#i DID notice he seems to live with Pusher's family or at the very least has a connection to them!! i did!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wolffin1 · 3 years

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Raymond Reddington theory part 2 Intelligence gathering is often a family business.

People play off the "Scott" connection but it's probably significant and I would think it ties Sam to Scotty.

I've often believed the complete lack of family history in the show for RR is for a reason, and I think it is something we haven't seen because it would give to much away. It makes no sense that Liz, a person longing for answers her whole life about her biological family, and after she finds out RR is her biological father she doesn't at the very least start working up a family tree? Doesn't make any sense at all.

In the original pilot script," Raymond “Red” Reddington grew up the son of an army brat " Back to the point historically American Intelligence in its beginnings, a good portion of its founding can be found tied to a family. There is an Easter egg nod to this when the Major tells Tom he was the only failure from the "St. Regis" project. Some might remember it as a hotel from James Bond movies and novels etc, but it has historical significance to American history and Intelligence gathering. You can read this article for more information. https://www.6sqft.com/highly-elegant-and-highly-classified-the-history-of-espionage-at-the-st-regis/

Oleander was in the states to be a spy and do spy things. Katerina had to at least be partially raised in the states. When Dom fled Russia I highly doubt he was able to package up family mementos etc. to bring back to the US with him they were already here. The board game was American in Katarina's childhood belongings. Where would Dom want to live in the US and do some spying? He would pick a place he could rub elbows with military and or agency connections. It's my belief that Scotty, Sam, RR, Katarina, and Ilya all grew up knowing another. That's why I think Dom sent Katarina to turn RR, they had a history and he knew RR loved her.

I'll go a step further. How do you think Red knows that Tom is Scottie's son? How do you think he knew to grab the "older" gentleman that was an ambassador who was under deep cover assignment for the Major and knew he would have a number to contact the Major? Put this into perspective the Hargraves who own a fantastical private contract Intelligence gathering company have no idea about their son. It doesn't take a lot of imagination to see the Hargraves were targeted for their son to be taken due to their family profession it was a given their child would most likely have innate skill suited to the profession. The Major probably stole their son threw him into the system of foster care to make him hard and have no family ties and later recruit him. Red and Scottie are familiar with each and their conversations point to them having a history. Red says he never liked her. Scottie has a picture of Carla Reddington.

It would seem obvious by now that RR has a connection to the Major, close enough to go to the Major for someone to watch Elizabeth and the Major would obviously have trust in RR for RR to know that Tom is the Hargraves missing son, add that to knowing about the ambassador, etc. RR has intimate first-hand knowledge of the Major's organization. Why do you think RR gave Liz the scar and it matches the symbol on the boxes and was Branded in Minister D's face, it was Liz that implied it was Katarina that gave him that scar Minister D never confirmed it. I think it was most likely RR that gave him that scar because he is tied to the Major and his organization in some way.

Was RR ever a boring pencil pusher? You mean the guy who acquired the information to bring down the Cabal, and who was shadowing Russians gathering intelligence and was captured by a Spetsnaz team? Anton Velov a spetsnaz group leader said during RR's time in American Intelligence he was the KGB's Greatest Threat. Boring? He sounds like James Bond. Maybe they met at the St. Regis(all puns intended).

It wouldn't surprise me if it turned out he used Katarina in some way to gain Russian secrets. Forget interviews they aren't going to drop anything useful and after you read enough of them the responses from people like JB are always from the point of view of an audience member that's seeing what they are steered to see. The most honest thing he has ever said is “I think it’s best to let the show and its characters answer that. Anything that’s meaningful is in the scripts and on the screen. EVERYTHING ELSE IS NOISE.” -Jon Bokenkamp. In other words don't be distracted by the noise. This show is all about the art of misdirection.

It's strange Cooper didn't seem to notice any difference in personality in Raymond when he first saw him after he turned himself in, the only thing he said was it's really him, and having known him it seems it would be significant if his personality was different. Red was being his normal charismatic self with Cooper. Wouldn't cooper have noticed the difference?

When Naomi/Carla tells Elizabeth that he isn't who she thinks he is, isn't meant in the way everyone takes it and is part of the misdirection that is happening in the show. Think back to the Psychologist Red saw when he was on trial and she said. “while most people see you as a, uh, ICONIC BAD GUY, YOU’RE REALLY JUST AN IMPOSTER.” I believe what Naomi/Carla said is in the same vein. She was trying to tell Liz that he isn't the person he "portrays" himself to be not that he isn't Raymond Reddington, he is portraying himself differently than he truly is or at the very least as he once was. I think that's why Dembe is determined to save his soul, he is an anchor for Red to not get completely lost in the persona he portrays himself as.. If this true then Naomi/Carla was speaking of RR that she married when she spoke about RR and women's heads and her revulsion to him working with Elizabeth and their familiarity with one another after they haven't seen each other in decades and his sincere display of feelings for a former lover when she was departing all make sense.

In season six they scanned Red's hands as he was incarcerated, they took the time to show the screen with the scanned prints matching the paper copy prints from season one which is from 1989, and before Raymond Reddington went missing. Did he ever really die? The bones could have been implanted with DNA we have seen this in the show, part of a backup plan to disappear? He did tell Elizabeth that he could disappear at a moment's notice, that he sells that particular package.

Why did Kaplan tell Katarina she was sorry, because in her mind she failed to protect Elizabeth. Why give the bones to Elizabeth if they aren't RR's? To set Liz on the path for answers because she knew once Liz started she would never stop.

People bring up Jennifer and he treated her very differently than Liz. A lot of difference between a grown woman in her 30's that he hadn't seen since she was a child from over two decades in the past and had been safe in obscurity, she was estranged from him, and he didn't look at her the same as he did Liz, whom he had watched her whole life and needed to be watched and protected and was more or less orphaned and still in danger. The more he stays out of Jennifer's life the safer Jennifer is. His indifference is just appearance by keeping her away from him he is actually keeping her safe where he feels he has to be involved in Liz’s to keep her safe.

#The Blacklist #the blacklist raymond reddington #Raymond Reddington #Red Reddington

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p3nny4urth0ught5 · 4 years

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One Step Back - Chapter 1

Hey everyone! I finally finished the next part of One Step Back. Thank you so much to everyone who has been so supportive so far!

If you want to be added to the taglist please let me know! Also big shoutout again to @singeramg. I honestly don’t think I would be able to do this without her. You all should read her stuff.

Just a reminder, this story takes places after the events of Justice League. The timeline is a little different so if things seem a little incorrect that is why. Also this part is still from Clark’s POV. I’m planning on officially introducing the reader the next chapter. Thanks everyone!

Taglist: @singeramg @queengeorgiaaa @spookypeachx @ayame236 @ohjules

Clark was anxious. He was so nervous that he could barely breathe. He kept having to stop his leg from bouncing. His hand rubbed the nape of his neck and his entire body felt as stiff as a board. He decided to take the bus back home instead of just flying, and while it was probably a good idea for him to not be in the air right now with how much of a mess he was, it was also very counter-intuitive because it gave him more time to dwell on what was to come.

He hadn’t been able to get Y/n off his mind in months and yet now he felt like an idiot for making this trip. The two of them had grown up together. They met when they were kids and became joined at the hip despite his parent’s reluctance to him having any close friends. She had fought tooth and nail for the right to be his friend and had proved time and time again that she was worth the risk it was to him and his parents. In fact, after the whole bus incident from when they were kids, she became so defensive and protective of him that she had definitely scared off both kids and their parents alike from confronting him or his mom and dad about what happened. Lois had even been intimidated by her when she came around looking for answers about who he was, and knowing how Lois was, that in and of itself was extremely impressive and surprisingly heartwarming.

After his dad died, he hadn’t been able to stay in Smallville. He felt like in order to find himself and assuage the pain and guilt and loss he felt, he had to leave. Clark hated leaving his mom to deal with his father’s death all alone, but it was eating him alive being in his home when his dad was gone and he could have saved him. He had been so angry at him for not letting him help and at himself for listening to him. Despite how hard it was, he needed to leave, to get himself straightened out.

As difficult as it was to leave his mom, his home, and everything he knew, it had been especially hard for him to leave Y/n. He had been through everything with her and not only was she his best friend and his rock, but the two of them had eventually fallen in love and became high school sweethearts. He had proposed to her just a few months prior to the death of his father. The two of them hadn’t even started seriously planning the wedding but they had decided on a few things here or there very casually, such as possible colors they liked or how many people they wanted in the wedding He loved waking up and knowing that he was going to spend the rest of his life with his best friend and love of his life. Clark had been so in love with her. Leaving her, had left the both of them heartbroken and wishing things were different, and it was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do.

To this day, he still could remember her standing on his porch, tears in her eyes, telling him that she didn’t want him to leave. They had fought over the prospect of him being gone for weeks but eventually she had told him that she understood why he was doing what he was, she just wasn’t happy about it and didn’t agree, all she asked was that he come back to her.

The bus he was in was crowded and noisy and the sound of a crying child dragged him from his memories of Y/n. He looked up and saw a frantic mother of three at her wits end, her two boys fighting next to her and her toddler crying inconsolably in her arms. The child had her arms outstretched toward the ground, reaching for something, and when Clark looked down, he saw a stuffed elephant sprawled across the floor of the bus. His heart stopped at the shear pain on the child’s face and the anguish in her cries. He felt himself feeling her pain as his own, wanting to cry out as she did, but he couldn’t.

Clark reached down and grabbed the ratty old stuffed toy, clearly something that had been loved on for years so probably a hand-me-down of some sort, and held it out to the teary-eyed child. Upon receiving what she was looking for, the child gurgled for a moment and then immediately quieted. The mother looked down at her now silent baby and breathed in a sigh of relief. A smile broke out across Clark’s face. The young girl stuck the elephant’s ear into her mouth and started to suck on it. He had to hold in a laugh at how quickly she had been pleased as he shook his head and turned to the window, looking out at the changing scenery. A flash of regret struck through him. By now, he thought that he would’ve had a whole gaggle of kids or at least, that was the plan when he was still learning to be a man.

