#but I also don't actually know enough about service and references to know how much room for middle ground there was
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Watchful Eyes
CEO!SteveRogers x Female!Maid!Reader AU
read Bucky's story here
summary: When your best friend gets you a new job, cleaning the apartment of the most successful man in New York City, you don't hesitate to accept. The pay is more than good, and the man himself is better than any eye candy you have ever seen. Unbeknownst to you, you've caught his attention just as much. Steve can't keep his mind off you, so much so, that he drives everyone around him insane with his grumpiness when you aren't around. It seems like he has to take matters into his own hands when he realizes, you're too shy to take things further yourself.
a/n: So that just happened... I don't know where it came from, but please enjoy. (Please don’t be discouraged by the word count - I promise you it’s worth it and I kindly ask you to at least try 💛)
word count: 10.8k
warnings: power differences, Steve is pining, watching someone over secret livestream (is this stalking?), women being referred to as objects (not by Steve), just so much fluff, and also angst (there is a happy ending!), smut (masturbation - m, praise kink, oral - f receiving, dirty talk, orgasm control, overstimulation, unprotected p in v, size kink, breeding kink) !MINORS DNI!
ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ
“Can you start Monday?”
“I can start Monday.”
“Perfect.”
Holy fuckidy fuck fuck.
You had a job. A job that would crinkle some noses but it would pay money. Good money actually. Well, better than other offers in the branch.
It had been luck, really. Because during one drunken night, which had originally been dedicated to drowning yourself in self-pity over the last job that had let you go due to staff cuts, your friend Natasha had crashed your party with Chinese food and gossip from her workplace. She was an assistant for one of the CEO’s of Shield Protection Services. And during her lunch with Sharon, the other assistant, Sharon had complained about Steve Rogers and how he had fired the third maid this month because they, apparently, were taking pictures of his home or selling some of his things.
There might have been some talk about how picky and stuck up he could be but the important info was that Sharon was desperate at this point and had asked Nat if she knew anyone with the decency not to breach privacy and willingness to clean the CEO’s home.
The good thing - or bad thing, you weren’t sure - was, Nat knew you were desperate too. So she gave Sharon your number and before you knew it, you were an employed woman again.
❁ ❁ ❁
It was too early for you to be roaming the streets of New York, but you had gotten instructions and so you had gotten up at 6 and headed out to the address. And when you arrived, it felt as though it was the first time you blinked since the subway - you were that tired. Definitely not a morning person.
The building was huge, tall glass fronts stretching into the sky and the ride up to the penthouse took longer than your average elevator rides did.
The doors opened and revealed a beautiful open floor plan. A whole wall of windows brought natural light into the place and offered a view so breathtaking, it took you a moment to collect yourself. The place was ginormous - a lot to clean up - but seemed tidy enough to at least get started right away.
You placed your bag on the counter by the kitchen and took more of the place in when suddenly, a voice startled you.
“Who are you?” You whipped around, big eyes searching for the source until they landed on a tall man standing in what seemed to be a dining area - well, one of them at least. He had broad shoulders, neatly styled hair and one of those toothpaste smiles you only ever saw in magazines. He was wearing office attire, blue dress pants that slightly stretched over his muscled thighs, and when your head wandered back up his body, piercing blue eyes seemed to stare right into your soul.
Holy Shit.
Before you stood Steve Rogers, three-time Forbes Magazine cover story, young entrepreneur turned filthy-rich hunk of a man, and CEO of the most successful security firm in this country. And he was talking to you - staring at you... waiting for an answer.
Talking, you needed to start talking, you reminded yourself.
“I’m the new maid, sir. I’m so sorry I was told to come here at 7 as you leave for work before that.”
Mr. Rogers looked at you with an unintelligible stare. Meanwhile, you were nervously wringing your hands in the doorway, looking down. You hadn’t planned for anyone important to see you today. The worn-down Fleetwood Mac shirt you didn’t mind getting bleach on hanging over some pants you pulled from the back of your closet definitely wasn’t the kind of outfit you expected to greet Steve Rogers in. Great start. This was going awful.
“Well I’m here aren’t I?” His arms folded before his chest as his eyebrow raised, impressive biceps bulging beneath the white button-up, and - damn - it was hard not to stare.
“Right. Yes. Sorry. I’ll come back later.” You turned to leave again but he stopped you.
“No need. I am on my way out.” The left corner of his mouth twitched into a cheeky grin when he grabbed his bag, left the newspaper discarded on the table, and placed his coffee mug in the sink. Interesting.
“Don’t snoop.” He whispered teasingly as he passed you, a whiff of expensive cologne paralyzing your senses and you weren’t sure if he was making a suggestion or actually warning you. That damn perfume seemed to hypnotize you.
Your eyes followed his broad shoulders until they disappeared behind the corner and then the elevator doors shut. It seemed to take all the tension from your face. You exhaled long and then began to look around some more.
The place was huge, you’d already established that. But when you found the third bedroom amongst the private office and Pool table room, you knew you had to make a weekly plan to work off. You had to give Mr. Rogers credit, though. There was rarely any clutter lying around - it wasn’t dirty per se - just had the usual dust you’d expect in a place this size with only one person living in it.
You huffed, resting your hand on your hips once you completed the tour. And then you got started.
❁ ❁ ❁
Steve peered up from his computer screen when Bucky strolled through the doors of his office. A coffee in hand he had most likely tweaked from his assistant's desk on the way here, he shot a grin to his oldest friend and business partner.
“What ya doing, punk?” The brunette asked teasingly when he circled the desk and settled on the window sill behind Steve.
“Just making sure things stay in order.” He leaned back and turned around slightly, just in time to see his friend nod knowingly.
“Heard Nat got you a new maid.” Bucky dipped his chin towards the laptop still open on the desk. “That her?”
His eyes wandered to the screen where a live feed of his apartment streamed you changing his bedsheets. He hummed in agreement.
“She’s pretty,” Bucky commented before sipping his coffee again and Steve felt an unfamiliar feeling bubble in his stomach. “But I bet you don’t care anyway. You’re all ‘don’t sell my stuff’ and ‘having things stolen from a security firm CEO is embarrassing’. Wouldn’t know a pretty thing like that if it climbed you.”
“Because it is embarrassing. And I highly recommend you monitor your staff to make sure they don’t do the same.” Of course, Steve knew you were ‘pretty’. Exactly his type, to be honest. He had noticed it the second you stepped into his apartment this morning. The way your hands wrung beneath you. And he had shot you a teasing remark in hopes of discovering a sassy fire in those timid doe eyes of yours. But you had stumbled over your words like a fawn.
Bucky clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Nonsense. Peggy is great - and too old to even carry anything valuable out of my place. I trust her with my life and house keys.” And then he pushed off the sill. “I think it’s time for you to get laid again. And that’s why I’m a great friend and organized dinner and drinks with Tony and Sam tonight.”
Steve fell back in his chair, hands over his eyes. “I don’t need your wing-maning me. I’m perfectly fine on my own.”
“Sure.”
“I’m serious, Buck.”
“You can thank me later.” He stout towards the door. “You know... after you’ve been devoured by the pretty little waitress at the Ironbar.” Bucky winked before his face disappeared again.
Steve just huffed as his eyes landed back on the weekly report on his desk and then swayed back to his computer screen.
As unwilling as he was to admit it, it had been some time since his last late-night rendezvous. And as he saw you crawl up on his bed to place the bedsheets properly along his mattress, he felt his pants tighten slightly.
❁ ❁ ❁
“We’ll get one more round of the good stuff.”
“Of course Mr. Stark.” Tony winked and patted his waitress’s butt before she stalked away on her high heels and towards the locked glass cabinet behind the bar.
Steve had designed it himself, a fiberglass shrine-like display for ridiculously expensive liquors, only to be opened by a passcode that got regenerated every week. He watched as Betty - the young and lanky waitress - retrieved a crystal bottle of whiskey and filled four glasses with the golden liquid.
“God, I love that thing,” Tony sighed next to Steve and watched Betty with a satisfied smile.
“You better be talking about that cabinet, Stark.” Steve shook his head with a frown only to receive a wink from Tony, who was sitting closest to him at the round table.
“So...” Bucky leaned over to Steve and spoke in a hushed voice. “You see anything you like?” He gestured at the bar where Tony’s carefully picked waitresses passed with filled and emptied glasses and bottles. They were all wearing tight black t-shirts and skirts or shorts that counted just as scandalous. One could foolishly mistake this place for a Hooters if Tony hadn’t made it one of the most pristine bars in all of New York City.
It was popular amongst the clientele which mainly consisted of bored rich men that came here to get something to look at without being judged for it. But Steve wasn’t feeling the girls today. When Betty shoved her breasts in his field of view, all he could think about was how he had never gotten the idea to get his maids a uniform that catered to his... liking. And when Betty swayed her hips on her way to the bar, his thoughts became clouded by the image of you in a short little skirt, riding up just a little to tease I’m about what was hidden underneath when you kneeled on his bed to get the sheets sorted.
Steve adjusted his pants at the little flashback, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter in his seat.
“Oh, apparently you have...” Bucky grinned before his eyes hushed down to Steve’s crotch and back up just as fast. “Well then,” he leaned back with a satisfied grin. “Which one is it? Samatha? Tiffany? Though I think Megan is more your type.”
“Just shut up, punk.”
“Okay you don’t have to tell me me... either way, my job here is done.” He brushed his hands off fake dust and smiled smugly. “You better be in a good mood tomorrow.”
Steve just huffed and waited for Betty to come back with ‘the good stuff’ to hopefully drown out his annoying friends for the rest of the night. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them. No, he would do anything for the people he chose to have in his life. The group he found himself in right now had been through thick and thin with him, stayed through his fame and fortune, and was just as supportive before it had all happened to either of them. He was happy having the guys because they built each other up and aimed for greatness - together, they were fucking invincible.
But sometimes, Steve felt a little out of place amongst Bucky and Tony. It was in situations regarding women most of all because he could never adapt the attitude to talk about them the way they did. And he never had the headspace to juggle as many as they did. He had tried the one-night stands. But he struggled to navigate the superficial pleasure maze New York City provided in masses. Because just as the ever-passing smiles on the streets, it wasn’t fulfilling enough for Steve. At least not in the way it was for his friends.
He wanted what Sam had. A partner, a family, something constant and beautiful. And that was, why he found himself asking for pictures of Sam’s kids and nephews rather than listen to Tony’s latest bed bunny endeavor whenever the conversations took a turn in that direction.
“Earth to Rogers,” Sam’s finger snapped in front of Steve’s face. “What this I’m hearing? You got a new maid? What happened to the old one?”
“She sold his stuff on Craigslist.” Bucky snorted and took a sip of the drink that had magically appeared in front of them.
“You aren’t serious.”
“I really liked that tie,” Steve grumbled into his cup.
“Man, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with things like that. You rich people really are a different breed.”
“You’re rich, too, Sam.”
Sam just smiled above his crystal glass, having fun with the little joke he liked to pull for ages now. He wasn’t any less successful than any of the other men at their table. But other than them, he had settled in a beautiful neighborhood - despising the concrete jungle each of the other guys lived in. His house felt like home, like a cozy place that had seen love and time and nothing like the polished and sleek man caves the rest of them owned.
“Well, anyways, my amazing assistant organized him a new one, the prettiest thing - really. But he’s refusing to see it.”
Tony chuckled. “Well, that's Rogers in a nutshell, isn’t it.”
Sam just pursed his lips and glanced over at Steve with a soft smile, ignoring the comments of the other guys. They never explicitly talked about it, but Sam was a smart man, and it would have surprised Steve, had he not already figured out that he was more of a family man than their friends were as of right now.
“To new maids that aren’t selling your clothes on the internet then.” He raised his drink and winked at Steve once their glasses clinked.
And Steve? He visibly exhaled, silently thanking Sam for pulling the tension out of their conversation.
❁ ❁ ❁
It had been a little over a week. And so far, things had been going great.
By now, you had cleaned through the entire place once and set up a plan of what to do on which day. You weren’t surprised it actually took a full 6 days to cover every single room in Mr. Rogers’s apartment. You had already figured out which tasks were going to be your favorite and which weren’t. Like his bedroom. You liked doing that. Because even though the sheets were a bitch to get on the ginormous bed, you kind of liked the smell the room had. His pillows smelled of the cologne you couldn’t forget ever since the man had brushed past you on your very first day.
You were pretty sure you would never forget that since your knees literally felt like giving in at that moment.
Today, it was bedroom day. That and the on-suite.
With a smile on your face, you entered the apartment on the top floor, each day secretly hoping you’d catch a glimpse of the CEO before he took off to work. But even though you tried to arrive ten minutes earlier (you really couldn’t spare any more sleep for your own good), the first day remained an exception in Mr. Rogers’s daily schedule.
You placed your bag on the stool at the open kitchen island, changed into some other shoes, and headed for the supply closet. Despite the size of the place, you actually got around pretty easily. Mr. Rogers was a very organized and neat man - you’d noticed that the first and only time you met him. So things were almost always where you’d think they would be. Which made your job just that much easier. But also prevented you from the advised ‘not snooping’ you desperately wanted to do.
You knew better though.
People like Steve Rogers probably had cameras installed in this place. And you would certainly not go and rummage through his underwear drawer after he had personally told you not to. Who knows what strings powerful people like him could pull. So, for the sake of not waking up on a cargo ship to Madagascar one day, you restrained yourself as much as possible.
Of course, you didn’t stop your eyes from wandering whenever you swept the shelves in his walk-in closet or closed the drawers in his office space. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. And this girl had a nosy best friend on her back that wanted to know every little detail of her new job... and was also way too invested in celebrity gossip.
Though, as always, there was nothing out of the ordinary today - there never was. Sure, it was still exciting to see how the filthy rich lived but other than that, no scandalous collection of women’s underwear, or drug lord papers lying around. You started to believe that Steven Grant Rogers was a very boring man. Not that you could properly judge in your position, seeing as you did not really know him, but the whole being in his home seemed a little too intimate not to do so.
So that day you finished the tasks for the day, packed your stuff, and made your way back home, hoping to see him in the morning or to at least find something more interesting than dust in his home.
❁ ❁ ❁
Steve greeted the concierge of his building when he entered the marbled entree hall. With a little frown and a look at his watch, the man greeted him back before he resumed his work.
Yes, Steve was home earlier than usual. He regularly stayed even longer than his original work schedule intended. Today, however, he was home even earlier. But after another banter with Bucky about Steve’s non-existent sex life, he couldn’t imagine making it past five in the same building as his persistent best friend. So, he fled the office and decided to work through the rest of his papers at home.
