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canonicallysoulmates · 4 years

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Supernatural 15.16

What can I say? No, seriously, what can I say this was such a disappointment I just wanna salt it, burn it and forget it.

This is not what I wanted nor what we were told we were gonna get, the promo’s and the way it was promoted made it seem like this was gonna be a heavy brothers centered episode and we were gonna get to see flashbacks of Sam and Dean hunting solo together, without their dad, for the first time. It wasn’t.

This episode is snake oil. It was advertised in all the right ways to make us buy into it but it has no real substance or value.

The plot is simple: Sam and Dean have to investigate the death of an old, sort of friend they made in one of the motel’s they stayed at back when they were little and haven’t spoken to in over 20 years. And let’s talk about this real quick because at the beginning Sam and Dean don’t know they’re going to investigate their friends’ death they think they’re going to the funeral cause the victim’s sister, who was also a sort of friend of theirs back in the day, invited them to the funeral to guarantee that they would go which is so stupid, people miss funerals all the time especially when they’re the funerals of people who they only knew for a week over 20 years ago and didn’t keep in contact. So, the stupid starts early in this episode.

Back to the plot, the thing that Sam and Dean are hunting is something they had hunted and thought killed years ago back when they were the wee!chesters, and by “they” I mean….Dean and the girlie. I’m sorry you thought, we were gonna see young!Sam and Dean actually hunt together? No.

The four of them sort of work together to figure out where the thing might be hiding and Dean’s all ‘I’m handling this on my own’ and Sam’s like ‘I’m going with you’ and Dean’s like ‘no’ and the girls like ‘then i’m going with you’ and Dean’s all ‘no’ and so he goes off on his own but the girl follows him so it’s the girl and him hunting this thing down while Sam is stuck back in the motel on babysitting duty of the girls little brother which I’m sure the writer is patting herself on the back for because at the beginning in the first flashback Dean was all ‘I used to babysit you when I was your age’ so now Sam is stuck babysitting...get it? Get it? I think it’s supposed to be clever…...excuse me a minute

*clears throat* where was I? Oh yes, so anyways after some investigating and Dean finding a bunch of children’s corpses they arrive at the hotel in time to see the thing they’re hunting attacking Sam and the other kid and Dean’s all ‘Sam get out of the way’ and stabs the thing which makes it turn to dust so they think it’s dead which we all know it ain’t but let’s talk for a minute about the fact that Dean just walked to see a monster attacking his baby brother AND HE DOESN’T EVEN RUSH TO CHECK ON HIM WHEN THE THING IS DEAD!!!! Also, this thing was hunting kids that were around Sam’s age but Dean doesn’t seem to give a fuck.

So what was the thing Sam and Dean were hunting oh so many years ago when they did shit re-search even though we know that they knew how important research was but this writer doesn’t know how to write this characters in present time why would she be able to write young! them? Baba Yaga! But they still don’t know that they’ll find that out later in the episode, in like a 5min scene that really does not do this figure justice but neither does the rest of this episode as this writer doesn’t really care and treats Baby Yaga more like a traditional vengeful spirit.

For real though, it is a shame that this writer doesn’t care enough because Baba Yaga is a folklore figure with so much history they could have really done something interesting and scary; such a famous folklore figure and she was treated like a footnote.

But that’s what young!Sam and Dean were up to what about our Sam and Dean? Well, after they find out the truth that they’re there to investigate and not attend a funeral that happened a week before they go check what’s up at the motel since that’s where everything happened years ago and the dude died, Dean is feeling guilty af for so many reasons including that he had yet to tell Sam Jack was gonna die, at first Dean doesn’t believe it’s the same thing they had hunted but then he’s like ‘okay maybe it’s not as dead as I thought’ and leaves Sam and the girlie to do research while he has a scene with Billie where she tells him the end is coming and while that’s happening Sam finds out it’s the Baba Yaga and the girl gets attacked and then Dean returns and he and Sam go their separate ways to find her because of course the do and Dean gets attacked but Sam arrives and then they properly kill the monster.

Anyways, it all ends with their “friend” telling Dean for like the 20th time that he has changed and then they have a hug which gives us our final flashback where after him and the young girlie say goodbye to each other him and Sam are waiting for John to pick them up and Dean’s all ‘I don’t know about this college thing but we make a good team’ which would be great if we had actually seen them work as a team.

With the thing dead Sam and Dean make their way back home and Dean tells Sam the truth about Jack dying. We’ll come back to this scene.

And that’s the episode in a nutshell. It’s bad. It’s unforgivably bad. This is the mediocre, poor man’s version of Something Wicked.

It’s got no soul, with the exception of one scene it’s got no emotion. It stays at the surface level, we don’t truly get to see young!Sam and Dean work together, we don’t really get to see their dynamic with each other, we don’t learn anything new about them, Dean clearly didn’t like Sam thinking about college but it wasn’t really explored he was just an ass to Sam about it and then was all ‘we make a good team’ but like I said we didn’t truly get to see them be a team so it just falls flat, there weren’t really any proper scenes between the young brothers, Baba Yaga is not explored she’s more a footnote, we also don’t get to see adult Sam and Dean hunt together.

You compare it to other flashback episodes like Something Wicked, A Very Supernatural Christmas, Just My imagination to name a few, and you can’t. You can’t really compare it cause those episodes were well written and actually explored Sam and Dean’s emotions and their relationship. This episode is the worst flashback episode we have ever gotten and I wish it didn’t exist.

I wanna talk about the young!Sam and Dean actors real quick cause no shade to them but I didn’t like them one bit not just because of the way they were written but also because they don’t really embody Sam and Dean’s personalities in the way that their predecessors have, I look at them I don’t see Sam and Dean. Also, their acting? Not the best.

So, all around this is a failure as far as young!Sam and Dean.

There was one scene in this whole entire episode that had any sort of emotion: the final scene with Sam and Dean in the car where Dean tells Sam everything and about Jack dying and Sam is pissed off and they get into a fight. That’s the only scene where Sam and Dean got closest to acting and sounding like themselves and the only one that was worth something and I give full credit to Jared and Jensen for that because their acting in that moment was standing ovation worthy, they honestly almost made me cry. I think if this epi had been better written and emotions actually explored it would have managed to make me cry.

I don’t like that the epi finished with the boys fighting, even less that the one proper scene we got between them was a fight but it was the best scene of the episode and it should be watched if for no other reason than to see Jared and Jensen put on an amazing performance,

But that scene alone is not enough to save this episode.

The writer of this epi once recommended that you could put the first 2 seasons of this show on as background noise and maybe if she hadn’t done that and actually paid attention to the foundation of the show that paid her bills she wouldn’t have given us the mediocre version of Something Wicked or would have learned how to artfully weave the main plot of a season into a stand alone episode like Phantom Traveler did instead of sticking in a scene right in the middle for some exposition. As it is, you can use her episode as background noise.

Here’s the thing, you can make the argument that it’s not as bad as it could have been or as what we have gotten, or that we should expect the episodes to be bad because it’s all we’ve gotten, or that we should just be happy with what we get and listen you feel how you wanna feel about this episode and/or tell yourself what you need to make yourself feel better but that don’t work with me. I’m not going to thank the writers for taking a smaller shit on this show than they did last time, and expecting the episodes to suck doesn’t mean we don’t deserve better and that we shouldn’t be upset.

And I am upset. I am angry. I am sad. I am bitter. I am disappointed.

You know what stings most about this episode? What makes it cut differently than all the other shitty, insulting, disappointing episodes that have come before it? That this is the last time we’re going to see young!Sam and Dean. This was the last ever flashback episode. A badly written episode with barely any proper interaction between the young brothers, is the last time we’ll see young! Sam and Dean.

I so badly wish I could recommend this episode but the truth is that I can't. What I can recommend, and I highly do, is looking up the final scene and enjoying that beautifully acted, painful, brother moment. And then if you still want to watch young!Sam and Dean, just re-watch Something Wicked.

In conclusion,

#spn negative #this epi makes me so angry #fuck you dabb for greenlighting this epi #anti meghan fitzmartin #mine #opinion on supernatural #spn spoilers #spn 15.16 #anti spn writers

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daynofmorpheus · 3 years

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+ dayn

[XAVIER SERRANO, CISMALE]｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ whoa, that’s [DAYN THOMPSON], [CHILD] of [MORPHEUS] isn’t it? i’ve heard all about [HIM], the [TWENTY-TWO]-year-old [FRESHMAN] is known to be [CHARMING] and [ADVENTUROUS], but i heard [HE] can be [ESCAPIST] and [TEMPERAMENTAL], too. last i heard, [HE] [IS] at fates university studying [HISTORY] and living at [HALF-BLOOD HEIGHTS]. may the fates smile down upon them!

hey guys! i’m your good ol’ admin annie with my first babe, my very first muse - dayn! he’s a bit much, i promise he’s a good bean when you get to know him he’s just a bit aggressive on the surface. more below! {trigger warning: abuse}

wanted connections here!

GENERAL

born: dayn charles thompson birthday: august 21 age: 22 hometown: ann arbor, mi siblings: n/a mortal parent: marta thompson godly parent: morpheus sexuality: straight (mostly) star sign: leo moon sign: leo alignment: chaotic neutral myers-briggs: estj height: 6'3 hair: brown eyes: brown scars: multiple, mostly on his back tattoos: this on his right tricep major: history minor: anthropology weapon of choice: two identical stygian iron knives

BIO

marta thompson was arguably a child of privilege, until she wasn’t. getting into the wrong crowd in high school, and never breaking free of it, she was in and out of rehabs and the subject of frustration for her parents, as their only child. when she was 22, she gave birth to a baby boy - dayn thompson.

with the people coming in and out of marta’s life and her “freer” lifestyle, it was a bit of a mystery for her and her parents who dayn’s father was. her parents supported them with an apartment and money to help take care of dayn - they lived far, in chicago, so they could only do so much - and marta even decided to get clean for dayn... at least until he was old enough to take care of himself which, in her eyes, was when he was six.

marta’s crappy boyfriends came in and out of dayn’s life for years and years, leaving dayn pushed in the shadow of a man, left behind and smacked around. so, as most kids would, he started to dream. he dreamt of better grades, married parents, his father - and, to his surprise, his father found him in his dreams.

dayn’s father, morpheus, showed him camp half-blood, a place to go for kids like him, with parents who are also children of gods. when he woke up, it wasn’t hard for him to leave in the middle of the night, headed away to the safety of camp.

he was a frequent flier in terms of questing. he was a fierce fighter and loved the chance to go out and see the world. he often volunteered and was always ready to go.

once he was finished with his time at camp, he traveled. oftentimes he would end up home, making sure some of his mother’s bills were paid on time - after he left, her parents cut her off - and making sure she was eating and living in a clean space. he would usually stay around until her boyfriend of the timebeing kicked him out, or they inevitably got in a fight.

finally decided he wanted more than just bouncing around from city to city, fending monsters off from the few mortals he’s come to enjoy, and decided to go to college with the extra protection, needing a break from monster fighting.

AESTHETIC

the shake and spray of an aerosol can, police lights flashing against the silhouette of hands held up in surrender, black hoodies dyed with bleach, the turn of your stomach when you’re plummeting on a rollercoaster, clinking and shattering of alcohol bottles, the burn in your throat from chugging jack daniels, the stillness of being 100 feet in the air, flickering traffic lights piercing through the fog of night, red rimmed eyes looking out into water, the crunch of broken glass underneath leather boots, blood stained knuckles, burning your fingertips on a cigarette lighter, stinging tattoos on your most sensitive skin, the crisp layer of ice over your car in the early morning hours, knuckles cracking as they close into fists

TRIVIA

wants to work in museums

currently works at clash nightclub as a bartender

drives a more rusted and beat up version of this car

has taken up some odd jobs in his travels, like construction work, IT tech support, cook, gas station attendant, and, his favorite, ballroom dance instructor

long suffering detroit lions fan

has a bunch of scars on his back from various fights, quests, etc.

has been arrested for like. stupid things

he’s also been arrested for not so stupid things, like breaking and entering and defacement of public property. he’s got an arrest warrant in NYC

bouncing off that, he’s a graffiti artist and real big into the parkour movement, but not the kind of asshole that shouts “PARKOUR” every two seconds

loves mexican and indian food, anything spicy

holds a record at a texas buffalo wings shop for eating so many hot wings in such little time

smokes newport cigarettes

has a thrifted leather jacket he’s almost always wearing, except when it’s sweltering

HUGE johnny cash fan, he grew up listening to johnny cash tapes and it’s his comfort music

hates country music otherwise though, he likes techno and punk

has seen lil wayne in concert 5 times in his life

cried when chester bennington died, real talk

has gone sky diving twice

GIANT stephen king fan, he loves the spooky

big sweet tooth

#fatesintro #abuse tw #he's a nice boy underneath it all i promise #wayyyy underneath

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avengerscompound · 4 years

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She Sets the City on Fire - Father Knows Best

She Sets the City on Fire: A Bruce Banner Fanfic

MASTERLIST PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Square: @brucebannerbingo - U3 Free Space

Rating: E

Warning: Age Gap, asshole parents, anxiety, smut (MF, light ds, oral sex, throat fucking, rough sex, a small amount of spanking, vaginal sex, gags)

Word Count: 4380

Pairing: Bruce Banner x OFC (Summer)

Summary: Bruce is drawn to Summer. She’s everything he wished he could be. Carefree, exciting, and she knows exactly who she is. There are so many reasons a relationship with her wouldn’t work. So why can’t he stop thinking about her?

A/N: On the first chapter

6. Father Knows Best

Bruce and Summer walked up West 88th hand in hand. They were driving out to Westchester so Bruce could meet Summer’s parents. He was nervous. Neither Summer nor Aiden talked about their parents much - at least not with Bruce - but after Tony had hinted it was someone famous, he had looked it up.

Summer’s father was media mogul Chester Martin. The man who’s media empire included every single right-wing and anti-superhero outlet from New York’s Daily Bugle to the Globe-News. It was his publications that helped the government cover up the Hulk and had Bruce listed as public enemy number one and pushed as some kind of global terrorist. With that and what he had heard about him buying affection and ignoring Aidan’s existence for most of his life, Bruce was not foreseeing a warm reception. Bruce was just thankful that he was actually younger than Chester. He could only imagine how much worse it would be if they were from the same generation. Even though the age-gap between Chester and Summer’s mother was over 30 years, Bruce didn’t think that hypocrisy would be enough of a reason to not use the age thing as a reason that Bruce wasn’t good enough for his daughter.

Summer had assured him that there wouldn’t be a problem. That at worse he probably wouldn’t even notice that Bruce was there and that her mother liked everyone and she’d be welcoming to him. Aidan had confirmed that Summer wasn’t lying about her mother, but that there was no way their father would like him. He would pretend for Summer but in Chester’s eyes, no one was good enough for Summer, let alone some middle-aged, liberal, with an anger issue. Aidan had left him one piece of advice, don’t let Chester get him on his own.

“Summer, are you sure what I’m wearing is fine?” He asked for the eighth time that day. He had not been able to decide if he should go formal or casual and ended up landing on a strange mix of both, with navy khakis, a dark purple button-up shirt that he left loose at the collar, a dark brown suit jacket, and because it was cooling off a long black coat. Summer, on the other hand, looked like she stepped off the silver screen in a vintage skirt suit in pale pink wool with black trim.

“You look just like you. And I love you. So he’ll love you.” Summer said, lifting his hand up into the air and spinning under it. “Just relax, Brucie. I’ll protect you.”

They reached the garage where Summer kept her car. A valet came out and she handed him a card. It wasn’t long before he re-emerged driving a vintage MG Roadster in dark burgundy.

“Wow,” Bruce said, as Summer exchanged her keys for a tip. He ran his hand over the hood of the car. “Tony would love this.”

“I’m sure he could afford to buy one if he wanted.” Summer joked.

“Do you think…” He paused and fidgeted with his hands. Tony never let him drive one of his cars and he always wanted to. Tony wasn’t Summer though. Maybe she wouldn’t have that little hang-up about needing to be behind the wheel. “Could I please drive?”

“Can you drive stick?” She asked.