As the view outside changed from the city to the countryside, Clark tried to clear his head of the nonsense running through it and get back to focusing on seeing his mom. He hadn’t been home since he had helped her move back into their house after Bruce bought the bank. He still couldn’t believe that he did that. He definitely appreciated it, but Clark just couldn’t fathom anyone having enough money to just up and buy a bank. He had grown up on a farm in a small town and while he lived in Metropolis now and worked for a very successful newspaper, he still wasn’t exactly flush with cash. Being a pencil pusher mostly meant he wasn’t paid super well. Clark liked his job well enough and it gave him an excuse to poke his nose into things and places where it didn’t belong but he didn’t have the passion for it that Lois did. Something just didn’t feel right, like there was something missing.

After a few hours, Clark was finally home again and he felt himself fill with joy at the thought of seeing his mother. Despite his underlying reason for coming home, he was still very excited to be back. He imagined this is what he might have felt had he gone away to college and come home for the summer. The bus dropped him at the city limits so he started the long trek to his family farm. He decided to walk through the center of town because it had been such a long time since he had seen it.

Everything he saw as he walked along the familiar sidewalk brought back memories from his childhood, both good and bad. There was the diner on the corner where he would spend time with his parents when they had a little bit of money to spare for a night out. The old movie theater that he and Y/n used to sneak into, well... that Y/n used to help him sneak into. He could practically see the two of them running around town like the hooligans they were, getting into trouble and Y/n always took the blame. Most of the stuff they did was her idea anyway but he played an equal part. People were always confused as to why the two of them were such good friends when she was such a troublemaker and he stayed on the straight and narrow. He couldn’t help but laugh thinking about how people used to talk about what a bad influence on him she was. It was 100% true, but he didn’t care either way.

A few things had changed here or there in the town, it actually seemed a bit bigger than he remembered, there seemed to be more people that he didn’t recognize but Clark didn’t put much thought into it. He continued on his journey home and started to pass by the other family farms that were in between town and his home. Clark noticed that most of them seemed to be doing quite well and it looked like there had been a few updates done to the houses as well as some newer cars in the driveways. It was puzzling to him how they could afford that but once again he didn’t let that thought bother him.

As he got closer to home, he felt his throat start to close up and it felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. The air started to fill with the scent of wildflowers and lavender that always seemed to permeate from the property no matter what season. He took a deep breath and stopped in his tracks. In his mind, as clear as the light of day, he could see Y/n lying next to him smelling so strongly of those two things, her skin soft and sun kissed from being outside. His mouth watered for the taste of apples, something she always seemed to have on her that the two of them would share at lunch or after school. He could feel her touch on his skin and hear her laugh almost as if she was right next to him. Just as Clark started to lose himself in the memories, he noted that the air smelt dusty and barren, as if the house hadn’t been lived in properly for months if not longer. His eyes snapped open and he had to stop himself from rushing to the front door. He took a good look at the house and while it still looked like it was in great shape, it was obvious to him that no one had been there in quite a while. The house was obviously still being maintained by someone as it looked quite clean and put together, but he didn’t see or hear or smell anyone living there. His heart sank in his chest and he started to feel light-headed. She wasn’t there.

Clark tried to push all the negative thoughts creeping up in his mind that something had happened to her or that she was with someone else. For some reason the second option sounded all the more terrifying and filled him with more dread then the first. He continued walking toward his mom’s house, the trek feeling like it took even longer than it should have. His feet felt like they were filled with lead and seemed to get heavier with every step that he took further from her home and toward his previous one. He tried to focus on the other reason he was here, his mom, but Y/n was hovering in the back of his mind and he had to focus on not letting it overwhelm him.

He continued walking and arrived at his mother’s home just a few moments later even though it felt like it took a good four hours. Clark felt a little bit of the weight on his shoulders fall off at finally being home. His chest didn’t feel like it was completely caved in anymore and he could breathe. A small smile graced his lips as his mom walked out of her house and the family dog, Frank, ran out of the house and up to him. She smiled and laughed, cupping her hand over her brow to block out the sun, “Is that my boy?”

He crouched down and scratched Frank behind his ears and ruffled his fur. “Hey Mom.”

It was hard to believe as he looked around that just a few months ago all of this had been seized by the bank. His mom had to move with all of their stuff and abandon their home where he grew up, and yet it didn’t look like a thing had changed, it looked the same as it always had. A small part of him was comforted by the fact that nothing had changed.

She walked down the porch steps and threw her arms around him. Still touch sensitive, he flinched and tried to disguise it by hugging her back tightly. His heart sunk at still feeling anxious like he was. He thought if anyone would be a comfort instead of another reason for him to feel tense, it would be his mother, but apparently not.

“I wasn’t expecting you to come home. If I would’ve known I would’ve made a roast or something.” The two separated and he crouched down to grab his bags as she led him inside.

“I wanted to surprise you.” His cheeks hurt from how wide he was smiling, meanwhile his skin still ached from where she had touched him.

“Well I’m always happy to see you honey. Come on in, let me get you something to eat.”

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Being at his mother’s house for the past few days had done him some good. Clark felt like he was a little more relaxed, less on edge. He loved being home, getting to help out his mom around the house, working in the fields, it made him feel like a kid again, but something kept nagging him at the back of his mind, Y/n. He hadn’t dared to bring her up yet. It was causing him to lose sleep thinking about her, not knowing where she was or if she was alright. He knew that his mom knew something was on his mind, and he was sure she knew what that was as well. He never could hide anything from her. Sometimes she would look at him like she wanted to bring it up but then turn away. Clark knew that it was his responsibility to bring her up, he knew that she was trying to get him to admit his mistakes and ask her what he was dying to ask.

It all came to a head about a week after he’d come home. He couldn’t let the thought of her eat away at him any longer without getting answers. The two of them had been working tirelessly all day and were now in the kitchen preparing dinner, well, his mother was at least. He had offered to help and she had shooed him away like always, claiming that she liked to do it and didn’t need any help.

“Hey Mom?”She looked up from where she was stirring something in a pot on the stove.

“Yes dear? What is it?”

He had a sense of déjà vu, sitting at the dining room table drinking a half empty mug of coffee. A sigh passed through his lips as his stomach turned and his soul filled with dread. Now that he had begun the conversation, he was having second thoughts, but he knew he had to push forward even though things were about to get very uncomfortable.

“Where’s Y/n? I walked by her home the other day on my way here and it seemed like it had been empty for a while.” He gulped and felt like he was trying to swallow a boulder. His chest was tightening as he waited for a response and his heart felt like it was about to pump out of his chest.

Clark’s mom’s back straightened. He could hear her take a deep breath as she turned off the stove. His mind raced when she didn’t immediately start talking. She took a few moments to wipe off her hands and settled herself down at the table beside him. Her hands reached out and grabbed one of his into her own.

“She left town shortly after the funeral we had for you here at the house. After she found out about Lois, she was completely devastated and she got a great job offer out of town and took it. I tried to talk her into staying but you know how hard headed she is.” His heart stopped; she was gone. He had hoped to have told her about the Lois situation himself but knew that was probably just a pipe dream at this point. “Son I love you but I have to say I have never been more disappointed with you with the way you treated that poor girl. She deserved better than that.”

That statement hit him hard. He knew he should have treated her better and come clean sooner with her about him and Lois, but he was scared, and it was difficult trying to juggle his superhero persona and his normal life as Clark Kent, reporter for the Daily Planet. Y/n leaving because of him was the last thing he wanted. He had hoped that the two of them could sit down and talk like adults and try to mend the bridge he had broken by leaving in the first place. A big part of him knew that the conversation would not go that way at all but he had still hoped at the time. Now, he was lost.

“Where is she Mom? Where did she go?” It felt like someone was choking him from the inside of his throat and he felt his eyes fill with tears.

His mom had a dejected smile on her face. She cupped his cheek with her hand and he felt himself grit his teeth at the touch, it still made him ache. “I don’t know son.”

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years

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Get Together

Part 6 in Getaway Series

Warnings: noncon sex (oral, vaginal and anal intercourse, menstruation, violence), angst, rude words from a rude dude. This is dark!(nomad)Steve and explicit. 18+ only. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. I mean it, I’m not gonna tell you again.

Summary: Steve makes his appearance at the reader’s family barbeque.

Note: This is fucking rough. No exaggeration. I can actually not express her how fucking brutal this chapter turned out so please read the warning, re-read them, then read a third time. I mean it. This is some dark ass shit and I’m almost questioning myself at the moment.

Anyways, hope you all enjoy and let me know what you think as always. Love ya <3

...

You'd always dreaded your mother's barbeques. They were crowded, noisy, and hectic. Not only with stuffy family members you avoided but strangers your mother knew from work or even just met in passing. She had a habit of seeking friendship in any who looked her way.

Your mother was at the top of your list of those to avoid. Since your break-up with Ethan, you had done your best to change the subject whenever it came up between you. You were sure Gia was also feeding her curiosity.

You didn't have the energy to lie anymore and you certainly wouldn't tell the truth. You prayed that Steve forgot your sister's invitation. That you could show up, say hi, and scurry back home.

You woke up early that Sunday. Your mom texted you until you got up and assured her that you would be there. You needed to powder the lemon squares anyway. Those were your specialty; your mother insisted on them for every gathering.

You went to the kitchen in your long tee and pulled out the powdered sugar. You filled the sifter and began to shake it over the pan of squares you made the night before. You yawned and grabbed your lower back.

You had been relegated to sleeping on the thin mattress without its frame. It didn't stop Steve. He returned in the days since its breakdown to terrorize you. You suspected he enjoyed the thought of you on the floor.

The door clicked and you glanced over as the lock slid open. You sighed as Steve entered. So much for hoping. You carried on your work as you covered the desert in sweet snow. The door closed behind him and he strode into the kitchen.