Of course, Steve knew that Bucky only wanted the best for him. But the ways he tried to approach the supposed bothersome loneliness Steve had in his bed just weren’t for Steve. Those might have worked on Tony - hell, Tony probably invented setting his friends up with one-night-stands - but not on Steve.
He huffed and swiped some loose hairs from his forehead as the elevator dinged at the top floor. The doors opened to the window front of his penthouse apartment and Steve stepped over the threshold, immediately stopping in his tracks when he took in the scene before him.
The vacuum was running while you were kneeling on the floor, wiping up some water he only assumed came from the vase missing next to his sofa. He would have found it rather amusing if it weren’t for the way you carried yourself today. Something wasn’t right.
Steve knew that you weren’t usually this messy - that much he could tell from the livestream that had become a constant in his office by now. Your head hung low, your motions hurried and sloppy. He watched as you swiped the floor, one of your sleeves constantly slipping down your arm again until you angrily pushed it up further than necessary.
It was worrisome.
He couldn’t place the feeling he felt in his chest when he sat his briefcase down and approached you from behind. His foot carefully turned off the vacuum and then he stood still, careful not to startle you when you finally looked up at him.
He could see it in your eyes then. The panic, the uncertainty, and something else he hadn’t seen in them before.
You looked around you as if you were seeing the mess for the first time and when Steve was still watching you with an arched brow after a minute of silence, you suddenly sprung up to your feet.
“I am so Sorry, Mr. Rogers. I didn’t realize it was this late already.” You turned a full 360 until your eyes landed on his again. “I’ll have this cleaned up in no time and I'll be out of your way. I promise.”
Steve watched as you scrambled to gather the vacuum cord, struggling with it when it didn’t immediately snap back into the caster. “The subway was stuck in a tunnel for an hour because some guy decided to pull the emergency break for fun. And then this lady passed out next to me and when the fire department finally got us out and the paramedics packed her in the ambulance, I realized that I still had her purse.” You finally got the cord in turning so fast that the wet rag in your hands sprayed some water on Steve. “And do you know how difficult it is to find out which hospital they’re taking people? Because it’s so much more difficult than it looks in the movies. I didn’t know that! And then it was almost 10 a.m. when I got here. I am so sorry. This won’t happen again I promise-“
“Hey,” Steve finally stepped forward and caught your flailing hands with his and it shut you up. “It’s alright.” He spoke softly, guiding your hands down and proceeding to carefully stroke your arms down. “Are you okay? Do you need a day off?”
Your doe eyes stared up at him, round and shiny as if you couldn’t believe he was actually standing in front of you. And Steve had to admit, besides the concern breezing through his body, your face was capturing up close. He traced your lashes with his gaze, the way your lips were parted slightly, your teeth showing past your upper lip, and the way your eyebrows were raised in shock.
“No... no, I’m fine.” You finally stammered and it made Steve relax a little.
“Then take a breath for me, please.” You nodded and Steve watched as your shoulders moved when you inhaled with your eyes closed. It shook Steve out of his trance. He cleared his throat and retreated his hands from your arms, awkwardly standing up a little straighter now that there was no excuse to touch you anymore.
You were fine - that’s what you had said. But you didn’t quite seem that way.
He watched as you opened your eyes and gifted him a small smile. Then your gaze dew to the floor and the mess you were standing in. Your smile turned awkward.
“I’ll clean this up real quick and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
Steve shook his head with a smile. Maybe this was a nice opportunity to do as Bucky had suggested. It was true, Steve hadn’t been interested enough before. Had he taken more time to know his former maids better, he could have probably prevented his things from being stolen and sold. Maybe it wasn’t exactly what Bucky had meant by ‘interested’, but Save decided it would do for now. “You can do what you need to and you can take as much time as you need to. I’ll be in my office for some time, so please don’t rush. I didn’t mean to freak you out by coming home earlier.”
His arms reached up to scratch the back of his neck and your eyes landed on his bicep. Those damn doe eyes. “O- okay.”
He nodded, buried his hands in his pockets, gifted you a tight-lipped smile, and then proceeded to grab his briefcase and disappear into his office at the end of the hall.
After some time, he heard the vacuum pick back up. Steve peaked through his open office door and caught a glimpse of you roaming his living room every now and then. It was relieving to know that you were functioning again. You had him worried for a second there - a feeling the successful CEO hadn’t welcomed in a hot minute. But it was kind of nice, made him feel a little more human than usual. So he didn’t mind having you work while he was home. On the contrary, actually, even though he had a huge stack of papers to go through, having to do them with a little bit of white noise was much more efficient than he had thought. He liked it when the occasional sound of items being set down snook its way to his office just to be interrupted by the vacuum again. And before he knew it, the workload he had taken home with him today, was worked through.
Steve made his way to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. Though, as he waited for the machine, he found himself leaning against the counter and watching you work in front of him. You were currently bent over the sofa, arranging the cushions after shaking them out, your shirt riding up ever so slightly and exposing a strip of skin on your back.
The fresh grounding of coffee beans covered the way Steve gulped loudly at the sight of you in front of him. This was definitely different than watching on his laptop screen. He felt his pants tighten ever so slightly as he imagined walking up to you and just taking you from behind. Your face would press into the pillows as he would easily push into you, hearing your drawn-out moans through the cushions.
He couldn’t help himself, you were just so pretty.
The smell of coffee drew Steve back to reality. It wasn’t that simple. Because Steve wanted you to want him as well. But you didn’t know him well enough yet.
You pulled the vacuum around the corner and seconds later the sound of the storage room door closing echoed through the apartment. You walked back into the living room, adjusted the book on his coffee table, and then looked at your work with your hands on your hips. It was kind of cute to watch, Steve had to admit.
“Well done,” Steve praised and your shoulders jerked in surprise.
“Woah, didn’t see you there, Sir.” You relaxed again and then moved to change your shoes, before packing the other pair in your bag. You looked like you were about to leave, but Steve didn’t want that.
“Would you like some coffee?” He offered and turned to grab the mug that was just filled with the steaming hot beverage.
But you shook your head, raising your hands. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude. I’m sure you’ve got work to do...”
“I wouldn’t have asked if it were an inconvenience.”
You looked down and nodded, which made Steve smile and hand you the cup. Your hands encased it like it was a cold winter's day, timid looks roaming the room and landing everywhere but him.
“You seem uncomfortable,” he tried, cautious not to intrude.
“I’m not. It’s just that... I’m not used to,” you gestured around the kitchen, “all this.”
“I know it sounds stupid but sometimes I feel the same.” Steve took in the high ceilings and shiny surfaces, the expensive paintings and furniture he had no part in picking out.
You just stared at him again before nodding and averting your eyes once more. It seemed like you were holding back, but Steve didn’t feel like he was in the position to ask. So he just had to do with your fleeting glances and diffident presence. It was fine for now. Though he didn’t know if he could actually stand it for long.
“You got this job through Bucky’s assistant, right?”
“Natasha, yes. She’s my best friend.” Your eyes lit up and Steve celebrated the little victory in silence. He had finally found something to talk about with you.
“How long have you known each other?” He took a sip of his own coffee, acting indifferent, though his gaze hung on your lips.
“We’ve been friends since high school. But then we went to different colleges and for a moment, we lost contact. But when I called her after graduation, we reconnected. We coincidentally both moved to New York. It’s nice to have her back.”
“That does sound nice. I know a thing or two about reconnecting with old friends.” Steve smiled reminiscent.
“Right, your business partner. Mr. Barnes.” You set your mug down when Steve shot you a surprised look. “Sorry, but it’s hard not to know things about you when every tabloid in the country has covered your story.”
Steve nodded, being reminded once again how different his life was now. Not that he didn’t appreciate it... it just used to be simpler.
“Yes, Bucky is my oldest friend... we’d lost contact in-between as well. Now we spend so much time together, I sometimes wish it was that way again.”
“You don’t mean that,” you laughed and Steve swore it was the prettiest he’d ever heard.
“Of course not.” He set his cup down once he noticed that you had finished your coffee and had grabbed your bag from the stool.
“I should go,” you smiled sadly and Steve just nodded with a similar expression on his face. Then he pushed off the counter and walked you to the elevator. He caught your small wave before the doors closed, leaving his stomach feeling warm and fuzzy.
This was definitely new.
❁ ❁ ❁
The next week was pure torture.
Steve couldn’t work from home like he had wanted to. He also couldn’t go to work later to at least catch a ‘good morning’ from you.
It had only lasted a couple more days. He had managed to trap you for a conversation with coffee two times after the first one and then it all went downhill from there.
Steve’s work seemed to pile up in unusual amounts of papers on his desk. His e-mails and meetings were longer than ever and his frustrations built with every new message Sharon redirected to his phone.
It wasn’t until Bucky pointed out how unusually grumpy he was, that Steve realized, he missed you. How could that have happened? He barely knew you and talked to you even less than that. But he knew he was missing you. Because as silly as it sounded, the time he spent with you, he was more relaxed than ever before.
“I’m headed home, now. Do you need anything before I go?” Sharon popped her head through the door of Steve’s office after the knock she placed there.
Steve just sighed as he closed one of a dozen tabs on his computer. Then he shook his head. “See you tomorrow.”
“Bright and early!” She beamed and Steve just waved her off.
The door fell shut once again and Steve moved to close a second tab. The one open beneath was the video footage of his home. It was paused because Steve had categorized it as ‘not suited for work’ once he saw you climb on his bed to straighten out the sheets and his dick reminded him just how deprived he really was.
Looking at the paused video now, his pants tightened again. There you were, on all fours on his bed, tugging the sheet under the headboard side of his mattress - ass up and struggling. Fucking hell.
His hand instinctively moved to his crotch to relieve some tension and then his eyes fell to his office door. Sharon had gone home. He was likely the only one left. His gaze wandered back to his computer screen and before he knew it, he was rubbing his hard cock through his pants.
He groaned lowly at the feeling spreading through his body, the image on his screen just intensifying the scenarios he usually imagined when he got himself off. Because now they had your face. And your perfect body. If he squinted at the screen, he could actually see a sliver of your underwear peaking out the top of your pants.
“Jesus Christ,” He pushed through his teeth when his hands worked to open his belt and pulled his rock-hard length out. He was already leaking from the angry red tip.
His thumb grazed over his sensitive flesh, spreading the beads of precum and his whole body shivered when he imagined you doing it instead. His knees spread further apart in his office chair as he squeezed the base of his cock, concentrating on his breathing to slow. And then, without thinking, his other hand moved to play the video.
Steve’s eyes never left the screen as he watched you tug the sheets tight. Your ass bounced up and down with the motion and he began to pump his shaft, imagining pushing into you from behind. Then you crawled back slowly, careful not to pull the sheet off again, but one corner came loose anyway. As you leaned forward, your new position seemed even more obscene - with your arms stretched forward and your ass still slightly lifted off the mattress.
Steve’s fist pumped harder up and down his cock, he was panting. He could already feel the orgasm building. His balls were on the edge of bursting - but he wanted to hold out a little longer.
For a second, his gaze jumped to the little speaker icon at the bottom right corner of his screen. His right hand still pumping with a tight grip, the left moved to slightly turn up the volume on the stream.
Just then, you released a frustrated groan, followed by a throatier, softer noise that could almost be mistaken for a moan and Steve lost it. His fist stroked his thick cock in hard fast motions, the tingle in his body building with every heavy breath you released. His thumb grazed over his tip when you fell forward like a fawn and it was enough to make him burst.
He closed his eyes and threw his head back on the chair. With a last firm push, he tumbled over the edge, squeezing his flesh as he felt the hot ropes of cum cover his hand. His heart beat in his ears once the ecstasy subsided, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths.
Steve stared at the ceiling, sighing in defeat. He was in deep now.
❁ ❁ ❁
“So... how’s it going?” Nat’s voice rang through your speaker and you pressed your phone a little harder to your ear to hear her over the street noises.
“It’s going really good. I don’t see him that often but he’s not messy at all, so it’s really not that bad.”
“Good, I’m glad!” Nat cheered on the other end of the line and you could hear her computer keys clicking beneath her fingernails. “Anything you wanna tell me?” Her tone was suggestive, and you kind of hated how well she knew you.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, come on, we’re stating the obvious here. He’s hot!”
“Nat!” You gasped appalled. “I’m not going around asking you if you think your boss is hot.”
“Why not? I'm not ashamed to admit it. My boss is hot,” she stated plainly and shorty after a distant ‘You got that right, doll!’ was heard through your speaker.
“Oh my god,” you muttered, watching around you as if anyone could hear what Nat was saying.
“So...?”
“Okay, yes he’s super hot and I wish he would just grab me with his big muscled arms and kiss the life out of me every time I see him. Are you happy now?”
“Yes, very.”
You waved at the concierge when you reached Mr. Roger’s apartment building and then stepped into the elevator. “Good. I can’t believe I just made me say that out loud.”
“We both know it’s true. No shame in a little crush.” You could practically hear her grin through the phone and it just annoyed you even more. How could she call you out when she was a mile away?
“Great, now I’m actually imagining kissing him and running my hands down his chest,” You huffed as the elevator door opened and turned the corner just to stop in your tracks.
“I knew it!”
“Nat, I’ll call you later.”
“Okay, but-“ and then you ended the call as your eyes were glued to the kitchen counter.
You stepped closer, your eyes never leaving where they had landed upon your arrival. There, on the polished black marble, stood a vase with a beautiful bouquet of pastel flowers.
Your breath hitched in your throat as your fingers traced the colorful petals, and you leaned in to smell them. This was so sweet! A little giddiness shot through your body at the sight of the flowers. You’d never expected them from Mr. Rogers and it was nice to be appreciated.
Feeling excitement all over, your fingers reached for the little white card lodged between a eucalyptus branch. But when you turned it over, all of it fell like someone had turned on gravity again.
Happy one month!
Your mind repeated the words over and over again until they registered.
Happy one month.
You dropped the card and it made a dull clicking noise on the counter. How could you have been so naïve? Nat had put this stupid haze in your brain, getting you all giddy and excited. Of course, he had a fucking girlfriend. How could he not? He was Steve fucking Rogers.
You needed to take a step back and breathe. Those were a few too many emotions to feel in the early morning for you. Now you even felt guilty about wanting to run your fingers down his body. God, you’d even said it out loud - how embarrassing!
“Okay, girl. Relax. Nobody heard,” you reminded yourself out loud. And then you took a deep breath with your eyes closed.