He nodded. “I learned on the run.”

Summer threw him the keys and got into the passenger seat, digging in the glove compartment and pulling out a silk scarf that she wrapped around her hair while Bruce got into the driver's side and started the car.

“This is such a beautiful car,” Bruce said. He wasn’t exactly what you’d call a ‘car person’. Not the way Tony was. He wasn’t into the engines or horsepower except for the basic way he was into that kind of science in general. He could appreciate aesthetics though, and the rumble of an engine and the way he just felt like maybe the cool factor might rub off on him just a little. Oh god… was he going through a midlife crisis after all?

“Thanks,” Summer said, hanging her arm over the door. “My dad got it for my 21st.”

“He bought you a car that’s older than you.” Bruce mused.

“It’s older than you too, Grandpa. She’s a ‘63.” Summer teased.

“You got a thing for the elderly?” Bruce teased.

Summer laughed and leaned over, kissing his cheek. “You know it. I’m a grave robber.”

As they drove the 45 minutes to Westchester, Bruce kept stealing glances at Summer. Something about the vintage suit, the scarf around her hair to protect it from the wind and the large round sunglasses she’d put on made her look like a 50s starlet. She was in particularly high spirits today too, which was saying something for the ever carefree Summer. She didn’t stop smiling the entire trip up. Her hand was usually somewhere on Bruce, often sliding it’s way up his inner seam, sometimes on his hand, or playing with his hair.

Summer provided the directions and as they made their way into Westchester the houses just kept getting bigger and bigger and the space between each one became more vast until they became more like compounds than simply mansions. When they reached what was the biggest one yet he turned, entered the code at the gate and drove up the winding drive to the enormous mansion.

They got out of the car and Summer came around and took Bruce’s hand. “He’s nice. I protect you anyway, but he’ll love you.”

Bruce sighed. He wasn’t so sure that they’d think much of each other, to be honest. Chester Martin was a hateful bigot who had no concept of what it was like to struggle at all. How Summer and Aidan had come out of that family even half the decent people they were was impressive, but Bruce was no stranger to good coming out of such bad.

As they made their way up the steps Chester and Abigail came out the front to meet them. Summer let Bruce’s hand go and ran to them, hugging them both tightly. Bruce continued his way up alone and when he finally reached them, Summer pulled back and introduced him.

Abigail greeted Bruce warmly, hugging him and kissing his cheek. She was still quite young, in fact, the thought slipped into his head that Abigail was actually 2 years younger than Bruce was. The thought freaked him out a little bit and he pushed it away and smothered it. Abigale was slender and wore her long red hair in a bun. She had the same clear blue eyes as Summer. In fact, Summer had taken after Abigail to the point it looked like she’d been cloned. Which was good for her really, because as beautiful as her mother was, Chester Martin looked like a bloated, wrinkly toad.

He greeted Bruce with a firm handshake and a patronizing tone. The followed him inside where Bruce met Summer’s sister Dakota. Dakota looked a lot like Summer, though she had the dark hair and eyes of her father. She barely even looked up from her phone when Summer walked in but when Summer said Bruce’s name her eyes snapped up.

“You’re Bruce Banner!” She said, putting her phone away.

“That’s right.” He said, feeling a little awkward. Summer took a seat on a large leather couch and patted the spot beside her.

Dakota immediately moved from where she was sitting and sat down next to Bruce, pressing herself against him. “I didn’t know you were dating an Avenger, Sum. Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I told you his name was Bruce,” Summer said.

Dakota leaned towards her sister, her breast pressing against Bruce’s arm. “You know what I mean.”

“I really don’t, Dakota,” Summer said.

Dakota sighed and her knuckles brushed up the side of Bruce’s thigh.

Chester took a seat in one of the wing-backed chairs opposite them while Abigail took a more comfortable looking sofa seat next to him.

“How exactly did the two of you meet?” Chester asked.

Thus started the grilling. Most questions seemed to try and pry out how long they’d been dating, what they did when they were together, and how serious they actually were. The amount the Martins seemed to know about their daughter could fit in a thimble. Chester’s questioning seemed to imply that Summer was an innocent young girl and Bruce was just there to corrupt her.

At some point, a staff member came in and poured everyone drinks before disappearing again. After what felt like they’d been questioning forever, Chester looked at his watch. “Girls, can you check and see what’s taking the kitchen so long with lunch?”

Summer jumped to her feet and practically skipped from the room after kissing Bruce on the forehead. Dakota slouched after her. When they were out of earshot, Chester turned to Bruce.

“I am not having my daughter being dragged into your Avengers lifestyle. I know the kind of things Stark gets up to and I don’t want her life to be put in danger for associating with the likes of you,” Chester seethed. “When you leave here today, you will break up with her. You’ll let her down easy, but I don’t want to see you here again.”

Bruce’s heart started hammering in his chest, and he could feel the pulse in his ear and a shove from the Hulk in the back of his head. “E- excuse me?”

“You heard me. How dare you put my daughter in danger of being hurt by that thing inside you?” Chester snapped. “What is she doing with you anyway? She’s a straight-A student, she is above being corrupted by some lecherous middle-aged man. I won’t allow it.”

The hypocrisy was so thick that Bruce could almost taste it. Anger started bubbling up inside him and he couldn’t seem to get it under control. “Don’t you think Summer should get a say in this?”

“No. I don’t.” Chester said. “You will be breaking up with her. If you don’t there will be consequences. And if you think for a second I can’t make your life a living hell, you’re sadly mistaken.”

Bruce’s mind raced. Memories of how the press had treated him when he was on the run mixed with headlines about him hurting Summer. He couldn’t hear anything above the thud of his pulse in his ears. There was a shove from Hulk and he was sucked into the dark.

Hulk roared and swung his fist, shattering the coffee table in front of him. He wasn’t sure where he was exactly or what was wrong. There was no gunfire or explosions to point him at his target. All he knew was that Banner had been angry and scared and it was time for him to step in.

The couple in front of him was backing up against the wall, but the woman who looked so much like pretty Summer hand her hands up in placation. “Please don’t hurt us.”

Hulk huffed. Usually, when they were begging not to be hurt it was a pretty good sign they needed to be. The door crashed open behind him and he spun around and growled. In front of him was pretty Summer and he felt something in him relax a little. Behind her stood a younger girl with dark hair who looked both surprised and scared. He took two steps towards Summer, hoping she might have an answer to why Hulk was here.

“Big guy?” She said, a little confused. She put her hand on his arm and stepped around him, standing in front of him like she wanted to shield him. “What did you do to him?” She yelled.

“Us?” The old man argued. “Your boyfriend just turned into a monster and somehow that’s our fault.”

“Daddy!” Summer snapped. “I know you think I don’t know what you say to the people I bring home. But I do. I hoped you might not be stupid though. What did you say that upset him so much?”

“I told him to break up with you! You’re too good for him Summer! He’s older than your mother!” The man argued.

Summer took a deep breath and balled her hands into tiny fists. Hulk squared up behind her, breathing heavily. “Daddy, I love you, but you can be a huge asshole sometimes.” She turned to Hulk and touched his wrist. “Hey, you want to come outside with me. We have horses. I want to show you.”

Hulk smiled and wrapped his large hand around Summer’s tiny waist. As she led him out of the room, Summer stopped at the girl who was still looking at Hulk stunned. “Can you get some of Daddy’s clothes and bring them out to the stable?” She said quietly.

The girl nodded. “Yeah… yeah okay.”

“Thanks, Dakota,” Summer said and led Hulk outside.

He lumbered after beautiful Summer through the grounds. “I’m sorry about my dad. He can be a bit much.” She said.

“Hulk not mind. Hulk used to it.” He rumbled.

“You shouldn’t be used to it though. It’s mean. Did Bruce get really upset?” She asked.

Hulk nodded. “Puny Banner. Not like being questioned. Hulk here now.”

She led him into a stable and Hulk began to look at the horses. He always liked being around animals. Animals never judged him. The horses all let him pat them and feed them hay. Summer introduced him to each one and gradually Hulk calmed completely and was just enjoying that he got to spend some time with her.

The brown-haired girl showed up with her arms full of clothes. “You think this stuff will be okay?” She asked as she handed them over to Summer.

“Yeah, it’ll be fine. Thanks, Dee,” Summer said and put it on a bench. “Hey Big Guy, this is my sister Dakota. Dakota, this is the Hulk.”

Dakota raised her hand in a wave. “Nice to meet you.”

Hulk huffed and nodded his head.

“You’re not scared of him?” Dakota asked her sister.

Summer shook her head and patted Hulk’s hand. “He’s my friend. It’s nice getting to see him. I just wish it wasn’t because of something dad said.”

Dakota shrugged. “You should have seen him with the last guy I bought home. Didn’t even try and chase him off in private.”

Summer giggled. “I get he’s trying to protect us… I just…”

“Yeah…” Dakota agreed and looked up at Hulk. “Can you introduce me to Cap?”

Hulk furrowed his brow. “Don’t know.”

“Dakota, you’re 17! He’s over 100!” Summer yelped.

“Yeah, yeah. And he’s hot as fuck,” Dakota said.

Hulk could feel Bruce niggling at the back of his head and he huffed and put his hand on Summer’s back. “Banner want back. Hulk go.”

Summer leaned up and kissed Hulk’s cheek. “It was nice to see you.”

He nodded and stepped back and sunk back into the dark.

Bruce groaned and blinked around. “Summer?” He said, covering himself with his hands.

Summer grabbed the pile of clothes and gave them to him. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“Where are we?” Bruce asked.

“The stables. I thought it would be a good way to calm Hulk down,” she explained and looked at Dakota. “You think we can have some alone time?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Dakota said, looking Bruce up and down before spinning and heading back to the house.

“Did I hurt anyone?” Bruce asked as he started getting dressed.

“No, Brucie,” Summer said rubbing his back. “Just smashed a coffee table. But he can afford to replace it.”

“I’m sorry,” Bruce said with a sigh. He was starting to think maybe Chester was right after all. Anything could have happened and it would have been his fault.

“No, Bruce. I’m sorry for letting him talk to you like that. I shouldn’t have left you alone,” she said.

He paused as he buttoned up his pants. “Summer, this isn’t your fault.”

Summer wrapped her arms around his shoulders and nuzzled into his back. “I’m not stupid, Bruce. I know who my dad is. I try and keep him accountable, but he sees me as this… perfect little flower and he doesn’t really listen to anything I actually say. He’s still my dad though. I knew he probably wouldn’t like you. I knew I shouldn’t let him be alone with you. But … it seemed to be going okay. I slipped.”

Bruce turned and pulled her close. “You don’t have to protect me from that. I should be able to keep the anger under control.”

She leaned her forehead against his. “Hulk didn’t hurt anyone. I promise,” she said. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to go home to bed and start thinking of ways to pretend none of this ever happened,” Bruce said. “But we should probably go back inside. I can’t just run from people like that. Especially not when they’re your family. Because… I love you, Summer. I want you to be my family.”

Summer smiled. “What if… we go to my room first. We can do some of those things first,” she teased. “Besides. I wanted to show you my poster.”

Bruce smiled and kissed her nose. “That sounds really good.”

Summer led him back inside through the back door and upstairs to her bedroom. It was everything he’d hoped it would be. Everything was pink and floral. Shelves were littered with snow globes and ceramic unicorns. There was a twin bed with a white metal frame in the middle of the room with a garish pink, floral bedspread that looked like it came right out of the 1970s. Around the edge of the room acting as a kind of wallpaper-border, were pictures of various scientists, including, Nikola Tesla, Albert Einstein, Ada Lovelace, Alan Turing, and above her bed, a photograph of him.

“Look at that, you weren’t kidding, were you?” He said, looking around at the photos. “If you were so into science, why are you studying classics?”

Summer shrugged. “I liked the history about how the discoveries were made more. The lives of the people who made the grand discoveries. How Évariste Galois died in a duel. And the way Tesla was treated by Eddison. I still cry when I think about how Turing was treated,” she stepped over to Bruce and put her hands on his chest. “How Bruce Banner fell in love with some crazy redhead.”

Bruce chuckled. “I thought you were going to say something about the accident. Or being hunted. Or becoming an Avenger.”

Summer shook her head. “This bit is much more interesting.” She brought her lips to his and they kissed deeply. His arms circled around her and he pulled her tight against him and she began to unbutton his shirt. “Bruce,” she whispered. “I want you to fuck me so hard. Use me like he thinks you must be.”

Bruce choked on air. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, please,” she hummed, kissing just under his ear and pulled his shirt open.

He pulled back and looked at her, “I’ll do my best. With the Hulk out I might have to pull back though.” He said seriously.

“I understand, honey,” she said, smiling sweetly at him.

“Now, for me to feel okay about it, you need to be as quiet as you can. Okay, sweet one?”

“Yes, sir,” she whispered.

“Then take off those clothes and get on your knees.”

Summer pulled back and took off her jacket and blouse. She folded them in half and laid them over her desk. She slipped her shoes off and shimmied out of her pencil skirt. She was wearing a white lace bra with matching thong, a white garter belt and shimmering white stockings Bruce hummed as he looked her up and down and pulled out his cock.

“Look at you,” he growled softly as he pumped his cock. She bit her bottom lip and sunk to her knees in front of him, looking up at him with those clear blue eyes.

She ghosted her lips up his shaft and kitten licked along the slit. Bruce hardened fully and wrapped her hair in his hand. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, centering himself. When he let it out he looked down at her and pulled her hair. “Open wide, honey.”

Summer opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out. Bruce pushed his cock in past her lips and she closed them around him, engulfing his shaft in the warm, wet of her mouth. She sucked up and down his length with that perfect amount of pressure to send a shiver running up his spine. For a moment he just watched her and enjoyed the way that a dull tingle coiled up through him from his cock.

He pulled her hair back and looked down into her eyes. “Hold still, honey.”

Summer opened her mouth and Bruce began to thrust down her throat. “That’s it,” he purred. “Take it.”

She moaned and gripped his thighs, breathing through the assault on her throat but never gagging or choking. He brought himself right to the edge of orgasm with her mouth. His cock throbbed and his balls tightened, ready to release Just when he thought he’d gone too far, he let her go and pulled back. Summer fell to her hands and knees panting.

“Fuck,” she gasped. “That was so hot, Bruce.”

Bruce helped her to her feet and kissed the side of her neck. “You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. If it was hot, it was all you.”

She hummed, carding her fingers through his hair and making him purr softly as she unhooked his bra, tossing it aside. “Fuck me hard, Bruce,” she whispered against his ear.

“You be good and stay quiet,” he said and spanked her ass. He spun her around and bent her over the bed. He yanked her thong down, snapping the clasps of her garters as he pulled them down. He crouched as he dragged them down, kissing the insides of her thighs and nuzzling at her pussy. When he stood again he ground against her and palmed her cunt, massaging it and slipping his fingers between her folds. She mewled and wriggled against him, and he grabbed her thighs, tearing her stockings as he pulled her back flush against him.

“Please, Bruce,” Summer whined through clenched teeth. “I want your dick so bad.”

Bruce reached into his pants for his wallet and then remembered that these weren’t his clothes. “Damnit. Summer. I don’t have any protection.”

Summer gripped the sheets and groaned. “Have you been sleeping around?”

Bruce shook his head. “No. Just you.”

“You know you can if you want to,” she said.

“Are we really having this conversation right now?”

Summer started laughing. “Sorry. My last test came back clean and I’ve only been with you since. Cassie went down on me one time and I gave this guy I met at school a handjob, but I used a latex glove So if you want to...”

Bruce blinked and shook his head. “You’re on birth control?”

“Yes, sir,” she purred grinding her dripping cunt back against his cock.

Bruce took a few deep breaths, massaging her ass as he pictured how her cunt would feel as he fucked her raw. His chest rose and fell as he pushed Hulk back, the deep rumble of his primal need pushing against him. He gripped her hips and sunk deep into her.

She groaned and bit the quilt cover as she squeezed her pelvic floor around him, the warmth and wetness of her encompassing his shaft as it pressed down from every side. It was the first time he’d even attempted sex without protection since Betty before the accident and he’d forgotten how different it felt.