"You know, you do strike me as the baking type," He remarked as he came up beside you. "Cute."

You ignored him and kept your eyes on the pan. You were really not looking forward to going now. How would you explain him to your mother? Hell, you weren't quite sure how Gia hadn't seen past his poor disguise. You had but you'd also found him in his uniform. She had only seem the casual, easy-going Nick.

"Doesn't start til noon," You grumbled.

"Lots of time then," His fingertips tickled your thigh just beneath the hem of the shirt.

"I'm on my rag," You didn't look at him as you set the sifter in the sink and tucked the sugar away in the cupboard.

"Hmmp. Explains the attitude but I don't see how it's relevant." He leaned against the counter as you crossed your arms at him. "Do you think a little blood will stop me?"

You tilted your head. He wore a button up and pressed slacks. Polished leather shoes and a matching belt. He had dressed up for your mother's little shindig.

"Nothing will." You resigned.

"You're right." He pushed himself away from the counter and headed back through the door. "So, let's make the most of our time."

You rubbed your forehead and rinsed your hands. Keep him happy and he might not humiliate you entirely at the barbeque. You followed him as he carefully undressed in your living room. He draped his shirt over the chair, his slacks too, his socks tucked neatly into his shoes beneath. He was deliberate; basking in your obvious agitation.

"On your stomach," He pointed to the couch.

You frowned as he pulled his briefs down. You huffed and tried to pass him. He caught you as he dropped his underwear on the chair.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting a towel," You snapped. "You've ruined enough already."

"Hurry up." He let go and paced towards the couch.

You grabbed the towel you used the night before and whisked back into the room. As you neared him, he turned to rip it from your grasp. He spread it across the couch and stood back. He was hard and judging by the twitch in his jaw, impatient.

You lowered yourself onto the couch. You stretched out on your stomach, content to hide your face in your arms. Your head shot up as he slapped your ass.

He pulled your shirt up and yanked your panties down your legs. He flung them away from him, the pad still clung to the crotch. He climbed over you, his legs on either side of yours.

He pushed his cock down past your ass and to your entrance. He prodded at your pussy but didn't go further. He ran his fingers along your back and you shivered.

He grabbed your arms just above your elbows and pushed inside. You exhaled into the cushion as he thrust slowly. His cock added to the fullness which had settled in your pelvis. Your hips ached as he moved against you.

He grunted as he fucked you. Usually he was more talkative. He forced your back to arch painfully and you groaned. The room was filled with the sounds of his flesh against yours. He got faster and faster. His pelvis crashed against yours and sent ripples up your spine.

He let go of your right arm and slapped your ass as he sped up again. He kneaded the flesh as his hips stuttered and you held yourself up on one elbow. “Dont--” You choked on your voice was he came. Fuck. You were already a mess, you didn’t need more of one.

“What?” He eased himself to a stop and grabbed the back of your head. He shoved it into the cushion and pusher deeper until you whined. “Were you trying to say something?”

“N-no,” You rasped. “Nothing...”

He released you and pulled out of you roughly. He tugged free a corner of the towel from beneath you and wiped himself off. You sat up and felt the flow of semen and blood spill onto the towel. “You should get cleaned up,” He turned away and wandered casually towards your bathroom. “You do like to play the innocent, don’t you?”

You heard the smirk in his voice. You grabbed the towel and stood. You followed reluctantly. The shower trembled and burst into life. You tossed the towel in the hamper and grabbed a fresh one. Another for him.

You sighed. You should let him air dry. You plopped the towels on the closed toilet and looked up at the shower curtain. Steve’s broad figure was just visible through the foggy plastic.

You pulled your tee over your head and tossed it on the floor. You stepped into the shower behind him, the smell of your lavender body soap tickled your nose. Great, hopefully nobody noticed his flowery scent.

He scrubbed his hair with your shampoo and you did your best to catch some of the stream. You tried to wash him away but somehow, you could never quite remove the taint of his touch. He switched with you wordlessly as you lathered soap on your skin. His hands trailed through the bubbles on your back and he poked you with his erection. He never took long.

You wetted your hair as his fingers crawled along your hips. He hummed as his cock slid along your ass. You froze and closed your eyes. Waiting. He drew his hands away and the shower curtain chimed as he pulled it back.

“Later,” He promised. “Get cleaned up.” He closed the curtain behind him. “I can’t wait to meet the family.”

Your heart stopped. At least it felt like it did. Fuck. It was bad enough that he had endeared himself to Gia, she was an easy mark, but you couldn’t imagine what your mom would think when you showed up with a new man. Well, you hadn’t invited him. You’d make that very clear.

You gulped and squirted some shampoo into your hand. Distract her with the lemon squares, she might not even notice the bearded goon following you like a shadow.

You were quiet as Steve drove. You should’ve figured he had a car but you really hadn’t put too much thought to his activities outside of hounding you. You balanced the lemon squares on your lap and stared out the window. You gave him directions when needed but your mind was already at your destination.

Your mom’s street was lined with cards. You walked half a block between the car and her house. You could hear the buzz of voices in the backyard. You led Steve around the side as he looked over the house. The gate was unlocked to welcome guests and your dad was already warming up the barbeque.

Your mother appeared at the back door and sighted you from across the yard. She smiled and came down the steps. As she wove through the other guests, her eyes landed on Steve and her brows shot up. She greeted you with a one armed hug as you avoided smushing the pan against her middle. She took the lemon squares from you as she let go.

“Honey!” She preened, “You’re here. A little late, but here.” She peeked at Steve, “And who is this?”

“Nick,” Steve offered his hand. You looked over your mom’s shoulder as Gia made her way towards you. Shit.

“A friend,” You filled in grimly. “Gia invited him.”

You sister appeared at the mention of her name. She was pressed and plucked perfectly. She smiled at Steve and trilled her hello.

“I gather your guy is here,” You commented on her flowery dress. “So…”

“He’s in the bathroom,” She returned. “And you actually brought a friend.”

“I didn’t exactly ask him along,” You mumbled.

“Sorry, Nick, I promise our family is not usually this hostile,” Your mother chimed before she looked to you and Gia. “Girls.”

“Siblings,” He chuckled coolly. “I don’t mind.”

“I hope you don’t mind if I steal my daughter for a moment,” Your mom replied. “I promise I’ll have her back quickly.”

“Not at all,” He shrugged. “It looks like a lively party. I’m sure I can manage.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Gia assured, “Ben should be back soon.” She turned to Steve and batted her lashes. “You two will get along.”

You sighed quietly and reluctantly let your mother lead you away from them. You hated how easily your sister got on with him. How smoothly he put his mask on and fooled others. Your mother took you inside and set down the pan on the counter. She turned back to you, still smiling.

“I figured you could cut the squares,” She said, “And tell me about this Nick.”

“Mom,” You brushed by her and took a knife from the block. You removed the lid from the squares and set to carving lines through them. “He just lives down the hall. That’s all.”

“He’s cute…” She sang, “And after Ethan and you split so suddenly--”

“I’m not looking for a boyfriend,” You interrupted her. “Nick is just...someone I know. He wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Gia’s big mouth.”

“So, when do I get to see this new place of yours,” Your mother smoothly deflected your irritation.

“Whenever you want, mom,” You shrugged. “Not much to see. A lot smaller than our--my old one.”

“Gia did say that. Honey, are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” You assured her. “I’m sorry, it’s just...if everyone could stop bringing up Ethan I’d be a lot better. It’s bad enough that I’m here with--”

The look on your mother’s face was frightening. Her smile was gone and her eyes were wide. Your ears tingled and you sensed a shift in the air. A familiar voice rose and drifted through the window. The sound of gasps and ‘oohs’ were soon to follow.

“Oh, mom, you didn’t,” You dropped the knife and headed for the door.

“Gia didn’t say you were bringing this Nick guy, I thought you two could talk…”

She followed as you swept through the backdoor to find the two men standing chest to chest in the midst of the crowd. Steve had a few inches on Ethan and was almost twice as wide. Gia was holding back your ex as the super soldier grinned with his arms crossed over his chest.

“You son of a bitch,” Ethan snarled as Gia fought against him. “What is he doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” You stormed down the steps towards him. “You said you didn’t want to talk.”

“I didn’t, but I thought--” His eyes flashed as you neared. “I didn’t think you’d be bringing him along.”

“Ethan, why did you come?” You kept your voice low. “It’s over.”

“Sure as fuck it’s over.” He pushed Gia away and Steve laughed. You stepped between them before Ethan could raise his fist. “I just thought maybe we didn’t have to leave this the way it is.” He looked around and gritted his jaw. “You’re a fucking slut.” He backed away slowly and looked to your mother. “You hear that? You’re daughter is a cheating bitch.”

“Son,” Your dad appeared, spatula in hand at Ethan’s side. “I think it’s time you go.”

Ethan glared at your dad and Steve dropped his arms. He squared his shoulders as he came up beside you. Ethan sputtered and looked around at his audience. “Fuck all of you.” He turned and stomped out the gate as you watched. Your eyes stung and you sniffed back the tears that threatened.

You glanced around at the guests who were still in shock over the scene. You turned and marched past your mom and back up the steps. She trailed you into the kitchen and you picked your knife up and continued to cut the squares. Silently.

“Honey…” Her voice was pitiful.

“I didn’t--” You shook your head and swallowed your words. You finished with the lemon squares and pulled out a plate to serve them on. The screen door flapped opened and closed and you looked up as Gia entered.

“So…” She came up on the other side of the counter. “What was that about?”

“Leave it, Gia,” You grumbled as you focused on the dessert.

She crossed her arms and leaned against the island. She chewed her lip as she watched you. “Did you…?”

You looked up at her and your lip trembled. “Please, don’t even ask me that.”

“Well, that was...intense. What am I supposed to say?”

“Ethan’s bitter. That’s all.”

“And you and Nick? You never…” Her voice trailed off as you dusted off your hands and rinsed them. You couldn’t look at her. That was all the answer she needed. “When you were still with Ethan?”

