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mcmansionhell · 5 years ago

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Coronagrifting: A Design Phenomenon

We now interrupt our regularly scheduled content to bring you a critical essay on the design world. I promise you that this will also be funny.

This morning, the design website Dezeen tweeted a link to one of its articles, depicting a plexiglass coronavirus shield that could be suspended above dining areas, with the caption “Reader comment: ‘Dezeen, please stop promoting this stupidity.’”

This, of course, filled many design people, including myself, with a kind of malicious glee. The tweet seemed to show that the website’s editorial (or at least social media) staff retained within themselves a scintilla of self-awareness regarding the spread a new kind of virus in its own right: cheap mockups of COVID-related design “solutions” filling the endlessly scrollable feeds of PR-beholden design websites such as Dezeen, ArchDaily, and designboom. I call this phenomenon: Coronagrifting.

I’ll go into detail about what I mean by this, but first, I would like to presenet some (highly condensed) history.

From Paper Architecture to PR-chitecture

Back in the headier days of architecture in the 1960s and 70s, a number of architectural avant gardes (such as Superstudio and Archizoom in Italy and Archigram in the UK) ceased producing, well, buildings, in favor of what critics came to regard as “paper architecture.” This “paper architecture” included everything from sprawling diagrams of megastructures, including cities that “walked” or “never stopped” - to playfully erotic collages involving Chicago’s Marina City. Occasionally, these theoretical and aesthetic explorations were accompanied by real-world productions of “anti-design” furniture that may or may not have involved foam fingers.

Archigram’s Walking City (1964). Source.

Paper architecture, of course, still exists, but its original radical, critical, playful, (and, yes, even erotic) elements were shed when the last of the ultra-modernists were swallowed up by the emerging aesthetic hegemony of Postmodernism (which was much less invested in theoretical and aesthetic futurism) in the early 1980s. What remained were merely images, the production and consumption of which has only increased as the design world shifted away from print and towards the rapidly produced, easily digestible content of the internet and social media.

Architect Bjarke Ingels’s “Oceanix” - a mockup of an ecomodernist, luxury city designed in response to rising sea levels from climate change. The city will never be built, and its critical interrogation amounts only to “city with solar panels that floats bc climate change is Serious” - but it did get Ingels and his firm, BIG, a TED talk and circulation on all of the hottest blogs and websites. Meanwhile, Ingels has been in business talks with the right-wing climate change denialist president of Brazil, Jair Bolsonaro. (Image via designboom)

Design websites are increasingly dominated by text and mockups from the desks of a firm’s public relations departments, facilitating a transition from the paper-architecture-imaginary to what I have begun calling “PR-chitecture.” In short, PR-chitecture is architecture and design content that has been dreamed up from scratch to look good on instagram feeds or, more simply, for clicks. It is only within this substance-less, critically lapsed media landscape that Coronagrifting can prosper.

Coronagrifting: An Evolution

As of this writing, the two greatest offenders of Coronagrifting are Dezeen, which has devoted an entire section of its website to the virus (itself offering twelve pages of content since February alone) and designboom, whose coronavirus tag contains no fewer than 159 articles.

Certainly, a small handful of these stories demonstrate useful solutions to COVID-related problems (such as this one from designboom about a student who created a mask prototype that would allow D/deaf and hard of hearing people to read lips) most of the prototypes and the articles about them are, for a lack of a better word, insipid.

But where, you may ask, did it all start?

One of the easiest (and, therefore, one of the earliest) Coronagrifts involves “new innovative, health-centric designs tackling problems at the intersection of wearables and personal mobility,” which is PR-chitecture speak for “body shields and masks.”

Wearables and Post-ables

The first example came from Chinese architect Sun Dayong, back at the end of February 2020, when the virus was still isolated in China. Dayong submitted to Dezeen a prototype of a full mask and body-shield that “would protect a wearer during a coronavirus outbreak by using UV light to sterilise itself.” The project was titled “Be a Bat Man.” No, I am not making this up.

Screenshot of Dayong’s “Be a Batman” as seen on the Dezeen website.

