into a ponytail in preparation for meeting Janice for coffee. You looked presentable but you would never be able to compete with that if that was what Steve was looking for.
Laurie might be a single mom but she was living off of the generous alimony she received in the divorce from her cardiac surgeon ex husband. She didn’t work. She had a nanny for her three sons. She had all the time and money in the world for Pilates, spa days, and the salon. You were lucky if you remembered to get a haircut every six months.
“That’s really nice of you to say,” Steve replied, and you watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.
“Oh my gosh, coach. Your arm is so firm. Wow. Do you work out?” asked Laurie, giggling as she wrapped her hand around his bicep, squeezing.
“I mean…I try to get to the gym a few days a week,” he stammered.
Jesus. Laurie was ready to straddle him right there next to the wine and Steve was struggling to speak. This situation was just getting uncomfortable at this point and you needed an out. Janice was wrong. There was no way you were going to embarrass yourself by setting yourself up to be rejected.
“It shows. You know, it must get so lonely in that house all by yourself when Jeremiah is with his mom. I could bring over dinner sometime for you, keep you company…”
That was it. You could not listen to it anymore. “You know, I really need to get going so I’ll let you two catch up,” you interjected, attempting to maneuver your cart around them.
“Oh my gosh! I didn’t even see you there,” Laurie said, her voice dripping with false sweetness, letting you know she absolutely had seen you there. She just didn’t care. The woman’s eyes roved over you from head to toe. “Oh honey, you must let me give you the name of my stylist. You could really do with a…well, everything. I know single motherhood is challenging but you really can’t just let yourself go. When was the last time you had your hair done, sweetie? How do you ever expect to find a man walking around like that?”
“Well, you know it’s hard to find the time,” you seethed, the urge to just leave your cart and dart out of the store overwhelming. But no, you'd promised Eli nachos for dinner. You would not let this woman bully you into running away in shame.
“I’m a single mother and somehow I find the time.”
“Yeah, it must be so hard when you have a full-time nanny to mother your children. Some of us have to actually do that ourselves.”
Laurie looked like she’d been slapped, her jaw almost hitting the floor. Steve’s hand slid across his mouth but you caught how his eyes crinkled. He was hiding a smile, amused by your comment.
“You know, I happen to enjoy a woman who doesn’t feel the need to get all made up just to go grocery shopping,” he offered. “When you’re naturally beautiful you don’t need to hide it behind a bunch of face paint, anyway.”
You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth to conceal the smile that came at his words. Could this man be any more perfect? Did he even have a flaw? And the look on Laurie’s face, the way she turned tomato red, the fumes that you could practically see coming out of your nose, only made the moment even more enjoyable.
“Well, this was fun but I really need to get going now. I have to pick up my son and make dinner for him since I don’t have anyone to do that for me. I’ll let you both get back to your shopping,” you said simply, pushing your cart down the aisle, heading for the checkout.
“Hey, I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” Steve called out.
You turned to look at him over your shoulder, “Yeah, tomorrow, facepaint free, split ends, and all.”
Oh, but that look on Laurie’s face, sheer jealousy and outrage, would have you smiling for the rest of the day.
____________________________________________________________
Steve drove toward home after checking in at the job site, unable to stop grinning, occasionally chuckling as he remembered Laurie’s face when you had called her out. As he remembered the smile you gave him when he spoke up, saying you didn’t need make-up because you were naturally beautiful, his chest warmed.
Well, okay, he hadn’t exactly said you were beautiful but it was implied. At least, he thought it was. And you didn’t need make-up. He loved that you were comfortable enough in your own skin that you didn’t feel the need to cover every inch of your face in make-up. He loved that you didn’t feel the need to look like you were heading out to the club just to pop into the grocery store.
He’d dated his fair share of high-maintenance girls. And while there was nothing wrong with a lady caring about her appearance, there was something annoying about having to wait an hour and a half for them to get ready when you casually mentioned grabbing some lunch. Now you were waiting until closer to dinnertime and grouchy, which inevitably led to a very unpleasant meal when you started sniping at each other. He’d been there more times than he could count.
And Laurie Streeter, she needed someone to knock her down a few pegs. She walked around with her nose stuck up in the air, acting like she was better than everyone else. She had milked that divorce for all she could and honestly, her shitbag of a husband had cheated, so Steve didn’t fault her for that. But everyone knew she didn’t get her hands dirty if she didn’t have to. She had a cleaning lady, a nanny, and in the summers she even had a pool boy. That woman had no idea what it was like to actually be a single mother.
Steve pulled his Ford Explorer into the driveway in front of his house. He’d bought it after Nancy and him had separated. There’d been no arguing. She was the mother of his child. He told her to go ahead and keep the house. He’d be the one to find somewhere new but she’d wanted a fresh start too. So, they’d sold the house they bought together when he was only twenty-three and split the profits.
It fit his needs. In fact, it was probably a bit more space than he needed for just him and Jeremiah. It was a two story house with three bedrooms and two full baths. The kitchen area was decent sized with a wrap around island where he kept a couple barstools and a space for a dining room table. He’d refinished the basement two years ago and that was where most of Jere’s toys were, along with a tv for him to watch his cartoons.
But his favorite part was the backyard. The house was rare in the neighborhood, boasting a quarter acre of land with a large backyard. His fence butted right up to the treeline and he spent many nights sitting out on the deck he’d built or on the patio with a fire going and a beer in his hand. Jeremiah loved the swingset he’d put in and he was begging for them to get a pool but that was a big expense and a hell of a lot of upkeep. Still, he promised the kid he’d think about it.
Unlocking the front door, he smiled as the familiar tapping of paws across hardwood greeted him. Miles came dashing around the corner. He swore that the dog looked like he was smiling, with his big old tongue hanging out of the right side of his mouth. His size intimidated people sometimes but he was just a big old teddy bear.
“Hey there Miles,” Steve cooed, rubbing his head. “You miss me? Your buddy will be home from school soon. I have to get him in about an hour. You wanna come with me?”
The dog huffed loudly, curling his body and spinning in a circle as if he understood exactly what Steve was saying. And quite honestly, sometimes he wondered if he did. He’d spent many a night spilling his guts to the furry beast, telling him things he never shared with anyone else, not even Robin.
“You know, there’s going to be some new people coming to meet you tomorrow,” he told Miles, heading into the living room, the Newfoundland trailing behind him. “Jere’s friend, Eli, is going to come over and spend the night. He’s really excited to meet you.”
He sat down on the couch and the dog did not hesitate, leaping right up next to him. He laid down, his big head dropping onto Steve’s knee and he absent mindedly stroked his fur, fingers moving through the black, shaggy fur.
“His mom’s coming too and I think I might like her.” Miles lifted his head, those big brown eyes observing him. “I know. I know. I see a pretty girl and I’m losing my mind again but I don’t think that’s what this is. Not this time. This girl’s different. But she lost her husband and I don’t know how long ago it was. I don’t want to push her into something she’s not ready for. And you know, if I asked her out and then it didn’t work, what if she felt awkward and then Eli and Jere couldn’t hang out anymore? He’d be so hurt. I don’t know. I thought about asking if she wanted to stay for dinner tomorrow. I mean, the kids would be here too. So, it’s not really like asking her on a date, right? It would just give me a chance to maybe talk to her, get to know more about her. I just feel like I have to be careful with this one, you know? It’s not just my heart that could be on the line this time. So, what do you think? Should I ask if she wants to stay for dinner tomorrow? Have a burger? It’s casual enough, right? Just being friendly?”
Miles leapt up and barked before bestowing Steve’s face with one of his sloppy kisses. He laughed, grabbing Miles’ big head, placing a kiss right on his black nose.
“I guess that means it’s a good idea, huh?”
Miles woofed loudly and maybe it wasn’t the most valid way to make a decision, but Steve trusted this big beast more than he did most people. Alright, he’d ask you to stay and eat with them. No big deal. You'd all eaten together the night before. Then he could maybe figure out what the right call was with this because he really wanted to find out if you were as different as you seemed. He wanted to know if this time could be different, if maybe he’d chosen the right one.
Chapter 4
Taglist: @katethetank @roxiehorrorshow @sapphire4082 @bakugouswh0r3 @frostandflamesfanfic
Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist. 😊 And replies and reblogs are always appreciated if you enjoy it. ❤️❤️❤️
#dad steve harrington#steve harrington#singledad!steveharrington#steve harrington single dad#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington smut#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington x fem#steve harrington x you#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington imagine#fluff#smut#fluff and smut#romance#second chance romance#second chance at love#widow#divorced dad steve harrington#slow burn
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Catholic Worldbuilding and the Wizarding World - Headcanons and More
If you've read All That Remains, my Regulus-Black centric work, you'll know I've incorporated Catholicism into my fics since then. The inspiration to incorporate Catholicism came from both @artemisia-black's Lacrimosa and Fiat justitia and her world building in D&D and Pietas, and @green-and-grey-kenaz's And he Drank.
Some caveats before I go on:
These are just headcanons of mine and things I've put into my fics. They work with the world but you don't need to accept them as canon or canon-compliant. Nor am I asking you to do so. I'm just excited to have this list put together of what I've done and the research that went into it.
There are other religions and faiths in the wizarding world. As Britain became more multicultural and diverse, it meant the purebloods and wizarding population did too.
This list is specifically for certain old-school Catholic families, particularly ones like the Blacks.
Catholic HCs and world building in my works:
Old-world pureblood families were Catholic. As the Roman Empire spread, witches and wizards from other areas hopped into Britain and converted Muggles and purebloods alike from paganism to Christianity. Wizarding world Jesus was a wizard; the Resurrection can still hold up as a miracle because no magic can reverse death.
When Hogwarts was founded in about 1000 AD, a chapel was installed inside the school. In my Regulus Black-centric work, I have the chapel and its tabernacle being a personal gift from Pope John XV to Salazar Slytherin in honor of the new school being built.
Magical Catholic Mass isn’t terribly different from Muggle Catholic Mass. The key difference is that since purebloods/wizarding society tends to be more old-school than Muggles, purebloods never bothered to implement the vernacular changes of Vatican II. They still celebrate Mass in Latin.
The Pope is always aware of magical Catholics, not unlike the Prime Minister knowing about wizards. There are wizarding bishops and cardinals buried in the catacombs in the Vatican.
Magical Catholics have their own dioceses; they’re bigger, geographically speaking, because there’s a much smaller wizarding population than the general population.
Pureblood Squibs are sent to monasteries or convents.
I’ve created several locations like St. Mungo’s to accommodate various parts of wizarding society. St. Mungo was a real Britonnic saint, so all these saints below are also Anglo-Saxon/British and I’ve incorporated them into my worldbuilding, particularly in my current longfic, Supernova. Again, these are all my creations - not actual canon.
There is a privately-funded pureblood hospital called St. Teilo’s. It’s where purebloods go to avoid being treated by Muggleborn Healers or associating with Muggleborns in general. St. Teilo’s bio page.
I created a day school for pureblood girls called St. Leoba’s. In the context of my fic, Supernova, it’s where a lot of pureblood girls go to school before they go to Hogwarts, whose parents aren’t keen to educate them themselves. St. Leoba’s bio page.
There is a long-term care home called St. Hugh’s Home for Hopeless Cases. It’s a poorly funded Ministry facility for wizards with long-term illnesses and inmates from Azkaban who have been Kissed. St. Hugh of Lincoln’s bio page.