“It’s not embarrassing if nobody saw. I’m the only one that can decide the level of awkwardness here.” Maybe stop talking to yourself then. You nodded and carefully placed the card back in the bouquet.
“This never happened,” you whispered, more so to ensure yourself. “Just move on with your day.”
Thank god it wasn’t kitchen day - you wouldn’t be able to stand the sight of those flowers any longer.
With your shoulders pulled back and your head held high, you made your way to the supply closet and got to work.
It’s just another day. You reminded yourself when you pulled your cleaning supplies out and into the office.
Just like any other day...
❁ ❁ ❁
Boy, had you never been any more wrong.
Your phone rang at 7.30 that evening. You had already made yourself comfortable on your sofa, ready to binge a whole season of Gilmore Girls, after a successful day of pretending you hadn’t gotten the biggest turn-down of the century this morning. You had finished your cleaning plan, you had gone grocery shopping, bought yourself some own damn flowers, and even showered all before the sun had set.
But now your phone rang and the caller ID could not mean anything good.
“Hello?”
“Good evening!” Your name echoed through the speaker of your phone, a - for your taste - way too cheery woman on the other end. “I am very sorry I have to call so late. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“That’s alright, what do you need?” You bit your lip nervously, only dreading the next words of Mr. Rogers’s assistant.
“Well, actually it is not I that needs anything. Mr. Rogers requested for you to see him. Is that possible?”
“What? When?”
“Now would be amazing.” Your eyes widened at her words. Mr Rogers wanted to see you and it couldn’t wait until tomorrow? You must have done something horribly wrong. Oh, god, had he noticed you messed with the flowers? Had he seen you sniff his pillows? All possible scenarios of wrongdoing swarmed your head when you sprung up and bolted for your closet.
“I can be there in thirty minutes,” you hurried through the speaker just to receive a satisfied hum from the other end.
“Amazing! Thank you so much.”
She had hung you before you could even answer. It didn’t matter. You looked through your clothes, trying to decide what an appropriate ‘getting fired’ outfit would consist of - probably no sweatpants, so you could find the closest bar and drink your sorrows away in connection to the dreaded talk.
You pulled out something, you could see yourself crying in and headed for the door.
❁ ❁ ❁
8.00 pm on the dot, the elevator doors opened to reveal a beautiful New York Skyline. Unfortunately, you neither had the headspace, nor the time to appreciate it properly. As soon as you turned the corner you saw Mr. Rogers casually leaning on the kitchen island.
Instantly, you felt intimidated. He had never done anything to make you feel scared or in danger, but his mere presence was so powerful, you didn’t quite know how to act around him. Especially, because on top of it all, he was the most attractive man you’d ever laid your eyes on.
“What did I do?” It just sprung out of you, your arms wanted to hug your body but you willed them still. He didn’t need to see how worried you really were.
To your surprise, however, his face scrunched up in amusement instead. He pushed himself off the counter and gestured towards the flowers still standing proud on that polished marble top.
“You forgot your flowers.”
“My... my flowers?” He nodded with a small frown, probably confused by your reaction. And to be honest, you were too.
“Yes... I got you flowers. You’ve officially been working here for a month. That’s a record.” He shook his head with a chuckle and then rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m... very picky.”
His eyes met yours and a whole new wave of uncertainty washed over you. You didn’t miss the hesitation in his tone, the carefully chosen wording for something he didn’t exactly say.
“So, I’m not fired.” God, why did it take so long for you to register. You just looked so stupid right now.
“On the contrary.” Mr. Rogers took a step closer, though still keeping a respectable distance. “I think I can trust you. I’m very pleased with your work. You deserve them.”
“I do?” You looked up at him with big eyes when he took another step closer. He was so tall, you had to tilt your head up now that he was so near.
“Can I trust you?”
His chest would almost touched you, if you were to breathe any heavier. Your breath hitched in your throat when the faint remains of his perfume reached your nose. It was as intoxicating - the way his eyes stared down at you - intense and looming. “Ye- Yes.”
“Good.” His voice was a raw timbre. His gaze drifted to the side, where his hand slowly reached up to lay on your shoulder. You felt warm and tingly from the touch.
Not knowing what to do exactly, you just held your breath and stared up at his eyes. They were so blue - and up close, they were so much more captivating than any magazine photograph could ever display.
You wanted to touch him, reach out, and pull him down towards you, but he had just told you he trusted you. Were you really going to risk this perfectly good job for a heated moment?
His other hand came up to graze your cheek with a careful touch and the worry of losing your job suddenly became very small. Mr. Roger’s hands were warm, his fingers almost hot even compared to your heated face.
So you did it. Your hand reached forward and landed on the top of his chest, one of them traveled down the hard plane of his torso while the other clawed at his shirt collar. His thumb traveled to your lower lip, pulling it down and then stroking over the soft flesh, touching your teeth as well.
Guided by the heat traveling through our body, your right hand tightened around his shirt and pulled him down and onto your lips. The blonde man jerked forward until his mouth crashed onto yours, immediately moving in perfect sync with yours.
Your insides were tingling from the kiss when you felt his lips pull into a smile. His big hands roamed your body until they snook around your back, pulling you flush against his body and making you sigh contently.
Mr. Rogers chuckled and then kissed you deeper. His touch was everywhere, yours too. Your mind was free of anything that wasn’t the tall, built, blonde man in your arms as soon as his tongue traced your bottom lip - asking for you to let him in. And you did just that. When he began to explore your mouth, you melted even further into his embrace.
No man had ever kissed you like that. Which was why you dreaded the moment you had to pull away for air.
Your hand landed on his cheek, thumb softly stroking his beard, eyes locked with his.
“You’re very good at this.”
He just chuckled and pecked your lips once more. “Up.” He demanded, suddenly, he grabbed your thighs and lifted you as if you weighed nothing.
“What are you doing?”
“I'm gonna show you how good I am at this.”
Then he set you down on the bed and pushed you back until your head hit the comforter. His scent, the one you’d secretly been craving ever since you started working here, engulfed you like a big blanket. He stood above you, big and broad-shouldered, looming over you like a wild animal. But you weren’t scared.
“You know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” His lips attached to your collarbone, sucking and licking bruises to your skin until you moaned beneath him and your hands clung to his hair. “I’ve been watching you,” he murmured to your neck and a shiver traveled down your spine.
“I knew it,” you gasped when he reached a spot behind your ears that sparked more pleasure. The thought of him spending his day watching you made you all excited and impatient.
“The way you stumble about this place when you clean it... How do you navigate the world being this clumsy, Bambi?” A whimper escaped you at the nickname he chose for you. “You need somebody to take care of you, huh.”
You arched your back to brush up against him. His hard cock was already straining his pants, pressing into your own deliciously. “Ah, yes.”
“Don’t worry, Bambi, I’m right here. I’ll take real good care of you.” His fingers traveled down your body until they reached the hem of your jeans and began to tug on them.
You pulled him down to your lips once more, guiding his head back to that spot behind your ear that had you squirming on the sheets. “So needy.”
His voice was so low and husky now, you barely noticed he had already worked your pants open and halfway down your legs. You kicked them off the rest of the way and arched yourself back against him just to have him grind down on your core.
“Feel so good, so big,” you mumbled through the haze you already found yourself in. God, what was it with this man - he was out of this world.
“You can’t wait any longer, can you, Bambi?” His hands moved beneath your shirt and began to massage your breasts. “But I get it. I don’t wanna wait any longer, either.”
In a swift motion, he had you flipped on your stomach, his hands traveling to your hips to pull you on all fours in front of him. Then the bed dipped and you felt his fingers press to your soaked underwear. He rubbed the drenched fabric over your entrance, only driving you wild with need when his fingers reached higher to your clit. “So pretty.”
“I need you,” you whined, “need you so bad.”
“Believe me, I need you too.” He pulled the black lace over the curve of your ass and you felt the cool bedroom air hit your wet core, only making you shiver once more.
“You’re so fucking perfect, you know that.” You could only whimper in response when his hand pushed your head into the comforter and his face suddenly pressed into your pussy from behind.
“Oh, god.” A yelp escaped you as his tongue teased at your entrance, only to be pulled back to lick a long strip from your clit back to it. His hand massaged your cheeks and the constant moaning to your core shook you from the inside out.
“This isn’t enough, is it, Bambi?” He dragged a strong finger up your spine. “You need me to fill you all the way up, don’t you? Need me to mark you, show everyone you’re mine.”
“Yes, yes, fill me up, give it all to me. Fuck me and make me yours.” You were so desperate at this point. His mouth had you squirming and aching for the promising bulge beneath his pants and you couldn’t wait to feel him raw - you’d let him do anything.
You turned your head and watched as he unbuckled his belt. Within seconds, his cock sprung free from its restraints and your breath hitched in your throat. He was thick and long, a prominent vein running along his side up to his tip, pink and already decorated by a bead of precum. Of course, Steve Rogers had a pretty cock. What wasn’t perfect about him?
“You’re so wet already, Bambi. So ready for my fat cock, aren’t you? You’ll suck me right in, I just know it.”
“Please! I wanna feel all of you.” Another whimper got swallowed by the mattress when you waited in anticipation for him to finally fuck you.
His one hand grabbed your ass and the other aligned his cock with your entrance. You could feel his head already breaching, a delicious stretch sending shocks through your body in hot and cold waves of pleasure.
He groaned lowly and it sent shivers down your spine. “Relax, baby girl. You’re so tight. You’ll be so stuffed with me.”
“I need you de-. I- ah just please!”
He worked himself forward with small rocking motions, each time reaching a little deeper into your core and when you thought he was finally all the way in, he pushed even further until your ass was pressed flush to his thighs.
You screamed into the covers and reached for something to grasp when he groaned behind you. “Gripping me like a vice, Bambi. Are you gonna be able to take it?” He shivered behind you and you could tell he was struggling to hold still until you answered him.
“I can take it. Your big cock feels so good inside me. Oh, god, please move.”
“Fuck.” Wet noises filled the room when he drew back almost all the way, just to slam back into you. In this position the curve of his cock stroked your walls perfectly, making it hard to hold back the building orgasm.
“I’m so close already, sir. I’m-”
“Fucking call me Steve,” he roared and pushed your face further into the covers. “You gonna come? Gonna squeeze my cock with your pretty little pussy already, huh?”
You could only whimper in response, the steady stroke of his body clouded your mind until you felt like you were floating.
“I-“Another scream ripped through your speech when the pleasure exploded within you. Steve slowed his motions, seemingly unable to move with the way your muscles contracted around him. And when the pulsing pleasure lessened after what felt like minutes, he picked his pace back up again.
“That was so sexy. You gonna do that again for me? I’m so fucking close.”
His hand reached around you and began to massage your clit in tight little circles and your body lifted off the bed. Steve had pulled you up flush against his chest and watched his hand work on your clit over your shoulder.
“’S too much! Ah!” You were still pulsing around his cock with every circle he traced on your bundle of nerves, making your legs quiver.
“You’re doing so good, Bambi. You can give me another. Milk my cock dry.” He kissed your neck and bit your skin. “So fucking beautiful, how’d I get so lucky?”
“Steve!” You felt another wave of pleasure approaching, just for his fingers to still on your clit, his hand now pressing into your stomach.
“I’m almost there, baby. Hold it a little longer.” His face fell into your neck and you could feel his cock twitch inside you while his hot breath licked down your shoulder. “Don’t you fucking cum until I say so.”
“I don’t know if I-“
“Yes, you can!” Steve pushed you until you fell onto all fours again and then guided your hips to meet his hard strokes. His movements became frantic and fast, making you lose your mind.
“I’m gonna fill you to the brim, Bambi. Make you drip with my cum for days. You’re mine.”
“Steve! Steve!” You couldn’t hold it any longer, it was too much. He was so big, and his movements so fast, there was no way you were lasting any longer.
“Wait. Almost there.”
“I can’t. I can’t! I’m- Oh my god!”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuck.” With one last hard slam, Steve shot his hot seed in your pussy. Your walls clenched with every lewd sound he pushed through his heavy breaths. “Cumming so much for you, Bambi. All for you. Uhnggghh.” He rutted into you a couple more times and once the intense feeling faded into lazy pulses, he fell forward and pulled you into his chest.
Still buried deep within you, Steve pulled the covers over your bodies. Every little movement made you squirm and your pussy clench down again, drawing small grunts from the man behind you.
“You did so good.” His hand stroked over your hair and his face nuzzled into your shoulder. “Now, rest. You deserve it.”
And with that, you let your body fall into its well-needed sleep - warm, content, and without a care for the morning.
❁ ❁ ❁
Steve woke up to the sound of his alarm. He smiled before he opened his eyes, his mind still reminiscing the night before. He felt warm and content at the thought of it. Your kiss was like nothing else.
He felt around his bed blindly after turning off the alarm only to be met by a cold mattress. Opening his eyes, he called out your name and sat up in bed. But when no answer sounded from his apartment, he got up and looked for you. After a few minutes of searching, he was sure you weren’t there. And it worried him. He had planned to order you breakfast. He wanted to talk about last night. He wanted to tell you how much it had meant to him.
A look at the clock on his wall made him frown. Maybe you’d gone home to change for work. He decided to wait and get to work a little later today. It would all resolve itself, Steve was sure.
But when seven rolled around, there was no sign of you. And even after another 25 minutes, there was no indication you’d show up soon. Steve really couldn’t push his time anymore. There was a lot of work waiting for him at the office. So he got up and grabbed his briefcase, only to be interrupted by his phone.
“Good morning, Sharon.”
“Good morning, Mr. Rogers. I’m just calling to let you know your maid just called in sick.”
“What? Until when?”
“She didn’t say. But she’ll call when she is better.”
“Do you know what she has?”
“I believe that’s private. Mr. Rogers.”
Steve just hummed absentmindedly. His brain already playing all the possibilities in his head.
“Would you be so kind so send me her number?” He asked almost hesitantly, but still demanding enough for Sharon to agree right away.
“Of course, one second.” And then his phone pinged with a message from his assistant.
“Thank you.” Sharon just hummed in response and then she hung up the phone, ever the busy assistant he knew her as.
Steve didn’t hesitate to call you right away. With every peep. His heart hammered faster in his chest. And when he was about to give up, a familiar rustling rang through his speaker.
“Hello?”
Steve took a second to breathe and then he said your name - steady but careful.
“Mr Rogers,” you sounded surprised, and Steve tried to suppress the sting in his heart at the sound of his last name. You had called him Steve just last night. Why’d you stop?