“I fucked everything up, okay?” You turned and barked at her. Your mother watched in stunned silence. Her face painted with judgment. The same revulsion you felt for yourself. “I did it. I made my own fucking mistakes and they are none of your business.” You huffed. “Leave Nick alone. Leave me alone. It’s better off you don’t get yourself involved.”

You turned and headed for the door. Your mom was quick to block you, her arm across the screen. “Honey, you can’t just run away?”

“I know I can’t run,” You said. “But I can’t stay here. Not after that.” You looked over your shoulder as you grabbed the screen door. “I told you not to invite him.”

You pushed past your mom and tramped down the steps. Steve was stood with some man you’d never seen. Dark hair, graying dark suit; it must’ve been Ben. You came up beside Steve and touched his elbow. He looked down at you and smirked.

“We’re leaving,” You said.

“What?” He blinked. His blue eyes narrowed at your order.

“My mom wants us gone,” You lied. “I think we’ve caused enough drama. Drawn enough attention.”

He thought and nodded. “Suppose you’re right,” He turned to Ben and excused himself. “Nice to meet ya.” He grabbed your elbow and cleared his throat. He ushered you to the gate and you were thankful at least to be leaving. “It’s a shame. I was really looking forward to trying one of those squares.”

You kept quiet as he squeezed your arm and dragged you down the street.

“It was nice seeing Ethan again, wasn’t it?” He boasted. “Should’ve broke that jaw of his and maybe he’d have shut the fuck up.”

“Steve,” You croaked. “Please.”

“Fuck,” He shoved you into the side of the car and you stumbled. You turned and he was on you in an instant. His body held you flush against the hot metal. “You’re still in love with him?”

“Of course I am,” You spat. “You--you ruined everything. I was happy.”

You shook as you glared up at him.

“You were complacent. You had a boring life before me. Nothing before me.”

“I hate you,” You sneered.

The crack stunned you. Almost as much as it stunned him. Your hand flew up across his cheek before you could stop it. His head moved just a little and he grabbed your wrist before you could lower it. His blue eyes were fiery.

“Oh-ho-ho,” He smiled; a dangerous smile. “There we go. I’ve been waiting for that.” His other hand came up around your neck as he bent down. “Get in the fucking car,” He whispered and squeezed. “Now.”

He let go and backed away. You gulped as you stared up at him. Your heart raced and your entire body was on fire. You trembled as you pushed yourself away from the car and stumbled around to the other side. His door slammed as he got in and you shut yours softly. You gripped your knees as he turned the engine.

“You’re in it now, bitch,” He growled as he pulled out.

The locks clicked and you watched the houses pass in a blur. Shit.

Steve drove up to your building. He stopped in front and before he could kill the engine, you had your seatbelt undone and the door unlocked. You shoved the door open and bolted out. You fled done the sidewalk without an endpoint in sight. You just wanted to be away.

You heard him behind you. The slam of his door and his shoes keeping time with yours. You were out of breath before you reached the corner and he kicked your legs out from under you. You flew forward and scraped your palms and arms on the pavement with a yelp.

He planted his feet on either side of you and pulled you with a hand on your neck and the other on your arm. He lifted you as if you weighed nothing. To him, you were nothing.

“I’ll scream,” You tried to pull away from him as he turned you back down the street.

“Then scream,” He kept his hand on your arm as he walked you beside him. “I don’t give a fuck.” He marched you along the walk and kicked closed the car door as he passed. He dragged you up to the door of your building, your shoes slid across the pavement helplessly. “I should’ve showed everyone what a whore you were back at your parents, eh? You’d be begging for it just like you did in front of Ethan.”

“Stop!” You twisted and he slammed your back into the door. The force knocked the wind from you as he glared down at you.

“You know why I won’t leave you alone?” He pinned you against the door. “Because every time I come, you’re that much closer to breaking and when you do, I’m gonna love every second of it.”

You blanched. You tried to shove him away and he easily caught your arms. He turned you around and reached into your pocket. He took your keys and shoved them in the slot. He wrenched the door open and pushed you through. You stumbled as he slapped your ass and barked for you to go.

You fought him as you ascended the stairs. You hit every wall as he forced you up. If any stumbled upon the struggle, you suspected he’d be no less brutish with them. When you reached your floor, you planted your feet and he kicked your rear. You fell to your knees and he grabbed the back of your blouse.

He dragged you down the worn carpet and to your door. He swiftly opened your door and tossed you inside. You hit the wall just next to the kitchen doorway and slid back down to your knees. The lock slid into place as his breaths grew louder in his anger.

A subtle jingle sounded from behind you and he grabbed your shoulder as you tried to stand. He forced you down onto your stomach and straddled you between his thick legs. He held your wrists behind you as he tore loose his belt. He wrapped the leather around your wrists and pulled it so tight, your fingers throbbed.

He smacked the back of your head as he stood. He toed your side and paced around you in the small space and lifted you to your feet. You tried to kick out and he deflected your leg with his. He grabbed your neck and held you against the wall.

“You wanna play that game?” He slapped your cheek with his other hand. The sting burned your cheek and he did it again. Harder. You clenched your jaw as he hit you over and over, every strike meaner than the last. “Let’s play.”

He ripped you away from the wall and shoved you ahead of him. You dug your heels into the floor and he sighed. He smacked your ass so hard you stumbled and he caught the back of your pants before you could topple. He dragged you into the bedroom and pushed you so that you fell face first onto the mattress.

“Stay,” He rested his shoe between your shoulder blades and pushed until you could breath.

“Fuck you!” You lifted your head and looked back at him. “I fucking hate you.”

“I know you do,” He removed his foot and slid his phone out of his pocket. “But it won’t look that way, will it?” He moved his thumb around his screen and set the phone sideways on your bookcase. “I send this little video to Ethan and he might just be stupid enough to share it.”

You dropped your head against the mattress and grunted as you pulled against the belt. You heard him moving around, the floor creaked beneath his weight, and you swore into the blanket. He was going to take everything from you, even your family. No, he wouldn’t get that. Never.

Your whole body jolted as he tore your pants down in one motion. Your panties and flats were swept away with the pressed fabric. You were left bare and face down. He knelt on the mattress next to you and flipped your over. He ripped your blouse down the middle and snapped your bra. He tweaked your nipples painfully as you tried to roll away.

He slapped your cheek again, this time with the back of his hand. His knuckles left your cheekbone tender. You tried to sit up and he pushed you back down easily. He was completely naked. He climbed over you so that his thighs were around your head and pressed his cock against your lips.

“Open up,” He squeezed your chin. “Come on. Don’t make me break that pretty little face of yours.”

You opened your mouth and he was quick to slip inside. You gagged and spasmed as he invaded your throat. You couldn’t breath as he sank his entire length into you. He leaned on his knees and began to thrust. He grasped your hair between his fingers as he fucked your face.

“He was fucking right. You are a slut,” He panted as he sped up. Faster and faster until stars spotted your vision. “You’re probably wet already.”

His grunts filled your head as your eyes rolled back. He never wavered, even as you were certain you would pass out. He bent over you and pushed his cock as deep as it could go and you felt the sickly heat burst in your throat. He snarled as he came and you were forced to swallow or choke.

You coughed as he pulled out of your mouth. Your head lolled and he slapped you again. Three times before your eyes opened. “We’re not even close to done,” He turned you over again and struck your ass. You whined and he spanked you until your ass was raw.

“Fucking dirty,” He said as he shoved his hand between your legs.

You could feel the blood and your unwilling arousal spread along his fingers. He pushed your legs apart and grabbed the back of your neck. He lined himself up and entered you smoothly. You groaned against the mattress and he plunged to his limit.

His hand slipped down to the belt and he pulled on your wrists as he began to move. His hips slammed against your ass. You rasped into the blanket as your body racked beneath his. Each thrust was painful. A reminder that he was in control. That every fight would end this way.

He kneaded your ass with his other hand as he crushed you into the bed. You could feel the floor through the thin cushion. His thumb slipped down and he circled around your asshole. You shook your head but before you could protest, he forced his finger inside.

You whimpered at the strain in your ass he pulled his thumb in and out roughly in time with his cock. It sent a peculiar ripple through your body; added to the strokes of his cock against your walls. You trembled at the sudden flurry of nerves in your pelvis.

“See, you fucking like it,” He hissed. “You can fight me all you want, but you’ll never win.” His words were punctuated by harsh breaths and you body spasmed suddenly. “Uh-uh-uh, look at you. You’re cumming already.” He pounded into harder and kept his thumb inside you. “You like it in the ass, don’t you?”

He removed his thumb and bent over you. He thrust you into the mattress and turned your head. He held your chin in place as his hot breath singed your cheek, his lips pressed to your skin.

“Hmm? You want me dick in your ass?” He growled.

“N-n-”

His palm smothered your protest and he pulled out of you. He slid his cock back along your ass and you wiggled beneath him. You tried to bite his hand but he merely pressed it tighter. He reached down to pushed himself against your tight hole and you cried out into his hand.

Your eyes went wide as he shoved himself inside. He groaned in delight as he entered you slowly. Tears rose in your vision and your entire body buzzed with pain as he forced his way in. You kicked your legs against his as he impaled you completely.

He moved carefully. Savoured the stretch of you around him. You went limp as the pain was too much. He uncovered your mouth and rested his forehead against your temple. He shoved his hand beneath you and squeezed your tit as his hips rocked against you.

“You’re a fucking mess,” He whispered. “I can feel your blood all over me.”

His pace picked up a little at a time. You closed your eyes in shame. You bit down as the agony tore through you. Your voice rose as his hips jerked into you harder and harder. You whined in pain as he fucked your ass without restraint.

He pushed himself up, his hand on your shoulders as he chased his climax. His grunts were sultry and hypnotic against the shrill anguish of your own. He grabbed the back of your head and shoved it into the mattress as his thrusts grew uneven. He roared as he came and rode out his high.