Purebloods worship at St. Aelred’s Cathedral. St. Aelred of Rievaulx was a real monastic whose abbey is now in ruins in Northumbria. I weave that into my stories by having Muggles see the abbey in ruins, but purebloods can see a proper cathedral and that’s where they have Mass. St. Aelred’s bio page.
St. Aelred also has an extensive graveyard, complete with private mausoleums for individual families. The Blacks have one of the grandest mausoleums.
The stained glass windows and art in St. Aelred’s move like photographs and portraits. The crucifix appears to be ‘living’ with blood shining on Christ’s wounds. Purebloods think it’s neat.
The Statute of Secrecy and the creation of the Church of England were tied together. The CoE was founded in the early 1500s. The Statute of Secrecy went into effect in the late 1600s. The rise in persecution against witches and wizards, particularly from Muggles associating Catholic practices with witchcraft in general, was one of the reasons why the Statute went into effect. As a result, this is one of the other reasons why purebloods are so resentful towards Muggles and Muggleborns, as most of them are Anglicans.
Most pureblood families aren’t necessarily devout. Cultural Christianity/Catholicism is fairly common, but even when it’s cultural, it’s still very much a way for purebloods to wield power, influence, and control.
Like many Catholics, old-school purebloods really like their relics and/or more ‘gory’ mementos. You may be aware that Catholics venerate (not worship, not adore, more like honoring) relics of dead saints, such as fragments of bone, skin, blood, etc. Given the Black family’s cool collection of blood and other unusual items, it makes sense to me that pureblood Catholics are fully on board with collecting pieces of dead bodies and having their own reliquaries at home.
The splitting of one’s soul is an act of violence against the sacred. I wrote a meta on Horcruxes and Soul-Splitting; I imagine that the most zealous purebloods would find horcruxes to be outright offensive, not because of the murders involved, but because of the disintegration of the soul. I would also like to highlight this meta written by @artemisia-black and @ashesandhackles, the Importance of the Soul.
#hp meta#hp headcanons#catholicism#catholic#catholicism in my fics#the black family#st teilo#st aelred#st leoba#st hugh of lincoln
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1969-71 Continental Mark III
Iacocca’s Lincoln: The Inside Story of the 1969-71 Continental Mark III
Lee Iacocca is remembered as the father of the Ford Mustang and the Chrysler Minivan, but there was another Iacocca vehicle that changed the Motor City: the Lincoln Continental Mark III.
In auto industry lore, the design studio guys hate it when the people from upper management start fooling around with their work. Nothing good can come from that, or so the story goes. But there’s at least one instance that cuts against the grain of that familiar Motor City tale. It was Ford senior executive Lee Iacocca who originated the two signature styling features of the Lincoln Continental Mark III: the classic stand-up grille and the faux tire bustle in the deck lid.
It’s no exaggeration to note that these visual features created a design theme and defined the Lincoln Mark Series brand for decades. Years later, lead designer L. David Ash would recall that neither he nor Styling VP Gene Bordinat had conceived these two now-famous design gadgets; no, in fact it was all Iacocca. “Neither one of us would have done it on our own, I’m sure,” Ash remembered. “I have to give Lee credit for that.”
As vice president of the Ford Motor Company’s car and truck group—top product boss, among other duties—Lido Anthony “Lee” Iacocca had at least two problems on his plate in the autumn of 1965. First, sales of the Ford Thunderbird had flattened out after a promising start years earlier. Meanwhile, Ford’s flagship Lincoln division wasn’t setting the world on fire, either. While the Elwood Engel-designed 1961 Lincoln was a style maker of the decade, it was nearing the end of its product cycle. Actually, Lincoln was a perennial problem for Ford senior management. According to Bordinat, it had never turned an actual profit since Henry and Edsel Ford acquired the company from the Lelands in 1922.
So a plan was hatched to build a new, small Lincoln on the same platform as the Thunderbird, which was switching to body-on-frame construction for 1967 (in part due to limited production volume). This would help the Thunderbird fill out production capacity at the Wixom, Michigan plant, and it would give Lincoln an entry in the rapidly expanding personal-luxury category, joining the Buick Riviera, Cadillac Eldorado, Olds Toronado, et alia.
The original body design by Ash and his staff, at one point named the Lancelot, was clean and elegant but lacked visual punch, one could argue. Iacocca’s fake-Rolls grille shell and spare-tire bump fixed that, creating a distinctive and memorable look. It was said that the chrome grille shell was the most expensive such piece in the industry, with a unit cost nearing $200. Ash and crew completed the theme by hiking up the rear quarters and deck lid two inches, scrunching the roof down into the body for a classic ’30s profile.
From its exterior appearance, you might never know that the finished design shared its greenhouse with the Thunderbird coupe, or its floorpan, black metal, and 117.2-inch wheelbase with the T-Bird four-door. When Henry Ford II saw the clay model in the studio, he reportedly said, “I’d like to drive that home.” With the Ford family’s seal of approval secured, the new car was christened the Continental Mark III, establishing its lineage with Edsel Ford’s original 1939 Continental and the Continental Mark II of 1956-57. At that point the previous Mark III, IV and V models of 1958-60 were conveniently forgotten—today it would be called a reboot.
Introduced in April 1968 as a 1969 model, technically (Lincoln division downplayed model year designations, trying to present the car as “timeless”) the Mark III was panned by the critics but embraced by the car-buying public. “The buffs may not like it but the people with money will,” Bordinat wisely predicted. The Mark wasn’t big for an American luxury car at just over 216 inches long and 4,800 lbs, but it was big enough, with solid road manners and a comfortable ride. Interior specialist Herman Brunn covered the seats with rich, pre-creased leather, like the easy chairs in a men’s club. Noteworthy technical features included an all-new 460 CID V8 and Sure-Track, an early form of antilock braking developed by Kelsey-Hayes.
With a base price of $6,758 compared to $4,807 for its Thunderbird cousin, the Mark III was quite a moneymaker for the Motor Company, spawning an even more popular and profitable successor, the Mark IV (shown with Iacocca below). The Mark series, which comfortably outsold the Eldorado and effectively doubled the Lincoln division’s volume at times, continued on all the way to 1998 and the Mark VIII, and Iacocca would to on to further glories, including the Chrysler Minivan.
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It no longer makes sense to speak of free speech in traditional terms. The internet has so transformed the nature of the speaker that the definition of speech itself has changed.
The new speech is governed by the allocation of virality. People cannot simply speak for themselves, for there is always a mysterious algorithm in the room that has independently set the volume of the speaker’s voice. If one is to be heard, one must speak in part to one’s human audience, in part to the algorithm. It is as if the US Constitution had required citizens to speak through actors or lawyers who answered to the Dutch East India Company, or some other large remote entity. What power should these intermediaries have? When the very logic of speech must shift in order for people to be heard, is that still free speech? This was not a problem foreseen in the law.
The time may be right for a legal and policy reset. US lawmakers on both sides of the aisle are questioning Section 230, the liability shield that enshrined the ad-driven internet. The self-reinforcing ramifications of a mere 26 words—“no provider or user of an interactive computer service shall be treated as the publisher or speaker of any information provided by another information content provider”—has produced a social media ecosystem that is widely held to have had deleterious effects on both democracy and mental health.
Abraham Lincoln is credited with the famous quip about how you cannot fool all the people all the time. Perhaps you cannot, but perhaps the internet can. Imperfect speech has always existed, but the means and scale of amplification have not. The old situation cannot be the guide for the new.
Section 230 was created during a period when policy was being designed to unleash internet innovation, thereby maintaining America’s competitive edge in cyberspace. The early internet was supported by a variety of friendly policies, not just Section 230. For instance, sales arranged over the internet were often not taxed in early years. Furthermore, the internet was knowingly inaugurated in an incomplete state, lacking personal accounts, authentication mechanisms, commercial transaction standards, and many other needed elements. The thinking was not only that it was easier to get a minimal design started when computing power was still nascent, but also that the missing elements would be addressed by entrepreneurs. In effect, we were giving trillion-dollar gifts to parties unknown who would be the inevitable network-effect winners.
Section 230 was enacted as part of the 1996 Communications Decency Act, a larger legislative effort within the umbrella 1996 Telecommunications Act. Section 230(c)(1) provides immunity for online services regarding user-generated content, ensuring the companies hosting content are not treated as publishers of this information. Section 230(c)(2) offers Good Samaritan protection from civil liability when the companies—or platforms, as we call them today—in good faith remove or moderate objectionable content.
After President Bill Clinton signed the 1996 Telecommunications Act into law, it was unclear how the courts might interpret it. When the dust cleared, Section 230 emerged as something of a double-edged sword. It could be used to justify censorship, and at the same time be deployed as a corporate liability shield. Most importantly, it provided the runway for the takeoff of Google, Twitter, and Facebook. (And now TikTok—which, being a Chinese company, proves that Section 230 no longer serves American interests.)
The impact on the public sphere has been, to say the least, substantial. In removing so much liability, Section 230 forced a certain sort of business plan into prominence, one based not on uniquely available information from a given service, but on the paid arbitration of access and influence. Thus, we ended up with the deceptively named “advertising” business model—and a whole society thrust into a 24/7 competition for attention. A polarized social media ecosystem. Recommender algorithms that mediate content and optimize for engagement. We have learned that humans are most engaged, at least from an algorithm’s point of view, by rapid-fire emotions related to fight-or-flight responses and other high-stakes interactions. In enabling the privatization of the public square, Section 230 has inadvertently rendered impossible deliberation between citizens who are supposed to be equal before the law. Perverse incentives promote cranky speech, which effectively suppresses thoughtful speech.
And then there is the economic imbalance. Internet platforms that rely on Section 230 tend to harvest personal data for their business goals without appropriate compensation. Even when data ought to be protected or prohibited by copyright or some other method, Section 230 often effectively places the onus on the violated party through the requirement of takedown notices. That switch in the order of events related to liability is comparable to the difference between opt-in and opt-out in privacy. It might seem like a technicality, but it is actually a massive difference that produces substantial harms. For example, workers in information-related industries such as local news have seen stark declines in economic success and prestige. Section 230 makes a world of data dignity functionally impossible.
To date, content moderation has too often been beholden to the quest for attention and engagement, regularly disregarding the stated corporate terms of service. Rules are often bent to maximize engagement through inflammation, which can mean doing harm to personal and societal well-being. The excuse is that this is not censorship, but is it really not? Arbitrary rules, doxing practices, and cancel culture have led to something hard to distinguish from censorship for the sober and well-meaning. At the same time, the amplification of incendiary free speech for bad actors encourages mob rule. All of this takes place under Section 230’s liability shield, which effectively gives tech companies carte blanche for a short-sighted version of self-serving behavior. Disdain for these companies—which found a way to be more than carriers, and yet not publishers—is the only thing everyone in America seems to agree on now.
Trading a known for an unknown is always terrifying, especially for those with the most to lose. Since at least some of Section 230’s network effects were anticipated at its inception, it should have had a sunset clause. It did not. Rather than focusing exclusively on the disruption that axing 26 words would spawn, it is useful to consider potential positive effects. When we imagine a post-230 world, we discover something surprising: a world of hope and renewal worth inhabiting.