“Yes... I heard you’re sick. Do you need anything?” He cringed the second he said it. You obviously didn’t want anything from him given that you had fled from his apartment before he even woke up this morning.
“No, no. I’m good thank you.” There was an awkward tension in the static connecting the two of you. But Steve didn’t understand where it came from. Had you not enjoyed last night. Had he only imagined the affection you gifted him then?
“Well... I hope you are able to come back soon.”
You huffed into the phone. “Uh, yes. Okay.”
“Alright, then. I’ll see you.”
“I’ll see you.”
And then the line went dead. And Steve couldn’t shake the feeling that you had sounded a lot colder than before...
❁ ❁ ❁
Steve had taken the next day off. His mind was too occupied to work, anyway. He had caught himself glimpsing at his video feed several times that day, even though he knew you weren’t going to show. He guessed, somehow that you would appear anyway. It didn’t happen of course.
So today, Steve had to learn to do nothing. That included not thinking of you as well. Because as much as the thought of you distracted him from work, not working wasn’t exactly the best move to get rid of his thoughts.
First, he had tried to stay in bed until 6. That was hard enough. Then, he worked out a bit, read an article, made a smoothie - okay he ordered one - and then he sat on his sofa watching as the clock above his fireplace ticked to 7 a.m.
It was ridiculous. If every hour would pass this slowly, he’d go insane.
His fingers taped on his thigh as he watched the seconds hand tick. He had to do something, anything.
The moment this thought passed his mind, he heard the elevator door ‘ding’ at his level. And before he could even turn around, your bag hit the ground with a loud thud.
Steve stood up straighter, adjusting a tie he was not wearing, but the motion had become a habit. He was excited you’d shown up - visibly well and healthy that was.
You stared at him for a solid minute and neither of you said a word. Your stare was unintelligible to Steve. He had to admit, that he didn’t know you well enough to read into your silent conversation yet, but he wanted to - he wanted to so badly.
His hands moved to clasp in front of him and then he cleared his throat, but as he was about to say something, you moved past him, straight to the supply closet, and then disappeared into his guest bedroom.
He followed you before he could tell his feet to stop, halting in the doorway of the room and watching as you dusted off the tall shelves above the sideboard.
“What are you doing?” His voice was higher than he anticipated.
“I’m working,” you answered bluntly, moving to the next object to dust off.
“Why?” Steve had promised to provide for you just the other night. And, yes, while he might have been hazy from the incredible pleasure you had created, he had meant every word.
You suddenly turned to him with an angry stare. “I’m working because, unlike other people, I can’t just do whatever I want and not deal with the consequences,” you spat and then turned around again. The dusting motion turned a little more aggressive and Steve felt a cold shiver run down his back. Feisty.
Though, Steve couldn’t quite place your anger. Had he said something to offend you? How did the other night play into any consequences and why the hell were you working still? You’d said it yourself, you wanted to be his. And that was all he ever wanted. It just didn’t make sense.
Steve didn’t move. He just stood there like an idiot and watched you work your anger away on the poor dusty decorations of his home. You obviously didn't want to talk to him and he had no idea what to say to you. So he just watched... and watched until at least ten minutes had gone by.
You were at a completely different corner of the room by now, trying to grab a book to dust off, but couldn’t quite reach. Steve had been standing in the doorway this whole time so he just assumed he was blocking your way to a ladder. But he took it as an opportunity instead.
In three Long strides, he had walked up to you, reached for the item you stretched toward, and handed it to you. And for a second there, he could see those doe eyes return to your face, staring up at him.
Maybe he had misread the situation after all because your gaze drew him in again. He slowly closed his eyes before he could reach your lips, excitement rising in his veins when he thought back to the feeling of your lips on his–
*smack*
His eyes shot open when your hand collided with his cheek, a fire flickering in your eyes that made him take a step back, holding his heated skin.
“You don’t have to mock me, okay?! I know it’s embarrassing and it’s stupid what we did, so please don’t make this more difficult.”
“What?” Steve was baffled, hurt.
It was stupid what we did. Your words echoed in his mind until your voice penetrated the mantra.
“Just leave me alone. Don’t you have work to do?”
He shook his head with an aching heart. You really had no idea. You thought he had used you, made you a bed bunny like Tony or Bucky would - he’d never do that. “I called in sick. I was so... forget it.”
You resumed cleaning and Steve just stood in your way watching. His chest stung with every second he spent with his eyes glued to you, knowing what you thought of him. He couldn’t stand it. He never wanted to make you uncomfortable, much less convey he’d only use you.
“Can I ask you a question?” You ignored him, but he could see your movements stagger for a second. “Do you really regret what we did?”
Then you paused, your eyes trained to the surface in front of you. When you finally looked at him, Steve could see the tears shimmering in them.
“No,” you whispered softly, Steve had almost missed it had his heart not skipped a beat.
He instinctively stepped closer to you again, though cautious not to scare you away. He’d come this far and didn’t want to mess it all up again. “Then why are you ignoring me?”
“I'm not ignoring you.” It shot out of you like a bullet. You sighed, took another breath, and set the duster down. “We don’t know each other. We live in completely different worlds. There is not one scenario in which we could exist together as anything more than... this. I know that now.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re you and I’m just the maid.” You gestured to Steve and then yourself and Steve hated the way you degraded yourself just because he had a couple dollars more in his bank account. It wasn’t right.
He shook his head, his hand reaching out to you but dropping just before he could actually touch you, curbing into a soft fist instead. “And what if I told you that you are much more to me than that?” Now he finally dared to lay his hand on your cheek, tilting your head so he could come closer to you and still stare into your eyes. “I like you. And the night– ever since you came into my life, my days seem just so much less dull.”
He smiled with shiny eyes, afraid your silence would last forever. “Please say something, Bambi.”
“You like me?” There was awe and disbelief in your voice and Steve wanted to kiss it away until every last doubt was erased from your mind. Whoever had made you this insecure about affection would eat his fist.
Steve bit his lip to hide the chuckle threatening to spill. “I do.”
He slowly got lost in your eyes again. Those beautiful innocent orbs looked at him like he was a different type of special. He loved it so much.
His gaze dropped to your lips, slightly parted and full, and then back up. And before he could lose himself in them again, your hands latched onto his collar and pulled him down toward you.
The kiss was all tongue and teeth, need and desperation melting into sighs and tingles - he could feed off of it forever. His hands roamed your body and pressed you deeper into his. Your arms reached around his neck as your noses bumped against each other in eager anticipation.
Nothing ever felt this right. Steve couldn’t possibly believe you’d doubted the chemistry for a second. Not when it felt like that. But he wouldn’t need to think back on it anymore now... now that he finally had you.
I couldn't decide which GIF to use, so here are some extras!
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Hello I am going on a holiday to Eryri next month & I like to read up about an area before going there... do u have any reading or documentary or podcast recs? I'm particularly interested in the ecology & minority language activism & like. Peoples history & rural lives! I know this is stuff u know about in Wales but idk if north Wales is ur region! Míle buiochas ón Eireann!
Fáilte go dtí an Bhreatain Bheag! Or croeso i Gymru. Exciting! Keep an eye on the notes for others chiming in with good recs for documentaries and the like, I'm going to just give a super quick guide
Okay, pronunciation guide for place names and that is here in written form and here in video form. I cannot recommend strongly enough that you try to use the Welsh place names rather than the English translations. Duolingo is flawed but serviceable if you want to hear and learn some basic phrases. If you can at least throw out a 'bore da' to people you pass/shopkeepers, you'll be very well liked. You don't need to be fluent by any means, but Making An Effort is seen as, like, the nicest and politest and most wonderful thing in Wales, and particularly in regions like Eryri.
Because! It's one of the biggest remaining Welsh language strongholds. If you look at language maps over time in Wales, a pattern emerges:
And the current (2021) figures show this:
And you are going to this bit:
So you're heading into the Welshest bit in all of Wales! And the bit with the strongest and longest history of Welsh, too.
Which also means there's a lot of activism-related stuff in that area. It's probably worth you reading up on the history of Tryweryn (which was a bit further east, but sets the scene well); there was also a BIG thing a couple of decades ago where activists would burn down English-owned holiday homes (while they were empty in winter, not, like, with the English in them). This is because, in addition to the usual issues with the social impacts of holiday homes (driving up prices meaning locals can't live there, eroding communities, etc), holiday homes in Welsh language heartlands are a significant and tangible threat to the language. Even today, the issue of holiday homes is an extremely touchy subject, as is the issue of (mostly-English) people moving into the area because "It's so pretty!!!" and then not learning the language.
(Yet another reason they will love you if you Make An Effort)
Historically speaking, you'll be in a chunk of the country that was the ancestral seat of the last kings of Wales (Gwynedd). The final one, Llywelyn ein Llyw Olaf, was ambushed and murdered in 1282, which was the beginning of the end for fighting off English rule. In fact, Owain Glyndŵr later crowned himself king of Wales for about two years, but weirdly, no one acknowledges this as real kingship for some reason - if you google his name, he's always listed as a soldier or military commander, which really opens up a whole "Who gets to say when someone is royalty" debate, but he did actually claim descent from the House of Aberffraw anyway, so ultimately it still links back to Llywelyn.
Ecology! Temperate alpine. There actually isn't a global scientific distinction between hill and mountain, but most countries set an arbitrary height standard. This means it varies from country to country depending on how tall their topology is. Wales, however, bucks this trend, and instead decides based on what is formally referred to as 'land use' and colloquially referred to as 'Vibes'. If it's a hill, it's tamed - if it's a mountain, it's wild. This means Eryri is fairly short by the standards of tedious foreigners who regard mountains as a sort of geological dick waving competition, but it's in fact a whole mountain range; it's also older than Saturn's rings. And, crucially, it's very much sufficiently above sea level to have an alpine ecosystem.
There are three endemic (i.e. not occurring anywhere else in the world) species in Eryri, to whit:
The Snowdon lily. A small and delicate flower growing in protected and inaccessible spots on yr Wyddfa (formally known as Snowdon). Excessively vulnerable to trampling, so the national park keeps sections where it grows fenced off.
The Snowdon beetle. RAINBOW BEETLE.
The gwyniad. A sub-species of whitefish until recently exclusively found in Llyn Tegid (Bala Lake), trapped there after the ice age and now developing its own genetic profile distinct from other whitefish. Some dickhead in the 80s introduced the ruffe to the lake for fishing, and the ruffe eats the gwyniad's eggs, so they've now transplanted eggs to Llyn Arenig Fawr nearby as a conservation measure.
There's also feral goats. And Welsh mountain ponies. Ooh, and, red kites - in the UK red kites were so heavily persecuted they eventually fell to just 7 breeding pairs in Wales. We established a protected zone and hired Nepalese Gurkhas to guard the nests and thus saved it from extirpation so successfully they later translocated Welsh birds to other spots in the UK. It's a big conservation success story, and now red kites are considered to be the national bird of Wales. They have a very distinctive silhouette, too, look for the forked tail.
Oh, and, we have a unique habitat type called ffridd, which you see a lot of in Eryri.
Final wildlife pictures to close:
Anyway - have a great time! Enjoy muchly.
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The Hitchhiker (you can run...)
Apologies if someone has already pointed this out. I'm new to tumblr, and I'm still digging through all the amazing Good Omens metas!
Shax-in-disguise appearing and reappearing on the side of the road at the very beginning of The Hitchhiker felt really familiar to me, and I finally figured out why. I think we can add a Twilight Zone episode that's (conveniently) called "The Hitch-Hiker"* to the list of film and tv references we get in the season.
*I felt especially dumb when Google told me this episode literally has the same title as s2 ep4. In my defense, I don't know the names of any of the other Twilight Zone episodes I've seen, either.
Not sure you really need a spoiler alert for a 60+ year old tv episode, but I'll put a break in anyway. Go watch it if you can - it's properly creepy.
A brief summary: Nan Adams is on a road trip from Manhattan to Los Angeles. She's gotten as far as Pennsylvania, when her tire blows out and she runs off the road. The mechanic who comes out to put on her spare tire comments on how lucky she is to still be in one piece. (More on that in a minute.) As she follows the mechanic into town for a replacement tire, she sees a man in a hat hitchhiking on the side of the road and passes him by. She sees the man again at the service station after getting a new tire and mentions him to the mechanic, but the mechanic doesn't see him. Once she resumes her trip, she sees the hitchhiker on the side of the road again. And again. And again. And again. The farther she drives, the more she sees him, and the more frightened and paranoid she gets. At the height of her fear, she's convinced the hitchhiker is trying to kill her, and she attempts to run him over in order to make it all stop. She finally decides to pull over to a phone booth in Arizona and call her mother to try and ground herself back in reality, and we get one final big twist to end the story.
When I realized that hitchhiker!Shax appearing and reappearing in front of the Bentley reminded me of this episode, I decided to watch it again because I hadn't seen it in years. What do we hear almost right out of the gate?
So lucky! You could even say she dodged a bullet there. Oh wait...
(I think he says "Chalk up a win to the side of the Angel" here, but close enough.) Interestingly, "the side of the angels" really just means "the good guys" these days. In both these scenes, setting aside the fact that Aziraphale is actually an angel, it's used in the context of "you survived something that could have killed you."
One other thing I didn't know before is that the Twilight Zone episode is based on a radio play, also called "The Hitch-Hiker," written by Lucille Fletcher and first presented on The Orson Welles Show in... 1941. Probably just a fun coincidence, but really, why does it feel like all roads lead back to 1941?
As for the final creepy twist in Nan's story? Her mother isn't home when she calls. The woman who answers the phone tells Nan that her mother is in the hospital. She had a nervous breakdown when she found out her daughter had been killed in a car accident in Pennsylvania - caused when her tire blew out and she ran off the road. Nan goes numb and walks back to her car. She pulls down the visor to look at herself in the mirror, and she sees the hitchhiker sitting in the back seat. He says, "I believe you're going... my way?"
So there we go - a wink and a nod to a tv episode with the moral that you can't outrun your fate/Death, in a season that sure seems to have a lot of references to death in it. By the time Nan sees the hitchhiker for the first time, she's already dead, she just doesn't know it yet. She tries running, but it all catches up to her anyway. By the time Aziraphale sees the hitchhiker, Shax is just about ready to trigger the events that lead to where we are at the end of the season. The precious, peaceful, fragile existence of the last few years is already dead, and no matter how much Aziraphale tries to outrun that idea by acting like There's Nothing Wrong...
...it all catches up anyway.