“God, Summer. You feel so good,” he groaned.

“Fuck me with that huge cock, Bruce,” she moaned in response.

He leaned over and started to rail into her. She cried out and gripped the sheets as he pounded into her, each thrust, pushed her twin bed across the room a little more. “Summer, quiet,” he growled, spanking her ass.

“Feels so good,” she mewled. “You’re gonna have to gag me.”

He grabbed her panties and shoved them in her mouth to muffle her cries, and she groaned and clenched around him. He picked up his pace, slamming into her and groaning as her cunt massaged his cock. She reached between her legs and rubbed her clit. It made her lose control completely. Her whole body clenched up and she cried out loudly as her cunt spasmed around Bruce’s cock.

“I’m close, Summer,” Bruce moaned. “Where do you want it.”

“Come on my tits, Bruce,” she begged. “Paint me with it.”

Bruce groaned, gritting his teeth as he pulled out. Summer slid off the bed, onto her knees and turned to face him, looking up at him as she squeezed her tits together. He pumped his cock quickly as he looked down at her, completely overcome by lust.

He grunted and released, painting her breasts with hot ropes of come. Summer hummed and ran her fingers through the mess. As he helped her back to her feet she stuck her fingers in her mouth and sucked them clean.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” Bruce said, pulling her into his arms. “With your parents downstairs and right after a Hulk out.”

“I’m a bad girl, Brucie,” she hummed, nuzzling at his neck. “You should punish me next time.”

“Maybe I will, you dirty thing,” Bruce said.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Did you want to get cleaned up and try having lunch with them?”

Bruce nodded. “Yeah. If they’re okay with me being here.”

She looked up at him and frowned a little. “I’m sorry he was like that. You don’t have to see them again if you don’t want to.”

He held her close to him. “No, Summer. I love you so much. I would spend every day with them if it meant I could be with you.”

// NEXT

#brucebannerbingo2019 #bruce banner #bruce banner x oc #hulk #hulk fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #she sets the city on fire #father knows best

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newagesispage · 3 years

Text

FEBRUARY 2021

PAGE RIB

The contents of someone’s bookcase are part of their history, like an ancestral portrait. –Umberto Eco

*****

The world is about to change with Biden and Harris in office. It is great to have Harris in there. More women in power is so important. Women don’t think with their dicks. I mean, a pussy likes to fuck just as much but we can also get some work done. Men are rarely as good at multitasking. The inauguration went off with high security after the Trump insurrection. 5 were killed as the traitors stormed the Capitol on Jan. 6 but Biden still became the President on the 20th. Hooray for Pastor Raphael Warnock and Jon Osoff in Georgia for taking the Senate. We are off to an interesting start with Merrick Garland nominated for AG.** Janet Yellen is the 78th US Treasury secretary and the first woman!**John Kerry is the envoy for climate and Pete Buttigieg is up for secretary of transportation. ** Biden reversed the ban on transgender troops, stopped the Muslim ban and signed many other executive orders.

*****

Kudos to Bill Maher for giving out his Baldy award and talking about Henry Waxman. And I was glad to see Waxman mention it and the many others who do the hard work, the real work of running this country.

*****

Elon Musk is now the world’s richest person.

*****

Did ya see the Wendy Williams night on Lifetime? I have known friends and family with her behavior, this complete lack of self- confidence and yet completely self -absorbed. Yes, she was married to a jack ass and she can be entertaining but whew.. high drama. I learned one thing.. Her Father and brother are HOT!!

*****

Neil Young sold stake in 50% of his song catalogue to Hipgnosis songs fund in Britain.

*****

John Mulaney is in rehab.

*****

The Little things with Jared Leto, Denzel and Rami Malek was tops at the Box Office.

*****

Olivia Wilde and Harry Styles?? Ooh la la!! What a beautiful couple!!

*****

Thank you Cleveland Browns for all the hope!!** And..C’mon Packers.. U should have won that!!** Seahawk Chad Wheeler was arrested for domestic abuse.

*****

Think before you speak, read before you think. –Fran Leibowitz

*****

The Zodiac killer cipher was solved by amateur codebreakers David Orandak in Virginia, Jarl Van Eycke in Belgium and Sam Blake in Australia more than 50 years later.

*****

Rebel with Katey Sagal looks pretty good.

*****

Richard Lewis will not be in season 11 of Curb due to his many surgeries. Miss ya Richard!!

*****

Elliot Page has filed for divorce from Emma Portner.

*****

In the ‘some things never go away’ category, there are new shows coming of V.C. Andrews and the Great Gatsby.

*****

Dylan McDermott is joining Christopher Meloni in Law and Order: Organized Crime.

*****

Cigarette sales are up.

*****

Crayola is recycling old markers at colorcycle. Never throw away markers again! Less Waste!

*****

Days alert: The big reveal FINALLY came on Days about Gwen from Peoria. She thinks she is Jack’s daughter! It looks like the DNA will prove it. The plot will thicken as Laura returns with a secret and bad things happen to her. Susan Banks is also back and gets in the middle of a couple of stories. I am always glad to see Ivan but unfortunately Vivian is close behind. The twins story should come to a head. Please don’t push Rafe and Nicole together!! Word is that Patch and Kayla will remarry on their old anniversary of Valentine’s Day!! Best of all, Ciara is back and has thoughts of Romeo and Juliet. Find her Ben, before you get close to Claire.

*****

Tom Brokaw has retired from NBC after 55 years. I remember when he retired from the news desk way back when.

*****

Ex- Chester county Sheriff Carolyn Welsh has been charged with stealing from a K-9 unit charity.

*****

Succession has added Sanaa Latham, Jihae and Linda Edmond.

*****

People are filling in for Robert Costa on Washington Week while he is off with Bob Woodward writing their book. Yamiche Alcindor was a great host!!!!

*****

Some last headlines and thoughts and facts about the end of the worst Presidency in our history. Let’s hope this is the last of the news about the Traitor in chief except for paying for his crimes. Unity does not mean there are no consequences for criminals. Make no mistake Trump and some of his followers are criminals. **Here are a few things I ran across: Vanilla Ice played Mar A Lago for NY Eve.** After the riot many rats started to jump ship like Elaine Chao, Hope Hicks and Betsy Devos. The American Federation of Teachers reaction to Betsy Devos resignation: “Good Riddance.”** Mo Brooks had told the crowd, “Take names and kick ass.” Plans for a Sen. Hawley book were scrapped.** Adam Kinzinger of Illinois was one of the first to call for the 25th amendment that never happened.** People are trying to get to the bottom of the Riot with questions like, “Who paid for the buses?” ** These types of people are the reason we can’t have nice things. ** Scary Clown is off Twitter for good. Funny how it took Senators, companies and voters so long, 2 weeks before he leaves office to make him a pariah. Trump was too dangerous for twitter but not for the nuclear codes?? ** To anyone complaining about a private media co. kicking Trump off their platform: Think of twitter as a Christian bakery and Trump as a wedding cake. _William Cusack**The riot proved that blue lives really don’t matter to them.** U.S. rep for Colorado Lauren Boebert was given $70,500 by Ted Cruz just as he asked for a probe into Netflix. Her husband, Jayson was arrested for exposing himself to a minor and for domestic abuse.** Trump was impeached again.** “Republican colleagues broke down in tears saying that Republicans are afraid for their lives if they vote for this impeachment.- Congressman Jason Crow.** Mike Pompeo cancelled his European trip after Luxemburg’s foreign minister and top European union officials declined to meet him.**232 was the number of votes to impeach him and the number of electoral vote in his loss to Biden.**Trump’s interior secretary had his own flag** Trumps EPA guy made super- secret phone calls in his own phone booth and had 24 hour security.** Toby Keith and Ricky Scaggs received the National medal of arts. ** The Supreme Court tossed out a lawsuit claiming that Trump violated the emoluments clause. ** Dominion voting systems sued Rudy.** Trumps impeachment lawyers, Butch Bowers and Deb Barbier quit. Word is that they refused to say the election was stolen. The new team seems to include Bruce Castor who would not prosecute Bill Cosby and Epstein’s would be lawyer David Schoen. That sounds about right.

*****

Hey Manson didn’t stab anyone. Incitement is a real crime. –Michael Mckean.

*****

ABC News President James Goldston has resigned.

*****

Everyone is talking about the SNL Krasinski/Davidson kiss.

*****

The NRA is bankrupt.

*****

Lenny Kravitz paid tribute to his Godmother, Cicely Tyson.

*****

Colbert could take a tip from Larry King. Ask simple direct questions and let the interviewee talk. We are watching to hear what they have to say. The beginning of the show is the host’s moment so shut up later!!

*****

R.I.P. Dan Dettman, Floyd Little, Pierre Cardin, Phyllis Mcguire, George Gerdes, Joan Micklin Silver, Carl Panzram, Gerry Marsden, Tanya Roberts, Kerry Vincent, KT Oslin, Tommy Lasorda, Michael Apted, Dave Creek, Jamie O’Hara, Dr. H. Jack Geiger, William Link, Neil Shehan, Joanne Rogers, Duke Bootee, Phil Spector, Don Sutton, Siegfried, Sheldon Adelson, Larry King, Ved Mehta, Bruce Kirby, Cicely Tyson and Cloris Leachman.

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brightingales · 5 years

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I have a feeling that this fic may be polarizing, but whatever ;)

Written for @happyjarryholidays . Prompt: Green: Nature, Growth, Envy...

Summary: James builds a nursery for Isaac.

They agree to take things slowly.

It’s for James’s benefit, as much as his own, but Harry can’t help but notice how every meeting between the two of them has been carefully constructed to make Harry feel as comfortable as possible. Their dates are only even held in public places – The Bean, The Hutch, The Dog – with Harry acutely aware of the eyes watching them, waiting to step in should James put so much of a toe out of line. Conversation topics have been selected beforehand and James always seems to be sticking to a safe script of questions to ask Harry. They talk about films (always a shared love, even if their tastes remain wildly different), music, the food, their families… James even asks him about the football season and how well Harry’s team is doing. He’s making a real effort, and it shows.

Harry can’t decide if he’s annoyed or oddly charmed by James’s insistence that they date to a formula. He almost feels like they’re a courting couple in a Restoration romance like in the novels that James hides under the bed. They can’t go anywhere without a chaperone. They can’t stay out past eleven pm. They can’t touch bare skin above the wrist… It’s frustrating, and frankly upsetting, to Harry who genuinely meant it when he said, ‘I want things to go back to the way they were between us.’ But James has always been feet-first when it comes to Harry, and the restraint he is showing now only proves how much he wants to repair the damage he wrought.

So, they date – outside and in the open so that anyone can intervene the moment Harry feels even the slightest bit uncomfortable. He doesn’t. He might be mad, but he doesn’t.

It takes him a few weeks to persuade James to take him back to the flat. James eventually relents but makes a big show of ensuring that either Marnie or Romeo is there. Harry makes an equally big show of saying how much he misses being home and how he wants to be alone with James and how it’s funny that James is being so cautious with him when Harry is a big boy who can make his own decisions.

“It’s not just you though – is it?” James says quietly, hiding his ashamed eyes in his wine glass.

He’s got a point. There’s Isaac to think of now.

While Harry would never push James into something that he is uncomfortable with, he also knows that James’s self-deprecating nature will probably make him think that he’s made way less progress with his therapist than Harry knows he has. And Harry knows – because he and James talk about it. ‘My therapist says’ is one of those safe topics of conversation, though Harry can see James’s internal wince every time he says it. So, Harry encourages him as best he can without making it seem like he’s pushing too hard to force their relationship back on track. He texts James every day so that he knows Harry is thinking of him. He sends pictures of Isaac being cute so that James feels like part of his life too. He makes sure that James knows that the reason Harry schedules their dates so early in the day is so that they can spend as much of their time together. Each action is a crack in James’s armour, a balm on the wound, a look filled with hope.

Harry has made his choice. It’s James – it will always be James. Now James just needs to make his.

He’s a bit surprised when James asks him around one afternoon. The flat has become their after-date sanctuary and James very rarely asks him to meet there.

“I’ve got something to show you,” James explains.

Romeo and Marnie are there, of course, but when James leads him through the flat and towards the stairs, they do not follow. Instead, they hold hot mugs of coffee to their lips and smile at him through the steam.

He doesn’t dare hope that James is leading him back to their bedroom – that they’ll finally be able to shut the world out and just be with one another again. But James passes the door and reaches instead for the handle of the spare room.

The first thing Harry notices is the smell of wet paint. The windows are thrown wide open, but the acidic tinge is still lingering in the air. The walls are painted a soothing colour of mint green – the same shade as the walls of the corridor. Green is James’s favourite colour, so this is hardly surprising, but it looks to Harry that he’s just used leftover paint rather than choosing something new. Whatever James has done – it was done in a hurry.

Breathing through the paint fumes, Harry turns his attention to the furniture. If he had any doubts about this room and what its purpose is, they are quickly dispelled.

Taking pride-of-place in the middle of the room is a beautiful, white crib.

Harry’s brain takes a moment to process what is going on around him. In the corner of the room is a large dresser. A baby changing station is set up on top of it and Harry just knows that if he were to open the drawers, he would find many sets of miniature clothes all waiting to be put onto Isaac’s squirmy little body. In another corner, there are shelves of books and small knick-knacks that must have taken ages to collect. And pushed against the side of the room is a big squishy sofa with a soft fleece thrown over.

Harry goes to the crib. Above it hangs a mobile of different brightly coloured shapes. Most of these things that Harry has seen before (indeed the one that hangs over Isaac’s crime in his room at his dad’s place) are quite cheesy and tacky – with smiling cartoon characters made of obnoxiously coloured plastic. But James has managed to find a baby’s mobile that wouldn’t look out of place in one of those modern art galleries that James was always threatening to take him to. It looks like the sort of thing a parent who expects their child to become an architect would buy. Harry wonders if James had a similar motive when he bought it and his heart leaps at the idea that James might have thought about Isaac’s future and his own place in it.

Obviously, he has. Why else would he have made this nursery?

While the mobile is structural and classy, there is one cartoon animal to be found. Tucked inside the crib is a cuddly-toy lemur.

James must see Harry staring at it because he nervously coughs and says, “I remember you saying that some baby lemurs had been born at Chester zoon. I had planned to take you to go and see them on a weekend out, but then, everything happened… and I…”

He steps forward from where he’s been standing aside letting Harry explore the room, and fishes the toy out of the crib, holding it against his chest. The gesture makes James look so small and lost and vulnerable that Harry doesn’t know how he could ever have doubted his love for this man.

“I thought,” James continues, “that Isaac might inherit your love for small primates. I went up to the zoo on my own, and got this for him from the gift-shop.”

“James, this is… I don’t know what to say…” Harry can’t quite get his voice above a whisper.

“You don’t like it?”

“No. James, I love it!”

Looking at the way James is clutching the toy lemur to his chest makes him feel oddly envious. He wants to be the one that James is holding like that. So, he carefully takes the toy from him, takes James’s hands, and winds them around his own waist. More than anything that has happened today, standing here in a nursery that the man he loves has built for his son, finally being back in James’s arms is the thing that makes him feel most at home.

There’s so much to talk about, so after a few moments of simply standing together, swaying slightly with the force of their own heartbeats, Harry manoeuvres them so that they sink down onto the comfy sofa. Except, after a moment or two, Harry realises that it’s not quite as comfortable as he had expected. He sifts around a bit trying to find a position where he can both wrap himself around James and not have part of the sofa sticking into his back.

James notices his discomfort; “Sofa-beds are never as comfortable as the real thing; I’m sorry.”

“This is a sofa-bed?”

It’s James’s turn to shit around now, turning himself so that he can look Harry directly in the eye.

“I know I destroyed any trust that there was between us. And I still can’t quite believe that you’re willing to give us another chance. I don’t want you to ever feel like you are unsafe with me, but I know I have no right to ask you to trust me like that again. So, the sofa bed is here. If you want to stay over then you have this place, this space, just for you. And Isaac of course.”

Harry chooses his next words carefully.

“I know that you don’t think that you have made enough progress. But I can already see just how much you have grown.” He cups James’s face in his palms. “You’ve made space for me and Isaac in your life and you’ve tried so hard to make sure that we’re both comfortable and safe. I love you, James.”