In one sense, it’s already happening. Certain companies are taking steps on their own, right now, toward a post-230 future. YouTube, for instance, is diligently building alternative income streams to advertising, and top creators are getting more options for earning. Together, these voluntary moves suggest a different, more publisher-like self-concept. YouTube is ready for the post-230 era, it would seem. (On the other hand, a company like X, which leans hard into 230, has been destroying its value with astonishing velocity.) Plus, there have always been exceptions to Section 230. For instance, if someone enters private information, there are laws to protect it in some cases. That means dating websites, say, have the option of charging fees instead of relying on a 230-style business model. The existence of these exceptions suggests that more examples would appear in a post-230 world.
Let’s return to speech. One difference between speech before and after the internet was that the scale of the internet “weaponized” some instances of speech that would not have been as significant before. An individual yelling threats at someone in passing, for instance, is quite different from a million people yelling threats. This type of amplified, stochastic harassment has become a constant feature of our times—chilling speech—and it is possible that in a post-230 world, platforms would be compelled to prevent it. It is sometimes imagined that there are only two choices: a world of viral harassment or a world of top-down smothering of speech. But there is a third option: a world of speech in which viral harassment is tamped down but ideas are not. Defining this middle option will require some time to sort out, but it is doable without 230, just as it is possible to define the limits of viral financial transactions to make Ponzi schemes illegal.
With this accomplished, content moderation for companies would be a vastly simpler proposition. Companies need only uphold the First Amendment, and the courts would finally develop the precedents and tests to help them do that, rather than the onus of moderation being entirely on companies alone. The United States has more than 200 years of First Amendment jurisprudence that establishes categories of less protected speech—obscenity, defamation, incitement, fighting words—to build upon, and Section 230 has effectively impeded its development for online expression. The perverse result has been the elevation of algorithms over constitutional law, effectively ceding judicial power.
When the jurisprudential dust has cleared, the United States would be exporting the democracy-promoting First Amendment to other countries rather than Section 230’s authoritarian-friendly liability shield and the sewer of least-common-denominator content that holds human attention but does not bring out the best in us. In a functional democracy, after all, the virtual public square should belong to everyone, so it is important that its conversations are those in which all voices can be heard. This can only happen with dignity for all, not in a brawl.
Section 230 perpetuates an illusion that today’s social media companies are common carriers like the phone companies that preceded them, but they are not. Unlike Ma Bell, they curate the content they transmit to users. We need a robust public conversation about what we, the people, want this space to look like, and what practices and guardrails are likely to strengthen the ties that bind us in common purpose as a democracy. Virality might come to be understood as an enemy of reason and human values. We can have culture and conversations without a mad race for total attention.
While Section 230 might have been considered more a target for reform rather than repeal prior to the advent of generative AI, it can no longer be so. Social media could be a business success even if its content was nonsense. AI cannot.
There have been suggestions that AI needs Section 230 because large language models train on data and will be better if that data is freely usable with no liabilities or encumbrances. This notion is incorrect. People want more from AI than entertainment. It is widely considered an important tool for productivity and scientific progress. An AI model is only as good as the data it is trained on; indeed, general data improves specialist results. The best AI will come out of a society that prioritizes quality communication. By quality communication, we do not mean deepfakes. We mean open and honest dialog that fosters understanding rather than vitriol, collaboration rather than polarization, and the pursuit of knowledge and human excellence rather than a race to the bottom of the brain stem.
The attention-grooming model fostered by Section 230 leads to stupendous quantities of poor-quality data. While an AI model can tolerate a significant amount of poor-quality data, there is a limit. It is unrealistic to imagine a society mediated by mostly terrible communication where that same society enjoys unmolested, high-quality AI. A society must seek quality as a whole, as a shared cultural value, in order to maximize the benefits of AI. Now is the best time for the tech business to mature and develop business models based on quality.
All of this might sound daunting, but we’ve been here before. When the US government said the American public owned the airwaves so that television broadcasting could be regulated, it put in place regulations that supported the common good. The internet affects everyone, so we must devise measures to ensure that our digital-age public discourse is of high quality and includes everyone. In the television era, the fairness doctrine laid that groundwork. A similar lens needs to be developed for the internet age.
Without Section 230, recommender algorithms and the virality they spark would be less likely to distort speech. It is sadly ironic that the very statute that delivered unfathomable success is today serving the interests of our enemies by compromising America’s superpower: our multinational, immigrant-powered constitutional democracy. The time has come to unleash the power of the First Amendment to promote human free speech by giving Section 230 the respectful burial it deserves.
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So I know the teens technically only really have one outfit (excluding Norm), but I wanted to draw some other ones!
This one is a personal favorite, I feel like the outfits are very fitting. Scary is in a tank top and flannel, Taylor is in some old anime shirt and gym shorts, Lincoln is just in soccer themed PJ pants, and Normal is in and oversized teenie shirt with normal black shorts. Taylor also has Crocs and Normal has slippers :)
Taylor: It's 2 am!
Next up is PE! Basically everyone is just in variations of a school uniform (very common in America for High Schools that have required gym wear), so this was more a practice of posing and creating character interactions.
Taylor: I'm literally disabled!
Scary: I don't want to play!
As much as I love the formal outfits given to each character, I can't draw a gundem, I can't draw a giant Teenie, so uh, I made new outfits! Just general cute vibes, Scary and Lincoln are on a date while Taylor and Normal can't go Stag and couldn't find a date. Is this a Teen High dance? Or something more fancy? You decide.
Finally I wanted to dress everyone up in the outfits from the Odyssey Campaign! I was running out of space on the page so they're really tiny, but look how cute!!!
I don't know how other people see Taylor's disability (but I know the majority of the fandom has some different idea), but with my very little knowledge I'm giving him a bad leg. Most likely weak hip joints or something similar, I need to do more research though. I gave him an arm crutch, similar to @gamsdoodles, I hope I'm doing this right!
#artists on tumblr#dungeons and daddies#dndads#dndads season 2#taylor swift dndads#normal oak#scary marlowe#lincon li wilson#outfit changes#outfit practice#traditional art#sketches#just for fun
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Moniek Darge / Vanessa Rossetto — Dream Soundies (Erstwhile)
Belgian Moniek Darge and American Vanessa Rossetto, are sound artists who work primarily with collected sounds. Each sources their material from a practice of recording everyday environments, but since their respective days are as different as their emotional orientations, their respective works are different. Darge has traveled the world, often seeking out what she finds to be sacred. Rossetto has spent her life in a small number of American cities, and her personal struggles tend to get folded into her work; she once made an album that dealt primarily with the sounds of a hotel room that she had trouble navigating and the limited distance that she could move when she escaped it.
Their differences prove to be complementary on Dream Soundies (Darge applies the word “soundies” to her audio productions, using the diminutive term to escape the limits of music). Together, these two women who are accustomed to working with anything at hand turn a selection of regular sounds into a soundtrack that is simultaneously ineffable and ordinary. It’s definitely a soundtrack, since sounds often deploy in a cinematic fashion. Loops create continuity, and the arrival of each new element — a chirping bird, a slammed door, a banging disco party, a distant hum that might be a car engine — advances the action as purposefully as the introduction of a new character or visual perspective moves a film along. But these action sequences do not add up to a narrative. Why should they? Sounds were around for a long time before stories, and their vibrations will surely persist much longer than story-bound humans are likely to last.
One might as easily turn to painting to metaphorically describe Dream Soundies. Each moment is layered with sounds, like a thick crust of oils applied to canvas over a span of time. Sirens wail and critters cluck, church bells toll and lesser metals clatter, flutes call and respond and harmonize in compatible disregard with music boxes and ducks. And just as a painter stops at just enough paint (or at least refuses to show you the works where they didn’t stop at the right time), even the densest moments of Dream Soundies are never overloaded. That’s what separates this work from, saying, opening the windows and turning on the TV and radio at the same time; it is arranged, and even if you can’t grasp the rules governing its arrangement, it resonates because of them.
Bill Meyer
#Moniek Darge#Vanessa Rossetto#Dream Soundies#Erstwhile#Bill Meyer#albumreview#dusted magazine#musique concrete#field recordings
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Headcanons on what superpowers would the Loud family (including parents) have?
Interesting request! :)
Super Louds
Key:
Green = Major superpower
Orange = Minor superpower
Rita:
Healing with just a simple touch on injury
Super speed
Lynn Sr.:
Can cook anything perfectly every time, and said food can re-energize someone with just a bite
Heat vision
Lori:
Bend electricity
Able to understand any language spoken, no matter how fast one’s speaking
Leni:
Able to make any clothing burn proof, indestructible, always smell fresh, and flexible no matter anyone’s size. Such doubles if she herself is wearing said clothing.
Seeing people’s auras & emotions
Luna:
Depending on the music she plays, can change the weather to different weather patterns in the blink of an eye.
Amplify voice at any pace, volume, or pitch
Luan:
Basically Mr. Fantastic’s stretchy powers
If she can make someone laugh, causes whatever injuries that person inquired to be healed.
Lynn Jr.:
Super strength & stamina
Refueled 100% after eating anything
Lincoln:
Capability to travel through portals he can create on a whim
Enhanced senses
Lucy:
Ability to blend and bend the shadows however she likes
Turn into a bat
Lana:
Capable of talking and understanding any animal
Super durable body (mainly skin and bones)
Lola:
Basically typical princess powers (ex. Talk to animals)
Make anything she wears turn back to brand new, no wrinkles nor faded color for example.
Lisa:
Telepathy + Telekinesis
Enhanced intelligence + photographic memory
Lily:
Bring any art she makes to life
Spiderman climbing up walls power
#fandom#tumblr#writers on tumblr#tumbler#cartoon#headcanon#superpowers#loud house#the loud house#lori loud#leni loud#luna loud#luan loud#lynn loud#lincoln loud#lana loud#lola loud#lucy loud#lisa loud#lily loud#rita loud
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Museum for Art in Wood (Part 3)
This is the section where I talk about the museum's curated bits (which, as you may recall from my first, ranty post, are extremely limited), and also the places where I most desperately wanted curation.
Here is a very nice explanatory label, which is alas not in the website's information on this piece:
The Museum Collection originally consisted of lathe-turned objects, but today it features pieces that represent a wide range of processes. From ancient tools like the lathe to modern computer-controlled CNC routers, technical skills are at the core of artistic work.
Ron Fleming in Earth Offering (OBJ 1010) masterfully combined techniques: the traditionally turned bowl is upheld by a dramatically carved base of leaves. Fleming's piece exemplifies how artists utilize technical processes to create striking displays of craftsmanship and ingenuity.
There was a small grouping of things for kids (I don't remember the actual title, sorry), which was fun. Among the highlights were these two pieces, which were next to each other: Frog Bowl by Michael Brolly; Hippo - Two Bowls Joined by Robert Trout.
This grouping felt very Seussian: Which Way To Grow by Dina Intorrella-Walker; Hurdy-Gurdy by Jean-François Escoulen and Mark Sfirri; and Clarinet-A-Kazoo by C.R. (Skip) Johnson.
There was a grouping featuring works from immigrant artists. I really liked this Shell Form Series by Graeme Priddle, though it looks puzzlingly different in color in the catalog from my picture.
And this plate, and also the small sculptures to right, by Michael Korhun from Ukraine:
I thought this was amusing: Hat, Hats Off to Woodturning Series by JoHannes Michelsen from Denmark.
Moving away from the intentional and labeled groupings, the person I went to the museum with pointed out this much more confusing grouping:
A potato masher and a strainer, both of unknown date and maker, highly functional, next to ... an untitled sculpture by Jean-François Escoulen. I am entirely happy to have functional objects in an art museum, though I can't say that I entirely understand why those.