I have a more nebulous set of thoughts about the "side of the angels" line being seen in the 1941 flashback, and if I can get them in any type of coherent order, I'll link to another post or put them here. Something about that line referencing a lucky escape that isn't so lucky after all for Nan Adams, and how 1941 so far looks like a series of narrowly averted catastrophes for Aziraphale and Crowley...and how it really feels like we haven't seen all of the 1941 story yet.
#good omens#good omens 2#good omens s2#good omens analysis#good omens meta#good omens the hitchhiker#1941 good omens#aziraphale#shax
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soft winter rain | yan childe x reader (x yan zhongli)
content warning: yandere, brief not sfw (suggestive), slight dubcon, possessive behaviour, references to stalking, unequal power dynamics, unhealthy relationship, etc. etc. reader discretion is advised.
notes: suddenly wanted a mafia au, and here we are. somehow zhongli snuck in at the last moment... he knew the entire time what was happening, so of course he'd sneak in here. don't know if i should continue, but it's an interesting au, so we'll see. (also, shameless plug that my comms are open, so if you wanna see something specific written by yours truly, my dms are open)
word count: 2.0k
There's this one customer at your tailor shop. He introduces himself as a businessman and calls himself Childe—a moniker, you're sure, because what kind of person would be named after a title so archaic? At first, you didn't care too much about the mysteries surrounding the man; being such a high-end store, having the occasional eccentric customer was nothing new. When one has enough money, anyone would let it get to their head a little.
But the requests he makes are just a little too… specific for you to not notice. If could make this material dark enough to hide blood, he'd request, or I'd like an extra pocket here, big enough to hide some daggers or a pistol. Childe was rich enough to hire a bodyguard—no, an entire legion of bodyguards—so the requests didn't make any sense for a mere businessman.
And he would always make these requests in person, as if to gauge your reactions for any winces or shudders, fear or apprehension.
Well, you haven't stayed in the business being a coward, and the man pays good money for his special requests, so you bite your tongue and smile placidly, following up his requests with questions of your own, suggestions of colour and design—never to ask his purposes for the clothes. Never to pry.
Childe must appreciate your silence on the matter though, because he makes sure to tip your services very well, sometimes even more than his actual bill. So when he begins to get more friendly with you, asking personal questions that you could never ask him, you indulge him.
What did it matter if he knew your age, your favourite colour, your favourite food, your favourite genre of books? It’s not as if he’s going to use it for anything nefarious, other than to bring the occasional gifts, his voice proclaiming every time, Guess what I’ve brought for my favourite little tailor, some way too over-the-top luxurious chocolate or watch or phone. You try to reject his offers, trying to maintain your professional boundaries with this pushy client, but it would always be easier to just accept on account of how annoying he gets with the pestering.
You don't take notice of how much closer the distance would become with each and every visit, how the gap between the two of you would shrink every time he dipped his head to speak into your ear, voice low and crooning. You’ve pushed back on his closeness many times, scolding him about personal space, sir, but he would always laugh. Hold up his hand and say, Okay, okay, I understand, even though he would do it again and again, to the point where you’ve gotten too used to it to even think about reprimanding him.
Now, when he gets too close, you sigh and resign yourself to the occasional wandering hands that brush up against you—never quite in places that were inappropriate but close enough to send the back of your hair up in warning, like your hands, the small of your back, the exposed nape of your neck, followed by some excuse of you had something there, lint maybe? even though you were a tailor shop. When would you ever allow something as unbecoming as lint in your presence? Still, you tolerate it, because even though you had rich clientele, there were none that were as friendly or free with their money as Childe was, his funds always seeming limitless no matter what you quoted.
You’ve also learned to disregard that sly gleam in his eyes every time you reveal let details that were a bit too personal slip from your tongue, such as where you were born, who was in your family, monotony loosening your tongue while you hum and take down his measurements, all the while trying to make casual conversation with him.
Strangely enough, he begins showing up near you outside of work too, accidental meetings in your favourite coffee shop or in that cake shop you love to frequent on the weekends. You’d be checking your phone and he would tap you on the shoulder, making you jump from how silently he’d moved behind you. He’d chuckle in response. Always some kind of offhanded excuse, a common denominator of I didn’t know you shopped here too! What a coincidence, comrade. But since we’re already here, may I join you?
And after these instances, the questions would turn even stranger, even more intimate than they usually were, about whether you had any lovers, any enemies, any desires, any annoyances. You demur, trying even more to keep your personal divided from work, but with enough insistence, you eventually cave. Money didn’t rain from the sky, after all, and for some reason, business had been a little slow as of late. Even the long-time clients you usually had, when you’d phone them regarding their scheduled orders, would sound clipped and a little uneasy, as if you’d been stalking them or threatening them, which was just ridiculous.
So when Childe asks you, Do you have any significant person in your life, little tailor? I’m just curious, you know. Can’t have other people poaching you from me now. You only sigh and say, No, sir. Can you tell me which patterned tie you’d prefer with this suit now?
And when he asks you if there was anyone you hated, any annoyances you’d like to be rid of, you would offhandedly mention some schoolyard bullies from your teenage years, or that one neighbour of yours who would always party too loudly at 4AM in the morning. That strange gleam would be back in Childe’s eyes as he nods and sympathizes with your little pet peeves, a stray murmur of It’d be a pity if something wasn’t done, wouldn’t it? If only there was someone who was trained in these matters… Hm? Why are you looking at me like that? I was only joking, comrade! Do I really look so dangerous to you?
Not to you, but you’ve seen the way he acts around others. Cold, haughty, and just the slightest bit too arrogant. But it’s not as if you can control what he says, so you just shrug it off. Strangely enough though, the names that you’d drop with your complaints would all vanish within the week that you bring it up. Always with a phone call before, of a hurried voice saying, I’m sorry for bothering you! I’ll never do it again, or talk to you again, or see you again! So please, don’t—!
You set down your phone afterward, stare at the ceiling, wondering why your life was falling apart and yet somehow going so well, after meeting this stranger of a client who wants more closeness than you knew how to give.
His gifts too, turn a little too intimate. Combs and earring and necklace adorned with jewels. Sometimes the same shade as his blue-grey eyes, sometimes the same shade as the red earring in his own ear, and when you put them away, say, They’re beautiful, but I can’t take it, he would then just leave it behind with his departure, you left staring at the glimmering translucent gems sitting at your countertop.
And what could you do?
You couldn’t displease him; he was quickly becoming your most valuable customer, one of the only ones left behind from the mass exodus that has happened to your customer base. Your shop was rarely ever visited now, left alone busy, and the only time words are ever spoken within its four walls is when his leather boots stride past your opened glass doors. It was as if your name, your shop, had been stamped onto some secret book, forever blacklisted by anyone who knew anything of the underground. But you didn’t know that, did you? You were just a simple tailor, trying to make due with a budget that increasingly depended on just one man.
So you sigh. Pick up the earring. Hold it up to your ear, comparing it to the simple gold studs you're wearing right now. They’re fancier, but they’re not you. But you still take out your simple earring, hook on the crimson earring in your right ear, because he wears his on the left, and resist the urge to flinch at how it looks, dangling next to your neck like a miniature ruby blade.
The next time Childe sees you, he breaks out into a smile and pats your head. "So you put it on after all," he says. "Should I take that as an acceptance then?"
And this time, his fingers strays down from your head to the curve of your back and then pivots to your hips. His head dips down, other gloved hand trailing against the curve of your jaw, lips about to meet yours, an invasion of new territory that leaves you stiff, even more helpless than usual. You don’t stop him as he nips at exposed flesh, don’t stop him as he breathes against your skin, don’t stop him as he holds you in his arms like a puppet. Even though it’s broad daylight, in the middle of your sunlit shop, you don’t say anything even as you feel something hard grinding against your clothed thigh, a soft grunt from his lips as he slips his hand up your shirt, a slow roll of his hips against you—
The bell at your door rings. Your gaze flies to the entrance, and Childe’s does too.
There’s a man. Amber eyes, brown spiked hair that tapers off into a ponytail, gloved hands and an extremely well-designed suit—vicuna, your experienced eyes knew with just one glance—and he’s looking at you. Not Childe, but you. Curiosity in its orange-flecked depths, and a slightest hint of something you’ve also seen in Childe’s eyes.
“Zhongli-xiansheng,” Childe says, half a complaint and half a threat. “Did you have to come at such an inconvenient time?”
“I’ve let you run wild around these parts for so long, the least you could do is greet me properly,” the man named Zhongli says, smooth and baritone voice sending a shiver up your spine.
Childe notices the movement—when does he not notice anything about you—and pulls you even closer to him. Rests his chin on your head and says, “This person is important to me, xiansheng. Find your own.”
“I’ve not come to take your toy, Tartaglia,” Zhongli says easily. His gaze flickers to you, and you shrivel back. Childe clenches his hands around the span of your hips, almost hard enough to bruise. “I know how protective you are of what’s yours. But you haven’t been answering your phone. As your… business partner,” Zhongli decides on, after a moment of consideration, “I had become concerned. There had been a missive sent from our Inauzman operatives. We will need to address it promptly. You may have a new assignment.”
Childe makes a noise of disgust at the back of his throat that rumbles through you. “Do we have to do it right this moment, xiansheng? Can’t it wait…” He shoots you a glance of longing, blown pupils with a ring of blue, and you resist the urge to look away. Smile weakly in response. “...Just an hour later,” Childe purrs. And then adds on, “Or two. Best to give us three, just in case. Whatever unsavory things I’ll have to dirty my hands with can’t be that urgent, can it?”
Zhongli chuckles, a meaningful flicker of his eyes from Childe to you. “Not now,” he says finally as he turns around to leave. “You’ll have all the time in the world—but only after this meeting. So stop behaving like a dog in the midst of mating season. Come.”
"Hey! I resent that," Childe says, pouting as he drags himself off of you. Gives you a look of promise, intermingling of lust and possessiveness in his darkened eyes as he winks and presses a kiss to your cold cheeks. You blink, and he smooths out your hair before curling his thumb below your chin. “Wait for me, little tailor, hm? We wouldn’t want you to be running off, now,” he murmurs.
“Yes,” you say, and even to your ears, your voice is weak, faltering.
“Well, even if you run…” Childe laughs and follows after Zhongli, but not before tossing out, “I’d find you right away. You know that right? So, I'll be seeing you soon, little tailor. I promise.”
You remain in the sunlight until fading sunset, heart hammering at your ribs. Frozen in place, stuck waiting for a customer who'd return to you with bloodstained gloves and crimson-smeared jaw. But you didn't know that. You only knew that you were asked to wait. You had to wait.
So you do.
#yandere childe#yandere childe x reader#yandere zhongli#yandere zhongli x reader#yandere genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#yandere x reader#yandere genshin imagines#genshin impact#genshin impact imagines#yandere imagines#yandere tartaglia#yandere tartaglia x reader#yandere genshin#yandere genshin x reader#yandere genshin smut#yandere genshin au#not sfw#psyche.writes#concepts
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Little musings on Gap (Drake), Only Friends ep 1 & 7
It's probably been said by someone already, but I'm appreciating the fact that the superposition between Boston sleeping with Gap in the first episode and Nick jerking off to his phone was such an announcement of what was to come.
-> The voyeurism of Nick going through Boston's phone for his sexual pleasure while (we now know) Boston was being filmed against his consent for Gap's sexual pleasure.
-> The revelation that this isn't just a one off and that Gap actually has a career with filming guys he has sex with and putting it on the Internet as porn.
Which begs the question though : was any of that first interaction between Boston and Gap real ? In episode 1, Gap says he has a boyfriend but that boyfriend lets him play with strangers sometimes. It's entirely possible that it's true, but in episode 7 we also learn that Gap has put so many sex tapes online that he isn't surprised that someone like Mew might recognize him from "his work".
(as an aside, I've talked in previous posts about how much "work" and "services" seem to almost exclusively refer to sex in this show, the trend continues)
Anyway, I wouldn't be surprised if Gap lied to Boston in that first encounter, because everybody in this show and in real life lies, and also because he probably saw what would make him more exciting to Boston : being taken, unavailable, technically belonging to someone else yet wanting him. We all know that's Boston's type, and maybe Gap could tell. Gap was putting the ground work to see if Boston was daring enough and would make a good subject for his videos.
Edit : turns out I was misremembering and potential threesome guy wasn't Gap, so no lying on Gap's part there. Still though, the rest of the lying stands since Boston didn't know about the camera ; and maybe Gap justifies it to himself thinking that since he has a presence online, if people approach him it's their responsibility to know ? Or not his problem
Does Gap know who is going to put on the Internet and who he's going to keep for himself ? I don't know, but it seems like he didn't actually release the video with Boston, he tried to use the fact that he had it to get more sex out of him.
The show treats it as a bit of a bleep in Mew's revenge scheme, but we do see how many folders Gap has on his computer of sex tapes. A lot.
Btw love how P'Jojo has to insert himself into everything haha, after the Twitter account now the sex tape folder
How many of these people knew they were being filmed ? How many didn't ? How many that didn't had their faces hidden in the shadow ? The example of Boston Vs Mew seems to suggest that when they do know, Gap's partners often prefer to have their face hidden in the shadows, while someone like Boston who is in the dark (ah) about what's happening will show their face on camera unknowingly.
Would that make those videos more valuable to Gap ? Collecting faces of men who didn't consent ?
The show does treat what Gap did as something had, but it's mostly there so Mew can have its revenge moment of threatening to Boston but keeping the moral high ground, showing he's better than everyone.
But the show is telling us everyone's moral standards are in the gutter. No one is truly shocked at Gap's behaviours, and it doesn't seem like there's going to be any consequences to that. It's just going to be a bump on the road, because there are shitty people everywhere like that.
And as said in other posts, the low level to high key shittiness of absolutely everyone in this show is what's making it gold.
(this is not high degree meta so I don't know if it's worthy of the ephemerality squad but I'd love to hear more thoughts on the Gap situation or to be pointed to more posts already written about him so tagging @waitmyturtles @lurkingshan @ranchthoughts @twig-tea @slayerkitty @distant-screaming @neuroticbookworm @chickenstrangers @thatgirl4815 @wen-kexing-apologist )
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hi, i hope i am not crossing a line, please ignore if this is bad question. i am just curious
in one of your posts u said your caste is karava. this is the first time i am hearing a sinhalese talk about caste (i speak tamil and never really felt confident in my sinhala to make sinhalese friends)
can you explain about the castes or tell me where find information about it
Caste is a fucked up concept across the board, obviously, but Sinhalese castes are different from Tamil Hindu in that they involve the cultural and socio-political organisation of the Sinhalese community, and has no connection to religious scripture.