You were left shaking beneath him as he sat back on his knees. He stayed inside of you and his cock twitched. You tried to wriggle away but it only added to the strain. His fingers wrapped around your waist and he began to move again.

You bit your lip and held your breath as it started again. The shock, the pain, the humiliation. You would not break. Not for him. He would not win. You wouldn’t let him. The great Captain America had lost before and he could again.

#getaway #series #steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers #au #mcu #marvel #fic #captain america #dark!verse #darkverse #dark!fic #dark fic

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justjessame · 3 years

Text

Avery Emerson Clay: Anger Management...Yoga OR---

I knew I was treading on the thinnest of thin ice, but I also knew that Clay was right there beside me and he outweighed my ass by A LOT. It was a test of who was taking a freezing dip first and I was laying heavy odds on big brother. Seeing as he was a Lieutenant Colonel and I was just a paper pusher who worked for my daddy. Me behaving while surrounded by a bunch of tough asses wasn’t exactly in the cards or expected, but Lt. Col. Franklin Clay Junior? Oh, he wasn’t only expected to reign his bullshit all the way in, he was supposed to strap it down and beat it into submission.

The term “tight ass” comes to mind when considering Dad and Clay in their current physical situation. Clay’s team, Mom, me all bearing witness to two Alpha males laying out their plan, the Op, the way things were going to go down - or else. And what does Avery go and do? I make one of them lose his shit and cackle like a mad cow. Oops.

“JUNIOR,” Dad growled, and even Garfield stood stock still with his hair in classic Halloween scaredy cat raised hair pose, eyes wide, waiting. “Get your shit together.”

I’d been waiting for it, so I managed to NOT lose my own shit. I might have been the last addition to the Clay clan, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t KNOW how to run with it. Sitting patiently while my elder brother choked down his mirth, I sipped the dredges of my juice and feigned an innocence that NO ONE in the kitchen would willingly credit me with having. Once Clay no longer sounded like he’d swallowed one of my kittens, Dad’s eyes landed on me and I knew my short recess was over.

“Avery,” at least he wasn’t snarling at me, I thought. “Now that your little interruption has been reigned in,” shit, Daddy, do you have to just stomp all over my artwork? “Pay close attention, sweetheart, it’s time for you to learn your role.” Great, and I always hated it when Mom signed me up for pageants and plays.

I was blinking at my Dad’s grinning face when he finished regaling me with his and Junior Fuckface’s plan. “Bait?” My lips were barely moving as I said it, so irritated by the very idea of them using me, the SMALLEST of the lot so OF COURSE I’d be bait, that I could hardly utter the fucking word. “You want me to parade up and down the hill like a fucking piece of -” Jake’s hand touched my thigh, warm and strong, but nowhere near the type of soothing he was hoping it to be.

“Avery,” Mom’s voice, the verbal form of what Jake’s touch was trying to be, and my eyes flashed to her face. Did my vision always have that tinge of red, or was that new? “Sweetheart, I know it SEEMS like you were picked because of your -” she stopped, her eyes sliding down over the length of me and I felt a growl building inside of me. At least I thought it was internal, but the way she flinched, maybe not.

Dad tried to cut in, but I shook him off too. Throwing up my arms, I begged off from the rest of the meeting. Reminding everyone of my court mandated yoga, I insisted I should go perform my daily duty. Alone, it hurt to push Jake away, but I needed a breather to get my shit in hand, because I was angrier than I’d ever been and I wasn’t entirely sure just why.

I didn’t go to the poolside. Instead of my usual sunny spot, I chose the spot I used during inclement weather or when I just felt like being inside. The gym wasn’t used as much now that Clay was off with his team and Mom and Daddy were doing more travelling. I preferred to get my cardio through play and fun times with my pets.

Today, however, as the lights flickered on as I passed over the threshold, the music the last person to use the facilities coming to life and doing little to tame my temper. “Are you shitting me?” I grunted, moving to the wrap station to wrap my hands while I contemplated the shittiest music for working out EVER. “Who the fuck would pick this shit?”

“Rose,” Mom’s voice offered, and spine straightened as my muscles tensed. “She cleans to it.”

I nodded, taking care to wrap my hands so I wouldn’t fuck up my knuckles for the rage I was about to unleash on the sparring dummies. I called out a change, refusing to pound the dummy to whiny emo chick shit. As throbbing AC/DC hit, I rolled my shoulders and kicked off my shoes. Another rule, no shoes on the mat. I wasn’t surprised that Mom was my audience, she couldn’t stand to see me too pissed to see straight.

“Tell me when you’re calm enough to talk.” She leaned back, getting comfortable for the duration. Another nod, and I stepped up.

If yoga is muscle memory and sparring with a partner (like say, my brother) is something of a game, then this - beating the stuffing out of a dummy was pure cathartic therapy. I tried to tell the court mediator person that THIS would work better for anger management, but NO, yoga was picked because it was a HEALTHIER outlet. Healthier? How, I wondered? All it did was make me zone out to the point that I made lists. This - I thought, as I slammed my fists into the padded parts of the dummy, feeling the push and give of what acted in place of flesh and muscle, was an outlet to get rid of the anger and rage that built up.

Why was I mad? Well, let’s think.

There was the obvious reason, which is that I was picked solely because of my size. I’m not ignorant of the reality of my size, I live it. To be chosen to play bait for the big bad dumbass who burned my big brother and his crew simply because this dumb cluck was going to take one look at me and go “oh look at the widdle lady, bet she’s an easy mark” made me want to dick punch him so hard that his ancestors would end up sterile retroactively, and I CAN’T. That’s the really fucked up part. Because I’m BAIT. That earned our resident dummy a hit so hard I heard a crack and considered easing up. How fucked up is it that I’m going to be a mark because of my size, which means that I can’t actually attack the asshole that is the cause of all the issues because I’m the mark. Enough to give me a headache.

And, alright, there’s also the fact that Dad clearly is so happy to have Clay back that he was pretty open about how far I fell from the family tree. Don’t get me wrong, I know my dad loves me, and I know he wishes I’d gone further into the family business as it were, but he’d NEVER said it in front of strangers. Ever. And he did. Today. The dummy took another shot, this one to the solar plexus, or where it would be if it had such a thing.

Not only did he say it in front of strangers, he said it in front of Jake. Another hit, hard and I heard another crack, but couldn’t stop now. Why would he do that? Say something so critical in front of people that we barely know, and one that he knows that I want to know more personally? I couldn’t hear the music, or the cracks, or even feel my fists against the dummy anymore.

“Hey,” Jake’s voice, his breath warm against my ear, his arms wrapped around me. “I think you taught that dummy a lesson it won’t soon forget, Avery.”

I blinked and refocused, dust motes were heavy in the air which made little sense. The gym was almost freakishly sterile, Rose kept it so damn clean. As my eyes finally focused I realized it wasn’t dust, it was stuffing, or whatever they put in those damn sparring dummies. I’d beaten the damn thing apart. And it had broken off its stand. Shit. “I did that?” I swallowed past a dryness I hadn’t felt until I tried to speak, and noticed how quiet the gym was. “Who turned off my music?”

Jake chuckled, his nose in my hair. “You did that,” he confirmed and he sighed. “Your mom turned off the music, when the dummy died, she needed the music dead too so I would know where to come.” I nodded, wondering how she knew to have him come? “Wanna talk about it first, or shower?”

I looked down and realized I was coated in dummy innards. “Shower.” My hand wraps had done their job, thankfully, but my clothes and my entire length was whatever the dummy was made of coated. “Maybe I need more anger management than I thought.” I murmured, but Jake just shook his head as he turned me in his arms.

“No,” he tipped my head back, so we could see one another better. “I think we just need to teach you to use your words.”

That did it, he made me laugh, and it helped. For now at least.

#Franklin Clay #jake jensen x ofc #The Losers (2010)#alternate universe #Mild smut #fluff #Family Fluff #FLUFF AND SMUT #humor

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franticfoxtrot · 7 years

Text

My Opinion On Jonsa

In the beginning there were the Starks. They were this family that deserves all the fan support because of the wonderful familial portrait painted. Honorable, dutiful, and entrenched in Northern culture; I loved them from the moment introduced.

From the initial moments, I too was a Sansa hater. She seemed a prim and proper young lady who foolishly followed her fantastical notions of life. Especially concerning her future wifely duties to Joffery. She was easily unlikable with her snotty demeanor towards her sister Arya and bastard “half brother” Jon.

Arya was indeed my favorite. Full of life, she seemed to be a future plot pusher. She would try to move mountains for her family and do it as the typical warrior woman, an archetype I myself enjoy if done right.

Jon was an afterthought behind Robb, but there seemed to be the element of underplayed to him that couldn’t be ignored and when I started tonread the books it became clear that he was going to become an important component to the story. I just didn’t like his storyline to begin with. Too full of angst I told myself.

Dany was fascinating and for the first couple seasons she was a favorite. An underdog whose family had been driven into obscurity with an abusive elder brother that I cackled for when Drogo poured molten gold over white hair. She was deserving of those dragons and for avenging the family she would never know.

But during the development of characters throughout the seasons, many ofthese opinions changed. Everyone is entitled to view stories how they please and I have always tried to stay away from overly expressing mine or criticizing others.

For Jon he became more interesting. He developed as a leader but is still far from my favorite male character. Tyrion still has potential, even though I feel like his intelligence and sarcasm have been missing in the latest season. I also enjoy Jamie’s development as well.

Arya moved away from being my favorite Stark but still a story I enjoy watching unravel. She has risen up from helplessness very quickly and become an avenger. A little vigilante who betrayed the Faceless God, I do have some worries. That story appears to be far from over and a part of me doubts that the entirety of Arya is that girl we saw making a list of hits.

Dany, well she has been interesting. I know she is a fan favorite. Believe me, I was in her corner too! She is beautiful and powerful, a female character that has potential to sit on the Iron Throne! She would be a contrast between Robert and Joffery. The elder being neglectful but keeping the peace and the later….well we all know his style of ruling.