This functional object, on the other hand, is very pretty! Rays (Cutting Board LS39) by Lincoln Seitzman.
There were also the occasional forays into meta woodworking pieces that I would dearly have loved explanation for.
For instance, there was Sanding Disk by Kevin Burrus, made of "Ash, Wood Turning Center brochures": has it actually been used as a sanding disk? What is a sanding disk?
Similarly on the deliberate meta, also on display was a Pre-Turned Wood Object—at least that's what it says on the top. I'd love to get the joke? But I don't. (By Garry Knox Bennett.)
Or this shelf: why is there a pile of papers on the left? Is that a chalk board on the right? Is the shelf a collective exhibit of some kind?
I looked up object number 4 (the only one there) and found the very useful: Large Mallet. This is apparently a whole section of things from the John Grass Wood Turning Company, judging from the papers, on which that name is visible, and the item underneath, which is a Bundle of Balusters, but: why those pieces? Why is there a beat-up baluster on top of some new ones? What is happening here???
This, on the other hand, is just as meta and historical, but doesn't actually need explanation and I found it very charming: The Itinerant Turner's Toolbox by C.R. (Skip) Johnson.
Sculpture next.
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TF2 PLAYABLE CAHARCTER LORE:
Okay, so just some context. Mann Co is a business organisation that runs most other companies in the world. Everything was shared equally between two brothers/heirs to the corporations power and money, apart from one thing in particular. A gravel pit.These two brothers, known as Redmond and Blutard Mann wanted to overachive and be better than one another, so decided to hire mercenaries to fight for this land. This original team, founded between 1800-1850's was comprised of Billy the Kid, Stonewall Jackson, Abraham Lincoln, Alfred Nobel, John Henry, Nikola Tesla, Sigmund Freud, Davy Crockett, and Fu Manchu. They would take the roles of the mercinaries like so:
Scout: Billy the Kid (1859 - 1881)
Soldier: Stonewall Jackson (1824 - 1863)
Pyro: Abraham Lincoln (1809 - 1865)
Demoman: Alfred Nobel (1833 - 1896)
Heavy: John Henry (Folk Hero)
Engineer: Nikola Tesla (1856 - 1943)
Medic: Sigmund Freud (1856 - 1939)
Sniper: Davy Crockett (1786 - 1836)
Spy: Fu Manchu (Fictional Villain)
These people would battle with others with similar weapons, stature, and power until they would eventually get too old to fight.After this, the two brothers soon realised that they may die prematurely before the battle could end, so asked for personal commissioned machinery designed to keep them alive for longer. [[This will be elaborated in the plot later, this stuff is kinda important.]]Okay, now the old team is dead. Time for the new ones. 1930's mercs were probably the most advanced out of all of the mercs, with the 1850 mercenaries looking like they've been pulled off the streets to fight, and the 1970 mercs looking like a mix of the two old teams designs. Everyone has some sort of camo on them apart from their engineer, who possibly be Fred Conagher, the father of the Engineer we know and love. Fred Conhager, in particular, may be the same man who created the machines keeping the Mann brothers alive, but we are currently unsure. The next generation, and the one we know today is the 1970's team. This consists of:
Scout- Jeremy
Soldier- Jane Doe
Pyro- Unknown
Demoman- Tavish Finnegan DeGroot
Heavy- Mikhail
Engineer- Dell Conagher
Medic- Mr. Ludwig
Sniper- Mick Mundy (Adoptive name)
Spy- Unknown
Along side them is Ms.Pauling and The Administrator. I'll list out characters as shown, one by one.
**SCOUT**
Full name is unknown, so we'll stick to Jeremy. He was born and raised in Boston, Massachusetts, USA. He is the youngest of eight children, and so constantly looks for attention. Can't read, but can run extremely fast. Seems that a specific brand of fizzy drink, known as Atomic Bonk can make him much faster. Dies in the comics and goes to heaven, whete he is told he was God's gift to all women, and was sent back to earth to 'get laid' [[This is the comics words, not mine]]
Has a tattoo of tom jones with the words 'S€X BOM' on it [Told you he couldn't read] and is canonically Spy's son. Has a crush on Ms. Pauling.
**SOLDIER**
His name may not even be Jane Doe. Because those are USA and UK placeholder names for unidentifiable corpses. [[Jane Doe as a woman]] Is a God-fearing patriotic Midwest American. Despite his role in the team, he has not once been in a war situation. He just got to the frontlines in WW2 and started blowing up Germans. He has lead poisoning, although we're not sure if that's why he's like this, he is extremely aggressive and has a special move called 'rocket jumping' where he can fire a rocket at his feet, shooting him into the air. It doesn't hurt him however, because he doesn't think it will [[So stupid he bends nature's laws at will??!?!?]] He was also roommates with a wisard called Merasmus. Merasmus kicked him out, and tom jones became his new roommate.
Soldier kills tom jones. For no reason. Soldier is also in love with Heavy's sister, Zhanna.
**PYRO**
Whoo boy, this is a confusing one. We do not know Pyro's gender, where they're from, or even if they are a person. We do know that many characters refer to Pyro as he/him, but Soldier does have a suspicion that they might be a woman. He may be schizophrenic, or it could be their optical mask, but he sees the battle as a fluffy arena filled with unicorns and lollipops. However, they do have the capacity to be very much enraged, and cut off Soldier's hand once when in a car with Demoman and Ms. Pauling.
**DEMOMAN**
Drunk. Born in Ullapool, Scottland. His parents were Tilly DeGroot and her husband who we don't know , whom both are blind. Demoman was put up for adoption by them after being bad at blowing things up. He would eventually find a book called 'The Bomonicon' [[I hope i wrote that right]] with a mischievous spirit inside. Once he had opened the book, the spirit inside made it's way to his eye, haunting his eyesocket, and making him lose said eye. He then blows up his adoptive parents while trying to hunt for the loch ness monster, then gets taken back by his original parents. His mother keeps asking him to get a job, even though he makes 3 million+ a year. Loves alcohol. Like, really loves alcohol, so much so, that when he eats normal food, his body thinks it's been poisoned. After an extensive time away from alcohol, his body turns his stomach into a makeshift distillery, fermenting bone marrow into alcohol. This alcohol in particular is so strong, it gives blood-sucking robots [[Don't ask]] alcohol poisoning. Can also do something similar to Soldier by 'Stickybomb jumping' that also takes no damage, due to him being too drunk.
**HEAVY**
Heavy was born in Russia sometime around WW1. His father was an anti-revolutionary who opposed the Communist uprising, so he was executed and Heavy's family put in the gulag for three months before it was burnt down in 1941 and all the guards tortured to death. Yeah, you heard me right, the gulag. He has three sisters called Zhanna, Yana and Bronislava. His mothers name is currently unknown to us. His weight is the same as his HP: 300. He is quite a nice guy when it comes to his teammates and gives even more affection to his guns, who of one he has a case at the end of his bed for. This gun in particular is named Sasha, of which he is very possessive and which weighs 150 kilograms and fires $200 custom-tooled cartridges at 10,000 rounds per minute. He also reveals that it costs $400,000 to fire his weapon for 12 seconds. Heavy has named all of his primary weapons, basic Minigun being Sasha, Tomislav being Svetlana, Brass Beast being Oksana and Huo Long Heater being Sheila. He was also the first in the team to have the experimental ubercharge operation and survive, making him bulletproof. Also sandvich.
**ENGINEER**
Known as Dell Conagher, this man has eleven PhD's. Yes, you read that right. ELEVEN. He was born in Bee Cave, Texas, USA, and may or may not be related to one of the previous mercinaries in the classic team. Apart from this, he has created machines like teleporters [[Don't put bread in them]], sentries, and dispensers that he can place around the battlefield to help his team. He is friends with Pyro, and seems to understand them, despite their speech being muffled. One of the only few to help The Administrator with her Australium-Age related problem, and answered the phone for her when she died once.
**MEDIC**
Okay, this will be too long if I go into detail. This is quickfire. Mr. Ludwig was born in Stuttgart, Germany and has little regard for the Hippocratic Oath. He is insane. He loves doves, especially his most beloved one, Archimedes. Managed to get into contact with the devil and made a deal that would cost his soul. We do not know what he had sold his soul for, but the chances it was for his medical 'discoveries' is quite high. Managed to steal an entire skeleton and got away. Lost his medical licence soon after this. While giving his teammates surgeries, stole all of their souls and surgically added them to his own soul. During a Halloween party, he was caught off gaurd by a mugger. After knocking him out, he then put the muggers brain in a pumpkin.This would later help him out. Re-hired to aid the 1930 Classic team for a new leader, *Grey Mann*. When sniper was shot down by the classic's heavy, he brought him back to life an hour later with the help of a blue whale's pineal gland directly into his brain stem. The entire surgery cost about 1.3 billion dollars. Classic heavy, after seeing this, crushes his favourite dove, Archimedes. He also brings his bird back to life. After this, classic heavy and Medic get into a fight. Heavy shows up, only for classic heavy to shoot Ludwig twice in the chest. After quickly swindling the devil by giving him another soul for a pen, he comes back to life, and then pretends it is an inducer that would make classic heavy give birth to three healthy baby baboons, due to the three baboon uterus's he had placed inside him during a surgery [[I'm confused too, don't worry]] Classic heavy belives the bluff, giving Heavy enough time to take him down. after that, he takes out the real inducer and claims that the human body could only generate two at the most.
**SNIPER**
He is Australian.
Except, he isn't. He's a New Zealander.
New Zealand is Atlantis btw.
His adoptive name is Mick Mundy, although his real first name is Mun-dee, like his real mother and father, Bil-Bel and Lar-nah, making his real name Mun-dee Mundy. New Zealand is underwater due to the fact that the geniuses wanted to isolate themselves from the rest of the world. After being shot out of the country in a Krypton-Superman-Spacepod style fashion, he is adopted by Jonathan Mundy and his wife Mrs. Mundy in Australia. He then becomes skilled in shooting from afar. In the most previous comic, he dies. Medic brings him back to life, and he immediately attacks him, asking why he was the last person he saw before bleeding out. Yeah, he also pees in a jar and throws it at people as a weapon, so... yeah. Also, golf trophy.
**SPY**
Not much is really known about his past but all that is known is that he was born in France in an unknown region. It's a mystery on how he became a master spy and a master of disguise as no one knows if someone trained him or he rather he trained himself. We do know however, that he is Scout's father. He seems to hate everyone and everything, and may or may not have lung cancer due to how many cigarettes he smokes. He is snarky, witty, and cocky, some of these traits are shared with Scout also. He got shot in the kneecaps when a plan in the latest comic, and Sniper saved him by shooting the guy who did it. He also disguised as Tom Jones when Scout was dying, and for the first time, directly called him son. He wears a custom tailored Louis Crabbermaché suit, is valued at $10,000, and has his own smoking room within the base.
I made this all in the Undertale server. Don't ask.
This took me three days to do.
#team fortress two#tf2#tf2 lore#tf2 pyro#tf2 spy#tf2 demoman#tf2 scout#tf2 engineer#tf2 medic#tf2 heavy#tf2 sniper#tf2 soldier#THIS TOOK ME THREE DAYS TO WRITE DOWN GIVE ME LIKES OR ELSE
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Chapter Ten: The One About Visiting
Summary: “Did you just ask me if I sell coffee in a fucking coffee shop?” And with that, Taehyung was smitten by the Barista in the crazy flower sweater vest. Friendships will form but most importantly Taehyung will finally meet his soulmate.