“I love you too,” James replies. “I just don’t know if I can trust myself again.”

“That’s ok – I’ve got enough trust for the both of us. For the three of us, even.”

He leans up slightly so that he can press a small kiss to James’s lips. When he pulls back, James’s green eyes shine with tears. And underneath that – hope.

#jarry #fanfic #i feel like that gif of a guy trying to patch a massive hole in the wall with duct tape...

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arecomicsevengood · 4 years

Text

Is This How I See Jaime?

Objectively speaking, I am not that old. Still there’s no getting past the fact that I am getting older every day, like everybody else. I might not be at the point where my body betrays my age, where I ache all the time and grunt when I stand, but my mind still carries with it the weight of decades of lived experience, and this can at any moment make me want to lie down.

There are few artists that capture the feeling of aging quite like Jaime Hernandez. Partly this is because of his working method. No one else does what he does, making serialized comics for close to forty years, that tell stories with the same characters. These are not truly STORIES, utilizing flashbacks that provide crucial context to events and create literary effects, even as the overall narrative they tell moves forward in time and builds an attachment between reader and character comparable to long-running television series. Still, when broken up into serialized installments in issues of Love And Rockets, it can frequently feel like nothing is happening. Often, what you get in an individual issue is around fifteen pages, split between multiple pieces focused on different characters. These fragments are focused, compressed in a manner closer to cinema than television, but you’re still only getting what might amount to three to five minutes depicted on-screen. With a few exceptions, what you get in an issue is not a complete short story with a beginning, middle, and end. For all the influence the Hernandez Brothers have had on alternative comics, reading the people they’ve influenced will not prepare you for how much Love And Rockets is modeled off of serialized comics, and how much of its power it draws from continuity and extended engagement.

This pacing demands a certain level of expectation-free interaction, which is crucial to deep relationships. It’s worth noting Jaime’s strips run alongside his brother Gilbert’s work, which is similar in some ways, but by no means the same. Gilbert’s body of work is a lot more complicated, due in part to how prolific he is, the meta/self-referential/self-deconstructive elements of the stories he’s telling, and also how he draws tits like Mark Newgarden draws noses, that just keep getting larger. He deserves a deep critical reading, but I don’t have the energy, money, or time to keep up with him. Running the two brothers’ work side by side makes Love And Rockets implicitly about family, which then in turn becomes a subject each cartoonist explicitly makes work about. And not just “chosen” family, but the actual people who’ve known you your entire life. Which is, inherently, a concept which both means more the older you get, and remains somewhat alienating. As a reader, it helps to be prepared to extend to Love And Rockets the goodwill one would a family member, to begin to get on its level.

On a superficial level, making work about family seems somewhat conservative and nostalgic. That’s not to suggest it’s not valuable, or worth fighting for. There’s just a certain adjustment of values or attitudes a reader needs to make to get on board with the work, that might be at odds with the punk rock alternative comics reputation that precedes it. The comics themselves are built on a formal language of cartooning that’s older and out of fashion: Sixties Ditko comics, Lil Archie, Dennis The Menace Goes To Mexico. This adds to a feeling of being about aging in a way younger art cartoonists inspired by their same-age immediate peers can’t get to. For instance, I love Olivier Schrauwen, and I can see the influence Yuichi Yokoyama has on his work, and I view the two of them as peers in dialogue, creating the future of comics, which creates a totally different reading experience than I get reading work that feels more in dialogue with the past. The formal choices of the Hernandez brothers, including that their work appears for the first time in serialized comic book formats, calls conscious attention to history. Consciousness of the past hurts, and this truth is a huge element of the plots and themes of Jaime’s work.

It’s the sheer graphic strength of Jaime’s drawing that enables it to stick in the memory. He’s able to capture a tiny gesture and render it iconic through use of line and spotted blacks. The precision he brings his images gives them a certain ease of recall. This is the crux of a two-page spread at the climax of The Love Bunglers where, as a bunch of different stories and images are recalled, now rendered at different angles, they’re all there in your consciousness, in a mix of your memories of the comic and your memories of your own individual life. It’s a hugely cathartic climax.

However, both Gilbert and Jaime have this aspect to what they do that can easily frustrate a reader, and it is seemingly inextricable from the core of their power: Once a point is reached where you can easily follow along, and a satisfying conclusion to a story occurs, the next several issues will completely destabilize that and you will again not know what exactly is going on. For instance, if you read the Perla La Loca collection, collecting the “Wigwam Bam” and “Chester Square” graphic novels, by the end of it, you will have a very exciting experience that should convince you Jaime Hernandez is one of the greatest cartoonists in the world. Reading the Penny Century collection of the work that followed, plenty of stories will leave you feeling like he lost his touch, or is spinning his wheels. At the end of the book, and the “Everybody Loves Me Baby” story, you’re knocked flat on your ass again, but if you had read the original comic books as they came out, who knows if you would’ve stuck it out that long.

This, by the way, is one of the most realistic things there is. Life’s “things just keep happening” quality will fuck you up time and again. While I haven’t given up on life just yet, I have stopped reading Love And Rockets a few times. I’m not the sort of reader who sticks with a series out of inertia. I have always been hyper-aware of the value of my comic-book buying dollar, and therefore pretty fickle. If I read two issues straight of a comic that feels like it’s treading water, I would be done with it. I’ve gone back and picked up things after the fact and filled in gaps, or I’ve switched to reading trade collections checked out from the library. I bought the first two issues of the recently relaunched Love And Rockets volume 4 in one go, realized that it was continuing stories from Love And Rockets: New Stories, and didn’t go back for more, put off by the stories’ continuation from the previous volume.

It’s only now, with the release of Is This How You See Me and Tonta, that I am reading the stories that followed up The Love Bunglers in a complete form. They blew me away. The effects Jaime’s going for at any given moment may be subtle, but they accumulate, and this accumulation then becomes the true effect, and why I analogize it to aging: There’s this sheer weight that results from how things just continue to happen, and each time they hit you with what feels like more force, even as the moments themselves are minor ones. This is a true-to-life feeling that is very hard to capture. It’s present in the relentless pace of Charlie Kaufman’s masterpiece Synecdoche, New York, but that is a movie too intense to rewatch for many. Jaime’s work is built around you returning to it, which means it has to be somewhat inviting, and include levity.

Is This How You See Me focuses on the characters of Maggie and Hopey, introduced in 1981 as teenagers, now presumably in their mid-fifties, happily married to other people but still weighing the possibility of cheating with their ex. The characters return to a “punk rock reunion” in their hometown, to reminisce on the past with old friends, and old characters we haven’t seen in years appear, visibly older than when they were last drawn, but still recognizably themselves. This plot lends the comic some elements of nostalgic fan-service that I intellectually feel an aversion to. It feels almost like the plot is designed transparently for those purposes. Bringing back old characters would strike me as a crass project in the pages of X-Men or Legion Of Super-Heroes, but the naturalism of Jaime’s approach means that it allows him to show me things I legitimately haven’t seen in a comic book before. It’s probable they’ve been in movies or books, but I would argue they work better in comics.

For instance, there’s a scene where the reunited cast are showing each other photos on their phones. This is a normal thing people do, and so surely it has been depicted in a film. But in a comic, there’s this weird meta element to it. Smartphones have text message conversations appear in little word balloons, right? The word balloon being a technique comics used to depict speech, as part of their normal communication system of images. Then, when interacting in physical space, people show pictures to each other, using this device they usually use for the mimesis of speech over distances, but they’re communicating using pictures to show what their life is like. Which is what the comic itself is doing more generally. So, there’s there’s this semiotic quality to the gesture of the outstretched hand with phone in it which feels really profound when depicted in comics, while it would feel sort of stupid and uncinematic in a movie, where the aging theater audience would have to squint and ask their neighbor what is being shown in the text message they’re seeing on screen.

Similarly, we see the married couple of Maggie and Ray, separated from each other for the length of the weekend, fretting over how much they should be in communication, drafting texts and deleting them. There’s an intimacy people who live with each other share, where much of what they encounter apart from the other person they want to talk to them about, because to be close to another person is to have them in some ways always present inside your head. Depicting the writing of a text, and then the decision to delete it, captures both the intimacy of a couple and the intimacy of one’s own private thoughts, in a way that only a form with the intimacy of a comic is able to depict effectively. Prose alone can’t capture the fluctuations of posture and self-presentation which is the heart of deleting a draft.

Concern for one’s image is depicted as well in the title pages to individual chapters, showing characters taking pictures of themselves in mirrors with their phones. These pages seem to depict not so much the cultivated selfie but the self-awareness of the drafting process, the titles above them taking on a certain poetry, built around the words spoken to oneself unconsciously that are the opposite of the language one chooses to send in a message to convey a precise thought.

This stuff really impressed me, and it all fits within a language of small gestures. While there are tons of books that are about how connection works in the digital age, it also always feels like that stuff is a commentary on how young people live. I’m not sure I’ve seen anything as interested in how people in middle age use these devices. Of course, it’s possible examples exist in work targeted to older audiences, and I just missed it because it wasn’t marketed to me.

It was actually Jaime’s other 2019 book, Tonta, that spoke to me more. Here, the aging the book is about is a coming-of-age thing about a high school student, and the book has this spirited youthful quality to it from the outset. While other, darker, plot elements unfold as it goes on, what was interesting to me is that the noir-like narrative that exists as a counterpoint in the finished book might not have even seemed part of the same story to a reader of Love And Rockets, where the character nicknamed Tonta just sort of suddenly emerged. There’s even a few pages in this collection given over to narration by Ray, who otherwise doesn’t appear in the book. These elements don’t seem dissonant or like they don’t belong. It just makes the book itself feel loose, like it feels as free and exploratory as a teenager looking for something to do. Placed together inside a book, the disparate threads become united by having a main character to pay attention to how developments of the plot affect her. The book has a real tonal arc as it unfolds, and the way the book gets you in its grip from such a goofy start seems to replicate how the stories about the Maggie character developed over time, here captured in miniature.

The sum of these two books will at some point only be a portion of a future volume of the Love And Rockets library, the formatting of the Perla La Loca and Penny Century books I mentioned earlier. There are portions from recent issues of Love And Rockets that are natural continuations and codas from these books, and what tapestries these fragments will be woven into is unknown to me. Another gutpunch could be just around the corner or years in the offing. There’s really no way to know what the future holds.

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wotringmevivianbf70insuranc-blog · 5 years

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earlyandoftenpodcast · 5 years

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(The oldest surviving courthouse in America, in Chester County, Pennsylvania)

The Quakers continue their struggle for self-rule against William Penn, now aging and ailing. Also, a promising young man by the name of Franklin makes his debut in Philadelphia.

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Hello, and welcome to Early and Often: The History of Elections in America. Episode 38: The Long Death of William Penn.

Last time, we discussed the history of Pennsylvania from the 1680s to the early 1700s. During this time, William Penn, the proprietor of Pennsylvania, was stuck in England thanks to various legal troubles. It didn’t take long for a local political elite to form, composed of men who were actually in the colony and able to wield direct influence. This group, which I’ve been calling the elite Quakers, very quickly claimed a lot of power for themselves at the expense of William Penn, who wasn’t in a position to do anything about it.

The elite Quakers were so successful, in fact, that an opposition faction emerged within just a few years, composed primarily of middle class Quakers who feared that they were about to be shut out of politics. This group I’ve been calling the middling Quakers. From the 1690s onward, they were led by a Welsh lawyer named David Lloyd, one of the few men in the colony who was both popular enough to win support and talented enough to use that support effectively.

Pennsylvania had become a hotbed of factionalism in record time, despite the supposed pacifism of the Quakers.

William Penn finally managed to get back to Pennsylvania for a few years around 1700, but he found a colony which was already outgrowing him. His influence was greatly reduced, and he mostly had to do what the Assembly wanted him to do. They forced him to agree to a constitution which made them, the Assembly, supreme. The Council lost its position as upper house of the legislature, making Pennsylvania unicameral. Thoroughly disheartened by his ungrateful colonists and by his constant legal and financial troubles, Penn soon returned to England. The government was once again trying to take Pennsylvania away from him.

So that’s where we left off. Today, I want to do two things. Firstly, I want to take us through the next two and a half decades of Pennsylvania history, during which time the conflict between the elite and middling Quakers will reach a crescendo. And secondly, I want to introduce a young man who will be of great importance to our story going forward, Benjamin Franklin. Perhaps you've heard of him.

Let's get going.

So Penn was back in England to defend his claim to Pennsylvania. Once again he was successful in doing do, but all of these struggles were taking their toll. He’d labored for decades on behalf of his colony, and all he had to show for it was a mountain of debt and endless legal headaches. Plus he was getting old. So he began to consider whether or not he should sell Pennsylvania to the Queen. That way at least he might get something for all his troubles. Better that than having the colony taken outright, which was still a risk.

So he began negotiations with the Crown. However, the talks never went anywhere, since some of the conditions Penn set were unacceptable to the Board of Trade. So things just sort of stumbled along for the rest of the decade without ever reaching a conclusion. In fact, it may have been more of a delaying tactic. Penn may not have ever seriously considered selling Pennsylvania, he may have just wanted to discourage Parliament taking it over by force. Pretend you’re interested and then just string them along for as long as possible.

But although the negotiations never went anywhere, people at the time didn’t know that that’s how it would work out. For all they knew, word might come at anytime that Pennsylvania had been sold. Within Pennsylvania itself, most people kind of assumed that it would become a royal colony sooner or later. That further undermined William Penn’s control. People didn’t think he’d be in charge much longer, and so they didn’t pay him much heed.

And that was on top of all the other reasons Penn had already lost control. He still supported unpopular policies. Not only that, the men he sent to Pennsylvania to represent his interests were all incompetent at best, actively hostile to him at worst, with one notable exception.

Let me give you one amusing example of incompetence. In 1706 the governor was a man named John Evans, who was hotheaded and young, only 28 at the time. Evans had grown frustrated with the colony’s continuing unwillingness to create a militia, and so he decided to teach them all a lesson, to show them how defenseless their pacifism had left them. He decided to fake an invasion.

He had some men ride up to Philadelphia one morning, warning that a French fleet had begun sailing up the Delaware, laying waste to the towns on the coast. And soon, they’d be in Philadelphia itself. The governor then rode around town, raising the alarm and rallying the colonists to defend themselves. I’ll quote the historian Gary B. Nash to describe what happened next. “The wildest disorder followed: powder was dealt out, two apprentices blew themselves up in their eagerness to initiate action, women miscarried, shopkeepers threw their goods into wells or hastily buried them in the ground, younger Quakers inexplicably found themselves shouldering arms and digging in for the fight, while other Friends, fleeing town, trembled at the shouts of Anglicans, who flung out warnings that under the circumstances Quakers and Frenchmen would make equally attractive targets.”

And then, when night fell, they discovered it was all some big prank. But the lesson they learned was not that Pennsylvania was defenseless, it was that the governor was a reckless idiot.

That’s the most dramatic example of incompetence from Penn's representatives, but I assure you there’s more where that came from.

Since the proprietary faction was busy embarrassing itself, the anti-proprietary faction, under the leadership of David Lloyd, remained dominant. As I already mentioned, the anti-proprietary faction was primarily composed of middling Quakers, while the elite Quakers had shifted over to the proprietary faction. Or at least, they were less anti-proprietary than the middling Quakers were, since no one in Pennsylvania was entirely for the proprietorship.

Those were the two main factions, but there were other, smaller groups as well, non-Quaker immigrants who were coming to the colony now that the initial wave of Quaker migration had dried up. In particular, many immigrants were Anglicans, who naturally opposed the Quakers and tried to undermine Quaker control of Pennsylvania. They actively tried to make the government less effective, in order to discredit the Quakers and increase the odds of another royal takeover, which would likely put them in charge.