It is likely important to let you all know that I graduated with a bachelors in Political Science and Public Administration. So this background has definitely skewed my perspective on many stories, especially one as politically centered as Got.

What made me change my opinion of Dany came as she started to accumulate forces and gain territory. Her platform became to shift around. She was a liberator! A woman who would break the chains! Slave cities were overtaken and the people were happy.

At least some of them. And only for a time. I began to notice her inability to rule and adapt an understanding to cultures. What did she expect when she executed slave owners? Or derail their attempts of negotiations? They began a countermovement.

It is in her dealings with others that it became clear she wasn’t for to ruling. An all or nothing mentality leads to more conflicts. While yes! I do agree the slave owners are morally wrong, there are other instances of Dany being unable to find a middle ground. The Khals, the Tarlys, Jon’s plea for aid.

Clearly, her reasoning for wanting the Iron Throne is for self as well. There are no people to liberate. She burned an important food supply with winter upon them and meaning she doesn’t understand the economic or culture makeup of the land she hopes to rule.

Also, of all the times she talks about the ‘why’s, avenging her family is never mentioned often enough. Breaking the wheel is all fine and dandy but there hasn’t been a significant enough display of the common folk besides in King’s Landing to create an atmosphere of discontent. A few scenes do indicate strife due to war but Dany brings more war and is a foreign invader mimicking Targaryen invasion. Targaryen rule also was not peaceful, especially in recent history.

It isn’t that I dislike Dany but I’m not cheering for her conquest anymore. I find her completely lacking as a ruler. A point I plan to meta as to why she should have been given more time over seas to learn this and develop as a leader who can make knowledgeable, unimpulsive administrative decisions using real world examples I picked up during school.

And, as said before, unlikable character to me became a favorite. Sansa, despite immense fan hatred. As a character who suffered, she also gained a strength that many ignore. She is highly intelligent. She has faced political masterminds and survived. It’s an asset that many ignore because they have viewed her as weak for so long. In all honesty though, who would have been able to endure that?

Not many. Sansa has a fire and she does it in a feminine way. It’s a massive pet peeve to see people bash on her because she doesn’t wield a sword to slay her enemies or exemplify masculine qualities to be strong. She IS fucking slaying though.

Jon is where he is because of Sansa. The show has proven that she is a capable ruler and the people actually prefer her. Yet, she doesn’t take the reigns and usurp Jon.

Their on screen chemistry was built up more than his romance with Dany. Why shoot it like that unless it is bad story telling? I didn’t even realize how much of a pair Sansa and Jon until Jon went to Dragonstone and a contrast was made. I was super content with it being just overly intense familial moments that the directors were trying to portray. Because YEAH STARK LOVE! It could have been sold that way to me.

It was watching the poorly done romance with Dany that made me start to wonder. It was too sudden and there was no mutual ANYTHING. They DIDN’T even make their love scene intense or romantic with Bran revealing their Aunt-Nephew connection. We already knew this as viewers. Why do this? It didn’t leave me with a sense of warm fuzzies.

The producers and directors and the actors could have nailed into the audience that these two were going to compliment another and be a force to reckon with…but they failed. My hope is that it isn’t simply bad story making and telling and that it was intentional.

Rewatching the seasons made Jonsa clearer and looking at others opinions as well as the books! I don’t want to sell Jonsa to anyone. This is just my opinion on the matter.

I figured if I was going to make metas it wouldn’t be trying to turn people over to the fandom. No.

It is honestly clear that Dany shouldn’t rule the Westrosi right now. With Jon perhaps there is life to that plot but I part of me wished it would have been orchestrated better. I can live with a disappointing ending or hope they rectify the mistake next season. Some “maybe spoilers” reveal that Sansa falls to the White Walkers. I sincerely hope that they haven’t made this character suffer for nearly 6 seasons to kill her off when she has come into her own.

Another part of me hopes that they have Dany come to understand the people she hopes to rule through her failures because she never really did back in Essos.

If not, I will forever be in the Jonsa fan base. It may be dillusional and a crackship but right now it is making the most sense to me. The appeal for a good story is behind it and, unless the alternative starts making sense, I will go down with this ship.

#jonsa #jonxsansa #future political meta #opinion #favorites #heres for the best

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mspriss-2u · 7 years

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Before the Fame

Updated 7-15-2017

Chapter 9

It was the day of the 4th of July! Janelle had to admit it was quite a spectacular sight with the Kuechly family. The rest of the family members had arrived and helped Eileen and Tom get set up with the family games at the local family lake house for the day.

Janelle didn’t think she ever had so much fun. She got on the jet skis with Luke and they raced in the family relay, which she dusted him thank you very much. They played something called cornhole which really wasn’t her best game, but fun nonetheless. She loved how welcoming the rest of his family was. They waltzed in and engaged Janelle in all the activities and fun without any trouble.

She also heard some teasing going on towards Luke for finally bringing home someone and blushed when she heard them marvel over how similar she looked to the model Tyra Banks. Her favorite part of the day was when they started putting on some country tunes and opened the outside brick dance floor for everyone to enjoy. Luke had absolutely no rhythm, but he was so carefree in their time on the dance floor, it made her heart melt. She was used to him being charming, but he still had this edge to him at times, especially in regards to school and football. It was nice to see him truly relaxed, in his element with all of his family around.

By the time the fireworks were going, Luke and Janelle were sitting back on their lounge chairs cuddled together, with a nice warm buzz going.

“Mmm, this has by far been the best 4th of July I’ve had in a while,” Luke cooed into her ear and then kissed her forehead.

“Same here babe. I have enjoyed your family so far. Thank you for inviting me,”

“So, I know we have had a long night, but dad was thinking about hitting the range and doing some arrow shooting tomorrow…with the guys,” he said intentionally dragging out the last part about it being a guy thing.

He had Janelle’s full attention now.

“I was thinking, while we were out that you, my mom and aunts could get together and do some type of ladies day out,” he said looking hopeful.

She still hadn’t told him about the conversation she had overheard, but then again she wasn’t supposed to hear it in the first place.

Luke was tracking the almost grimace on her face and went to reassure her.

“Look I know my mom has not been as welcoming as my dad, but with all the events going on I am sure she has been super focused on making it a success. You will see my mom is the pusher in this family. She has always been the one to push us to our full potential. I know she is not the normal “warm fuzzy” type of mom, but just give it a chance tomorrow. At least try for me…pleeease,” he said finishing up his plea with the most adorable puppy dog eyes he could muster.

Janelle acquiesced. She may not have been over the moon about this, but she knew she would try, especially with his family being such a significant part of who he had become.

“Ok, ok, well I should get some rest so I am not hungover for our day out. That would be quite the impression I’m sure,” she said while unwrapping herself from Luke. She gave him one last kiss and started heading to the guest room to sleep off an amazing day.

------------------------------

She was pleased to find that they did not do anything super girly, in fact, the day was filled with moments of charity and community outreach. Currently it was nearing the end of their day.They had started off the day bringing some of the leftover food to serve at a homeless shelter in the inner city. She had never seen so many people in need. What blew her mind the most was how kind and grateful they were just to have people bring them meals. Her heart absolutely hurt at seeing the amount of children without homes, living in a shelter. It made her think about how much her father worked when their mother was sick to ensure the family stayed afloat.

The end of the day was spent with the ladies getting some cocktails at the local Elk’s Lodge. Yes, it was more for older people, but Janelle found herself truly getting a chance to enjoy her company. She found that one of Luke’s aunts had been working as a physical therapist for the past 17 years. It was nice to find someone with a similar passion as well as gain knowledge of what other connections she would need to make to get to some of the agencies she was considering in the future.

“Well Janelle, I must admit it has been a pleasant day with you hanging with us,” Ms. Kuechly said as the conversation of the table started to lull.

“I’m glad. I have truly enjoyed today. I thank you for inviting me,” Janelle said sincerely.

“Look, I know I have not been the picture of doting mother since you have arrived. I truly think you are great,” she said.

“But not great for your son,” Janelle said now with a solemn look on her face.

“Well, Luke is preparing to enter a world he has always dreamed of, but it is filled with people who are waiting to take advantage of him. I’m not saying you are one of those people, but I truly believe if you are going to try to do this with my son, you better prepare yourself for serious backlash on a much larger scale. People will stop at nothing to ridicule you or try to tear you both apart,” she said explaining.

“This was always Luke’s dream and I am glad he is seeing it through, but I truly would hate for anyone to get caught in the crosshairs until he has learned the business well enough,” Ms. Kuechly said simply.

“I don’t know what to expect. I won’t even try to imagine what to expect if and when things start moving forward for him, but I truly do care for your son. The least I think I can do is give this an honest shot. If it works it works, if it doesn’t it doesn’t,” Janelle stated.

There was nothing else left to put on the table. Janelle wasn’t sure of what storm lay ahead, but she was not one to not give a tough situation a try.

Ms. Kuechly simply nodded at her answer and joined back into conversation with the rest of her family.

Janelle was glad to know for the most part the air was cleared on where his mother stood with her and her son’s relationship. Now what to do with such uncertainty….

Luke revealed in the sight before him. His father and his brothers, along with him had a pretty good day at the range. When Luke got home and cleaned up, he lazed around the house waiting for Janelle to come in with the rest of his family. Once they stepped through the door Luke followed Janelle straight to her room.

“So how did the day go?” he asked eagerly.

Janelle laughed at his eargerness and his inability to give her personal space so she could talk to him.

“Well, it went quite well. I know you mentioned your family was pretty big on giving back to the community, but I didn’t realize how big. It was actually not a bad day at all.”

“So my mom was actually well behaved?” he said questioningly.

Janelle chuckled again, “Yes hon, she was quite wonderful. We did have heart to heart about how distant she had been since I got here, but she let me know it was more concern for how we would be impacted by the future. She had no qualms about me.”