•——————•°•✿•°•——————•°•✿•°•———•
Genre: Idol au, strangers to lovers au, barista reader!, slow burn (friends with benefits to lovers kind of), semi-short storyish format, friendships, romance, angst, comedy, and smut
Main pairing: Idol! Taehyung x Barista! Reader
Side ships: Hoseok x OC
Warnings: Explicit language, smut, mature themes, homophobia, smoking cigarettes, drugs, and alcohol usage
Note: It's sex time lol
⇜ Masterlist ⇝
•——————•°•✿•°•——————•°•✿•°•———•
The two months quickly turned into five. Five months of pure agony for her. It was dramatic but it's the truth. Missing someone is so hard that words don't do it justice. Sure they called each other almost every night and sometimes they had Facetime sex but it wasn’t the same. Taehyung apologized for how long it's been but she always changed the subject. She wasn’t angry at him but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t sad.
A lot has changed in five months. Y/N took over Marie’s parent's book store as Marie’s mother recovered from her health scare, visiting her when she had time. Basically being a store owner is hard but on top of that working at the cafe was even more exhausting. Nikki quit her job at the cafe and started her job as a program developer for this company. She hated it but she got paid a lot. In her words, “Thank you college for the money.” Julia still works at the cafe but she also started a small business on Etsy. She created knitted bags of K-pop groups and it really took off. Julia and Hoseok were officially-ish together. Julia said they weren’t together but Hoseok said another thing to Taehyung, it’s complicated. The person that she has been worried about is Marie.
Marie is quiet but this time the form of silence from her isn’t normal. She would only respond to questions about her mom and she barely made eye contact with anyone, it was alarming. It made Y/N feel nervous about the outcome of everything but she tried to be positive for her.
Y/N was in the bookstore and she was finally closing after a long day. She never realized how popular the bookstore was until she worked in it. She was putting some books back when she heard the bell at the door ring. She raised her eyebrow and sighed, “Sorry we’re closed.”
“That makes things easier.”
She rolled her eyes and put the books on the shelves. She went towards the front door with her arms crossed, “Carlo, leave me alone.”
Carlo Lincoln aka Y/N’s ex-boyfriend. You would think that a person would change from a breakup but that’s being hopeful. Carlo was a charmer and he knew it. He was the reason why she was drinking so much at the beginning of the year. He broke up with her by sending her a picture of his new girlfriend when she was waiting for him at a restaurant. They were dating for four months but she liked him since college so, this was devastating. She never told Nikki why they broke up, she just told her it was mutual. She knew if she told her the truth then she would see her on the news.
She actually forgot about Carlo when she met Taehyung. The only person that’s been on her mind was him and no one else. Carlo was just a memory. A bad one.
“How can you treat me so badly? We have history.”
“So, not all history is good. I’m sure you heard of World War II.”
He rolled his eyes and leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, “I’m a customer.”
“I didn’t know you could read. Good for you.”
He glared at her but he quickly shook it off when she started to walk away, “Why don’t you go out with me? You look like you're done for the day.”
“That’s a hard no. I have a boyfriend.” He doesn’t need to know the truth.
“A boyfriend!? My ass!”
“I don’t need you to believe me.”
“What’s his name then? You can’t even come up-”
“My name is Taehyung.”
Her eyes widened and looked past Carlo to see Taehyung who didn’t look so happy. He was in his usual attire but what made him different on this day was the bouquet of roses in his hand. This isn’t what Taehyung was expecting on the day he was visiting his girl. He had to plan so much ahead to see her and he didn’t even tell his leader that he would be gone, his manager would do that for him.
Namjoon was a sensitive topic for him. He saw him as his brother but he couldn’t get past the attraction to Y/N. How could he like the same girl as he did? It just didn’t feel fair all around. They tried talking about it but it always ended up with Taehyung leaving the room. Namjoon would say the same thing, “She’s just so pretty and funny.” He didn’t need to hear that from his leader. After five months, they started talking to each other but it would only be about work. Nothing more. Namjoon tried and tried with him but Taehyung wouldn’t budge. In all honesty, he doesn’t know what his leader has to do to get his forgiveness. He was just hurt.
“Neh, Taehyung.”
Taehyung turned his head towards Jimin with a raised eyebrow, “What?”
“When are you going to forgive Namjoon?”
Taehyung sighed and placed his shirt in his bag, “I honestly don’t know...it's obvious he still likes Y/N.”
“How is it-”
“Every time I call her, he always wants to be in the room. It feels like he's listening in on our conversation sometimes.”
“I doubt he does that, Tae. Just give him a chance.”
“I wish I could. I just need more time.”
Time is what he needs but the question is, will he get it?
Carlo turned around and stared at him with a small smirk, “And who the hell are you?”
“Her boyfriend. Now what do you want with my girl?”
Carlo glanced at Y/N and then back at Taehyung, “You just love to play games, Y/N.”
She rolled her eyes at him and glanced at Taehyung with a small smile appearing on her face, “I don’t play games. Now leave, we’re closed.”
Carlo rolled his eyes and looked at Y/N, “I’ll talk to you later.”
“No, you won’t. Now leave before I make you leave.”
Carlo and Taehyung stared at each other with glares. Y/N should’ve felt uncomfortable with their stares but she couldn’t help but feel hot. Taehyung looked so hot when he was mad. Carlo scoffed and bumped his shoulder with Taehyung’s. He glared at him one last time before leaving the store. Y/N let out a sigh of relief and she glanced at Taehyung, “Tae.”
“Baby.”
Y/N ran into him and wrapped her arms around his waist, something that almost made Taehyung fall. He let out a chuckle and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed the top of her head as she looked up with sparkles in her eyes, “I can’t believe you're here.”
“I wanted to surprise you. Now, who was that?”
“He’s my ex-boyfriend...an idiot too.”
“How long has he been bothering you?”
She let out a small laugh and kissed Taehyung’s clothed chest, “For a couple of weeks...this was the first time he asked me out though.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tae, you're rich. I would be scared of what you can do.”
“I’m not in the mafia.”
She let out a laugh and pulled away from him, “You would look hot in a suit.”
He rolled his eyes and handed her the roses. She smiled and gladly accepted them, “You would look sexy on my arm...girlfriend.”
She felt her face get hot and she looked away from his teasing eyes, “Shut up...how long are you here?”
“For three days.”
“That’s not long.”
He frowned at her sadness and walked up to her. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, “We can make it last.”
“Don’t have a choice......No one is at home right now.”
“Oh? Why are you telling me this?”
“So I can give you a proper surprise. If you don’t want then-”
“Let’s go.”
The ride back was filled with touches, Taehyung touching her thigh with light touches as she focused on the road. The shivers and goosebumps that appeared because of his long fingers made her excited for when they got home. Five months was too long for both of them and they were going to fix that.
The moment they entered the elevator, they were all over each other. Taehyung pinned against the silver surface with her arms above her head. She looked at him with a red face and he smirked at her flustered look, “Why so shy?”
“Sh-Shut up. If you're going to do something, do it.”
“I plan to.”
He leaned down and kissed her lips with passion. The passion was so hot that the whole elevator felt hot. He lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist, grinding slowly into him. He pulled away from her lips and let out a groan, “Fuck baby, don’t do that or I’ll fuck you.”
“Maybe I want that.”
Everything froze around them. He looked at her with wide eyes and swallowed his spit, “You want to have sex?”
“I do. I missed you Tae...”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
He shook his head and started kissing her neck gently, “I need to hear you say it.”
She let out a moan and ran her fingers through his hair, “I-I want to fuck you, Tae.”
When the doors opened, Y/N bit her lip as he looked at her with pure lust, “Show me, your apartment.”
“Yes sir.”
He put her down and she grabbed his wrist with a small smirk on her face. She quickly ran out of the elevator and he couldn’t help but laugh at her actions. She handed him the roses as she took out her keys to unlock the door. He had to hide his laughter when she was struggling to unlock her door. When the door opened, she turned around and unbuttoned three buttons with a small smirk. She pushed her breasts together and leaned towards him as he watched, biting his lip. He brought up his hand and pinched the tops of her breast causing her to moan, “You can’t even wait till we get inside. Such a slut.”
“Your slut.”
He raised his eyebrow and let out a low chuckle, “Glad you know. Get in before I fuck you in this hallway.”
“Yes, sir.”
They walked into the living room and placed the roses on the coffee table. Before she could say anything, Taehyung picked her up and put her over his shoulder. He smacked her butt harshly, making her moan out loud, “Which one is your room?”
“Th-The one on the right.”
He opened the door and slammed the door closed. He tossed her on the bed and she let out a gasp from the roughness but she loved it. Usually, she wouldn't be into the rough side of sex but with Taehyung, it was everything she wanted. He took off his shirt and she watched with lust. Yeah, she's seen his body before but every time she sees it, it just makes her excited. His lightly tanned skin with his plump lips, he was just so hot and he was all hers. She unbuttoned her shirt and tossed it to the side as they kept their eyes on each other.
He moved to the bed with his knees on either side of her body as she stared at him. He gently touched her lip with his index finger, “You don’t know what you do to me.”
“You can show me, I’ve been waiting for five months.”
He rolled his eyes and flicked her nipple through her bra, “Such a brat.”
“Wh-What did I say about calling me that?”
“Like I would listen to you.”
He flicked her nipple again and she let out a moan, “Fuck, Ta-Tae.”
He flipped their bodies and she was on top with her skirt raising showing off her thighs. Her clad cunt pressed against his clothed growing erection. He smirked at her flustered face and pushed her bra down to let her breast escape the nude fabric. He pinched her nipple and she bit her lip as he grinded into her, “Feel that, baby?”
“Ye-Yes.”
“All mine.”
They both took their bottoms off as they kissed each other. Fingers going through each other’s hair and the gasps of air. She straddled him again with her dripping pussy on the top of his cock. She leaned down to kiss him, it was soft and warm but with each passing second the grinding of their hips was making her needy. Their tongues slipped as Taehyung’s hands touched her soft skin. His hands rubbed over her ass, pushing her body so he could feel her lips all around his cock, “You're so wet.”
“Only for you.”
She pushed herself back and placed her weight onto her knees. She reached down between her legs to grab his cock. She looked up at him and smiled, “We’re doing this.”
“We’re doing this baby. You’re the only one I want to fuck.”
The tip of Taehyung’s cock touched her hole and she couldn’t stop the moan. He looked up at her with a smile on his face, this was his girl for now and forever. She slowly began to sink down on his cock and Taehyung couldn’t help the loud moan leaving his lips, “Fuck your so tight.”
“Ah~.”
Taehyung brought his hand down to rub her clit, making her body relax, “That’s my girl, your so fucking hot.”
The stretch from Taehyung was different from all the other guys she slept with. It was more pleasurable. She pushed herself up and down, Taehyung watching with a proud look. She placed her hands on his chest as she focused on her movement. Soon enough, Taehyung felt her get clamped down as she fell forward on his chest. Taehyung let out a small laugh as she cummed all over her, “Are you done?”
“You haven’t finished. Use me.”
That’s all he needed to hear. He flipped them over and he glanced down to see her cock splitting her open. Her chest went up and down as she looked hazed out, it was so sexy. He started to thrust and the room was filled with moans. She was so tight and Taehyung couldn’t hold himself back. He started thrusting at a fast pace and he watched her breast going up and down. It was pornographic, “Almost there, Y/N.”