For example, I've already discussed how Quaker pacifism caused problems during times of war, so you might naturally assume that it was the Quakers who did the most to keep the government from contributing to the war effort, but that wasn't the case. The Quakers had come up with a compromise position in which they would give a sum of money to the Crown without specifying what for. They knew that much of it would go to fighting the war, but they still felt that their hands were clean. In fact, it was often the Anglicans who did the most to keep Pennsylvania from supporting the war effort. That way, the colony would look bad to officials in London. And presumably the Quakers would take the blame, not them.

So to some extent, this aligned the Anglicans with the anti-proprietary faction, at least some of the time, since they shared an interest in embarrassing William Penn, but otherwise their aims were quite divergent.

In any case, it was the anti-proprietary, middling Quaker faction which remained in power. Over a decade they won control of the Assembly in all but two elections, and David Lloyd served as speaker for most of the first decade of the 1700s. The speaker being the top guy in the Assembly.

Under Lloyd, the Assembly became more powerful and more professionalized. I won’t get into all the details, since I’ve covered similar transformations in the other colonial legislatures. But procedures were regularized, delegates gained experience over time, the Assembly developed an institutional history of its own, and so on. In fact, Pennsylvania’s Assembly fast became one of the most powerful legislatures in the colonies. The proprietor was absent, the governors were weak, and there was no upper house to contend with.

And Lloyd didn't just try to strengthen the Assembly, he also tried to increase local autonomy wherever he could, although he only had mixed success, since William Penn was still able to veto legislation. So whenever Lloyd proposed some big bill to take control of the courts away from Penn, or to make the city of Philadelphia much more autonomous, that failed.

What did work was the gradual shifting of more and more offices from being appointed to being elected. For example, some positions, such as sheriff, were supposed to be chosen by a mixture of election and appointment. The freeholders in each county would vote, and then Penn or his governor would chose the winner from among the top two vote-getters. But in practice the offices became purely elective: whoever got the most votes always won.

And from the 1690s onwards the Assembly created more and more positions which were elected. In particular jobs such as assessor and county commissioner, which had to do with collecting taxes. As always, taxes were a super important issue for Americans. If you had the money, you had the power.

These local elections also enhanced local power in a more roundabout way, by increasing the number of men in local government, who could then make the leap to joining the Assembly. More men had experience as politicians, and that helped them win higher office. And thus, the Assembly's membership became more capable as time went on, thanks to the training provided by local elections.

So that, in a nutshell, is how Pennsylvania spent the first decade of the 1700s. The anti-proprietary faction was slowly increasing local authority, but David Lloyd's attempts to make bigger power grabs had failed. By the end of the decade, Lloyd was feeling stymied. He apparently thought that his political program hadn't been sufficiently successful, that he should have been able to get more done.

And so he turned his wrath on those he felt were responsible, in particular an official named James Logan. Logan wasn’t the governor, but he was one of Penn’s top men in the colony. In fact, from everything I’ve read, it sounds like Logan was virtually the only person in the colony effectively defending proprietary interests. He stayed loyal and he knew what he was doing, even if he did have an arrogant, off-putting demeanor. That made him Lloyd’s biggest enemy and by the end of the decade they were openly attacking each other.

In 1709, Logan announced that he was sailing back to England. Lloyd and the anti-proprietary faction were fearful that he would give a one-sided account of what was going on to William Penn. So they demanded that Logan provide evidence for the accusations he was making against them. When Logan refused, they tried to have him impeached. When the impeachment failed, they tried to have him arrested, but that failed as well, thanks to an intervention by the governor. Eventually, Logan sailed away undaunted.

But apparently Lloyd had gone too far in his attacks on proprietary authority. It wasn't just that he had gone after Logan so aggressively. It was that his war against William Penn had led to the neglect of routine government business. He had been so focused on increasing self-government that he hadn’t actually governed. Thanks to his frequent standoffs with the proprietorship he often failed to pass routine legislation necessary for the government to function properly. The people were fine with his attacks on the proprietorship, but only when it was actually benefiting them. Otherwise what was the point?

So the people were getting fed up with Lloyd. And the elite Quaker faction was finally regaining its footing, after a decade of ineffectiveness. And so in the elections that next year, 1710, there was a complete turnover in government. The elite Quakers took total control of the Assembly. Even Lloyd lost his seat.

And because the elite Quakers were much more willing to work with Penn instead of being confrontational all the time, they managed to pass a lot of important new bills, breaking the logjam. Thanks to this success, the elite Quakers wound up dominating politics in the 1710s much as the middling Quakers had in the previous decade.

You might think that this would be good news for William Penn, and I suppose it was, but sadly for him, it was too little too late. He had bigger problems now. He had spent most of 1708 in a debtor’s prison. In 1711 and 1712 he had two strokes which left him incapacitated, eventually unable to speak. His second wife, Hannah took control of his estate. Penn had had a son by his first wife, but he was a disappointing lout who wasn’t fit to inherit. He had had other children with Hannah, but they weren’t yet adults. And so the estate fell into Hannah’s hands.

William Penn wasn't dead yet, but as far as Pennsylvania was concerned, he might as well have been. Most everyone assumed that a royal takeover was finally at hand. As a result of this false certainty, the men who were serving as governors at this time were in a weird position. They thought that their employer was about to die and be replaced.

If that happened, then there was a very good chance that they would lose their positions to some royal appointee. In an attempt to head this off, the governors began distancing themselves from Penn and the Quakers. Instead they tried to ingratiate themselves with the leading Anglicans in the colony, in the hopes that if the king took over, they would keep their jobs.

One governor, a man named Charles Gookin, had a complete falling out with the Quakers in government. He ignored the advice of the Council and even shut down the Assembly on his own authority. After a few years in power, he was virtually ruling on his own. But it didn't work, and he was soon removed from office, after word reached England of his behavior.

In 1718 Penn finally died, still in debt. He was, without a doubt one of the most important men in the history of colonial America. He'd created a whole new colony almost out of thin air. That gives him a unique place in history. Most of the other colonies were joint ventures. Almost no one had such an influence on an individual level, other than maybe some of the monarchs. But that being said, once Pennsylvania had been created and once the Quakers started moving in, his influence had dropped precipitously. It's hard to think of a less effective ruler. Much of that was thanks to events beyond his control, but it's still undeniable. Pennsylvania slipped from his grasp within a few years.

Even its status as a Quaker refuge faded away over time, as we'll see. By the end of the colonial period, the Quakers were a tiny, almost powerless minority. What Pennsylvania became – mercantile, diverse both ethnically and religiously – was not at all what Penn had intended. Pennsylvania become American, not Quaker.

Penn's legacy is a curious one. He's super important, even though in the end nothing went his way. All his (genuine) good intentions came to nothing. His colony didn't turn out like he intended, and he ended his life as a sad debtor, forgotten by the colonists he'd done so much for. Every grand scheme for American colonization failed in the end, but his more rapidly than most.

So rest in peace William Penn. Your heart was in the right place and you got nothing but grief for it.

Back to the narrative.

The year before Penn’s death, in 1717, Hannah appointed as governor a man named William Keith, no relation to George Keith the religious agitator I discussed last time. Her hope was that he would just keep things going for the time being. At first, he seemed like a good choice. He fixed the problems which had been left by his predecessor, he reformed the judicial system, and he was generally respected within Pennsylvania.

However, in 1721 there was an economic crisis, prompted by the bursting of the South Sea Bubble in England. This created a divide within the colony over whether or not to print more paper money. The middling Quakers said yes, while the elite Quakers said no. A very similar divide to the one in New England. The Penn family also said no, since printing money would lower the value of the revenue they were taking in from the colony.

Governor Keith, however, came out in favor of printing more money, against the interests of the Penn family. There are a few possible reasons for this. Firstly, maybe he just thought it was a good idea. Or perhaps he was trying to curry favor with England. English officials weren't exactly in favor of paper money either, but at least he was breaking with the Penn family. Thirdly, maybe he was trying to win favor with Pennsylvanians themselves, in hopes of carving out an independent political career in the colony should he get removed from office. Maybe it was all three at once, I'm not really sure. Either way he was definitely freelancing.

In support of the idea that he was trying to win favor in London, we can look at the faction he created to support his efforts. This was not exactly Lloyd's old coalition of middling Quakers. Instead, Keith tried to appeal to more recent immigrants. In particular, Germans and Anglicans. And by appealing to the Anglicans, Keith was of course also appealing to London.

Keith pushed to have German immigrants naturalized immediately upon arrival, so that they could vote for him. He removed his opponents from office and replaced them with his own men, who were often Anglicans.

And beyond these specific ethno-religious appeals, he also did all of the electioneering things which were standard for the time. He formed caucuses to nominate candidates. He handed out preprinted ballots. He engaged in pamphleteering. After the 1726 election he led a big parade of 80 men on horseback and plenty more on foot. He created two political clubs in which his supporters could meet, one for his high class supporters, and one for everyone else. He came up with a political program beyond just issuing paper money, with policies designed in particular to appeal to the debtors in the colony who'd been hurt by the economic crash. All very similar to the techniques we've heard about elsewhere.

However, this by itself was insufficient. The number of non-Quakers was growing, but there were still plenty of Quakers in the colony. So, Keith needed the support of the middling Quakers as well. That would give him enough religious and geographic diversity to win for sure.

Now, David Lloyd had been semi-retired from politics after his losses in the previous decade, but to cut a long story short he came back and formed an alliance with Governor Keith. By joining their two factions together, they could absolutely dominate Pennsylvania. And indeed in the 1721 election they managed to take control of the Assembly back from the elite Quakers.

However, this was an uneasy alliance. Both men were against the proprietorship, but they were also rivals to each other. Each had their own base of support, and each one wanted to be the leading figure within this broader coalition. But for a few years things held together and the Keith-Lloyd alliance prevailed.

As a result, politics once again became more chaotic, after the relative calm of the last decade. The proprietary faction feared that they were opening the door to mob rule, and not entirely without reason. There were a few riots. After the 1726 election a mob in Philadelphia burned the pillory and stocks – you know, where they'd lock up criminals in the middle of the town square for public humiliation. Unsurprisingly the pillory and stocks were seen as symbols of authority. So there was a bit of disorder, but that was the worst of it. It wasn't like there was bloodshed.

And in any case, the Keith-Lloyd alliance was already breaking down. James Logan, the one reliable friend the Penn family had, had returned to England to inform them of what the governor was up to. Therefore, Hannah Penn removed Keith from office.

However, Keith had been building a base of support within the colony, and he intended to use it. So he decided to run for a seat in the Assembly and challenge David Lloyd for leadership of the anti-proprietary faction. Keith won the election, but he failed to displace Lloyd as leader. Keith may have had some support, but it was nothing compared to Lloyd's. Lloyd had been a leader in the colony for decades, and he had the backing of the Quaker masses, while Keith's support was far more limited. It was probably always a hopeless attempt.

Keith remained in the Assembly, but he was now mostly powerless. After two years he decided to cut his losses and return to England. And so the Keith-Lloyd alliance had become just Lloyd again. Keith’s political clubs were closed, his supporters lost their seats in the Assembly, and things went back to the way they were before. If anything, things became calmer. The new governor sent to replace Keith proved to be friendly to David Lloyd and his faction, perhaps just out of necessity, since he was going to have to defer to them if he wanted to get anything done.

And so, in the end, Lloyd had won. His quest for local autonomy had been mostly successful, and now it was the Assembly who called the shots, not the proprietor or the governor.

Lloyd retired from the Assembly just a few years later, in 1729, and he died two years after that, at the age of about 75. He had become the most important person in Pennsylvania, outshining even William Penn himself. But although Lloyd had more power, in the long run I think that Penn was more important. Without Penn, Pennsylvania wouldn’t have existed at all, at least not in any recognizable form. That part of America would’ve been colonized sooner or later, but not necessarily by Quakers. Penn really was an individual who made a difference.

On the other hand, even without Lloyd, sooner or later Pennsylvania’s Assembly would’ve become more powerful, just like in all the other colonies. Perhaps he accelerated the process, but with or without him Pennsylvania would’ve wound up in about the same place. After all, the Quakers were proving to be a quite unruly people.

However, Lloyd's death did mark the end of the rivalry between the middling and elite Quakers. As non-Quaker immigrants continued to pour into the colony, the Quakers became a smaller and smaller minority, and so the divisions within the Quakers came to be less important compared to the divisions between the Quakers and everyone else.

It also may have helped that Quaker society was becoming more inegalitarian. Up until now, Pennsylvania had been very, very equal, even by American standards. Almost all the Quaker settlers came from the same social class. Everyone was similar to everyone else, and so it didn’t take much for a relatively rich guy to become relatively poor. Economic mobility was high, just because the distribution of wealth was so compressed.

And that in turn made politics less stable in some ways. In Europe, and in most of the colonies, political power was concentrated in the hands of a few wealthy families. But the “elite” Quakers I've been talking about were only a few steps above their neighbors, hardly an aristocracy. And so their attempts to make themselves into a political elite met with considerable pushback from their only slightly poorer neighbors. And for a while the elite failed to entrench itself.

But as time went on, and Pennsylvania grew in size and complexity, the social elite became… actually elite, actually different. Pennsylvania was still relatively egalitarian, but less so than in the earliest decades. Which has been another consistent theme throughout the podcast – inequality increases as colonies develop. And so now, the Quakers actually had ruling families to rule them. Naturally, the middling Quakers diminished as a political force. The leadership within the Assembly came more from these elite families. Perhaps in later generations, inequality would’ve led to political divisions based on class, but that sort of thing didn’t really happen yet, for whatever reason. The legacy of deferential politics, maybe.

These two forces, the Quakers becoming a minority, and the Quakers becoming more inegalitarian, together led to the creation of what was more or less a single Quaker faction. There was still dissent within Quakerism, as we'll see, but the old rivalry between elite and middling Quakers was no more.

But now it’s time to move on. Now it’s time to introduce Benjamin Franklin. Writer, printer, scientist, politician, revolutionary. I'm sure you're familiar with him. But he is pretty important, both in Pennsylvania and to America as a whole, so I do want to talk about him a bit, both because of his importance and because he's a early example of a new character type in America: the Enlightenment man. The secularism, the pragmatism, the frugality, the focus on upward mobility. By the end of the century, these values would be common, but Franklin was one of the first men to fully embody them. It’s no wonder that Ben Franklin fit in so well with revolutionaries who were a generation or two younger than him. He was living their ideals before they had been born.

You can think of Franklin’s story as a counterpoint to the life of Thomas Hutchinson, the Massachusetts politician who became governor just before the Revolution. The guy whose house got ransacked by a mob. Both men were born in Boston around the same time, both became wealthy, both became prominent politicians, and both lived to see the American Revolution in their old age.

But there the similarities end. Hutchinson was born into a respected family; Franklin was a self-made man. When the Revolution came, Hutchinson remained a Loyalist, while Franklin became one of the most prominent rebels. Although Franklin was five years older than Hutchinson, in terms of mindset he came from a younger generation. Hutchinson was the last of the Puritans, while Franklin was the first of the Americans. That's probably unfair to Hutchinson, who was in fact fairly liberal and broad-minded in a lot of ways, but still the difference in outlook between them is palpable.

Anyway, a lot of the details here will be taken from Franklin’s own Autobiography, which I highly recommend if you haven’t read it. I hadn’t read it before this podcast and I thoroughly enjoyed it. It gives you a very strong sense of Franklin’s mindset as he goes through life, and the worldview of everyone else he encounters. I wind up reading a lot of dry history books for research, and it was a breath of fresh air to see things from a more personal perspective.

Benjamin Franklin was born in Boston in 1706. He was the youngest son of a youngest son of a youngest son of a youngest son of a youngest son. That’s five generations of youngest sons. His father was a minor tradesman who had seventeen children in all, seven by his first wife, ten by his second. Young Benjamin went to school for two years, from ages eight to ten, but after that he was put to work. First, he worked for his father, making candles, but when that proved unsuitable, he was apprenticed to his half-brother, a printer. That fit him much better, and it gave him a chance to read every book he could get his hands on. Importantly, he also taught himself how to write well. He even anonymously submitted items to his brother’s newspaper as a teenager. However, the two fought a lot and his half-brother beat him. Therefore, at age 17, he slipped away and fled Boston, hoping for better prospects elsewhere.