Soon after, every artist, architect, designer, and sharp-eyed PR rep at firms and companies only tangentially related to design realized that, with the small investment of a Photoshop mockup and some B-minus marketing text, they too could end up on the front page of these websites boasting a large social media following and an air of legitimacy in the field.

By April, companies like Apple and Nike were promising the use of existing facilities for producing or supplying an arms race’s worth of slick-tech face coverings. Starchitecture’s perennial PR-churners like Foster + Partners and Bjarke Ingels were repping “3D-printed face shields”, while other, lesser firms promised wearable vaporware like “grapheme filters,” branded “skincare LED masks for encouraging self-development” and “solar powered bubble shields.”

While the mask Coronagrift continues to this day, the Coronagrifting phenomenon had, by early March, moved to other domains of design.

Consider the barrage of asinine PR fluff that is the “Public Service Announcement” and by Public Service Announcement, I mean “A Designer Has Done Something Cute to Capitalize on Information Meant to Save Lives.”

Some of the earliest offenders include cutesy posters featuring flags in the shape of houses, ostensibly encouraging people to “stay home;” a designer building a pyramid out of pillows ostensibly encouraging people to “stay home”; and Banksy making “lockdown artwork” that involved covering his bathroom in images of rats ostensibly encouraging people to “stay home.”

Lol. Screenshot from Dezeen.

You may be asking, “What’s the harm in all this, really, if it projects a good message?” And the answer is that people are plenty well encouraged to stay home due to the rampant spread of a deadly virus at the urging of the world’s health authorities, and that these tone-deaf art world creeps are using such a crisis for shameless self promotion and the generation of clicks and income, while providing little to no material benefit to those at risk and on the frontlines.

Of course, like the mask coronagrift, the Public Service Announcement coronagrift continues to this very day.

The final iteration of Post-able and Wearable Coronagrifting genres are what I call “Passive Aggressive Social Distancing Initiatives” or PASDIs. Many of the first PASDIs were themselves PSAs and art grifts, my favorite of which being the designboom post titled “social distancing applied to iconic album covers like the beatle’s abbey road.” As you can see, we’re dealing with extremely deep stuff here.

However, an even earlier and, in many ways more prescient and lucrative grift involves “social distancing wearables.” This can easily be summarized by the first example of this phenomenon, published March 19th, 2020 on designboom:

Never wasting a single moment to capitalize on collective despair, all manner of brands have seized on the social distancing wearable trend, which, again, can best be seen in the last example of the phenomenon, published May 22nd, 2020 on designboom:

We truly, truly live in Hell.

Which brings us, of course, to living.

“Architectural Interventions” for a “Post-COVID World”

As soon as it became clear around late March and early April that the coronavirus (and its implications) would be sticking around longer than a few months, the architectural solutions to the problem came pouring in. These, like the virus itself, started at the scale of the individual and have since grown to the scale of the city. (Whether or not they will soon encompass the entire world remains to be seen.)

The architectural Coronagrift began with accessories (like the designboom article about 3D-printed door-openers that enable one to open a door with one’s elbow, and the Dezeen article about a different 3D-printed door-opener that enables one to open a door with one’s elbow) which, in turn, evolved into “work from home” furniture (”Stykka designs cardboard #StayTheF***Home Desk for people working from home during self-isolation”) which, in turn, evolved into pop-up vaporware architecture for first responders (”opposite office proposes to turn berlin's brandenburg airport into COVID-19 'superhospital'”), which, in turn evolved into proposals for entire buildings (”studio prototype designs prefabricated 'vital house' to combat COVID-19″); which, finally, in turn evolved into “urban solutions” aimed at changing the city itself (a great article summarizing and criticizing said urban solutions was recently written by Curbed’s Alissa Walker).

There is something truly chilling about an architecture firm, in order to profit from attention seized by a global pandemic, logging on to their computers, opening photoshop, and drafting up some lazy, ineffectual, unsanitary mockup featuring figures in hazmat suits carrying a dying patient (macabrely set in an unfinished airport construction site) as a real, tangible solution to the problem of overcrowded hospitals; submitting it to their PR desk for copy, and sending it out to blogs and websites for clicks, knowing full well that the sole purpose of doing so consists of the hope that maybe someone with lots of money looking to commission health-related interiors will remember that one time there was a glossy airport hospital rendering on designboom and hire them.