There are thirteen castes that still exist today. We used to be a chiefly agrarian society, so the majority of Sinhalese are Govigama ("Govi" means farming) and they're the kind of "bourgeoisie" of the social order in that few are above them and anyone else is below them. Those that rank below them are castes like Bathgama and Kinnara (who are meant to be agricultural labourers) Vahampura (something to do with making cinnamon or treacle) Navadanna (artisans, especially makers of jewelry) and Rada (launderers). Radala is the caste of the nobility, and afaik the only one above Govigama. They're all from highlands of Kandy, the last Sinhalese holdout against the Europeans for about 200 years. There's no nobility among the lowlanders (between the Portuguese, Dutch and British, they were either killed, assimilated or fled to Kandy) so the Govigama caste is the highest one everywhere else. This means Govigama used to be the only one that was qualified to join the Theravada Buddhist priesthood* and also receive education and job opportunities as government servants—right up until the mid-20th century, when the karava gentry turned into robber barons under the British Empire's demand for cash crops.
Karava people are the majority inhabitants in the Southern coastal lands, which are predominantly Sinhalese Buddhist, as opposed to the Tamil lands of the Northern coast (Eelam really) and the proliferation of sparsely-populated Muslim communities in the rest of the coastal belt. Karava is called the fisherfolk caste by the rest of country, despite their own strong objections. Caste is reckoned patrilineally. I'm Karava through my Dad and I married into a Karava family. Nearly every Karava person I know insists that we're actually the warrior caste and were given the coastal lands as reward for our service to the king. I'm sure there's a legitimate case to be made for this, (this site keeps being referred to me) but I don't care enough to find out because the Karava insistence that being called fisherfolk is a Govigama conspiracy is incredibly funny. I mean, it could be true, what do I know, but so much of the cope and seethe stem from our lingering inferiority complex and resentment at having been treated as inferior until a few decades ago. After being ground under the Radala and Govigama feet along with the rest for ages beyond record, suddenly us lowlanders were rolling in money from our toddy, coconut and rubber plantations, matching or surpassing the wealth of the nobility. We were chasing off Tamil and Muslim minorities to establish our own lost cultural capitals in Anuradhapura and Pollonnaruwa that predated the Kandyan kingdom and making our own sect of the Buddhist priesthood (Amarapura Nikaya) that would ordain Karava people. The robber baron types also got very chummy with the British colonial administration and were awarded cushy jobs in government over the Govigama, who still disdained industrialization and commerce. (To this day my mother's family looks down on business people no matter how rich. Merchants are considered grasping and untrustworthy.) By the time of Sri Lanka's independence from the British in 1948, we had two varieties of equally rich, snooty, virulently ethnonationalist Sinhalese elites who had gotten ahead by selling us out to the British, but with the highland Radala still believing they were too pure-blooded to mix with the hoi polloi and the lowland Karava resentful at being considered the polloi no matter how hoi they'd become. Post-independence, Sri Lanka's adoption of free education and free state universities saw masses of lowlanders, Karava, Durava and Salagama all, sending their kids to university to attain upwardly mobile careers in engineering, medicine and teaching. "If the boy is Karava he's probably in engineering" is a common joke. It's a clear shift away from our rural agrarian roots into urban sprawl and high socio-economic competition in place of social stratification.
We also have a caste of Untouchables called the Rodiya. In ancient times, you and all your family being stripped of their lands and titles and banished into the Rodi Rahaya was one of the punishments reserved for the noble houses that ran afoul of the monarchy. It condemned your entire lineage forever. This was such a dire fate that some would have favoured execution.
Rodiyas were not permitted to cross a ferry, to draw water at a well, to enter a village, to till land, or learn a trade, as no recognised caste could deal or hold intercourse with a Rodiya [...] They were forced to subsist on alms or such gifts as they might receive for protecting the fields from wild beasts or burying the carcasses of dead cattle; but they were not allowed to come within a fenced field even to beg [...] They were prohibited from wearing a cloth on their heads, and neither men nor women were allowed to cover their bodies above the waist or below the knee. If benighted they dare not lie down in a shed appropriated to other travellers, but hid themselves in caves or deserted watch-huts. Though nominally Buddhists, they were not allowed to go into a temple, and could only pray "standing afar off"
(Source)
Allegations of witchcraft and cannibalism aside, the Rodiyas themselves were known to be a proud folk that considered themselves the pure-blooded descendants of the royalty that were punished this way. Here's a Reddit post that expounds on them more, along with photographs. It seems that the strictures against covering up had fallen away between the turn of the 20th century and the '70s. Not much is known about their current living conditions, but I believe that, like India's own Untouchables and the low caste of Eelam's Tamil Hindus, they must have converted to Christianity to escape the stigma.
Casteism is still somewhat of a problem in the Sinhalese community, but it's lessening every generation. My maternal grandparents weren't entirely happy about my mother marrying my Karava father but conceded because he was an engineer with a stable career. My older cousin had to fight his Karava family to marry his school sweetheart because she was both poor and Bathgama caste (I think "Padu" might be a derogatory name for it). The fact that he succeeded is noteworthy because it would have been a huge scandal in my parents' time. The Radalas are still a bunch of insular dipshits who try to keel over and die if one of them tries to marry out. But many of them are also migrating abroad so Idk if it's too much to hope that they leave the caste shit behind when they assimilate into Western society. It certainly hasn't worked for the Brahmin Indians. But the outlook is better for the rest of us.
*There is no caste system in Buddhism. The Buddha in fact was an egalitarian social reformer who advocated against the Vedic caste system and ordained Untouchables as well as women. So obviously the Theravadin priesthood of Sri Lanka, that bastion of the Buddha's Word, would make sure that only high caste men could ever be ordained. Love the fact that the Karava social revolution just made sure they had their own sect instead of, y'know, pushing for anything more equitable. I always say that if we really want to protect Buddhism we have to abolish the Sinhalese.
#sri lankan culture#casteism#castes#anthropology#south asia#desi tag#sri lanka#sinhalese#govigama#karava#sinhalese culture#society and culture#knee of huss#asks#anon
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Unclip my Wings
Why use this phrase when Alastor laments the deal he is stuck in?
tl;dr: skip to midway down to So here is the Proposed Theory. I don't want to ruin the build up and you'll probably figure it out after with all the pictures I chose. It's not Lilith.
But after watching the Pilot episode of Harbin Hotel (of course I watched after I binged the entire season), I had a new appreciation for Alastor and his function at the Hotel.
But the main question we have is WHY? Why is a demon as powerful as Alastor at the Hotel in the first place? Why is he acting as the general manager? And then Husker gives up that little piece of information that Alastor is also bound to someone. Now we're asking WHO?
Who could possibly have enough power to contain a demon as strong as Alastor. Of note is seven year absence which remarkably coinsides with Lilith's disappearance. But that seems a bit too coincidental.
During the meeting with Lucifer, Alastor's constant angry glaring at Lucifer indicates he has certain underlying issues not addressed. Then Lucifer's agressive dismal of Alastor at their first meeting. It brings to mind the quote "[He] protests too much." Then the imagry during the "Dad Beat Dad" song where Lucifer has Alastor's head on a platter, having Alastor in a frying pan, and baked in a pie.
These images are blatant displays of power over the victim. And Lucifer seems to relish these images far too much, to the point displaying out right disturbing glee at having Alastor in the frying pan.
Alastor counters with needling about exactly what bothers Lucifer the most. Charlie.
Gaining Charlie's loyalty appears to be Alastor's primary objective. He hasn't actualy made it a secret that he would love to make a deal for Charlie's soul. In fact the Brady Bunch style picture is all about boxing Charlie in.
Which begs the question of why would Alastor want Charlie's soul? What could he possibly need such a powerful bargaining chip for? Who would do anything to free Charlie from such a deal?
We know Lucifer would.
WIthout knowing Lilith's side of the story, we're at a loss as to her choice. But the fact that she was in Heaven during this entire show thus far, gives an indication that she wants nothing to do with Hell.
So Alastor is searching for a way out of his deal and he has set his sights on Charlie.
In the pilot Alastor is in the news room watching Charlie fail to generate interest in her hotel. He offers his services which Charlie turns down many times. He spends a fair amount of time staring at the portrait of the Morningstar family. He claims to want to help for the entertainment value, which is a much lighter excuse than trying to infiltrate Charlie's trust.
It ends with Charlie agreeing, but without any sort of deal being made.
The phrase "Unclip my Wings" during the final song kept bothering me. It seemed unusual for a demon to reference wings as the majority of characters with wings are Angels. (Husker is something different, more gargoyle) Besides having the excellent rhyming for the phrase "pulling all the strings" it begs the question of what if Alastor actually had wings at some point? Unlikely, but what if he had had a taste of Angelic power and wants it again. If he had Angelic powers no one could stop him from pulling the strings.
Wings are also symbols for freedom. And Alastor clearly wants his freedom more than anything.
Which brings up the point of why did Alastor sell his soul in the first place? What did he possibly want so bad as to give up his freedom?
Before his disappearance Alastor was killing the major Overlords, creating power vaccums he no doubt exploited. Making him one of the most feared demons in all of Hell. How would the King and Queen of Hell react to a mortal soul beginning to rival them in power?
Wouldn't it make sense to attempt to control this Demon so that it does not upset their power?
Neither Lilith nor Lucifer appear very hands on with ruling Hell. In fact, Lucifer doesn't appear in the last battle until Adam expressly threatens Charlie and Charlie is not capable defending herself. Lucifer does apologize for not being there sooner. So why? What was holding him back from fighting alongside his daughter when he cares so much for her? Is there something that literally holds him back from interfering in the Extermination or with the ongoings of Hell in general?
If so, it would make sense to have someone else deal with the out of control demons.
But he does stick around for the rebuilding of the hotel, which Alastor is absent for.
So here is the Proposed Theory
In order to get control of the disruption of Alastor killing off Overlords and to prevent Alastor from becoming so powerful as to kill Lilith or Lucifer, Lilith meets with Adam and gets the Extermination started to limit how much power Alastor can gain from collecting souls.
Meanwhile Lucifer is part of the plan, but isn't particularly thrilled. What he doesn't know is that Lilith made a deal with Adam. Nor that Lilith got to lounge around in Heaven for getting Lucifer to agree to the Extermination.
Lucifer captures the biggest threat he knows, Alastor the Radio Demon. At this point Alastor has killed all the Demon Overlords that threatened his rise to power, so it stands to reason that Lilith might have attempted to stop the rouge demon and perished.
Alastor is now caged by Lucifer and wants his freedom.
Alastor is in a position where he is willing to make a deal with the King of Hell himself.
Lucifer is a creator. We see him build rubber ducks at first then recreating the Hazbin Hotel for Charlie. He does not want any more destruction or carnage. But when Charlie starts the Hazbin Hotel to rehabilitate sinners, Lucifer wants to help, but can't.
What he does have is a powerful demon who would do anything for a taste of freedom.
Lucifer makes a deal for Alastor's soul.
The evidence?
Alastor's absolute hatred for Lucifer
Alastor seeking a deal with Lucifer's daughter
Alastor gleefully gloating over Charlie's trust in him
Lucifer's ability to manipulate Alastor's outfit and postures
Lucifer's glee at presenting Alastor's severed head
Lucifer enacting violence against Alastor
Alastor not seeking retaliation
Alastor's eyes seeking his prey, making sure Lucifer knows
This image where Alastor and Lucifer are nose to nose, glaring with bared teeth is perhaps the only time that Alastor's smile is close to cracking. It is also striking that Alastor's grin is nearly identical to Lucifer's in that it takes up half the face it is so large.
As Alastor said, there is no telling what is behind a smile, particularly when it is designed to confuse your enemies.
Lucifer cannot interfere with the ongoings of Hell. Lilith wants nothing to do with Hell at this point. Charlie is determined to reform sinners and Lucifer wants to protect his daughter.
Lucifer is furious that he has to rely on a demon to help his daughter when that is all he wants to do and constantly shows his superiority over Alastor whenever he gets a chance. But does not tell Charlie any of this because he doesn't want her fury or believing that her father doesn't think she can accomplish it by herself.
Not helping in the Battle against Adam until after Alastor is out of the fight, could easily be Lucifer's way of proving Alastor cannot protect Charlie. Coming in to save the day could be Lucifer proving his worth as a father.
Either way it is far to convenient for Alastor to show up when Charlie is announcing her Hotel. Alastor's soul is owned by someone who would release it should Charlie be the bargaining chip.
Only time will tell what the truth is.
Here's to hoping I don't predict anything, because I want to be surprised. Which is why I watch most things because it is the HOW did it happen rather than WHAT happened that keeps me going.
#hazbin hotel#alastor#hazbin alastor#hazbin lucifer#lucifer morningstar#hazbin lilith#charlie morningstar#hazbin charlie#charlie hazbin hotel#alastor hazbin hotel#the radio demon#alastor the radio demon#fan theory#who owns Alastor's soul#lilith morningstar#comparative literature#comparative lit major at work#i spent too much time on this#hazbin hotel theory#hazbin hotel thoughts
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Would love to hear your thoughts on/interpretation of Brick :)
my actual most pressing thought about brick is im distraught more people don't realize he [and gustavo] are every bit as much a kirby reference as they are a mario reference
look at him!!! look!!! his name is RICK.
you dont know him??? youve forgotten him??? my beloved son??? rick the hamster?? rick was quite literally what got me into the kirby series so i have very strong convictions about him.
aside from that i mean. well. he is a rat. i'm not sure how much there is to "interpret" here fgjjgffgh.
i do at least have a minor hc that the Giant Fuckin Rats like that only come from the tower. tower rats just built different. built six feet tall. everywhere else just got regular little rats like in don't make a sound & tower rats are generally not well-known outside of areas immediately around the tower+places it affects/connects to.
gus probably has him registered as a service/therapy animal so he can take him places but brick is definitely not actually Trained for it. i don't think he really Needs training though since he's, like, intelligent enough to smoke and play poker apparently; and he's also generally pretty tolerant, relaxed, and well-behaved otherwise. he does still perform the occasional service duty in the form of "laying down on top of peppino when he is having an Episode" this is usually at gustavo's behest and fake pep will do it too
#anxious old men get squashed under fatass therapy beasts. he hates it but it does help#tbt when my little sister had her rats registered as therapy animals so she could keep them on college campus#bc they didnt allow pets otherwise. based bahaviour#this one is going in the tag solely for rick awareness. look at him#pizza tower#gustavo and brick#did u kno when the kdl2 animal trio got revealed for star allies i actually for real cried#they hadnt been in the series for TWENTY YEARS and theyre finally back...