He first went to New York, but the printer there didn’t have work for him and advised him to press on to Pennsylvania. And so, on a Sunday morning in 1723, Franklin arrived in Philadelphia, with no friends or connections, and almost no money. He was able to find employment with some of the local printers, but he hoped to soon set up a shop of his own.

Philadelphia was a much more congenial town than Boston to a man like Franklin. Not because of the Quakers. Franklin liked the Quakers well enough, but the one time he attended one of their meetings he fell asleep. No, it was the other non-Quakers in the colony that he connected with, men with a similar entrepreneurial, free thinking spirit. Franklin preferred to spend his Sundays reading, not at church, and the diversity of Philadelphia allowed for that.

As it happens, soon after his arrival, William Keith, who was still governor at the time, heard about Franklin, who sounded like a promising young man. Keith went to visit him, encouraging him to set up his own shop.

Emboldened, Franklin first returned to Boston, hoping to borrow money from his father, though his father declined, since he thought he was too young. But on the way back, he stopped in New York again, and this time the governor there, William Burnet, asked to meet with him, hearing that he was a young man of some learning. So that’s two governors Ben Franklin had befriended, and he wasn’t even legally an adult yet. Franklin was just that kind of guy. He must’ve simply radiated vibes of “I'm going places” to everyone he met.

But before he could accomplish any great deeds, he still needed to set up his own business. Governor Keith now encouraged Franklin to go to London to buy equipment, promising to provide Franklin with the capital he needed.

However, Keith reneged on his promises, which left Franklin stranded in London, still with almost no money. Apparently the governor was prone to make promises he couldn't keep and back out at the last second. Franklin was too young and too naïve to realize this until it was too late and he was already on his way to England. But once in London he was able to find work, and eventually he made his way back to Philadelphia, probably wiser for the experience. After a few more years he raised the money needed to set himself up, and by age 24 he was running his own business.

And that was just the beginning of his rise. As one of the few printers in Philadelphia, he had a fair amount of influence. He published a weekly newspaper, and he was also able to put his own writing out there, most famously Poor Richard's Almanack. But he also dipped his toe in politics, always with an eye on advancing his business. For instance in 1729 he published a pamphlet about paper money. Unlike Thomas Hutchinson, he favored paper money. But to be fair, Franklin did have a personal stake in the issue. He had already helped design New Jersey's paper money, and he hoped to be hired to print Pennsylvania's currency as well. Which he was, partly thanks to the fact that he'd come out in support of the idea.

In 1736, he took a job as clerk to the Assembly, that is, he became the person who wrote down what actually happened during their meetings. The guy taking notes, basically. Again, this was to benefit his business. The job meant more work for his print shop, publishing records of votes in the Assembly and so on. The year after that he became Philadelphia’s postmaster, which helped him sell his newspaper.

But now that he was involved in government, Franklin began to turn his attention to public affairs in general.

In addition to running his print shop, Franklin was also very fond of founding institutions. He had already founded a subscription library which people could join. And now he began using that energy for the public good.

He began with the city watch of Philadelphia, which he thought was being poorly run. The constable often spent his nights drinking instead of patrolling the city, and the taxes which paid for the city watch were unfairly burdensome to the poor. Franklin came up with a proposal to reform the watch, in which taxes would be apportioned equitably, and where the watchmen would become fully professionalized. He presented his proposal a debating club he had founded, and its members spread the idea.

Around the same time he formed a volunteer fire brigade, which was so successful that numerous other brigades were formed across the city. In 1743 he founded a philosophical society and a little later he created an academy which would eventually become the University of Pennsylvania. And those are just some of his accomplishments. I could go on, but you get the point.

He even tried to become literally perfect, although that was a bit too much to ask even for him. “It was about this time I conceived the bold and arduous project of arriving at moral perfection. I wish’d to live without committing any fault at any time; I would conquer all that either natural inclination, custom, or company might lead me into. As I knew, or thought I knew, what was right and wrong, I did not see why I might not always do the one and avoid the other. But I soon found I had undertaken a task of more difficulty than I had imagined.”

With such energy, it’s no wonder that Franklin became so prominent. And he hadn't even become an inventor or a scientist yet. That only happened in the 1740s, after he had made enough money to retire as a printer and fully pursue his own interests.

And as we'll see next time, he also joined the political fray in earnest, beginning a career that would end with him enshrined as one of the most famous Founding Fathers. So join me next time on Early and Often: The History of Elections in America.

The podcast is on twitter, @earlyoftenpod, or go to the blog at earlyandoftenpodcast.wordpress.com for transcripts of every single episode. And if you like the podcast, give it a good review on iTunes. That helps. Thanks for listening.

Sources:

The Colonial Period of American History Volume III by Charles M. Andrews

The Philadelphia Election Riot of 1742 by Norman S. Cohen

Voting in Provincial America: A Study of Elections in the Thirteen Colonies, 1689-1776 by Robert J. Dinkin

The World of William Penn by Richard S. Dunn and Mary Maples Dunn

Colonial Pennsylvania: A History by Joseph E. Illick

Quakers and Politics: Pennsylvania, 1681-1726 by Gary B. Nash

The American Colonies in the Eighteenth Century, Volume II by Herbert L. Osgood

Pennsylvania Politics and the Growth of Democracy, 1740 - 1776 by Theodore Thayer

The Keith-Lloyd Alliance: Factional and Coalition Politics in Colonial Pennsylvania by Thomas Wendel

The Evolution of the Pennsylvania Assembly, 1682-1748 by Chester Raymond Young

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whisperingtothewinds · 6 years

Text

Being Something Like Ace at Hogwarts

In honor of Pride Month

“It’s ok; you will find the right guy some day.”

They are the words my mom says to my eldest sister Chelsae after she returns from Hogwarts sans her boyfriend of two years. She’s a seventh year, and now off to adventures as a junior clerk in Wizengamot Administration Services, a sub-division of Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She wants to put bad guys away in Azkaban someday. I’m pretty sure she’s the most brilliant witch to Charm the planet.

I’m 10, not even on my way to Hogwarts yet. But I don’t forget what my mom has said; I may not want the guy right now (because goodness knows he’d be in the way of my reading time, just like my family), but someday, sure. It’s an easy decision; That’s a problem for future-me.

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I’m a first year, sorted to Rowena’s house several months earlier. I fit in perfectly with the other first years, and it feels great.

My older brother, Taylor, has been a Hufflepuff for four years now, and my middle sister is a Gryffindor like our eldest and our dad, though Elizabeth’s only a second year. It’s bizarre seeing them here at school, and the age difference between us seems to much larger here than it is at home.

Taylor is into building things and spending time with his friends. He’s got a girlfriend and they are great together, but he’s so much older than me that I just shrug and think: Ehhh, future-me will get into that later.

Elizabeth goes googly-eyed whenever my prefect walks by. She denies it, but I’ve known her forever and it’s not really effective for her to lie to me. I roll my eyes; Chester-the-prefect took points last week when I came back from the library late. What a dick. When I try to explain this to my sister, she gives me that look that says I’m the idiot before wrinkling her nose and saying, “You’re too young to understand. You’ll get it someday. Also, maybe? Don’t spend so much time in the library. Go outside. See the sun occasionally. Play with your friends.”

Whatever. I ignore her. There are far more interesting things to pay attention to right now. I’ve got a library and books and reading nooks aplenty.

Elizabeth and Taylor keep bugging me to spend more times with friends, but Mom has always said I’m shy, so I think it’s fine that I’ve only befriended the girls in my dorm. I can always make more friends in the future.

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I’m a third year, and things are a bit different. I fit in with the others, except maybe a little, but no one’s noticed and I think it’s alright.

The thing is, my friends have started noticing boys. We’re rather close, the four of us girls, but I don’t really get it, when they talk about how cute that one Slytherin is or how handsome our seeker is. So for right now, I just sort of nod and smile. How do you even tell if someone is attractive? I don’t get it.

I get a bit nervous at one point. Nothings better than talking to Mom, but that’s not an option while I’m at schoole, so I go over to Hufflepuff and ask one of the firsties to get Ramsey, my first-year youngest sibling. My little brother has always been the one I’ve been closest to, since we share this love of books and are rather curious about pretty much anything. He was my favorite playmate of my four siblings when I was younger.

(His sorting was rather a surprise really. We all expected him to join me. But he and Taylor, who are different as night and day, do share one thing rather strongly; they are the most loyal of boys, definitely taking after Mom who was also a ‘Puff. You can’t imagine a group who wouldn’t walk to the ends of the earth to help you out. So I suppose it was an apt fit. It just hurt a little that I was alone again, a bit more of a loner in my family than I thought).

He and I go off to see if Mme Hooch will let us take some brooms out on the Pitch. When we’re aloft and have chased each other around a bit, I finally tell him that I feel off. That I don’t get what everyone is going on about, one boy being more attractive than the next.

Unsurprisingly, he grins and says he doesn’t get it either. He laughs at me. Little brothers are the worst. I chase him around the Pitch.

But as we walk back up to the school later, he awkwardly swings his arm over my taller shoulder. “It’s ok, you know. You’ve always been a bit different. Different isn’t bad, it just is.” He bumps me a little and smiles. “You might just be younger than the rest, you know. Not everyone grows up at the same time. No rush. Just… be you. It will all work out.”

Little brothers are the best.

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I’m a fourth year, and I definitely am not like the others, but it’s ok because I can fake it.

One of my close friends, Sarah, found a boy and he is great to her, and a wonderful friend to the rest of us. He’s one of my first guy friends (the other is a childhood friend I only occasionally see because he’s a Gryff Quidditch guy). I think to myself, when I eventually decide I want a boyfriend, I’m going to find me a Brent. OK, probably not exactly him because he won’t debate with me, his ‘Puff side making him a bit too agreeable, but still. Someone who fits me like he fits her.

My other two room mates cycle through boys as they search for the right one. I get very good at convincing the kitchen elves to give me chocolate and ice cream as Sarah and I help them through heartaches. One boy ends up liking other boys. One boy cheats on one of our two friends. One boy just isn’t interested in being serious. One boy is just a rebound, but the others tell me that that doesn’t still mean it doesn’t hurt too when it is over.

They, and Elizabeth, and Chelsae, and Mom all tell me it’s a good thing that I’m waiting to find the right wizard. I like to tell myself that too. But I’m worried because all the things that just came to them, I’m having to study. I didn’t know what attractive was, so I researched to see which boys were the ones all the girls liked and which features on their face or arms or legs or butt was better. I don’t get it, but I’m a Ravenclaw and I can research attractiveness and love and all that other stuff.

And clearly I can fake it alright, because everyone tells me I’m just not there yet, rather than telling me I’m broken. I’m worried I’ll never be there, where ever there is.

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It’s fifth year and I’m so happy. And yet not happy at the same time.

First of all, I am the Ravenclaw female prefect. Thank goodness. I hate being the center of attention, but it’s nice to have someone acknowledge my achievements in a manner that bring them to the forefront but also give me more responsibility because I can handle it. And honestly, having so many siblings who get into so much trouble is finally proving useful during my duties. I try to straddle the line between rule-meister (my siblings would give me so much grief for being the kind of prefect all of Hogwarts abhors) and lacksidasical (I do actually have to do the job, no?). I seem to do a decent job.

Second, I finally have a crush. And thank goodness, I was worried it would never happen. I’m not really sure I am getting that feeling like all the books say, but I’m kind of tired of waiting, and what do romance books know anyways?

I don’t tell my friends at first. After all, the boy I like is the one I’ve known since babyhood, as our parents were friends before our births. And I don’t really want to act on it; that could ruin our friendship and I’m rather pleased with that; he partners with me in classes Ravenclaws have with Gryffindors, and since he’s smart like me, we always do well and have a good time and get points for both houses. I like his smile and how brilliant at Charms he is, I like how he helps first years with their homework as a prefect and how he always volunteers in class. I don’t really want to lose our friendship. If it goes wrong. Which. It could.

I’m a bit of a first rate worrier. It helps me be prepared

By the time I tell my friends at the end of fifth year, the crush has worn off. I’m not sure if it just left? Or if I forced it into non-being because I refused to do anything. The girls are a bit disappointed I didn’t tell them at the time and are shocked at the guy I liked; we don’t really fit on paper since he really is Quidditch-central at our school, and I’m. Well. Not. I’m a plethora of notes and Debate Club and Charms Club and Potions Club and Ancient Ruins Club and prefect duties rolled into one short and rotund bookworm with glasses.

But now that I’ve had a crush, I’m a bit confused. I didn’t like him for his attractiveness, though I am aware he is. I didn’t like him for his popularity, because honestly that bit scares me. I liked him because of his brains, and his laugh, and that he likes to debate with me in Debate Club, and how kind he is to the younger years who ask him for help with flying. And, having had him as my crush, I don’t understand how my friends would want to date those they don’t know, because how can you like them if you don’t even know them?

I ask them this and they try to explain. That’s what dates are for, to get to know them. But how, I ask, do you decide which boy to date? The one you like and the ones who like you in return, they say. I’m confused: how can you like them if you don’t know them? We seem to be speaking different languages. The conversation always becomes circular.

But it’s somewhat better now because I now know that I’m not broken. I can have crushes like my siblings and friends. I’m normal.

It’s a relief really.

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It’s my sixth year and it’s a bit lonely.

I watch 24-year-old Chelsae find the perfect boy and bring him over during holidays. Our parents approve because he is a baby lawyer like hre in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, both of them having worked up the ranks. She’s so much older than us, that none of us are surprised that our parents whisper of weddings in the corner.

Taylor has a different girl, but they’ve been together for four years. He’s still figuring out what he wants to do, three years out of Hogwarts, but is working with our dad’s magical machinery shop. It’s a good fit, she’s a good fit, and we are waiting to see what happens with them.

Elizabeth is also with a lovely boy, who treats her like a queen. He’s new to the scene, a friend from her work in the advertising department of the Prophet, but they seem to get along well.

Sarah still has her Brent from fourth year, and Marcie and Ramsey are cultivating crushes of more than a year on two different Slytherin individuals.

It’s just Alia and I and singles, but she’s actively looking.

I don’t want to look. I’ve got school and my prefect duties, and a library to work through. I’m not so confident in my body the way she is, so I blame it on that. I tell myself, If I don’t find me pretty, then who else would? Easier to not deal with rejection by just not trying.

It’s a bit lonely, but I just keep remembering what my mom said to Chelsae so many years ago.

“It’s ok; you will find the right guy some day.”

I hope. The crush of last year proves I’m not broken, right?

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It’s the end of seventh year and the end of an era.

We wave goodbye to Hogwarts one last time from the train platform. I see Aaron, my crush of years ago who has completed his tenure of Head Boy this year, beside a lovely Hufflepuff who he has been dating for a year.

I look away. I am happy for him, feelings long since gone, but it’s only a reminder that he’s the only one I’ve ever felt strongly for. Actually no; I did like a Ravenclaw yearmate of mine for a week earlier this year. But it left pretty fast when I saw him be cruel to a second year Hufflepuff. My House was not please with me when I took that many points off him. Whatever; he was in the wrong and clearly I didn’t know him well enough if that’s the kind of person he was.

My friends and family are happy, bouncing in and out of relationships and jobs and living life to its fullest.

I’m content watching right now. Change has never been my forte.

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I’m two years out of Hogwarts and today I’ve accepted a new thing about myself.

I’m a very junior researcher at Mungo’s these days. I’ve always wanted to work in medical research, so that I can help people but not have to deal with them. Or blood. Or bile. Or other bodily fluids. My potions skill and theoretical arithmancy and charms has been a big help, and my group loves encouraging me to be curious and conduct experiments. My family and Sarah and Marcie and Alia think I’m weird, but they love that I am pleased with my work. Even if they do have to put up with me jabbering on about the selective nature Dragon Pox anti-body structures. Stupid magical diseases.

Mungo’s leads right out into the Muggle world, which is good for us researchers because it lets us pick up some ideas from Muggle research; we never tell our stodgy old fashioned investors who give us research funding this though. We sneak out to libraries and schools and lectures.

Medical topics aren’t the only things I pick up though.