Enough, already.

Frankly, after an endless barrage of cyberpunk mask designs, social distancing burger king crowns, foot-triggered crosswalk beg buttons that completely ignore accessibility concerns such as those of wheelchair users, cutesy “stay home uwu” projects from well-to-do art celebrities (who are certainly not suffering too greatly from the economic ramifications of this pandemic), I, like the reader featured in the Dezeen Tweet at the beginning of this post, have simply had enough of this bullshit.

What’s most astounding to me about all of this (but especially about #brand crap like the burger king crowns) is that it is taken completely seriously by design establishments that, despite being under the purview of PR firms, should frankly know better. I’m sure that Bjarke Ingels and Burger King aren’t nearly as affected by the pandemic as those who have lost money, jobs, stability, homes, and even their lives at the hands of COVID-19 and the criminally inept national and international response to it. On the other hand, I’m sure that architects and designers are hard up for cash at a time when nobody is building and buying anything, and, as a result, many see resulting to PR-chitecture as one of the only solutions to financial problems.

However, I’m also extremely sure that there are interventions that can be made at the social, political, and organizational level, such as campaigning for paid sick leave, organizing against layoffs and for decent severance or an expansion of public assistance, or generally fighting the rapidly accelerating encroachment of work into all aspects of everyday life – that would bring much more good and, dare I say, progress into the world than a cardboard desk captioned with the hashtag #StaytheF***Home.

Hence, I’ve spent most of my Saturday penning this article on my blog, McMansion Hell. I’ve chosen to run this here because I myself have lost work as a freelance writer, and the gutting of publications down to a handful of editors means that, were I to publish this story on another platform, it would have resulted in at least a few more weeks worth of inflatable, wearable, plexiglass-laden Coronagrifting, something my sanity simply can no longer withstand.

So please, Dezeen, designboom, others – I love that you keep daily tabs on what architects and designers are up to, a resource myself and other critics and design writers find invaluable – however, I am begging, begging you to start having some discretion with regards to the proposals submitted to you as “news” or “solutions” by brands and firms, and the cynical, ulterior motives behind them. If you’re looking for a guide on how to screen such content, please scroll up to the beginning of this page.

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If you enjoyed this article, please consider subscribing to my Patreon, as I didn’t get paid to write it.

#architecture #design #coronavirus #dezeen #designboom #capitalism

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shoutogepi · 4 years ago

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Best Friends

┌───────── ⋆⋅✧⋅⋆ ─────────┐

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 2.7k

[ ☁︎ ] angst

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : unrequited feelings :’( really brief mention of sex (not nsfw tho!) & also (underage?????) alcohol consumption!

𝐛𝐢𝐨 : On your last night in the dorms, Shouto realizes he has feelings for you, his best friend.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : idk honestly i started writing this last night and was gonna abandon it... but then val tagged me in an angst ficrec and i was like ok well! this is a sign to post bc then i will have at least one sho angst on my masterlist lolll oops :o

└───────── ⋆⋅✧⋅⋆ ─────────┘

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🅃onight was the last night in the dorms. Three long years had come and went, and now everyone’s belongings were cleaned out and secured away with cardboard and tape, leaving an empty wing that was currently filled with bodies, neon lights, and red solo cups. Music was pounding through the hallways, reaching every room and allowing no one total escape from the celebration.

You had been occupying the dance floor with Mina and Tsuyu for the last half hour, and now that you had sweat off the latest drink of the night, it was time for you to set off and find your more moderate-tempered companion. The pink-skinned girl wiggled her eyebrows at you when you alerted them of where you were heading off to, Tsuyu planting a love tap on your ass as you made your way from the swarm of people. The frog girl wasn’t usually so loose, but the alcohol that pumped through everyone’s veins had left only a select few unaffected. Tsu, just like you, was one of the ones that was happily allowing the weight of daily student life slip from her shoulders.