“Fuck, Ta-Tae.”
Taehyung thrust in one final time with their hips flushed together. Feeling him emptying his balls was a feeling that she wants to feel again, “Fuck, Y/N.”
They stayed like that for a while. He leaned down and placed a kiss on her lips as she turned her head to deepen the kiss. When they pulled away she gave him a smirk, “Want to go again?”
“I would never say no to you.”
Extended Ending:
After two hours of sex, Y/N and Taehyung lay there tired. She was fast asleep as his arm draped around her waist. She was everything he wanted and more. His fingertips gently touched her hip as he leaned down kissing her cheek. He sat up and grabbed his phone heading to the bathroom. He ran his fingers through his hair as he looked at himself in the mirror. Marks all over his chest and he was sure he had cuts on his back. He smirked to himself but it quickly disappeared when he saw a message on his phone.
He glared at the text and shook his head, “I thought I blocked her. What does she want?”
He was about to open the message but the door opened to Y/N looking at him with a smile. He ignored his phone and looked at her with a smile, “What are you doing up?”
“I missed you.”
“I’m shocked that you can walk. You almost drained me.”
“Shut up...want to take a shower with me?”
“Now why would I decline that.”
#bts reactions#bts scenarios#bts imagines#bts jungkook#bts namjoon#bts seokjin#bts taehyung#bts jimin#bts yoongi#bts x reader#bts hosoek#Bts#taehyung x reader#bts taehyung x reader#hoseok x oc#that irish barista
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Bellarke and leadership
something i wanna talk about now that I’m rewatching s1 and perhaps awfully late realizing for the first time is the part about leadership and especially when it comes for Bellamy and Clarke to take up on those roles.
While yes, it’s true that when Clarke comes down, she tries to take charge and make the others listen to her, I don’t believe she’s in an absolute leadership position, not even when they decide to banish Murphy in 1x04. It’s interesting for her because the progression that’s happening there for her is a bit different-she loses her dad, then she’s locked up, then she comes to earth where she does try to take care of the people but in fact just kind of gets caught up in some personal problems. The first of which is the one with her mom, dad and Wells-it takes some time figuring out what happened there. The other one is a newly created problem that is Finn, falling in love with him, then Raven coming down and her having to first swallow down her feelings for him and then save his life and keep doing that for the good of him and Raven as she can see how much they mean to each other.
In other words, I don’t think she fully assumes the role as a leader until 1x07/ or maybe I dare say 1x08 where she 1st-decides to agree on torturing Lincoln for information which is a big step, a leader step where the decisions weigh on you and it’s not just maps and runnign around trying to find Mount Weather or being in the weird dynamic place beteween an old friend who’s in love with you and a new guy who’s interested in you.
She actually takes a step towards real leadership there and later absolutely fills in those shoes when she meets Anya.
But What I want to talk about here is Bellamy. I believe he assumes the real leadership position at first and carries it on a bit longer before Clarke joins him in. That is of course, a product of the circumestances-he has taken charge a long time ago when his mom put his sister in his hands and told him she was his responsibility. She makes him name Octavia and take care of her, promising to keep her quiet and safe. The whole reason why we were lucky enough to have a Blake siblings flashback was, I believe, because of that-showing where it all came for for Bellamy but not just the understandting behind his current actions (aka taking off the wristbands for his love for his sister) but also why he fits in the leadership position from the moment they hit the ground.
He had already been a parent and a leader for the past seventeen years. With a mom who made sure she did just enoug hto survive but offered no love, he had to fill in a gap between Auora and Octavia, while putting himself away from experiencing what a real family was in order to take proper care for his sister and please his mother.
When he comes to the ground he tries to ensamble his people, then convinces them taking off the wristbands is good for them (even though he is indeed trying to save himself here FOR Octavia, a part I think people forget often), he surrounds himself with people he trusts but also helps built this camp-organizes the delinquents to build a wall (remember 1x04 “If it wasn’t for her, those idiots would still be building a wall” when he talks about Clarke saying the truth about Wells;), He quickly realizes what’s good for the people-the truth and omitting it in the case with Charlotte because it will safe them in this unstable situation; He cares for them which is shown when he goes out to look for Octavia and Roma and Mbege die. (I hate when ppl say he only started caring about the delinquents later-he did, from the beginning), he went hunting with them, made them work on rations, etc.
He also makes some very big leadership mistakes-the first one being hanging Murphy and the second one-throwing the radio away in the river when Raven lands. Now that second one is a really big and very heavy decision, one that Clarke if you think about it doesn’t get to make until the end of the season where she agrees on Raven using the hydrozyne to kill the grounders. Yes, he does make it so he can save himself but his personal decision weighs on the whole camp because if the rest of the Ark doesn’t come down, how do they survive. The whole conversation with Jaha in 1x08 where he hallucinates him just proves all that. While for Clarke it’s her dad she sees and misses, Bellamy is the one already beating himself up for mistakes akined to someone who’s ruling and leading. (and who feels the same amount of guilt the council on the Ark does, aka the parallels between Kane and Bellamy starting here)
Then there comes Lincoln and I think that’s the moment that kind of glues Bellamy and Clarke as leaders which is concluded in 1x08 when they bring the guns back home and it’s quite clear and established who is in charge of those kids.
That is where they take their first big decision together (yes, I scartch Murphy because while he was a hard choice, he was one of them, he made mistakes, a kid died because of him and banishing him was the only thing they could figure out at the moment but Lincoln is an outsider, a grounder, the enemy. And this is their first time trying to decide how to deal with that.) You could see how new in it all they were, how uncertain-they argue and they do not want to do any of that. They are both mentally torn-you could tell so by the looks in their eyes but they’re also fighting with the new reality-the one where the world is cruel and those people out there already killed 10 of their friends and what is there to do?
What is the RIGHT thing?
And all of that was solidified in the last conversation they have in 1x07 where Bellamy picks her hand holding the screw he put in Lincoln’s hand and he says “Who we are and who we need to be to survive are very different things.” I believe this is the first time he’s being honest with her, basically screaming ‘I am not this person, I am not a killer, I’m not a torturer but I have to be this now. For my sister. For us. Do you understand?” but she’s lost herself and doesn’t know what to respond so he adds, shyly, almost as if he didn’t want to give himself away “It’s not easy being in charge, is it?” because he already HAS been in charge but now she truly IS too. Finally, in that moment.
#bellarke#bellarkeedit#the100edit#bellamyblakeedit#meta#the100 meta#idk why im writing this#it's been on my mind for two days so i had to let it out sorry
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Beautiful Low mashup — VoicePlay music video
youtube
One of my favorite aspects of a good mashup is when the lyrics of the component songs are placed in conversation with one another. For this arrangement, the guys combined two different perspectives on struggles with self-esteem and the ways external factors can affect the way we see ourselves.
Whether the greatest influence is something intimate like the disolution of a personal relationship leading to depression, or something more pervasive like the judgment of society at large for physical diversity that doesn't match arbitrary beauty standards, it can be difficult to feel self-love in the moments when it doesn't feel like anyone else loves you either. But even at our lowest, there are people willing to help lift us up. Sometimes in the form of a song.
Details:
title: Scars To Your Beautiful & All Time Low mashup (feat. J.None)
original songs / performers: "Scars to Your Beautiful" by Alessia Cara; "All Time Low" by Jon Bellion (see also: acoustic version) [NOTE: The original lyrics are more explicit than VP's version.]
written by: "Scars to Your Beautiful" by Alessia Cara, Warren "Oak" Felder, Sebastian Kole, Andrew "Pop" Wansel, & Justin "DJ Frank E" Franks; "All Time Low" by Jon Bellion, Mark Williams, Raul Cubina, & Travis Mendes
arranged by: Layne Stein & Hannah Juliano
release date: 1 February 2017
My favorite bits:
the back-and-forth panning on Layne's opening electronic-inspired percussion line (best experienced through headphones if you can)
J's crisp descending run on ♫ ⇘ "nooow" ⇘ ♫
the strategic lyrical substitutions to keep things PG-13
the earnestness in Earl's voice and expression when he takes over the lead vocals
those backing harmonies from Geoff, Eli, and J under the second verse, alternating between stacatto plucking and short crescendos
Layne's descending riff in the middle of the second chorus
that gradual layering and weaving of lyrics during the bridge until they reach the climax of the last chorus
Geoff's smooth slide to kick off the ending section
those soaring harmonies on the final ♫ "beautifuuul" ♫
J's little fanfares in the outro
instagram
Trivia:
This recording was part of the audition process for VoicePlay's new member to replace Tony. Since J had already been performing in that capacity at live shows with the guys for a couple months, he was tapped to go first. Consensus among many of the YouTube commenters was that he was a great fit.
The lyrics were particularly resonant for Earl, which made him a little nervous on the eve of filming day.
J recorded his vocals with Layne at Rayne's Room. He was surprised at not having to memorize his part first, and how freeform the process was, allowing him to noodle around with different dynamics, rhythms, and riffs. I'd say he adjusted to VP's methods pretty well.
The guys usually coordinate their own clothes for non-costume outfits, but for this video they enlisted a local stylist named Tanya Buzu. J.None certainly seemed to enjoy his wardrobe.
The video description on YouTube reiterates that "You should know you're beautiful just the way you are." Very sweet of them.
A fan was inspired to create drawings of some of the guys.
A couple weeks after its initial release, this mashup was played on University of Nebraska – Lincoln's campus radio station during their weekly Vocal Chords show that features a cappella music.
They garnered a bit of praise from their friend and colleague, Tim Foust. (Sadly, the potential collaboration didn't happen, but most of the guys did get to attend the Home Free show that brought him to their hometown.)
This track was later included on VoicePlay's "Citrus" album, which compiled most of the songs they recorded from 2017-19. Because the individual songs had already been made available digitally, that album is exclusively a physical item that can only be purchased at live shows or through their website.
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LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN
July 8, 2023
HEATHER COX RICHARDSON
JUL 9, 2023
On July 9, 1868, Americans changed the U.S. Constitution for the fourteenth time, adapting our foundational document to construct a new nation without systematic Black enslavement.
In 1865 the Thirteenth Amendment to the Constitution had prohibited enslavement on the basis of race, but it did not prevent the establishment of a system in which Black Americans continued to be unequal. Backed by President Andrew Johnson, who had taken over the presidency after an actor had murdered President Abraham Lincoln, white southern Democrats had done their best to push their Black neighbors back into subservience. So long as southern states had abolished enslavement, repudiated Confederate debts, and nullified the ordinances of secession, Johnson was happy to readmit them to full standing in the Union, still led by the very men who had organized the Confederacy and made war on the United States.
Northern Republican lawmakers refused. There was no way they were going to rebuild southern society on the same blueprint as existed before the Civil War, especially since the upcoming 1870 census would count Black Americans as whole persons for the first time in the nation’s history, giving southern states more power in Congress and the Electoral College after the war than they had had before it. Having just fought a war to destroy the South’s ideology, they were not going to let it regrow in peacetime.
Congress rejected Johnson’s plan for Reconstruction.
But then congressmen had to come up with their own. After months of hearings and debate, they proposed amending the Constitution to settle the outstanding questions of the war. Chief among these was how to protect the rights of Black Americans in states where they could neither vote nor testify in court or sit on a jury to protect their own interests.
Congress’s solution was the Fourteenth Amendment.