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why it's called Meursault and why that's the correct spelling
(plus other related thoughts because I'm a nerd)
BSD s4 spoilers ahead!
With s4 of BSD airing, we've finally arrived to the point where Dazai has been arrested and is imprisoned with Fyodor in Meursault. With this, I noticed that depending on the streaming service people are using, in the subtitles, Meursault is spelled differently (Mersault vs Meursault).
There is a correct spelling. It's Meursault. I know this because (surprise, surprise!), this name is a literary reference!
The Stranger is a story by French-Algerian author Albert Camus (1913-1960), and one of his most well-known works, the main character of which is named Monsieur Meursault (hence the spelling). I don't think there would be any spelling discrepancy with this name because it's French in origin, meaning that it's spelled using the roman alphabet. There would be no reason to eliminate that extra "u".
Other names that are translated from languages that use different alphabets having multiple spellings are more understandable. For example, Chuuya's name in Japanese hiragana (one of multiple alphabets the Japanese use) looks like this: ちゅうや. I don't know much about etymology or anything, but I assume the fact that because Chuuya's name doesn't originally come from the roman alphabet is why it has multiple spellings in English (Chuuya vs Chūya). This would not be the case for Meursault, though, because there's no discrepancy there. French and English use the same alphabet.
Okay and now I wanna be a literary nerd for a second — spoiler warning for The Stranger in the next paragraph, if you care about that.
At the conclusion of the story, Monsieur Meursault is arrested for murder and goes to prison, where he accepts his death as inevitable and is at peace. I suspect that the fact that in the BSD universe Meursault is a French prison has to do with the character's fate, but I wonder if the part about accepting death will somehow play into it? I don't know how much Asagiri is letting the inspiration for the prison's name influence his storytelling....
And on that note, I also think it makes so much sense that Asagiri would have an interest in Camus' work! Albert Camus was an author, yes, but also notably a philosopher who believed strongly in absurdism — the idea that life is meaningless, essentially.
This point of view isn't quite as dark as it seems, because for some absurdists, it just meant that it was up to the individual to create meaning within their own life. One of my favorite quotes from Camus is "The literal meaning of life is whatever you're doing that prevents you from killing yourself.”
Part of the reason I think this makes sense for Asagiri is because BSD is very much about its characters searching for a meaning of life. Dazai is searching for a reason to stay alive by helping people as Oda told him to, Atsushi is slowly overcoming the idea that his meaning of life is solely to help others, Akutagawa is slowly overcoming the idea that Dazai is his reason to live, etc. etc..
It also makes sense because Kafka Asagiri is a pseudonym. The given name Kafka is taken from another famous absurdist author, Franz Kafka (1883-1924). He wasn't a philosopher like Camus, and actually, he wasn't really even known in his lifetime for his writing. He worked a day job as a banker, which he hated, and at night he wrote. His stories often touched on the absurdity of bureaucracy, and were far less realistic and more ridiculous than Camus' work (ever read The Metamorphosis?). But they were similar in that they called out hypocrisy and the innate absurdity of life.
So basically, that's why it didn't surprise me at all that Asagiri was also familiar with Camus' work, and liked it enough to include a reference to it in BSD.
I was also just genuinely delighted to learn this as someone who is really interested in Camus! I read one of this other works, The Plague, in high school and this past summer I read The Stranger. His work is really cool to me, and though it's dense at times, I like that it's thought-provoking. It was also interesting to see the parallels between The Plague and the Covid pandemic... it's quite spooky how not much really changes.
Anyway! Thanks for reading my nerdy little ramble! I hope you got something out of it and please share your own thoughts if you have any, I'd love to hear them :)
#bsd#bungo stray dogs#bungou stray dogs#bsd s4 spoilers#bsd s4#meursault#literary reference discussion#kafka asagiri#albert camus#franz kafka#absurdism#soup rants
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I have a question.
What would your CLIP AU voice be like?
probably the voice of your Sun and Moon hairdresser AU is exactly like that of the original daycare attendant sun and moon.
but what about Clip? it's a thin and lovely voice?, or calm and gentle like in the original Eclipse?
Or Is the voice different?
good question! and a tricky one, because i don't have any exact references to pull from and i don't know how much will translate, but i will try to explain the best i can
First: in the hairdresser AU, Sun and Moon actually sound a little different from canon! It's been a long time since their time at their PizzaPlex and they've undergone a lot of change, and that shows in their voices. So they used to sound like their canon voices, but they've changed over time.
Sun's voice is gentler than his canonical voice and it doesn't fluctuate as much (switching from excitable, to sarcastic, to threatening). Overtime, Sun has learned to keep his tone even and approachable. The best way to describe Sun is that he is even-tempered and calm. He rarely gets over-emotional, but Moon and Clip have a way of getting to him, since they know each other the closest. He only ever slips into his old voice and vocal habits (like repeating words) around Moon and Clip, usually in the form of sarcasm to balance their silliness (like his comments in this post).
i like to describe Sun's voice as his customer-service voice, light and cheery enough to be appropriate for the situation.
Moon's voice is still a little raspy, but unlike his canon voice, it's less guttural and his pitch doesn't fluctuate as much. He also speaks in full sentences haha. The notable thing about Moon's voice is that it lacks the playful gremlin quality we all love about canon Moon. His tone isn't as playful and he doesn't giggle as much as he used to. Perhaps he'll have a short friendly chuckle when talking to a customer, but it's not gremlin level laughter.
i think the closest voice reference i can think of is Corey Wilder's voice dub for Moon. still a little raspy without being too guttural, and more eloquent and charming in his delivery.
Overall his tone is kinda dry, but when he begins to open up (like in this post), his voice takes a softer tone, closer to canon.
and finally Clip! In a way, his voice is probably the closest to canon Sun and Moon's. His voice fluctuates a lot jumping around from canon Sun's lofty theatrics to canon Moon's menacing glee. He's dramatic, he's silly, he cackles, he giggles, he rambles, he growls, he makes animal noises, he's all over the place! And there is no rhyme or reason to it, it's just fun for Clip. No matter the time of day, Clip is here to play play play!
However, there are rare moments when his voice sounds like canon Eclipse from the Ruin DLC. It's that sweet and gentle tone, but there is a staticky quality in his voice, crackling like someone who hasn't spoken in a while.
...
i hope that made sense!
#ask the crab#New Do Same You AU#Sun New Do Same You AU#Moon New Do Same You AU#Clip New Do Same You AU#admittedly i'm no good with coming up with voices#so i used the canon voices as a base and tweak them as necessary for LORE reasons haha#the question is#why has Sun's voice changed so much?#where did Moon's gremlin laughter go?#how do we hear Clip's sweet voice?#answers to these and more in the fic that i'm procrastinating on writing!!#well#i'm hoping to get something out this month#i've never posted on Ao3 before tho#so i might post a test drabble first#nervous
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thoughts on the Harrison-Boyd-Clapton live triangle???
Oh god I have SO many thoughts lol. I was actually just talking to my best friend about this, but to put it simply I see the whole situation as an example of two people who truly love each other not belonging together because the particular ways in which they're broken go together too well.
But, to put it less simply:
I tend to think about it from Pattie's perspective, and I've always thought of her as having pretty severe eldest daughter syndrome, i.e. she was taught to value her worth by what she could provide to others. Her parents weren't super involved and she took on a lot more responsibility than most kids her age, especially when it came to her younger siblings. This quote in particular stood out to me when I was obsessing over Pattie a few months ago:
(Not sure where that's originally from btw, I've had the screenshot forever but based on formatting I think it might be brainy quote).
It's often a red flag when people say they felt older than their years, and doubly so when they were in some way parentified. We often reenact the role we played in our childhood family system in our adult relationships, and in Pattie I think this lead her to be extremely giving and self sacrificing. To the point where I'm not sure she was even aware that she HAD emotional needs, much less knew how to assert them.
To that end, although I obviously like George quite a bit, there's no denying that -- especially as a young man -- he was an incredibly needy person. (I actually think all the beatles were sort of black holes of emotional need tbh, at least in their youth. Partly because of childhood trauma but also because they were living a life that's larger and more extreme than any human being was meant to live.)
Pattie's tendency to sacrifice excessively dovetailed perfectly with George's tendency to need excessively, and as a result he totally eclipsed her entire self, until she felt utterly lost. That's neither of their fault, btw. Neither of them was emotionally mature or self aware enough to realize what was happening.
(Not to mention George was cheating like a dog and Pattie was taking it on the chin even though she knew deep down she deserved better. But former parentified children often put up with a lot of shit as adults because they believe it's their responsibility to do so.)
Then Eric comes along and literally tells her it's her fault he's addicted to heroin and if she doesn't leave George he'll die and it'll be all her fault. Aside from the fact that this is literally emotional abuse, it's also an even darker and more powerful black hole of neediness than George. And as someone whose sense of self has been eclipsed and who only knows she matters when she's of service to others, it was basically impossible not to fall into that black hole.
For his part, I think Eric was far more concerned with taking something from George than being with Pattie. I don't know enough about him to know why he'd feel the need to do that and I also really dislike him so I doubt I'll ever find out. Pattie said he got bored of her pretty much as soon as he "had" her, and tbh that doesn't surprise me.
It was honestly such a tragic thing for Pattie to be driven/dragged away from George -- personally I believe they always loved each other (she referred to him as her soulmate in her autobiography, and George made sure she knew as long as he was alive she'd have a financial parachute) -- but I also genuinely think they had to lose each other in order to find themselves.
Pattie couldn't stay in a relationship where she was fulfilling the same self sacrificing role she played as a child, and although it was a long and painful road she seems to have really found herself and found peace. She's never explicitly said this, but often people without a strong sense of self need to be on their own in order to learn how to value themselves, and she did spend a long time unmarried after Eric.
And, although George was gutted by the breakup, he was no more capable of expressing love in a healthy way than Pattie was. If they had stayed together I doubt he'd have grown into the wise and self possessed person that he ultimately became, because he simply wouldn't have had to. (Plus he never would have found Liv and I love her just as much as I love Pattie.)
In the end their relationship is fascinating and tragic to me because the things that drew them to one another so deeply were also what ultimately doomed them, and yet in the shadow of that loss they became the people they were meant to be and found their happy endings.
Thanks for the ask, and sorry for the novel 😁
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Genuine question; how is it self publishing with Lulu and are there any copyright issues? Thinking about taking some of my older world building and turning it into a Actual Novel.
I hope it's okay if I answer this publicly, I've had a few questions about it recently!
I've been doing it long enough that my frame of reference for difficulty may be a little skewed, but it's relatively straightforward -- Lulu has a publishing wizard that walks you through selecting options, uploading a document, adding a cover, and such. There is still a lot you have to do yourself that they don't really tell you how to, but it's not hard to google for some and they do have forums that cover other bits.
There are generally speaking no copyright issues with going through a self-publisher, but it depends on the services you obtain from them. With Lulu -- as with, I think, most Print-On-Demand printers -- there's an array of routes to go from unpublished document to published book.
So you can do it all yourself -- you can edit, proof, typeset, design the cover, purchase an ISBN, and do all the marketing. Or, at any step in the process, you can purchase services from Lulu that will do that for you. I can't recommend purchasing their proofing/design/marketing stuff; on the one hand it's where they make their money, but because of that they're not providing super great value for what you pay. And as a self-publisher, unless you have a massive platform or great marketing and hustle, you probably won't recoup in sales what you paid for.
Whether or not you buy other services, Lulu charges a per-book print fee, but you set your own prices, so like the book might cost $5 to print, but if you set the price at $10 you're making a pretty sweet profit per book. Some other POD publishers also charge a "setup" fee, but I'm not familiar with what that entails.
In any case, there's only one point at which copyright becomes an issue, which is the ISBN -- the serial number and barcode that identifies your book so that (for example) bookstores can sell it and libraries can stock it. You don't HAVE to have an ISBN, but it makes it much harder to get it distributed if you don't.
You can obtain an ISBN on your own -- cost varies by country, many make them available for free but in the US a single ISBN is $125 or you can buy like 100 for $500. If you want to have one but don't want to buy one, Lulu will give you one, but they then become the publisher of record. I don't really know how that works in terms of copyright, but it does impact some rights to the book, so if you use a Lulu-issued ISBN that would be something to research. If you're just publishing a book through them without using their ISBN, they're basically a printer -- they have no right to your book as an item of intellectual property.
Now, outside of copyright considerations, it is certainly more work to self-pub. If you want it to look professional you have to have access to a good program for typesetting, you have to know how to set margins and gutters, title/author headers and page number footers, and if you want to do an epub that's a whole other ball of wax.
I don't get super fancy. I typeset in Word, because Libre Office and Open Office (at least last I checked) didn't have a few of the features Word has, but any other program has a much higher learning barrier to entry. You also have to upload the document as a PDF, so you have to be able to save/print it as a PDF.
Lulu does have a cover-design app you can use to make a cover, but it's extremely basic, so if you don't want your cover to look like it was designed in Canva, you'll need access to a design program like Photoshop or Glimpse, or to commission a cover from someone who does. Once you've uploaded your document, Lulu will give you a template that tells you exactly what size your cover should be, where the bleed margins are, and etc.
And then we get into the nitty-gritty stuff like how only certain fonts can be used for the document (there are twelve fonts that Lulu allows, it's listed on their site somewhere, I just use Garamond) and you need to make sure any art that goes on the cover is either free for use or Creative Commons or similar (or you buy the art for use). Google does have a handy Creative Commons filter on their imagesearch function, which has been useful for me in the past, but on the copyright pages of many of my books you'll see credit given for images used.
So to do your first book there is a bit of a steep learning curve, but once you're past the curve, you'll have some pretty good skills for future publishing. I did a book a year for several years, in my twenties, and then didn't publish at all for several years, and had to relearn a lot when I started publishing again, but it came back pretty quickly. And depending on how fancy or professional you want your book to look, you don't necessarily have to put in a TON of work. Like, I try to make mine look as much like pro-published books as possible, but some authors on Lulu just shove a formatted word document into a PDF and call it a day, they don't bother with headers/footers and fancy formatting and such.
In any case, while I think going the professional route of querying publishers and agents is laudable and certainly I wouldn't advise anyone to go to selfpub first thing, selfpub can be awfully satisfying, and it starts to feel kind of like a fun hobby after a while.