There were plenties of warm bodies swaying with the heavy bass rattling the hallways, shadows of couples and interested singles leaning against the walls, whispers and rowdy laughs echoing as the entire graduating class of UA partied the night away. Skimming by the line outside the bathroom, your feet found their way toward the end of the hall easily enough, taking the path you had so many times before.

A creak sounded as you pushed the cracked door open, the sight of the open shoji screen allowing moonlight to stream onto the bamboo mat floor which crunched quietly underneath your tentative steps.

“Shouto?” you whispered his name, eyes taking in the silhouettes of the packed boxes against the walls before you turned and saw a shadow sitting on the mattress beside the door.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Your voice jolted Shouto from his wandering thoughts, his attention turning to you right away. He seemed surprised to see you standing there, and he peered up at you from his slightly hunched position on the couch. He acknowledged you with your name, his voice low and steady. By the sound of it, you wondered briefly if he had even had a drop to drink tonight.

Blinking at him a few times, you tried to adjust your eyes to the contrast between the bright moonlight and dark shadows. When you could finally see the planes of his handsome, somber face, you spoke, trying your best not to slur. “What are you doing over here all by yourself?”

He paused, lagging for a second before the corners of his mouth curled and his eyes crinkled at the sight of you. “Just thinking,” he answered, examining you in that intrigued way he always did. After a moment he must have reached the conclusion that you were some level of smashed, for he patted the empty space next to him on the bed with a smirk and said, “Come sit with me.”

For a moment you wondered why he was alone, but then your brain caught up with you, and you realized that his other friends were probably busy with their own issues or endeavors. Ever since Midoriya finally grew a pair and asked Uraraka out, the two had been going at it like rabbits every spare second they had. And you could only imagine how busy Iida was as class rep, trying to keep the party at least a little bit under control. Momo was definitely helping him, and you had seen Bakugou begrudgingly holding Kaminari up with Kirishima under his other arm when you’d passed by them in the hall… Leaving only you to come and rouse the half and half hero from his solitude.

“Well that’s not allowed tonight!” You exclaimed, fist slapping against the side of your thigh. You would’ve used both hands for emphasis had the other not been occupied with a half-full plastic cup. Your legs felt like jello as you moved toward him, his cool hand wrapping around your arm to offer his support and steer you into the spot beside him. You almost fell but he held you up with the one arm, chuckling as your butt finally met the safety of the duvet.

“Thinking’s forbidden?” he laughed at your insistence, the sound rich and deep as his hand lingered on your wrist.

“Yes,” you nodded vehemently, pulling your hand away from his to cradle your precious cup and shooting him a playful, sideways glare. “Brain turned off for the night. It’s in the fine print of the party rules, of course.”

Shouto gave you a funny look, eying you from the side. He repositioned himself, sitting upright and closing his eyes. It was hard for him to remain stoic when the quiet sound of your amused giggles tickled his ears, but he managed a nod before his eyes settled on you again. “Okay, I think it’s off.”

Conversation was always natural between the two of you, he never had to struggle to keep it flowing. And he liked talking with you, being in your presence. Which was the only reason why he was still entertaining this ridiculous charade.

“How do you feel?” you inquired, a goofy grin on your lips.

There was a twinkle in your eyes as you teased him, but Shouto held no qualms with your playfulness. Most people were still afraid to joke with him, believing that he was too obtuse to understand humor. Sure, he had struggled with the transition to school life in the beginning of their first year, but after you had transferred into their class second year, he found himself opening up even more than he already had.

“I feel… the same.” The grin on his lips remained, his eyes settled on your drunken form. His gaze flicked to your smile, shining in the moonlight and making something twinge in his stomach. He cleared his throat, pushing down the feeling that haunted him every time he looked at you too long. “This doesn’t really work, does it?”

You pretended to entertain the thought for a moment, eyes rolling as you considered it animatedly before your lips broke into a beautiful smile again. “No,” you giggled, shoulders shrugging in your cute, drunken fit. “But it’s easier when you’re not sober!”

He turned, faux surprise hung from his brow. “You’re drunk?” Sarcasm dripped from his voice and splashed onto you where his jean-clad thigh brushed against yours.