She saw Luke breathe a visible sigh of relief.

“Overly concerned mom I can handle. I’m just glad she actually likes you,”he said leaning over and giving her a kiss.

“Umm, wait weren’t you the one who continually reassured me she did?” Janelle quipped.

“Well yeah, but you know I could have been wrong about this,” he said sheepishly.

Janelle rolled her eyes playfully at him. “But you know I like you the most!” he said picking her up and giving her a quick playful kiss.

“I know, I know. Now put me down. I have a shower to get and we have only two more days of family time, so let’s go do this!” she reminded him.

The next couple of days passed quickly. Janelle could admit she was excited to get back to her own place. It was so different not being able to cuddle up or stay with Luke like she wanted.

She noticed Luke seemed more affectionate and there was a light playfulness to him since the trip home with his family. Whether he said it or not, this was a test to see how well she handled herself with his family and it seemed all things had gone well.

#luke kuechly #lukekuechly #lukekuechly59 #lukekuechlyfanfic #ilovelukekuechly #lukekuechlyfan #lukekuechlylover

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justingrxnt · 4 years

Photo

edict i : in the jaws

local lad fights poachers bare handed

The hamlets population was lower than troupe’s, was Justin’s first thought as he swept through the town, dark curls brushing over his brows as he shuffled down the cobbled street. It seemed untouched by time, like many places he’d visited since he was a baby, simplicity in it’s finest and maybe just a touch mad. His mother would say “Loco de la soledad” or had gone crazy from being alone, far-flung from the world around them. Justin believed maybe they had it right, living in isolation from a world that had gone crazy as a unit.

But Justin was not here to ponder humanity’s continuous sink into madness, no, Justin was here to find something very special. The mating of a pair of Hebridean Black’s, a pair had been spotted moving further south, far out of their reserve, not unusual for their kind and the Ministry was losing their minds in fear they’d flying over a hamlet such as thing. Except they came here, to a local wizarding one. The Ministry said it was luck, but Justin had long since hypothesized that dragons could detect magic and were driven towards it rather than muggles especially in the new age of electricity. There was nothing to prove this of course, and without revealing his secret he could not in good conscious or without danger to himself explain himself. So after listening to a few contacts the young man followed their trail, and the trail of several workers at the dragon reserve to watch the creatures.

The hamlet was quiet in the early dew, shutters still tightly closed, sun barely kissing his ankles as he swept through town. There was a small apothecary, no doubt family owned and run for at least a hundred or more years, an inn that doubled as the bar and closed up stalls betrayed they relied on an open air market with more than enough heating and anti-rain charms to last any good Scottish rainfall. The young man was startled however, as he turned down another neatly packed cobblestone path, by a pair of men in neatly pressed robes and leather vest, the stamp of the Regulation of Magical Creatures on their breasts.

“Ho there!” the shorter one called out, his face twisted like a serpents with equally wormy lips.

Justin nodded his greeting, continuing his walk forward towards the trailhead.

“Not going into the wood are ya?” the taller one asked, frowning, he was obviously a nervous creature, a paper pusher from the Department. “You’ve heard there are dragons about haven’t ya?”

“I have.” Justin’s clipped tone he hoped would deter them from being bothered further. He continued along his path.

“Then you ought to know that we’ve gotta stop ya?”

“Indeed,” Justin took a few steps around them, daring either to lay a hand.

“Come now son, you’ve a death wish if ya wanna see one of them beasts.”

“I’m a photographer,” he lifted his satchel, the distinct shape pressed against the cloth, “on assignment from my magazine. You know how it is, new guy gets the dangerous work.” his grin was smarmy, and voice low and smooth, sure of his safe passage.

“Oh aye I remember such days, but it doesn’t change that you ought to not go in there.”

“Hmm,” Justin passed them, without so much as a second glance, “I’ll take my chances with the beasts than my boss nor my landlord.”

“You wouldn’t mind if we saw your credentials now would you?”

“Unless you are with the Department of Law Enforcement, according to the statute on Free Press you cannot demand my credentials. Look it up, it’s a well known law,” there was no such law, “and I’m afraid I must only get a few snapshots of the male mounting, my sources say they are no far off from such a mating.”

The shorted one got flustered obviously taken aback by Justin’s total lack of their supposed authority. But his eyes, no his eyes were hard. Then without nearly as much fight he grinned, “Alright, go watch the two beasts bang one out then, if you lose a limb don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Thank you,” with a nod of his head Justin continued into the forest, noting how the two men fought in whispers. Odd.

The forest was quiet, far too quiet for a pair of dragons to be getting ready for a mating. Mating were brutal affairs, the female often murdering their partner far before the pleasure came, not that animal’s in particular cared for such things it was a distinctly human trait. Justin dipped into the forest, far off the weathered hunting trail he followed, his hands brushed over the trees and over the bushes, the silence more deafening than anything. He strained his mind, searching for even a whisper of sentience, but nothing it seemed was alive and moving, it was as if the forest slept. The prickle of fear on his spine came further as he went deeper into the woods, the sharp scent of tree and wet compact dirt ought to have been a comfort. Then there was a distinct muffle, some kind of shout or shriek and all at once the forest was alive, it was a cacophony of sounds as he blinked away the magic that someone had placed.

The it was silent again.

This time Justin ran, far into the woods, towards where he had heard the noise until he came upon an encampment. Several men and women, rough looking creatures with curved mouths like swords and blood on their hands. Literally, wiping it off as they laughed, muffled by their magic. He could see a great cage in the distance, and in it several huddled forms.

Poachers.

Fuck.

Justin backed off carefully settling himself against the tree. Now Justin had to admit he was not the best at magic, at least not in a traditional sense, it had driven his Hogwarts professors crazy when he used spells in a way they were not supposed to be used. But he planned, methodically and then without much preamble opened his mind. Dragons had always been the most difficult to communicate with, not because they were unintelligent, no they were far too intelligent to deal with the likes of him, their magic was ancient, power great and Justin was a twig in their minds. Entering into their space was a bad bet, but even still, one he had to take.

“BOY.” the female boomed in his mind, he winced, it was like being too close to a bombasta, ringing in his ears through the world was silent.

“Ma’am,” his father’s teachings hung on, even with dragons, “you have been captured by poachers.”

“I KNOW BOY.” it hurt, talking to these powerful creatures hurt.

“i want to get you out of there,” he kept his mind soft, not that trying to be loud would be helpful.

“DO IT.”

“can you still breathe fire?”

“MAGIC”

“can you move?”

“LITTLE”

“what can you do?”

“ROAR”

“could you do that?”

A beat went by before the silence was once again broken, the roar of the dragon beating against the silencing charm. The poachers stood, wands raised and rushing towards the great cage, no doubt to try and silence the great creature. Without much preamble Justin rushed into the camp,the silence charm worked both ways once he was in it. It was their downfall. There was one lagging back, a younger boy and with a quick spell the boy was down, wrapped in vines growing and trapping him in the vines, the wand taken from his twitching fingers. Justin shoved it into the belt-loops of his pants and followed the crowd, pulling his cloak over his head. The second went down, again in silence, trapped in ice. The three ahead he could take, with or without magic. The tallest was weedy, pimply with open sores, some kind of addict they might’ve recruited. Justin caught him a punch to the temple dropping the man like a stone.

That they noticed.

The curse went whizzing by his head, it was only a slide in the mud that stopped it’s direct hit to the nose, his stumble took the man out with a hardly legal rugby tackle. The snap of the man’s wand hardly noticeable as the two other men rushed him, his hands struck out, like a boxer or street fighter, forgetting he even had a wand as he knocked a third unconscious.

The final guy was big, he was meaty, looked ready to eat the dragon for dinner wholly. Maybe there was a bit of Giant blood in him, Just couldn’t be sure, but he was sure he couldn’t take him physically so his wand came out, wand and comfortable in his palm. They dueled, Justin’s timing was calculated and vicious, closing ground to incapacitate the man as the other grew more and more flustered, his spell-work and footwork hardly up to snuff. These poachers were next to useless, he wondered faintly how they even managed to trap a dragon in the first place, maybe they poisoned the food supply in the area or their best poacher was already gone for the day. Either way the fight went on, Justin took shelter behind a large rock, mossy and sweet smelling as the man prowled, trying to heal his curse burns, his legs no doubt covered in pus from an awful curse Justin found in America.

“C’mon boy, lets dance, you came all the way out here fer our haul didn’t cha.” the surge from Justin’s left warned him of the man’s movement, flinging himself over the edge of the boulder, snagging his shoulder and cutting it wide open as the man hit the dirt. The Slytherin wasted no time in flipping onto his back, his fists punching into the side of his head viciously as he dug his knees into her spine. The man scraped his hands on any bit of flesh Justin could offer, but to avail.

“I did, now you’ve lost it,” muttering under his breathe the tied the man off from the tree branch, his greasy blonde hair touching the forest floor.

The cage was easy to spring, Justin was wholly happy to not be eaten by the dragons as they limped from the cage. Iron shackles were left in the dirt as the dragons eyed him warily, booming into his mind like thunder when he ventured too close. The forest was a symphony again, animals whispering as the village awoke again, the spell cast had forced them all asleep.

Justin sat on the boulder, exhausted and bloody, still gripping his wand as the first few wix stumbled into the clearing, wands drawn and staring at the circle dragons.

“Don’t worry, I got ‘em all, someone should call the Aurors and deal with these poachers. Does anyone have any breakfast I would be most obliged even for a bit of toast.” his smile was infectious even as the dragon above head boomed with flames expelling from her mouth towards her simpering mate. “Even a sip of water would be most helpful.” one of the witches came with a flash that he sipped from, thanking her gratefully as she blushed. Leaning back on his hands he waited for the Aurors to arrive, no doubt with far too many questions for him and a truth serum, his day only mildly ruined as he watched everyone flinch from the dragons above-head. But he smiled, listening to the female above him.

“THANK YOU BOY.”