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Hey, so I saw your post about some fics demonizing Neytiri. That has actually been one of my major fears as a fic writer, attempting to balance Neytiri's extremely valid trauma and the POV I'm writing from (that is typically flawed in some way). I was wondering, since you seem very well-versed on the topic, what do you define as "demonizing" for Neytiri? Is it ok to write from a perspective where a character doesn't really like or trust her, as long as the trauma is noted? Do you have any resources so I can educate myself to properly write this kind of character?
I really want to make sure I'm doing right by Neytiri and improve as a fic writer overall, so any advice you could offer would be very much appreciated!
Whoa, what a complicated and nuanced question. A great one! And I'm super flattered you came to me! Just one I'm going to try to answer to the best of my ability. I'm assuming you're referring to Norm's pov in your fic?
First of all, I do not want to at all proclaim to be an expert on generational trauma; I am not a person of color, and I have been lucky enough to have a very normal and healthy family. I just had a best friend growing up in an abusive household and took steps to educate myself best I could to understand the situation, which I believe anyone would do. So I'm just gonna try to word vomit out my thoughts for you, please ask questions or challenge any of what I say if any of you see anything you think is incorrect. Buckle in, this will be long.
What do you define as "demonizing" for Neytiri?
Demonizing means portraying someone as wicked or threatening, as evil or worthy of contempt and blame.
For me, demonizing for Neytiri is the trend I've seen lately of portraying her as this unyielding, animalistic type character who's hatred of humans, Spider specifically, goes so far that she gets physically violent with Spider and eventually ends up tearing apart her family. In these fics, Jake is always a sad sack loser bystander, loving his wife too much to step in but of course shamefully knowing how wrong what she's doing is. Infantilizing poor white savior Jake Sully, being brow beaten by his mean indigenous wife into neglecting a child is a weirdly strong take in this fandom. Often Mo'at is a wise elder chiding Neytiri for being unable to get over her prejudice. Mo'at and Jake understand Neytiri as much as anyone would, they wouldn't shame her. To me, it's an extremely reductive and frankly borderline racist characterization. When paired with a sympathetic view of Quaritch, it is at best irresponsible and at worst knowingly dangerous.
Neytiri is representative of an indigenous woman. I feel like I don't have to explain why making her violent, volatile, and completely unreasonable is a little bit of a harmful caricature. In these fics, for me, Neytiri ceases to be a person. She looses autonomy to sort of represent this monolith of hatred and prejudice that has hurt our little baby boy Spider. It's crazy to me that people can't apply the exact same empathy they have towards Spider (saving Quaritch) to Neytiri (not being able to trust Spider). They are the most foil of foil characters. Their storylines are extremely similar, if I'm being honest. Essentially, ignoring the fact that Neytiri is a member of a minority community being actively genocided by Spider's people is intentionally reductive. If you can empathize with Spider, and ESPECIALLY if you find Quaritch sympathetic, finding Neytiri's actions unforgivable is racism, plain and simple.
Also, side note, the lengths people go to where Neytiri just literally will not budge under any circumstances at all is INSANE.
(I read a fic the other day where she gave Spider to child protective services behind everyone's back. That's LUNACY. She only came around after she almost lost Tuk when Tuk was suddenly born prematurely and Mo'at came in and was like "Eywa made it so you can never have kids again because of what you did, have you learned your lesson yet?" Like?? I do not understand the HATRED some of ya'll have for her, the suffering you all think she deserves. She's having an EXTREMELY NORMAL trauma reaction to surviving GENOCIDE? Examine yourselves greatly).
But where I was going was Neytiri is the same character who pushed her parents to let them go to human school, fell in love with human Jake, defended him and trusted him despite her family, mated with him and lost her religious position because of it, and then had a bunch of part human kids with him, and adopted a fully freak of nature kid born of a human she loved and respected. She has human friends, she wears and uses human tech, and she forgave Jake after he had betrayed them. Basically what I'm saying is Neytiri, despite her continuous trauma, is the most open and curious and non traditional Na'vi of all time. Girl is READY to meet new people and learn new shit, and to be open to everyone. Sometimes I think about a no trauma Neytiri and I get emotional. I think it's crazy to say she would never budge on Spider, if it wasn't for his dad I'm pretty sure she would've softened lonnnnng ago, if not having liked him from the get go.
Um, that got way too long I have too many thoughts. Second half of your question.
Is it ok to write from a perspective where a character doesn't really like or trust her, as long as the trauma is noted?
This is a tricky question, because technically there is nothing you can't do as a writer. Of course, it also means there is nothing anyone can't criticize you for writing. Like, Colleen Hoover can say she's writing realistic depictions of domestic abuse until the cows come home, I'm still going to say she's romanticizing and normalizing it in a super callous way. Neither of us can stop the other. So yeah, of course you're okay to write from the perspective of a character that doesn't like Neytiri. I just think the point will be what your prerogative is. One of my MFA professors says it in a way I like and I'm sure I've referenced before, if you aren't trying to make a point about something that might have to have a trigger warning then don't include it. I always say I would take it a step further; if your point is to defend that thing, don't do it. So for me, my big points would be try not to project my own feelings onto the character either way; if the character is wrong about something and the narrative intends to show that they will either learn, or we the reader will grow past them. But to be sure what you feel the takeway of the piece is is what you wanted it to be, I guess.
Do you have any resources so I can educate myself to properly write this kind of character?
Well, I have a few on white writers writing BIPOC characters and the ethics of that if you're interested in that. But I don't have any on specifically writing generational trauma. I guess I'd say reading and absorbing are my biggest tools; so reading books/watching movies or TV that use the speculative to translate generational trauma, and learning about and taking in the real life examples the character is based on. Read up on some genocides, and indigenous people today and how their lives are still affected. Even just watch the news; we're witnessing a very public genocide being pushed right to our attention right now. And of course, that is not the only genocide happening rn, it's just the only one we're talking about, so there's plenty of real world case studies unfortunately right in front of us.
#this got way way too long#it's almost midnight and i still have work tomorrow#i was goING to answer a few asks during amazing race tonight and instead#just this#lol#my bad#hope this helps! feel free to ask or dm with any questions or grievances haha#keep in mind i am not an expert!#i am just someone who likes knowing things and is really annoying about consuming ethically#anyways spider fandom i need u to lay off my girl#fandom criticism of bipoc characters is somehow always a little rooted in racism#but that's because we've all got internalized racism my friends and we cannot escape it without daily intentional thought and conversation#neytiri sully#miles spider socorro#spider socorro#spider sully#jake sully#jeytiri#mo'at#miles quaritch#tuktirey sully#norm spellman#avatar#avatar the way of water#james cameron avatar#melissa og#melissa on avatar (cameron)#melissa is an english major
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So I have some thoughts on RWRB
If you divorce it from it's adaptation, it's a perfectly servicable film.
IDK how to say it but it was too polished? I guess? (Maybe that's book nerd for it doesn't look like how I imagined it IDK) it feels like an adaptation of a short film that got a bigger budget but it lost some of the heart of the original you know?
I should have expected it but it was a lot simpler than the book. other people have mentioned the things, June, Nora, Pez, Leo etc.
I did enjoy the way they did the texting at the beginning and I wished they carried that through with the emails later (although maybe they did and I wasn't paying enough attention?)
In this day and age of streaming there is no excuse for book adaptations to be simplified movies. Here's my reasoning: streaming platforms don't need to have time slots, so they can literally release a 3 episode miniseries or a 2 episode miniseries, or 2 movie length mini series or whatever. Black mirror does a bit of this where the different eps are different lengths and honestly, there should be more of it.
I liked some of the references to the book like the powerpoint presentation reference but it just made me want to see that.
I missed seeing Alexs drive and enthusiasm for politics. Look, I'm Australian, I couldn't give a rat's bum about american politics, but reading Alex give a shit about it was interesting and to see him kinda do a politics thing but also not really made me miss Book!Alex more.
I feel like the King being all "this could be fake" would have been a lot better if ALEX HADN'T JUST RELEASED A STATEMENT SAYING THEY WERE IN LOVE!
Stephen (Steven? Stephen.) Fry saying Homoseksual
Stephen Fry BEING a homophobe was funny A+ casting
The lake scene being in the day was weird. So Henry just turns away and is silent. And then he swims away and what, doesn't say a word to Alex for the rest of the evening? Does Alex ask him what's wrong? Why don't they talk about it? it makes more sense being in the middle of the night because he cracks a joke, changes the subject and goes to sleep. Alex is a little offput but he figures he can talk about it later if it's still a thing and then Henry's gone. Makes so much more sense.
Also (this also happens in the books) So Henry's "The Spare" but what about Bea? I'm p sure she's older than Henry, but younger than Philip. Doesn't that make HER the spare? He's just overkill at that point.
If they were going to cut out a sister imho they should have cut out Bea since they did her dirty anyway. Like if she's not going to have character anyway. June would be far more utilised.
One of the things I love about the book is that by the end Alex has a great friend group. I missed that in the movie.
Zahra was perfect.
I miss chaotic brains Nora
I have very few thoughts on the actual romance part. It was fine.
TF is Miguel
As a bisexual myself, I missed the bi panic.
Also Liam. He was great.
This has nothing to do with the movie but my cat is kneading right next to me.
Why was it rated R? It was sanitised the hell????
If you like the movie, if you love it that's great. I'm glad for you. For me I might have to sit and think about it for a bit before I rewatch it.
#red white and royal blue#rwrb#rwrb film#red white and royal blue film#spoilers#agcd#alex claremont diaz#firstprince
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unfortunately my most prominent jyl thoughts start with the soup. & im no expert on ancient chinese kitchens, but given that lotus root & pork soup is something that simmers for hours, i think that as much as the soup is an act of service & a tried and true "we dont have to talk about it" comfort tactic, its also... a great excuse to duck away from everything going on. the kitchen being the safe space, so to speak! and overall jyl seems more avoidant than confrontational? i havent read mdzs for the details in years can you tell but i think theres a good chance under the right circumstances she could have become jfm 2: shijie edition, in which she can read emotional cues fairly well and she doesn't want anyone to be unhappy, but how proactive she might be about resolving a situation is entirely based on how secure she feels. im not forgetting her valiant defence of wwx "i take insults against him seriously" moment! but theres a difference between an eroding stagnant unhappiness & a situation that is more clear cut. im just not confident about how she would raise jin ling in the whole (waves hand) jin situation if she had not been collateral damage. is this making sense 😭
this is all true but let me make clear that my problem with how the fandom conceptualizes jiang yanli is NOT the soup. I'm not mad about the soup and in fact since it's one of basically three things that we even know about her at all, it stands to reason that when we think about her we're Gonna Have To Mention the Soup.
and one can (if one cares enough about her, which I'm sure you do anon) draw reasonable conclusions about her character based on this thing that she does. after all, everything is (supposed to be) important in a given text. I don't disagree with anything you said. she is a careful, conflict-avoidant person due to her tumultuous childhood with abusive/neglectful parents; despite this, she possesses strong morals and protective instincts. I don't think she would've been bad at raising jin ling because unlike her parents, she and her husband actually loved each other and communicate instead of willfully misunderstanding each other then bottling it all up (if she had married someone she didn't love, then yeah she might've been jfm 2. either way we'll never know because guess fucking what mxtx did)
my ISSUE, which fandom can barely acknowledge let alone address, is that "soup" has become a convenient shorthand to refer to her, but it's not a quality. it's a thing that is associated with her, not her personality. this isn't fair! "avoidant" is a trait, "comforting" is a trait, "kind" is a trait, "average" is a trait, soup's not a fucking trait! and some of that is just the general fandom trend of flattening characters in fanon, but the fact that she's a woman and therefore not paid as much attention compared to the ~Complexities~ of the men doesn't help
and I get that sometimes it's not that serious, sometimes it's for Joaks, but why is it that even when joking people can come up with all sorts of qualities for the men but when it's her it's just that she cooks soup? and in more serious discussions, why is her sole purpose apparently to be emotional support or tragic motivation for her brothers? (because mxtx herself wrote her that way!)
why did mxtx not delve into her reactions or point of view (mdzs is the only one of her novels with switching pov, so she could have)? or even just written more scenes with her? (CQL notably gave the women more scenes. the book is abysmal on this regard.....and in others)
tl;dr mxtx did a shit job of developing her character and that of the other women, and fandom makes this problem worse by not giving a shit. the feedback loop continues. your ask and my answer combined are already more words and effort than mxtx spent on writing her
#hewwo#asks#anonymous#mdzs#jiang yanli#jyl#which is why someday im gonna write a book with mostly women so people have no choice but to think about them#but with a couple shippable twinks in the background so i can still grift money from fujos
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I got so overwhelmed by stress and hunger and exhaustion today that I nearly broke down crying in an overly lit Walmart, so I'm going to use this account as what god and tumblr intended it to be, and start blogging the process of this turtle project.
It occured to me that I'm trying to do a very unnatural thing by having something decompose subtly and without causing offence.
Death has a way of making itself very known. The odour of putrefaction tends to creep out of whatever you've designed to contain it, short of burying it 6ft down in the earth (a thing with i don't have the time or the strength to do). It's bad enough when the process is spread out over days-- condensing it down to a few hours makes the smell that much worse.
But I'm not even there, yet. Not really. I have to deflesh the damn thing first, and that's causing its own problems, because the references for how to do that with a turtle are scant to none, save for every pet memorial site telling me to "let the beetles have it for a few months". I have no beetles, and I have even fewer months to figure this out. Only two things are working in my favour: the fact that this is not a large specimen, and that turtle soup is eaten with enough regularity that I can find dubious guides on YouTube for how to prepare it.
I'm also kind of hoping that my inevitable turtle soup boil will not actually smell that bad... But I have my doubts.
Anyway. The defleshing has to be done soon, it really needed to be done last week but with the memorial services it just seemed a bit gauche to ask about the specimen carcasses. I'm several days behind on our proposed schedule, and I'm just hoping to have a clean enough shell by the 6th to show at open house. The rest of the articulation can take as long as I need it to, so long as that's done. I think I'll do that peroxide & simmer method I was reading about, but even then it'll take about 6 hours.
Which leads me back to where I am now. I think I'm going to try waking up at 3 am and starting work on this before class. I need to be alive enough to not cut myself with the scalpel, but it'll be late enough that most people will still be asleep, and I can clean up before anyone notices what I've been up to. That's the plan, but even while writing this I KNOW I'm going to oversleep.
I have organic chemistry tomorrow and I just got an alert that my professor uploaded the slides I need to read before 5 tomorrow. Maybe I can review while I'm doing this.
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