“Shut up!” You punched at his shoulder and pushed him away from you, shuffling yourself in the process.

Your hair swished with the movement and suddenly the soft, sweet scent of you was crashing over him. He breathed it in shamelessly, allowing himself to indulge in the warm feeling that suddenly emanated through his chest.

“You could try it, if you wanted. It really does help,” you offered your cup to him, shrugging.

Shouto eyed the red plastic cup, hesitant. He really wasn’t one to drink, but then again, neither were you. Tonight was about celebrating your graduation from UA, opening the next chapter of your lives. The thing was, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to move on when it meant leaving all his relationships either behind him or pushed to the side. Okay, maybe he was kidding himself… there was only one person he would miss having in his daily life, and that person was sitting right beside him— the same one who was the source of his conflicted feelings.

“Or not!” your hand retreated and you took a little sip, the sweet jungle juice washing down your throat easily. “No pressure. It’s your choice, Sho.”

He nearly groaned at the nickname, the one he only allowed you to call him. Grabbing the cup from you, his calloused fingers brushed over your soft knuckles. He smirked at the excitement that surfaced in your gaze as he brought the lip of the cup to his mouth, emptying the contents in one long go. The liquid was sickly sweet, masking the bitter poison that entered his body alongside it.

“That was… truly disgusting.”

“Whaaat?” You balked, grabbing for the cup in dismay. He kept it out of reach, even though it was empty, setting it on the far table instead. “It’s good, I dunno what you’re on. It’s really, really good. Heheh, just like me…”

Shouto blushed at the innocent innuendo, looking at you as you closed your eyes and let out a noise between a sigh and a laugh. He gulped, realizing that the alcohol was already taking effect and he was beginning to slip under its influence. Your method of “turning your brain off” was proving to be much more effective with the alcohol’s aid, but that was a whole other issue which he failed to foresee.

He usually preferred to keep his brain on and fully functioning, especially when he was alone, with you. That way, when you roused the butterflies in his stomach and pulled on his heartstrings, he could tell himself to just ignore it and focus on how important your friendship was to him. But now, his defenses were failing him, and there was nothing he could do to stop his heart from beating faster, palms getting clammier.

“You’re good?” he reiterated quietly, watching the way your tongue swiped across your lips, enchanted by it.

You chortled, finding the thought entertaining, apparently. “Yes! I feel really good right now.”

“Ah,” he murmured, sitting back and allowing the pillow he had propped up to sink around his form. “I feel... kinda good, too.”

A mix between a laugh and a scoff escaped you at his confession. “You feel something already, Sho? Wow, that’s so efficient.”

Shouto didn’t really know what you meant by that, but he only smiled softly at the happy look on your face. He closed his eyes and listened to the fast rush of blood in his ears, the feeling of warmth prickling at his skin. He wasn’t drunk, per se, but he felt a little lighter than usual.

You had said that drinking would turn his brain off, but it seemed only part of it wasn’t functioning. The other side of his mind was working overtime, much to his chagrin.

He was suddenly aware that this would be one of his last moments with you before everything would change. You were going to an internship not too far from his, only an hour away by train. But seeing you wouldn’t be nearly as easy as walking down the hallway… and it could only happen if the both of you found a time that worked and had the motivation to travel the distance to meet one another. He wasn’t sure if you wanted to do all that, just to see him.The realization hit him hard.

No more sneaking to one another’s room and having whispered, midnight conversations. No more studying together and simply being in your presence. No more opportunities to let his gaze linger on you longingly, nor chances for him to grab your hand when your knuckles brushed against his in the middle of your walks.

He felt sick at the thought of living without you. Maybe… maybe it was time for him to face his feelings head on. He had spent so long denying the recognition of them, the acceptance of them. The loss of you was imminent, unless he could finally force himself to say something, and it had to be soon.

As if you had picked up on his distress, you hummed quietly and shuffled closer to his side. His quirk spiked at the sudden proximity, heat flaring up as your head came to rest on his shoulder.