Several months have passed since I went to some school nearby for a lecture on the Monte-Carlo Markov Chain as applied to the Hidden method, HMM (Muggle maths actually crossover with Arithmancy rather frequently, those brilliant magic-less wonders! When applied in certain ways, they can kick off new techniques; I’m adapting this one to a field of sterility to decrease environmentally-acquired infections in the emergency ward.) On the way in, there was a poster nearby of a boy holding hands with a boy with a girl with a girl with a half girl half boy figure, saying that there was going to be a talk later.

I’m a Ravenclaw for my curiosity, so I stuck around after the other talk (brilliant, by the way. I think I know how to make it work. It-well, it’s not important to this story, so I’ll save that for later). I went in to it knowing about people who are gay or lesbian, people who are non-binary or transsexual. I even know pansexual and bisexual and asexual. But that day, they were talking about it slightly differently.

About asexuality. Which apparently has a spectrum.

That day I sat in silence, listening to a new flurry of terms. Demisexual, grey-sexual, aesthetic attraction, romantic attraction, sexual attraction and the differences in each. It was a bit of a shock; I’d never had romantic and sexual feelings split into their individual sub-components before.

I took it home that night to give it a good think. And the next day I began my research. Turns out there are many out there who are somewhere on that ace-spectrum, but it’s not really hit mainstream. Knowledge about it isn’t widespread and I had to dig. But I’m a Ravenclaw, and that’s not a difficult task, especially where-

Especially where-

Where-

I don’t want to think about it as applied to me. I put the research away in a corner of my room.

It’s today and today I spent the day with a book and tea in a window of the cramped apartment I share with Ramsey, who works in the Unspeakables office and spends a lot of time swearing at Ancient Ruins. (He asks me a lot of ‘hypotheticals’ these days. They are good questions. I’ve definitely given some thought into changing my career path).

But I’m not really reading the book. Nor am I really drinking the tea. That’s because below me on this Muggle street there is a boy kissing someone who I think is non-binary. And watching them, admiring how easy they make being in love look, I’m suddenly thinking to myself, “It’s ok; you will find the right guy some day.”

But then a new thought floats out. “It’s ok if you never find the right person. You are still loved.”

I’m unprepared for my mind to toss that out at me. I know that my family and friends love me, and I them. It’s just that I’d not really thought about life in the future without figuring I needed someone there. Having a spouse was so normalized. And I’m normal.

Aren’t I?

I’d like to be.

I think.

I think?

It would be easier at least.

But.

I also want to just be me.

I sit now midst my notes, the first time I’ve looked in months. Slowly, I take a clean paper and I write down:

D-E-M-I-R-O-M-A-N-T-I-C D-E-M-I-S-E-X-U-A-L

And I sit back. I’m pretty sure that that’s me. I’ve been ignoring it for months, but...

I’m not really certain, because there is a certain longing to be normal, to be like my family, and friends, but today, I think I know something new about me. Or, not really new. Just, newly accepted about myself.

I’m a demi-romantic demi-sexual. I am loved. And it’s ok if I never find a partner because I’ve found many partners in my family and friends and I won’t ever be alone. I don’t need to wait on a partner to feel loved because I am loved already.

I am not broken.

I am not incomplete.

I am whole and perfect and me.

Maybe I will look for a partner in that very distinct group of individuals that I am attracted to. Maybe I won’t. Today though, I think as I settle back in my seat, I am content to be me, with a book and tea, in a window seat overlooking a street where love knows no bounds and where I am happy.

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Thanks for reading my first real addition of writing to the tumblr fandom. The piece is loosely based on my own family and friends and experiences in terms of coming to understand my attraction systems. I’m hoping to add on an additionally piece about coming out later this month, but I’m not sure yet that it will be realized. We’ll see.

Have a lovely pride month all!

-Whispering to the Winds

#hogwarts #ravenclaw #love #ace #demi #pride month #discovery #first time writer #questioning #Harry Potter #hp #original

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diddlfanaat · 3 years

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With The First Kiss *A BTS reverse harem x Y/n

Genre: Romance, Soulmate Fantasy with maybe a little angst and a lot of smut

Pairing: BTS x Reader (all seven)

Summary: The first kiss between two people gifts one of them with a soulmate mark. To seal it, the other has to say ‘I love you’

Join Y/n when she meets her soulmate, and the adventure it takes her on.

(Y/n is very, very open-minded, you have been warned)

Word Count: 107.450 so far.

Part: 21/?

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, masturbation, voyeurism, pornography, blindfolding, spanking, choking.

*20. A meet & greet, bus trouble, so basically a very long, but boring night*

Once I regain consciousness I wish I hadn’t. My brain is trying to pound out of my skull, and my mouth tastes like death. Oh god I hate hangovers, it’s one of the reasons I don’t like to drink, especially getting wasted. I try to remember everything that happened last night, and the last thing coming to mind, is sitting on one of the lobby couches. But wait, I’m clearly lying down now, in a bed. I slowly open one eye, and when the brightness of the room penetrates and pain shoots through my brain, I close it quickly. Oh god this is gonna take a while, and I alternate between the eyes, and slowly they become accustomed to the brightness. I sit slowly up and the sheet covering me falls down and I realize I’m naked. Worry shoots through my brain, and I scan the room quickly. I see my clothes, neatly folded, weird, that’s not my style. I’m alone it seems, but the relief leaves as quickly as it came, because the door opens, and I hear shuffling feet. Just in the nick of time, I cover myself, just before the person comes into view. It’s not Luke, or Asswipe, I’m not familiar with this person. A tall man, mid thirties I think, red short hair, blue eyes, slightly crooked nose, and small thin lips. He’s casually dressed, blue jeans, yellow sweater, and red converse. Very youthful. He stops in his tracks when he sees I’m sitting up, “Oh, you’re awake. Yeah, so uhmm…”, but I raise my hand and he stops, “did you undress me?” Right away he shakes his head no, “no, no. absolutely not, no my wife, she’s downstairs. She’ll be here soon.” Relief washes through me, but the next question pops up, “Why am I here?” I ask, staring him down, and he shifts on his feet. “Well, when we came back from our date, last night, around 2 am. You were sleeping on the couch peacefully, but there were some men, two to be precise, eyeing you and whispering, and my wife didn’t like it, neither did I mind you. So uhhh….. We took you up here, our room. We don’t have any ill intent, I hope you don’t mind us doing that. We just felt it wasn’t safe for you on that couch”, he walks to the couch, and sits down, as far away from me as possible, making me feel at ease a little bit more. Phew, no unwanted sex with someone. We sit in silence, and when the door finally opens for a second time, the man visible relaxes and a fond smile paints his face. The woman who emerges is small, like really small, even I’m taller. She has a pixie haircut, with bubblegum pink hair, every facial feature is small, except the eyes, big and blue. She is dressed in Black jeans, a white t-shirt with ‘Hell Yeah’ in red letters, A leather jacket with metal studs and black biker boots. A total contrast to the man. “Oh, you’re finally awake. How do you feel?”, her voice matches her physique, small and sweet. “Hungover”, I groan, and rub my forehead, which has been pounding non stop. “I understand by your husband’s explanation that you saved me. Thank you, I really appreciate it. I normally don’t drink, but that stupid game, never mind. And the two you probably saw, have been trying to get close to me for ages, so really, thank you from the bottom of my heart”, the woman beams, a big smile on her face. “No need to thank me, you would have done the same”, she walks to the bathroom and comes back with a glass of water, and hands it to me, “here, take this”, she says as she dumps two pills in my free hand. I take the pills gratefully and drain the whole glass, “I better get back to my room, I have a busy day today. Thanks again for the help”, I say, as I sit sideways on the bed, my feet touching the floor. The woman approaches her husband and blocks me from his view, I scoot out from under the covers, grab my clothes and head into the bathroom. When the door closes, relief finally comes crashing through my body, and I’m literally shaking. I was really lucky these people helped me, If they hadn’t, I shudder at the thought and shake the feeling off. Nothing happened and I need to be more careful. No more alcohol or games. When we’re at the hotel, I’ll stay in my secret room. It’s the safest. I get dressed and check if I still have everything, phone, key card, both still in my pocket. I leave the bathroom and face the married couple, sharing a sweet kiss. I clear my throat, “I’ll be leaving now. Have a nice stay, and thanks”, both smiling brightly at me. I turn around and when I’m at the door, about to turn the knob, the woman speaks, “Wait, so stupid, but we never introduced ourselves. I’m Angela Retter, and this here is my husband, Kurt Retter.” I walk back and shake her hand, and then I shake his, “I’m Y/n L/n. It’s nice to meet you. Good day”, and I smile and leave them, exiting the room. I look for the elevators and press the call button when I finally find them. The elevator arrives and the doors open, I get on and press the button for my floor. Finally in my room, I fall on my bed and groan, the pills still haven’t kicked in. I close my eyes and regulate my breathing, so my head doesn’t pound as much. Gradually as I lay there, the pain in my brain lessens, and I sigh in relief. I slowly get up and walk to the bathroom, I take a quick hot shower and do the rest of my morning routine. Once I’m done, I check my phone for the time and see the notifications. Oh no, I missed texting with one of them. I open the app and respond right away.

He’s probably busy, so he doesn’t answer. Arriving at the restaurant, I’m later than usual, so only Alfred is sitting at the table. I first got my breakfast before joining him, “Good morning”, I say, but I didn't expect anything back, I was kinda rude yesterday. “Good morning. You had an interesting night I believe”, he looks at me with a big grin, “I’ve wanted to say the same for a while now, they are not my kind of people, to put it nicely.” My eyes grow big, and a smile slowly creeps on my face, “it all felt like a set up to get me drunk, so I had to leave. I may be wrong, it’s just how it felt”, I take a big bite out of the croissant, and sigh with bliss. I was starving. He resumes eating too, and we enjoy the comfortable silence. When I’m finished, I feel like myself again, well more or less. The headache is gone, courtesy of the pills and coffee. My stomach is content, being filled. “Are you ready to leave?”, I break the silence. “Yeah, let’s just clean this away first”, and he gets up and collects his dirty dishes. I do the same and we drop it off at the cart. In the loddy, on the couches, are the others, laughing at what Luke just told them. When we join them, a weird vibe settles over us. That was to be expected, some really don’t like me now. I don’t care, so I don’t pay attention and chat with Alfred over comics. Slowly, conversation between them starts up again, and is almost back to normal when Asswipe arrives. When I lock eyes with him, his eyes turn dark and foreboding, and I really don’t like it. “When we don’t have to dance today, could you stay at my side?” I whisper to Alfred, when we exit the hotel. He looks first at Luke and then at Asswipe, before his eyes look at me. “Are they bothering you?”, he whispers back. “Let’s just say, they are really trying their best to get me alone. And that is something I really don’t want to happen.” He looks at them again and then nods firmly, “we need someone else though, for when I’m on stage. Who do you think will help?” I think for a moment while my eyes scan the people before me. When they land on Chester, I look at Alfred, “how close are you with Chester?” His eyes cloud over in thought, “I’m the closest with Chester, so I think he is the best choice”, I nod, happy we’re in sync. “Could you ask him though?”, I whisper again, and he nods his head. We get on the bus and I pick a seat, away from Luke. Alfred takes the seat next to Chester and during the ride, I can see them whispering, and glancing my way, but also at Luke and Asswipe. At some point, I catch Chesters eyes and he gives me a thumbs up, so he is on board with the plan. I feel a little better now, knowing I won’t be alone. We arrive at the venue and go inside. We all practice the performance once to make sure everything is in order. During dinner my phone vibrates in my pocket, and I get it out and see I have a text.

After texting I put my phone away and ate the last of my dinner. I tell Chester I need to use the restroom, so we both leave the dressing room. On the way back, “so are they really trying to get you alone?”, he asked, looking questioningly at me. I stop and he does too, "why did you agree to help me, if you're doubtful?" I ignore his question and ask mine instead. He shrugs his shoulders, "mainly because Alfred asked me", he says with a sheepish grin. Okay, honesty, much appreciated. "Well, Luke has been trying for months now, and it's not him I'm afraid of, he's harmless, Gerard, the manager, he has a twin brother with the same interest in me. He already felt me up, and last night could've been so much worse, if it wasn't for that nice and friendly couple. Just watch them, you'll see it for yourself" I tell him. He looks at me silently and then turns to go back to the dressing room. Inside, Asswipe(Gerard) is standing in the middle, about to make an announcement, and when he sees me, that evil creepy grim comes back on his face. Chester sees it too and takes his place beside Alfred, whispering. "The audiences have expressed their desire to meet you personally, so after tonight's show, we'll do a meet and greet." He doesn't wait but turns and leaves the dressing room. I just sigh, it's no use making a fuss.

The performance receives another standing ovation and everyone gathers in the dressing room to freshen up. If we're going to meet the audience, it has to be not as sweaty as possible. Once everyone has changed and is at least a little more presentable, we take a seat at the table, and the first people make their way over. It takes us about an hour and a half to meet everyone and I'm actually enjoying myself. I didn’t think I would, but everyone is very nice and praises our performances and skills. I'm at the end of the table, and next to me is, unfortunately, Luke. We dance the most with each other so of course we're grouped together. But even now, he's very professional and friendly. He hasn't said anything flirty or dirty to me all night. When I said goodbye to the last people, the others were already halfway out of the room. I get up and follow them, thanking the people working here for a nice job. I'm the last on the bus, and find a seat. It’s chilly on the bus and I burrow in my hoodie, and close my eyes. December is approaching, and with it the colder weather, with frost and maybe snow. But it’s very unpredictable, sometimes the first snow comes in January, or maybe even February. But the digits will drop below zero. Driving becomes a problem, with icy roads. The trees are bare of their leaves and somehow it has something beautiful. The renewal of life, when springs come and the trees become green again. There is still plenty of green visible during the day. The dark greens of fir trees, and not the fresh greens of loaf trees and the flowers once spring and summer roll around. Personally I like the winter, but that's mostly because my birthday is in December. I really don't like to get older, but I celebrate the day I came into the world. Sadly it's also the death day of my mother. I can't say I miss her, but the idea of a mother is precious to me and I'm sad I've never known that. And when I think about it, I can't say I've ever had a father, even though he was there in the beginning. I get yanked out of my thoughts when the bus suddenly slides to the side of the road, after a loud pop. The bus driver brakes and we slide, quite fast to a lamp post. I'm up front, so I see everything clearly and I hold my breath and brace for the impact. The bus driver keeps breaking and we finally stop, nudging the lamp post slightly. The bus got jarred slightly and when everything was still, the boys jumped up excitedly, screaming and punching each other on the shoulder. Like they just had a near-death experience. The bus driver is shaking and I get up and check up on him. He seems fine, not injured, just shaken up. "Everyone okay?", the bus driver shouts through the bus and all shout back that they're fine. He gets off the bus and walks out of sight, then I hear a loud curse and I get off as well. The bus driver is at the back of the bus, and when I get closer I can see that the tire blew out. The driver is obviously angry and he whips out his phone and punches the screen harder in his anger. While he makes the call, I get back on the bus, "a tire blew out and help is coming", I inform the bus. I sit back down and close my eyes. This may take a while. The others settle down too, and the bus becomes quiet, and I doze off.