It took on the infamous 1857 Dred Scott decision declaring that Black men "are not included, and were not intended to be included, under the word 'citizens' in the Constitution, and can therefore claim none of the rights and privileges which that instrument provides for and secures to citizens.”
The Fourteenth Amendment provides that “All persons born or naturalized in the United States and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside.”
The amendment also addressed the Dred Scott decision in another profound way. In 1857, southerners and Democrats who were adamantly opposed to federal power controlled the Supreme Court. They backed states’ rights. So the Dred Scott decision did more than read Black Americans out of our history; it dramatically circumscribed Congress’s power.
The Dred Scott decision declared that democracy was created at the state level, by those people in a state who were allowed to vote. In 1857 this meant white men, almost exclusively. If those people voted to do something widely unpopular—like adopting human enslavement, for example—they had the right to do so. People like Abraham Lincoln pointed out that such domination by states would eventually mean that an unpopular minority could take over the national government, forcing their ideas on everyone else, but defenders of states’ rights stood firm.
And so the Fourteenth Amendment gave the federal government the power to protect individuals even if their state legislatures had passed discriminatory laws. “No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws,” it said. And then it went on to say that “Congress shall have power to enforce, by appropriate legislation, the provisions of this article.”
The principles behind the Fourteenth Amendment were behind the 1870 creation of the Department of Justice, whose first job was to bring down the Ku Klux Klan terrorists in the South.
Those same principles took on profound national significance in the post–World War II era, when the Supreme Court began to use the equal protection clause and the due process clause of the Fourteenth Amendment aggressively to apply the protections in the Bill of Rights to the states. The civil rights decisions of the 1950s, 1960s, and 1970s, including the Brown v. Board of Education decision outlawing segregation in public schools, come from this doctrine. Under it, the federal government took up the mantle of protecting the rights of individual Americans in the states from the whims of state legislatures.
Opponents of these new civil rights protections quickly began to object that such decisions were “legislating from the bench,” rather than permitting state legislatures to make their own laws. They began to call for “originalism,” the idea that the Constitution should be interpreted only as the Framers had intended when they wrote it, an argument that focused on the creation of law at the state level. Famously, in 1987, President Ronald Reagan nominated Robert Bork, an originalist who had called for the rollback of the Supreme Court’s civil rights decisions, for a seat on that court.
Reacting to that nomination, Senator Ted Kennedy (D-MA) recognized the importance of the Fourteenth Amendment to equality: “Robert Bork's America is a land in which women would be forced into back-alley abortions, blacks would sit at segregated lunch counters, rogue police could break down citizens' doors in midnight raids, schoolchildren could not be taught about evolution, writers and artists could be censored at the whim of the Government, and the doors of the Federal courts would be shut on the fingers of millions of citizens for whom the judiciary is—and is often the only—protector of the individual rights that are the heart of our democracy….”
LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN
HEATHER COX RICHARDSON
#Heather Cox Richardson#Letters From an American#history#Civil War#14th amendment#constitution#slavery#Civil Rights#Civil Rights Legislation#segregation#originalism#Ted Kennedy
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Media headlines from the past several years tell a clear story: State governments across the U.S. are taking actions to boost housing production and improve affordability. State legislators from Oregon to Montana to Massachusetts have passed laws aimed at legalizing “missing middle” housing and encouraging development of apartments near transit stations. Other states, including Arizona, Colorado, and New York, have debated ambitious bills that failed to cross the finish line. While the political battles make for great storytelling, passing state laws is just the beginning of the next, usually lower-profile process: how local governments incorporate these laws and put them into effect.
To better understand how states are implementing their new policies, in April 2023, the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy and Brookings Metro convened state policymakers and researchers for a series of conversations. This piece summarizes three key lessons from those conversations; a longer report provides more details and state-by-state examples.
Lesson 1: The pathway to implementation is long, and may include snags or detours
Statewide pro-housing policies can take the form of mandates, incentives, or a combination thereof. For example, some require localities to allow duplexes in all residential areas, while others encourage higher-density development near transit stations.
Before taking effect, these guidelines must be incorporated into local laws. The process of doing so varies somewhat across states (or even the type of local government within a state) but follows a general sequence of events (see Figure 1). Action shifts iteratively between state agencies (which issue detailed regulations) and local governments (which revise their laws to comply with the regulations). It can easily take three to four years—or longer, if there is persistent legal or political opposition—from the time the governor signs a bill into law until all affected cities and counties have adopted fully compliant local laws.
Figure 1. Pathways and Bottlenecks: Implementing State Policies
State and local agencies are typically required to present their draft policies for a period of public comment, receiving feedback from stakeholders representing a wide range of opinions. Local elected officials, advocacy groups, and voters that oppose or support the new state policy have opportunities to weigh in—and potentially delay or derail the process of implementation. Media coverage and general public awareness of the issues may also affect the timing and pathways of local policy adoption.
Lesson 2: Successful policy implementation depends on the capacity of state and local governments
Not all state and local governments are created equal, or endowed with equivalent capacity to undertake new projects.
Public entities responsible for overseeing implementation of housing reforms at both the state and local level vary widely in terms of staff capacity (i.e., size, technical expertise, and bandwidth relative to existing duties), financial resources, and related dimensions such as data infrastructure. For example, California’s Department of Housing and Community Development employs a large professional staff, with over 100 people in the policy division alone; meanwhile, Maine’s new law is being implemented by only four staff members across different state agencies. Capacity varies even more among localities: Large, affluent cities and counties typically employ multiple full-time housing policy experts in their planning departments, but many smaller suburban or rural communities have minimal personnel.
To support local governments, states are using a variety of strategies. Issuing clear, detailed guidance on how to incorporate new regulations—including model codes and handbooks—can help avoid confusion. Some state agencies and regional planning organizations offer in-person or virtual trainings for local governments. Funding to hire outside consultants is another option in states where high-quality consultants are available.
Lesson 3: Be clear about the goals new policies are intended to achieve, and how relevant outcomes will be measured
State governments have different reasons for wanting to adopt housing policies, based on underlying housing market conditions and constituent concerns. Being clear upfront about the intended goals and desired outcomes will help during the implementation stage, both in setting expectations for local governments and putting in place systems to collect appropriate data and monitor compliance.
For example, is the primary goal to increase overall housing production, or to create more below-market homes for low-income households? Are there geographic areas of particular interest, such as transit corridors or job- and amenity-rich communities? Each of these strategies implies a slightly different set of metrics that should be tracked to assess the policy’s effectiveness.
Getting implementation right is unglamorous but essential
The excitement and public attention that follow hard-fought political battles over statewide housing policies may fade after legislation is signed into law, but subsequent events are equally important if new policies are to achieve their goals. Understanding the nuts and bolts of how state guidelines are incorporated into revised local laws will help policymakers, the media, and voters develop realistic expectations about when they will see outcomes. Absent this clarity, pro-housing advocates may get discouraged, while opponents claim that zoning changes are ineffective—all before the policies kick in and have time to impact housing supply.
Additionally, policymakers should try to anticipate implementation challenges and design policies that recognize the resources and staff capacity available among state and local governments. State-level housing policies are evolving in real time; researchers and policymakers across the country will be watching to learn what works and what doesn’t.
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I was raised by a polyglot. This gives me a imprimatur from the universe to shit-talk anyone in a language they don't understand. This habit of mine is often juxtaposed by my peers, who figured out my trick quite quickly, with my overall friendly personality. For this, they have always considered me a simulacrum of a good person. Hard as I try, all look askance at me when I pass them by. Never deeming me worthy of their care.So hoary this treatment, it has ceased to have an effect on me. To still give them much thought after all this time would be a waste, as the effort is much better spent tending to my minions.
Since my childhood, I have been fascinated with the cerebral task of creating life from the ether. My first experiment was putting salt junk, blood, hair and baking powder in the oven. I was flummoxed when it not only didn't work, but I almost burned my house. My parents misjudged my actions as both intentional and nefarious, and disowned me. This mistake weighs heavy on my conscience, an emotional leviathan I fear I will never conquer.
In the streets, I piggybacked off of a homeless shelter while I perfected my formula for minions. I schmoozed a grocery store clerk to get the ingredients. After I mixed the mushrooms, pineapple and beef in a blender, chanted some magical-sounding words at it, nothing happened, though I did wait a few hours, in case the new life was just in abeyance.
The solution to the fractious subject of life creation continued to alude me until last year. I was able to mollify my concerns that I would never get it right with the help of The Book of Alzoreth. Written by the sagacious Abraham Lincoln, this book tells many great secrets about the universe.
My first minion, my horrific darling was a creature half frog, half fog. I gave him 10,000 newspapers so that he could orientate himself on how the world works, and even allowed him to choose his own name. He chose the name "Cave" and I hated it so much I had a conclave with my colleagues to decide what to do with my creation.
I argued that he clearly had a ramshackle brain, but the others didn't couldn't understand my point of view at all. One of them, Mark, even bloviated about the "deep meaning" and "stunning poetic nature" of the name for ten hours straight. The moral turpitude of them to expect me to allow my legacy to be tarnished by some half-wit's idea to name himself after a type of hole. I had to picture the verdant fields of New Zealand just to not immediately banish them from my home.
I couldn't stand to hear about how "the simple beauty of it is unmatched" and "it harks barks to humanity's humble beginnings as cave-dwellers". I called all of my "friends" every epithet in the book, and promptly left the room.
My rage was nonpareil as I went to Cave and slapped him in the face. That was the start of the long and arduous process of indoctrinating my minion into my way of thinking, as to prevent further errors in his judgement. I eventually put the kibosh on his original personality when I made him do nothing but read my autobiography repeatedly for a month.
My ad hoc thinking truly payed off, and the time to ask the question once more had finally come. When I asked about his new name, he told me, his voice trembling a bit, he wanted to be called "Paradox".
I galumphed backwards into my couch. My feelings were mercurial even to me. However, soon my emotions crystalized and I became sure that this new name had only dandered me up more.
I couldn't believe this, and after how benevolent I was.
I immediately banished "Paradox" to the dungeon, shackling his legs with fetters. But then, the most uncanny thing happened, he fought back. He sneezed inside my mouth and germs began propagating within my body. They went on a junket inside me.
Paradox commemorated by doing forty back-flips, fully utilizing the incredible genetics I had given him. His joy turned out ephemeral when I stabbed him with a pocketknife.
At the behest of his tiny mind, he stabbed me back with a knife of his own. Anger and despair melded in my brain as the fight went on. The feeling was so overwhelming that I felt as though I was outside myself and the act of blinding Paradox in self-defense seemed almost perfunctory. He decried my actions, cursing my name and biting my arm.
Now, what I am about to describe may not have a lot of fidelity to the real event, but I believe in this account whole heartily. Paradox reached into my pocket and pulled out my sumptuous, diamond-encrusted phone. He called someone and talked extensively about his vocations.
He dreamed to of becoming a government official who would have the opportunity to arrogate the power to enact Martial Law. His biggest aspiration was to acquire the scientific knowledge to create a pill that would make all feelings evanescent.
I felt like a lout listening to him. I fully understood how headlong my efforts to discipline Paradox had been. The way to do it wasn't to wound his body, but to burglarize his mind.
My panacea was now within my grasp. The walls of my Mind Palace were festooned with daydreams of the brighter days ahead. Credulous about their plausibility, I set out to make them a reality.