“you’re welcome.”

#edict i : in the jaws #// Justin fights some poachers & he can talk to magical creatures #// just wanted an excuse for justin to be hot & fight some ppl but also kinda important for how he is now as a grown man

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thephoblographer · 7 years

Text

All images by Michelle Groskopf. Used with permission,

Photographer Michelle Groskonpf is a fine art street photographer that shoots in a style and subject matter that you don’t really see anywhere else. The LA based artist says that she used to be a “creeper” but these days finds happiness in the small moments of intimacy. That’s very evident by her Instagram and she’s now on a mission to make her photos into a book. Michelle’s book is called Sentimental, and she likes to bill it as more of a monograph than a coffee table book. Michelle got her start in photography during some troubling times in her teenage years. And like many others, she found a way to creatively express herself through fine art photography. Her style combines street portraiture with bright flash that brings us all the details of a person’s face. Michelle believes that everyone, in their own way, is both important and urgent.

Phoblographer: Talk to us about how you got into photography.

Michelle: My early teenage years were a mess. I was bullied a lot, I was restless and would spend a lot of time skipping class reading by my locker. My grades dropped and there were threats of suspension. What do you give a young outsider to help draw them back in? To help make them present. It was my high school art teacher that turned things around for me. She taught me all about photography and film. Talked to me about my ideas and gave me a platform in which to express myself and explore the world. I’ve carried that with me ever since. I owe the direction of my life to her really. I do my best to continue the circle by teaching underprivileged kids photography through organizations like The Lucie Foundation, Youth Arts and EduCare. Photography as an artistic pursuit is a powerful tool for engaging the world and the self.

Phoblographer: What made you want to get into street photography?

Michelle: I shot a lot of work in NY without telling anyone. NY is such a judgmental place that my private photography practice gave me a break from the rest of my life. It was something I did just for me. All those years of shooting without really sharing allowed me to develop a discipline and my approach and style without outside influence. I feel very fortunate for having had that period of growth and privacy. Now of course I tend to overshare! Ha. But those early years were crucial to building my love for shooting in the street.

“I was a creeper initially and would push myself to seek and find small stories developing on the street.”

Phoblographer: Your work seems to draw influence from Bruce Gilden in some ways and it seems like you even use his style of working except that you’re mostly acting with consent. Can you talk to us about your influences?

Michelle: I studied filmmaking for a large chunk of my life and then went on to produce and work as a graduate film production professor in NY. Film was my introduction to image making, not photography. I’m completely self taught and spent very little time learning about the history of photography. Bruce would be very upset to hear that! He stresses the importance of knowing the craft through your place in it. I disagree. I’m more like a wild animal in that I believe in order to truly express yourself you need to ignore traditional influences. My aesthetic comes from early cinematography, especially Orson Welles’ use of camera to build caricature and personality. I loved the early screwball comedies and the masterful work of Billy Wilder and Ernst Lubitsch. I also credit my family and my suburban Jewish upbringing for building my language. Big hair, big nails, colors, teenagedom and awkwardness.

There is a ton of crossover in life and work. People tend to speak the same language as others and that’s a beautiful thing. At some point in my life I chose to get close and explore the hugeness of details and faces, as there have been others and will be more to come. It’s an impulse we share. Just like other photographers grab at the bigger picture. Everyone brings a little something something to the table. I love Bruce. I’ve had the pleasure of spending some time with him. He’s the nicest guy and a true master. Uncle Bruce.

Phoblographer: Why is a flash so important to your street photography?

Michelle: Flash is my chunky paintbrush and brushstroke. It’s me declaring that there is obviously a photographer here interpreting this moment. It’s me in the act of creating. It’s a beautiful tool that allows me to make a star out of a hand, which is very deserving of a hand in my opinion. There is an earnestness that floods the frame when you shoot without flash. A seriousness of tone. I’m not an earnest person. It also changes the way I work. I don’t much like creeping or hiding. Flash doesn’t allow you to hide. There are consequences for good or bad to each shot. It keeps me in line and thinking about why I am doing what I am doing.

Phoblographer: How do you think your style has fundamentally evolved since you started shooting?

Michelle: I was a creeper initially and would push myself to seek and find small stories developing on the street. I did that for years and years. I was a real ninja but honestly it felt a bit impersonal for me. So my main evolution has been in moving significantly closer, shifting from context to detail. When I moved to LA from NY it triggered a wave of sentimental nostalgia for me. It reminded me very fundamentally of my suburban childhood. The more I looked around the more it tugged on my heartstrings and brought back these acute memories. I ended up using my camera as a device to frame the things that triggered memory. That’s what Sentimental is about. That’s what flows through all of my recent work from the last 5 years.

“Bruce would be very upset to hear that! He stresses the importance of knowing the craft through your place in it. I disagree. I’m more like a wild animal in that I believe in order to truly express yourself you need to ignore traditional influences.”

I don’t always think of myself as a photographer. I use photography to explore ideas but I’m sure if I could paint I would do that too. I also love to write and I played the drums for most of my life so the tool has only ever been the tool. I’m more interested in the idea behind it all.

Phoblographer: What do you feel typically attracts you to the people that you photograph? Have you noticed those patterns in your work at all?

Michelle: It’s all guts and intuition. These people and details attract me. They make me feel strongly so like a perfumer I want to bottle it up and share it and think about it. It’s definitely a compulsion for me. That’s why I shoot so much. I feel drawn to these people and I have to photograph them. It’s that simple. The themes that run through my work make up my life. They are a visual representation of how I see and what I am interested in. It’s a diary but catalogued through strangers.

Phoblographer: Do you feel like these people have some sort of genuine, urgent importance at all or do you feel like they’re more part of your creative vision and in some way are just collaborators in your orchestra?

Michelle: Everyone is urgently important. All of us. That’s the joy of doing this. We don’t always see the value in our everyday lives, only the big important moments, the overtures. But I think we live in the details. The moment I started getting closer and using flash was the moment I gave in to being open to momentary intimacy between strangers. That’s very hard for me. And often for the people I photograph. I get yelled at a lot. Not everyone wants to be exposed to that kind of vulnerability. I get that for sure. The larger truth for me is that in the end the photographs say way more about me then the people in the frame. It’s a rather intense cataloguing of my likes and dislikes and rapid thought process as I go about my business of the day.

Phoblographer: How do you think that a street photographer’s work differs when they interact with a subject vs simply shooting off candids? How do you think that the entire mentality of the moment changes?

Michelle: Girl don’t get me started! This goes out to all those obsessed with candid in street. I hate rules. I recognize the importance of them much like training wheels are important to kids learning to ride but they should never define the work. If you are out there using the street as your blank page you are participating in the history of street photography. I’d rather see wildly inventive original work any day than stale impersonal work made by rule pushers. I also think there is something profound in talking to strangers who you may never have had the opportunity to engage with otherwise. What a gift. That’s the mess of life. Bumping into each other. Sometimes I talk to people, sometimes I grab it and walk off, often I grab it, talk a bit, grab it again. I get yelled at and questioned and on a good day I’m flying through it and everyone is smiling or flattered or into it. As long as the work is good and clear and says something to at least me. There is no such thing as untainted photography. We are all making choices and framing things. There is no such thing as real or candid photography. Only choices. Do what you need to do, to say what you have to say. Just do it with respect and kindness. That’s my rule.

Phoblographer: So now you’re in the process of making a book of all your work. Tell us a bit about it. Of course, it’s a coffee table book but what makes your work stand out that much more than other photographers’?

Michelle: The book is called Sentimental and is being published by the incredibly supportive Magenta Foundation. They gave me a show several years ago and we’ve been planning this monograph ever since. It will be my first book and I’m very excited about it. This book is my way of tunneling back to my childhood and early adulthood through modern day Los Angeles. It’s a feeling and a sentiment and I’m very excited to share it with everyone. The imagery is a lot of fun.

I think of my work as a separate world. The best compliment has always been “I saw a photo and right away I knew it was yours” or “I saw a Michelle Groskopf person today”. My photographs have a specific vibe and feeling and if you don’t get it now you will once you spend time with the book. It clearly invites you into my weirdo world. I’m also excited to see my photographs large and as tactile objects. I showcase my work on social media a ton but the photos work very well large. You’re really there with these people and are given time to meditate on the details. It’s the best way to experience my work. So please help make this a reality and sponsor my kickstarter!

Phoblographer: Talk to us a bit about the gear that you use?

Michelle: I use a popular mirrorless brand of camera but these days I think any camera will do the trick. I have a ton of flashes. I love Godox/Flashpoint and Cactus. They have both done a lot in bringing well priced strobes to mirrorless cameras. I’m looking to buy a Pentax 67 for a special project I’m gearing up for and to use in my studio. Film on the street doesn’t make sense for my street work because it’s too slow, expensive and I shoot too damn much, but it makes perfect sense for experimenting in my studio or for specific commercial or documentary projects.

Phoblographer: Where do you see your career in a year and how do you see yourself getting there?

Michelle: I hope to explore galleries over the next year once my book is released. A solo show is the next step for me. I just left my representation and am looking to partner with a great agency who sees the potential for my work in the commercial world. I love playing with teen culture, subcultures and fashion so it seems a natural fit.

I recently opened a small photo studio in Hollywood with my partner Sasha Tivetsky. It’s called Rad Place. I want to see what will happen when I bring my outside people indoors. Experimentation really excites me. And of course I also think about getting back to the moving image so video is definitely on the horizon. Skies the limit really. For now I’m looking to get this book made so please visit my Kickstarter and preorder your copy!

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"I was a creeper initially and would push myself to seek and find small stories developing on the street." All images by Michelle Groskopf. Used with permission, Photographer Michelle Groskonpf is a fine art street photographer that shoots in a style and subject matter that you don't really see anywhere else.

#bruce gilden #coffee table book #flash #images #influences #kickstarter #Michelle Groskopf #photographs #portraiture #sentimental #street photography #street portraits

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