My hands stroke through super soft locks, it feels like water flowing through your fingers. Lips gently brush against the skin of my throat, leaving fire in its wake. I gasp as teeth bite down, followed by a tongue soothing the inflamed skin. I arch my back, pressing my breasts against a firm chest, my hardened nipples rubbing sensually over smooth skin. The sensation shoots tingles down to my pussy, wishing to be filled. I hear a groan near my ear and my earlobe gets sucked a second later. My hands travel down over his strong back, muscles flexing. Firm yet soft to the touch and I let my fingers trail down and back up. He shudders at the light touch, "you're mine", he whispers and he puts his arms around me, under my arms, over my shoulders, his hands grab my head just before he crashes his lips against mine. The kiss is heated, possessive and loving at the same time, and I lose myself in him, and the pleasure his tongue gives me. He scoots up a little, to get better access, nestling himself right between my legs, his crotch against mine. He fits perfectly. The kiss never broke, and he sucks my lower lip into his mouth, then bites it, and I moan. One of his hands caress my skin, all the way down to my hip, and there his fingers dig into my skin, holding me. He slowly inches closer and closer to my…… I get jolted awake, and with the dream still imprinted on my brain, I’m disoriented and don’t understand what happened. My eyes slowly focus, and when my vision is clear, I see the road speeding under us. Oh the bus is moving again. I relax back into the seat and let my mind wander. The dream reminds me of one night, back in the beginning. The sex was slow, with lots of touches, kissing and licking. Maybe it was just a memory, but now I’m horny, and alone. I groan internally, and see the hotel come into view. Just a little bit longer and I can escape to my sanctuary. When the bus finally stops in front of the hotel, I wait for the others to get off, and ask the driver how he’s doing. He smiles at me and tells me he’s fine. I smile back and get off. I walk slowly inside and to my luck, I don’t see the others. I still repeat the trick with the first floor, but today I take the stairs up to the third floor, why? I don’t know, I just feel like it. I always follow this feeling, telling me I need to do this. So I do. There I use the elevator to go up to my room. I use the keycard, and hear the lock click. I open the door, and I see light burning. I didn’t leave the lights on. Maybe one of the cleaners? I shrug it off and go right into the bathroom and start the shower. I slowly strip, not hearing the door being opened due to the shower. When I step out of my panties I turn around, and my heart flies to my throat, making it hard to swallow.

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rdgpcg · 5 years

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“Have you ever raced Steelman“? The question was posed to me by Dan Gleason as we jogged along the Chester Valley Trail. Dan had joined our little Friday morning running group. “Sure! Many times.” I replied. “Are you doing it this year?”, Dan asked. “Well, hopefully. If the weather is good.” Dan then explained that long-time race director Dale Winterhoff had retired and handed the reins over to a new race director. “Oh? Who’s that?”, I asked. “Me!”, Dan replied. “Well, me and my friend Dave Michener”. Dan went on to explain how he and Dave were hoping to reinvigorate Steelman. We agreed that local races like Steelman are quickly fading away and he and Dave hoped to add new energy to the race. He explained the changes they were making and hoped I’d sign up. After our run, while sipping coffee I did just that showing Dan my entry confirmation on my phone. “Awesome!”

Dan Gleason

Dave Michener

Two months later I found myself tooling up Lois Lane (insert your own snarky superman crack here) in Gilbertsville toward the house of my friend Jen Bush. We have a bit of a carpooling tradition for Steelman. It was o’dark thirty and when I parked in front of her house to load her bike I expected to hear the normal cacophony put forth by her trio of barking dogs but there was silence. Jen was waiting with her bike in the driveway and said “I think I managed to get out without waking anyone.” It is always good to catch up with Jen. I don’t see her that often which is preposterous considering we live no more than a half-hour from each other. We chatted the whole way to Lake Nockamixon, the home of Steelman. We were directed to a parking spot and headed for packet pick-up.

Still the best selfie I ever took. Jen and I at a race earlier this season.

Changes made by Dan and Dave were noticeable immediately. Transition was in the same spot but the finish line was moved to a more central location. Additionally, the old swim course had been replaced with an out-and back rectangle and we would do a time trial start. I loved the old swim course so for me, the jury was out on this especially since we would be heading straight East into the rising sun. But let’s wait and see.

A beautiful start to the day. You can see the swim buoys in the distance.

Jen and I got through the pre-race rituals: packets, bike and helmet stickers, body marking, and transition setup. By happy coincidence I was racked very near Christine Eadeh. She is a long-time Facebook friend whom I’d never actually met in person but we had been involved in lengthy on-line discussions about triathlon over the years. It was great to meet in person and it was like seeing an old friend. She and I were both doing the olympic distance while Jen was doing the Sprint.

The hustle and bustle of transition setup.

This summer in Pennsylvania has been hot. While it hasn’t bothered me even a little (I was a chameleon in a former life) nobody expected the lake to be cool enough to allow for wetsuits. But the chilly morning air and hard rains had done their job and we were pleasantly surprised to learn the lake temperature was 77 degrees and was wetsuit legal! Forget the fact that I hadn’t swam in my wetsuit since early May and had not raced in it in a couple years, I was happy for the added speed and buoyancy offered by my wetsuit.

As part of the changes for the time trial swim start, we were now able to warm-up prior to the start using the boat ramp. I skidded down the slick ramp and splashed into the water, and felt the thin layer of water form between my skin and the neoprene wetsuit. I began stroking for deeper water . . and then remembered my wedding ring. Shit! I turned and did my best to crawl up the slick boat ramp. It reminded my of the squirrels in my backyard trying to climb the waxed shepherd’s hook my bird feeder hangs on. I’d make it a few inches up and then slide twice that back down.

Finally, I knelt down and crawled up the ramp wedging my fingers in the traction grooves of the ramp. Warning boaters! Don’t get those back tires too far in the water if you don’t have four wheel drive!

I scurried back to the transition area, ignored that admonishment from a volunteer that it was closed, and stashed my wedding ring in my bag. My wife puts up with a lot of racing shenanigans but I’m assuming if I lose my wedding ring somewhere in the bottom of a deep, dark lake the result at home would not be positive.

I still wanted to warm up so hurried back to the ramp, plunged into the now empty lake, swam 50 yards or so, turned and repeated the squirrel crawl up the ramp. My quick swim had made sure my goggles were well seated and that I had invoked the mammalian diving reflex. I headed off to find the proper self-seeding line prior to the start. What’s that you ask? What the hell is the mammalian diving reflex? If you are a creationist, move along to the next paragraph. Otherwise the mammalian diving reflex takes us back to a time when all things lived in the ocean and, believe it or not, give us some chance of not drowning every time we are dunked in the water.

I made my way to the end of the 25-30 minute self-seeding line. I heard a familiar voice and turned around to find Christine had picked the same line. She and I would pair up to start together in the 2×2 swim start.

After a moment of silence for a local athlete who had died at a recent event and the National Anthem, the lines of olympic swimmers were led toward the lake. The sun had climbed higher but we’d still be facing significant glare for the swim. The line of buoys for the olympic distance course stretched to the middle of the lake. The local sailing club volunteers their boats to help with navigation positioning them in proximity to the course to make it easy for swimmers to stay on track and make the turns. This would prove infinitely useful.As Christine and I neared the end of the dock there was no wind and conditions were nearly perfect for a great wetsuit swim. Christine had just done the Escape from Alcatraz where athletes leap ten feet off of a ferry into San Francisco Bay before making their way through big currents, waves, pinnipeds (and the things that eat pinnipeds) back to the city of San Francisco. While we wouldn’t have seals, sharks, currents, or big waves to deal with Christine reminded me to hold on to my goggles while jumping. Good tip.

We jumped and started swimming. Happily there were no goggle mishaps. The sighting was as difficult as I suspected with the glare from the rising sun right on the water. The buoys were hard to see but I could see the splashes of the pack in front of me and the sailboats were to my left. All was well . . . except my Garmin still had a watch face on it.

Not the screen I expected to see when I glanced at my Garmin mid-swim.

I never set it to triathlon and hit start. Not that it was an emergency but I kind of wanted time and paces and useful stuff your Garmin provides throughout the race so I set about trying to get it going. Stroke, stroke click a button. Stroke, stroke, click.

I wear glasses. While I can survive in the wild without distance vision correction, reading is another matter. Without my glasses all the words on my Garmin menus look mostly like a smudge on the lens when I’m on land, with no goggles. Swimming in a lake, with goggles, and my watch in the water I picked something on the menu with a vague approximation of “Triathlon” and after a few more stroke/click sequences hit start. As far as I could tell I may have just started a round of golf or downhill ski run. Both seemed just as likely as having picked triathlon from the fuzzy menu items.

I got back to swimming and focusing on sailboats and buoys. The swim was awesome! I glided along in my wetsuit like a turtle. (Turtles are slow on land but are fast swimmers.) For most of the swim course, there were few collisions with other athletes. This is the beauty of a time trial start. In fact, I didn’t hit congestion until after the second turn. About half way back to land, I caught up to one or more of the sprint waves. At that point, it got a little crowded but nothing crazy. I was focused on the boat ramp and getting to the bike. One thing holds true for Steelman: I’m always sorry when the swim is over. In hindsight, despite the sun glare I like the new swim course.

The 2019 swim course.

Once back at land, a group of volunteers and a piece of astro turf really helped with the greasy ramp. I began jogging toward transition and heard a voice: “Pete!”. I turned to see good friend and multi-time Ironman finisher Tina Devlin along spectating along the fence.

My Iron-friend Tina.

I waved an acknowledgement and trotted on toward T1.

Interval Time of Day Split Split Pace Age Rank Gender Rank Overall Rank

Swim 7:34:34AM 00:27:49 01:52 min/100m 5/24 19/176 31/290

I know I have been focusing on the fun in racing this year, but for the second time in a row transition was not fun. The wetsuit legal thing caught me by surprise. I should have practiced ripping it off once or twice. I should have put Body Glide all over my legs. After a couple minutes of wrestling, I was ready to go to the food tent for a knife and start cutting. After a small eternity I finally managed to wheedle it off over the timing chip and my giant feet. I threw the suit under my bike in frustration, put on bike shoes, glasses, and helmet, bid Christine a good ride and headed out. A glance at my watch showed that, miraculously, I had picked triathlon so I clicked “Lap” to move it to bike mode. I left transition, mounted up and headed for the difficult climb out of the parking area.

Interval Time of Day Split Split Pace Age Rank Gender Rank Overall Rank

T1 7:38:15AM 00:03:42 – 18/24 128/176 193/290

One of the things I love about smaller events with shorter courses is the variety of people and bikes you see. I’m not a bike snob. I don’t care what kind of bike you have and it certainly isn’t necessary to have a bike that requires a second mortgage. The game is swim, bike, and run. Not swim, spend, and run. In the grand scheme of things you can do this on whatever bike you have. That said, at least make sure it fits. Climbing out of the parking lot, I passed a gentleman that, so help me, looked like he borrowed his kids bike.

Any bike will do for triathlon but maybe find the right size.

His knees were never less than 90 degrees on a pedal stroke. Just when I couldn’t figure out how he was going to make it up the hill, he got off and started walking. I couldn’t imagine riding the 12 miles required for the sprint like that. I couldn’t imagine riding 12 yards like that.

The bike course at Steelman features one or two loops on a closed road depending on whether you are doing the sprint or olympic distance. An additional change they made was to move the second turn-around so that athletes didn’t have to jam on the brakes at the bottom of a big hill to turn. Instead, we went partially up the next hill before turning. This was a great change.

Let is show for the record that I suck on the bike. It certainly felt like I was going fast out there but I got passed by everyone and his brother. And his grandmother. I may have even been passed by the dude on the kids bike. Clearly I have under emphasized the bike in training. That will need to change for next year. Still, conditions for the bike were ideal. The air temps and humidity were low and the road had been freshly paved. Even at my pace the miles flew quickly by and before I knew it I was descending back into the park toward T2.

If sloths could ride a bike, they’d have passed me.

Interval Time of Day Split Split Pace Age Rank Gender Rank Overall Rank

Bike 8:56:22AM 01:18:08 18.37 mi/hr 12/24 96/176 115/290

I knew T2 wasn’t going to be fast. I need to work harder on the bike next year but I also need to figure out a way to speed up T2. In the past for the run I always used Zoot shoes that were designed to be used barefoot but that was before I had orthotics. I cannot run without the orthotics or rather I cannot run without orthotics assuming I like to be free of pain and able to walk at all. I quickly learned that orthotics and bare feet don’t mix leading to major heel blisters as the orthotics reposition my foot in the shoe. But putting socks on in T2 takes forever providing plenty of opportunity for the people that forgot their bike pedals, or had mechanical trouble on the ride to pass me in T2. I’m gong to experiment with duct tape. (‘Cause that’s what guys do.)

If it doesn’t move and should use WD-40. If it moves and shouldn’t . . . or gets blisters . . use duct tape.

Anyway, I’ve gotta figure out a way to skip the slow procedure of putting on socks for the run.

Interval Time of Day Split Split Pace Age Rank Gender Rank Overall Rank

T2 8:58:13AM 00:01:51 – 14/24 106/176 155/290

The run course at Steelman is fun. Like the bike, it is an out and back with one loop for the sprinters and two for the olympic distance. The course runs on a partially shaded, paved trail that, at a glance, seems narrow but really provides plenty of real estate if runners are courteous and patient. You get to see everyone at least once on the run regardless of what distance they are doing. I saw and acknowledged many old friends and former teammates along the course including Jen and Christine. Jen looked great and was nearly finished with her sprint event as I headed out for my first loop. I didn’t see Christine for a while. Like everyone else, she passed me on the bike but had called out that I would probably catch her on the run. I had my doubts, but did pass her shortly before the finish.

Steelman run course albeit from a previous year.

Every time I’ve done Steelman I have always chosen the the olympic distance. Nearly every time, I look longingly toward the finish as I make the turn for lap number 2 of the 10K run. That wasn’t the case this year. Like the bike, the low temperature and humidity made the run fly by. I could have kept running all morning. The last time I did Steelman temps were nearly 80 degrees as we setup transition in the dark and reached a boiling point in time for the run. It was misery. Not so this year.

The new run finish was much better than the old. At the end of the second loop, we ran out on to the marina loop then back through the parking lot to the finish. They had a timing mat a few yards before the finish allowing the announcer to call us out by name as we crossed. It seemed very professional and very well done. Kudos to Dan and Dave for the positive changes!

Before I was a triathlete I was a runner. I’ve always prided myself on my run splits. It is where I catch a lot of those people that pass me on the bike. But my age group is getting fast on the run! I can still hold my own but it is clear that if I want to have an eye toward the podium that I need to not only work harder on the bike but add in some speed work to be able to gain some advantage on the run again.

Interval Time of Day Split Split Pace Age Rank Gender Rank Overall Rank

Run 9:45:03AM 00:46:51 06:49 min/mi 5/24 52/176 68/290

I crossed the line, surrendered my timing chip and received a spiffy looking finishers medal. The medal was another change by Dan and Dave. Finishers used to receive a cold, wet towel. With the gorgeous weather, the medal seemed nice but in the back of my mind I remembered how awesome that wet towel was at the end of a steamy run.

We may miss these towels on less ideal days.

I was thirsty. I looked around and spotted the line for the food tent. After a moment of recovery I headed that way assuming that is where beverages were. There were a lot of sprint finishers in line already and it took a good ten minutes to get through. Jen found me and we chatted while I waited. Typically I am not hungry after a race. The fact that I was testifies to how good the weather was. The spread of food was impressive. One thing I had emphasized to Dan when we ran that Friday morning was to be sure to keep the fruit! Steelman happens in prime Pennsylvania fruit season and Dale always had piles and piles of cold watermelon and other choice summer fruits at the finish. Dan had listened and there was no shortage. I loaded my plate with watermelon, grapes, and oranges and gleefully wolfed it all down in the shade. After eating, I found coolers full of water and Gatorade alongside the food tent. My one piece of feedback to Dan and Dave is to have water at the finish. Medal. Water. Perhaps not in that order.

I knew with my slow bike and transitions that I was not going to be on the podium but went to check results regardless.

Race: OLYMPIC

Division: M50-54

Showing 1 to 15 of 24 entries

Rank

Name

Bib

Time

Hometown

Gender

1 Martin Brans 32 02:08:53 Allentown, PA M 2 Michael Vannata 301 02:24:07 Bethlehem, PA M 3 Don Mack 178 02:26:46 Royersford, PA M 4 Simon Moore 211 02:34:14 Allentown, PA M 5 David Dauphinais 63 02:36:34 Phoenixville, PA M 6 Peter Githens 104 02:38:18 Reading, PA M

This is not bad for me for a competitive even. I think Martin Brans will win our age group forever. That dude is one awesome athlete. Only 12 minutes separated me from 3rd place and 14 minutes to 2nd place. Heck I gave up 3-4 minutes in transition alone. The rest will require some work on the bike. Overall it was a perfect day to race.

A Perfect Day to Race "Have you ever raced Steelman"? The question was posed to me by Dan Gleason as we jogged along the Chester Valley Trail.

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