I started out with fake adulation. I told Paradox how obliged I felt to tell him how magnificent his knifes skills were. I spoke extensively about the way his redolent body filled my heart with joy. I promised to emancipate him from my control as soon as he turned 47. I was being quite garrulous, and was certain Paradox could tell, so I stopped abruptly.
My prescience told me Paradox was falling right into my trap. However, as soon as it became his turn to talk, he immediately started quibbling about everything in my speech. I expected him to be ingenuous towards my affection, but I couldn't have been more wrong.
He returned to chatting with his confidant on the phone. I felt as though my very soul was noisome.
All my efforts to create life, and this was what they had all culminated into? I would have been better off if I had just gotten into jingoism like my grandfather wanted me to.
My fulsome behavior haunted me for months. My spirit was in constant duress. I thought of making amends to Paradox by scintillating him with jokes about boats and canoes, but I saw the man little during these times. He had gotten a job at NASA, and so was too busy debunking moon landing conspiracies. Apposite fate for both of us, I suppose.
One day, I spotted Paradox at the dinner hall teeming his belly with pasta. He was truly a Yankee at heart. He seemed happy until he saw me standing across the room, he was still a cantankerous fella when it came to me.
My recidivism started to act up again, and I felt the urge to stab him with one of my 17 pocket-knifes. He must have thought me inscrutable, because he asked me: "What are you doing?".
I panicked and postulated that I was simply imagining ways in which humanity could harness the power of the Sun to create a defense system against alien threats again. "That sky behemoth is such a layabout, it's about time we made it earn its keep around here!".
Paradox changed the subject to that night's gibbous Moon. He carped about how the fact that our perception of the Moon's shape was under constant change made a lot of people think it was a hologram. What an eccentric mind he had.
Our back-and-fourth complaints about celestial bodies evolved from a duology to a trilogy, and then a saga. We validated each other's grievances with the cosmos for hours.
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Tobacco Beetle AU (part 2 villains)
HUrrah i got through a lot of the villains. some that I haven't talked a ton about, like Graveyard, Tombstone, and Poseidon. I am so pleased and so ahh
Villains (?)
What is it to be a villain in a world that has turned its back on you?
Name: Phineas Mason
Aka: Tinkerer
Powers: semi-resistant to electricity. More than a normal person.
Toolkit: an entire secret lab to work on underground weapons
Age: ?? Maybe 4... He wont tell anyone for sure.
Height: 5' 7'
Weakness: not good at fighting.
Backstory: weapons creator who had a bit of a name for himself in New York. And then he got a kid and had to start worrying more and more about the number of heroes and eyes on New York. And so he decided to move down south. He creates weapons in Richsten and operates a technology repair shop.
Name: Adrian Toomes
Aka: Falcon (this world’s vulture)
Powers: none. But he is very smart
Toolkit: operational wings. Not attached to his arms. These help him adjust the speed and direction of his flight pack
Age: 50
Height: 5’ 7” ish
Weakness: Old. Quick to anger
Backstory: He is an older inventor whose work has been stolen from him over and over and other ideas have failed multiple times. He is tired and done. Osborn takes his glider design and this was his breaking point. He is now bent on revenge and Baccy is bent on getting him to calm down and not let his life be determined by wanting revenge on someone who could care less
Name: L. Thompson Lincoln
Aka: Tombstone/ The Big Man
Powers: Thick skin caused by an “accident”
Toolkit: He has a crime “empire”. Since the city is small it’s more of a fiefdom
Age: 27
Height: 6’ 2”
Weakness: mOrAls. Oops. Not in love with fight rings or drugs being sold to children. Also not a fan of people under 18 working for him. Dan sorta is an exception in his crime network rather than the rule.
Backstory: Tombstone has always been involved with crime, using fighting as a defense mechanism to both get people off of him and to keep people from messing with him. He does not like people having power over him. Often such people used their power against him, so he slowly made it his goal to gain more and more control over time, so no one can control him like that again. At one point there was a minor crime boss that got him trapped in a chemical vat that was meant as a root protector for crops. The boss had been fearful of his growing ambitions. He was doused in it and his skin grew thicker, almost impenetrable. He broke out and killed the man, taking over that gang.
He killed the last crime lord in Richsten (because it was dived into 6 or 7 gangs before) and takes over, cleaning up the disorganization and reorganizing everything to his liking. It has been seven years since that. He also has a legal business that he runs which is a towing, removal, and repair company: Sea Shore Towing
He is not sure what to think of Baccy. She causes a slowly growing number of people to turn from crime and she ruins many operations by showing up. But also the atmosphere of the dying city is lightening and she seems able to handle the slowly encroaching villains that keep popping up. Not to mention the ghosts.
Baccy can't go in his office. He keeps it too cold for her to be able to without falling asleep within minutes. He has no idea that's the case. She leaves notes on his window to ‘threaten’ him. Like cut-out letter ransom notes. Most of them are lighthearted notes. He leaves some in reply on occasion when a playful mood strikes him on the roof with a signal for her to know to check. He just thinks she is not willing to face him head-on.
Also Tombstone+symbiote: Graveyard
Aka: Graveyard
Powers: Being a symbiote? So the ability to form shapes from symbiote material. Enhances the strength of the host. Can form a suit around the host, but Tombstone tends to not do this.
Extra-
Can read the surface emotions/thoughts of people the host touches.
Makes the host impenetrable to possession by ghosts or demons. Its host is its host, back off!!
Toolkit: … being a symbiote? And Tombstone.
Weakness: Fire. Loud noises.
Backstory: Graveyard is an alien captured by AIM when one of their experimental rockets hit an astroid during reentry. It was experimented heavily upon and lived in deep hunger and agony for years. Eventually, it was able to escape its container during a move and consumed everyone on the submarine it was on. The submarine ran aground and Tombstone’s company is brought in to examine and clean it off the beach. Tomby comes to investigate the wreckage himself and the symbiote slips out and latches on, intent at first on feasting, sure this is another scientist. And then as it digs, it finds a mind different from the scientist. Just as calculating and organized, but the morals are new and the memories of pain convince it to still. Tombstone lets it stay if it promises to put a halt on eating people. SHEILD sweeps in and marks the wreck as their property and asks if anything was found on the ship that could explain the clean-licked bones. Tombstone shrugs, and says he barely had the time to look at the thing to figure out removal logistics. Wishes them luck, cause he really would rather flesh-eating stuff not be loose in his city, and really they should have come faster if they knew it was an AIM ship before, does SHEILD know how to run a tight ship?
Graveyard is enormously pleased to not be in pain anymore and to be safe. It also happens to love the cold, thriving in it.
They are a decent match
Name: Norman Osborn
Aka: Green Goblin
Powers: Enhanced strength and mobility.
Toolkit: bombs, glider, funny hat. Sick earrings.
Age: 31
Height: 5’ 6” ish /as goblin in heeled boots: 5’ 7” ish
Weakness: Mocking. He mocks but is bad at being mocked in return. Especially as Norman by children like Quentin.
Backstory: Norman Osborn dragged his father's company back from the brink and has fought for everything he has. Scheming, cheating, blackmailing. Whatever he has to do. And now his eyes are on the underbelly of Richsten, hoping to take it for his own. He takes globulin green, originally conceptualized as something to strengthen weakened animals (or people like his daughter)
Speaking of his daughter. He is terribly distressed at her ‘weakness’ and heart for fantasy. He wants her to focus on more serious subjects like the hard sciences. He keeps her at home and hates the excursions brought about by Martha. Strongly dislikes Martha. But he likes Gwynn. Wishes he had a son like him. So he allows the friendships to continue. Quentin is banned though.
Name: Otto Octavius
Aka: Land Octopus (this world’s Doctor Octopus)
Powers: Four arms attached to his back. He also communes with technology through Electro. This can be good and bad.
Toolkit: his arms.
Age: 22
Height: 5’ 1”
Weakness: He has five voices aside from his own in his head. He can get overwhelmed if they all get distracted by something different. He gets better at blocking out his arms and Electro, but in tiredness and extreme panic, he struggles. Without his arms, he is physically weak.
Backstory: Otto was working towards getting his doctorate at the local university: Spartan University. Unfortunately, the person in charge of approving his doctoral research fails him, cheating him out of his doctorate. The person who does this is Doug, the son of the chancellor, who was paid off by Osborn to do this.
During this time he is working with his arms in a lab at the school, a lab funded by Agrioscorp. After finding out that he is not passing and not getting his doctorate this semester, he is working in the lab and then there is an accident that frees the AIs of his arms and merges his brain with Electro. He breaks out into the city, determined to destroy the university. And maybe the city. Or take over the city. Hard for him to be sure what he wants, given that his arms are slowly developing slight personalities and that Electro’s subconscious also bumps up against him.
Name: Maximilian “Max” Dillan
Aka: Electro
Powers: generates and controls electricity, can become pure electricity to travel through wires if he is emotional enough or on purpose after some training. Has a mental connection with Otto.
Also, able to sense ghosts and demons, and other supernatural beings nearby. Can see them when these entities are too weak to be seen by others and talks to them. A lot of people think he is just talking to himself. Otto also thinks this for a bit, not believing in ghosts
Toolkit: determination and a desire to live.
Age: 25
Height: 5’ 8”
Weakness: Water.
Backstory: Electro has been working as a repairman around the university as a way to help pay for college. He goes only part-time, with two or three classes a semester. He is trying to make his life better than that of his father’s to drank himself to death when he was 7 or his mother who vanished off the face of the earth after talking to the air for a month when he was 9. He was raised by his maternal grandmother from 9 onwards. She died when he was 23. He wants to be a mechanical engineer and is clawing his way to the degree slowly.
Then while doing repairs in the university labs, he is electrocuted and knocked into a vat of electric eels that they were experimenting with in the hopes of finding a renewable energy resource. The world explodes into pain and electricity. When he wakes up, he is fully electric and has a metal link to Otto.
Now he has a beef with the unsafe working conditions of the university and running around with Otto who is trying to find a workable cure. He is in danger, as elements of the city and the world beyond see him as a potential source of renewable energy. He'd much rather not be captured and forced to generate energy for people who don't care about his well-being.
Name: real name lost to time
Aka: Poseidon
Powers: Similar to Hydroman but spooky. Possesses the ability to transform his whole body into salt water. He can control every droplet that comprises his body.
Toolkit: Water. And being a ghost
Age: ???
Height: ????
Weakness: Holy water. Certain symbols. Buckets.
Backstory: A diver who drown many many years ago off the coast near Richsten. His ghost now haunts the waters and tries to drown people. Rises from the waters when the right conditions are met. Those conditions? Unknown. Has to be banished back to the water. The people that he drowns become possessed and shamble like zombies to try and grab other people and hold them still so he can drown them too. But when vanished people return to themselves, slightly worse for wear.
Name: Sally Stevenson
Aka: Viper
Powers: enhanced strength and enhanced sense of smell.
Toolkit: Venom in her mouth, and in the claws on her arms and shoes. The venom paralyzes people for a few moments in which she can attack. Like the fusroda in Skyrim only impact enemies for a few moments before they recover.
Age: 23
Height: 5’ 6”
Weakness: Not well trained in fighting. Relies mostly on her venom and intimidation to accomplish her goals.
Backstory: TBD
Oh and a doc for edits in the future that has everything:
#tw: child abuse#spidersona#spidersona au#spidersona writing#tobacco beetle au#hermes speaks#tombstone#tinkerer#graveyard#posideon#goblin#land octopus#electro
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