“I’m a sappy drunk, so I apologize for what I’m about to say,” you mumbled into his t-shirt, his skin prickling as your warm breath wandered through the seams and onto his skin.

He huffed out a laugh to ease your worries, but he stayed absolutely still, unwilling to move a muscle in case it would somehow scare your body off of his.

Then you whispered, “M’so lucky to have met you, Sho.”

Shouto choked on thin air, subtly wiping the moisture on his palms across the tops of his denim-covered thighs. Your scent surrounded him, and he couldn’t resist resting his head on top of yours, slowly breathing between your locks. “I… I feel the same, Y/n…”

It was quiet for another moment, his mind playing out a hundred ways to confess, trying to find the right words. Meanwhile, you were simply enjoying his reciprocation and the peacefulness of the quiet away from the party, completely unaware of his inner turmoil.

You sighed and he shivered as your breath scattered across his collarbone again, almost jumping when your fingers landed softly over his. How you remained so soft with their vigorous training, he had no clue. But your fingers felt so warm, so right lacing with his. His throat was thick with apprehension, a lump forming there as the seconds ticked by. It wasn’t often the two of you were sitting so close together, and he wondered if he was a piece of shit for thanking whatever God there was out there for you being kind of inebriated and so touchy right now.

Slowly, he turned to look at you, eyes wide and conflicted, taking in how truly astonishing your beauty was up close. You lifted your head from your perch on his shoulder, gaze locking with his before your lips curled into a meek smile. Digits tightening around his, you squeezed his hand and rubbed your thumb across his knuckles.

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, screaming at him to do something— anything— whatever it took for him to just form the words and tell you that he was in love with—

“Thank you for being my best friend.”

—you… He blinked, the words registering.

You continued. “I know we’re moving away from each other, but I never wanna lose you. I cherish our friendship too much for that to happen, Shouto.”

Your words cut him.

Friends. Friendship.

His blood felt like it had frozen in his veins and he had become a statue, stock still as you carried on thoughtlessly, eyes now flickering over to the moon hung low in the indigo night sky.

“Please promise me that we'll never change. We might grow as people, but… our friendship will stay intact, right? I don’t wanna grow apart.”

It hurt.

Time had stopped and his lungs shriveled up, his body aching as if you had just lodged your knee straight into his ribs. His tongue tasted bitter suddenly, and he could almost hear the sound of his heart cracking.

But Shouto was good at hiding his emotions, years of compartmentalizing them giving him an edge that no one else he knew had. He kept his face neutral, even if it felt like he was withering and dying inside.

“I just… don’t ever wanna lose you.”

It was almost impossible to force his lips into a thin, hollow smile. But he managed, even if it felt like prying iron with a crowbar. He looked into your eyes and nodded.

He understood. To some extent, he truly understood.

“I don’t want to lose you either, Y/n... Don’t worry,” he took a deep breath, forcing the next words out even if he felt like he was about to be sick.

He cherished his bond with you too much to risk chancing it, confessing to you, and throwing it all away after your certain rejection. He loved you too much to ever hurt you, and he was too selfish to let go of you, too. The only one that would suffer from this was him, and he was alarmingly alright with that.

If it meant that he got to hold onto you, even for just a little bit longer.

If it meant that you would be happy... Even if he wasn’t.

“We’ll always be friends... I promise.”

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

˚‧º·(˃̣̣̥∩˂̣̣̥)‧º·˚ ˚‧º·(˃̣̣̥∩˂̣̣̥)‧º·˚ ˚‧º·(˃̣̣̥∩˂̣̣̥)‧º·˚

afJSNKJKDKJ WRITING ANGST FOR MY BABY IS SO HARD AHH I LOVE U SHO PLS... reader is so dumb to see u only as a friend i hate that dumb bitch ughhh (TдT)

➥ masterlist

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟏 . 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

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dracosaurusrex · 4 years ago

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i love ur writing!!! can u maybe do a hc where its post war! draco x reader where they get married right, then reader gets pregnant with scorpius!! and its like them taking care of him, seeing him growing up and sending him off to hogwarts etc etc yk? also u dont have to do this ofc 🤍!!

Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy) 🌱 - Headcanon

Pairing: Draco x Reader

Hi nonnie!! I’m sorry it took me a while to get to this. Besides being occupied with schoolwork, I thoroughly had to think about how Draco would be as a father. I hope you enjoy!! It’s a lil long too aha.

PS. Kudos to you if you know where the title comes from aha

When Draco found out you were pregnant, there was no containment to the pure joy he had felt in the moment

Tears of joy brimmed his eyes

Crushing embraces

Playful kisses transitioned to more passionate ones as he poured out his love for you

Despite the years following the end of the war, he still didn’t feel deserving of you

Furthermore, he didn’t feel deserving of parenting a child with you

But one thing he was certain of was that he didn’t want to be anything like his father.

The very thought chilled him and struck fear to his bones

“Draco, you’ll make a great father” you say constantly. Each time you do so wrapping him in a warm embrace

It surprised you seeing him cry for the first time as he cradled your growing bump

“Do you think he can hear me?” He’d ask

You nodding as you wiped the tears rolling down his face

“I don’t want him to grow up like I did.”

“Love, we wouldn’t be here if you didn’t go through any of it.”

More silent tears and kisses to your bump

“I’ll do my best for you and your mother, I promise.”

Him kissing your bump one last time

“We’ll do our best for each other” you reassure

-🌱-

There’s no end to him showing you how much he loves you.

The morning sickness, weird cravings, the aches and pains—this man spoiled you and made sure you were comfortable as much as possible

Happy wife = happy life

You both taking turns to tell the baby in your womb stories

Draco playing the piano with you and the baby by his side

You’d be cuddling as you both thought of names

Him opting to follow Black tradition and use names from constellations

“If it’s a girl, it should be Maia Altair. Both are the brightest stars within their respective constellations.” He said.

“How about Lyra Celeste?”

“That’s pretty too. Goodness, I hope it’s not a girl. We’d have a hard time choosing.” He says jokingly, making you chuckle.

“How about for a boy?” You ask

“I was thinking along the lines of Scorpius... I can’t seem to think up of a middle name”

“How about Hyperion?”

“Scorpius Hyperion?” His eyes widened for a moment, “That’s perfect.”

He didn’t mind whether you’d give birth to a boy or a girl—he wanted to give his children the best whether that’d be values, or material possessions

-🌱-

Being a private family meant a gender reveal and baby shower with just the two of you.

You hand the photo of the ultrasound to him faced down

“We’re having a boy, Draco.”

Hearts pounding.

Smiles wide

Draco’s sight was transfixed on the small formation printed on the page for a bit before looking at you again

The moment reminded you of the first time you said “I love you” to one another

He presses a tender loving kiss to your lips as you wrap your arms around his torso.

The next couple of months pass quickly

Life is still happy coz wife is still happy

There’s look comprising fear and awe when Draco laid his eyes on the newborn baby boy in your arms

“May I hold him?”

You hand Scorpius to him with tears in your eyes

Scorpius being so small that he doesn’t even occupy half of Draco’s forearm

“Welcome Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, my son” He says softly, tears following soon after yours did

-🌱-

Raising Scorpius was similar to walking on a tightrope, but even if you both fell at times, it was never hard enough to keep you down

He was a sweet boy, an obedient son

He took after Draco’s appearance: platinum hair, pointed face, and he sported a warm pair of grey eyes

But he bore your kind and compassionate personality, which Draco adored

Regardless of how much of your personality he inherited, Scorpius still had his father’s attitude sometimes, much to your amusement and shock

Draco spoiling him throughout his youth

You dressing Scorpius up

Both of you teaching the boy human decency towards witches, wizards, and muggles alike

One thing Draco made certain as a father was to make sure that Scorpius knew he was welcome to talk to his parents about anything

While you’d speak of matters of the heart, Draco would do his best to speak on matters of logic and reasoning

No matter what, you did your very best to make known to the young Malfoy that he was loved.

-🌱-

Time spent together as a family occupied the best memories of your lives

While Scorpius was growing and learning new things, you and Draco were learning (and growing) alongside him

When he was five years old, having finished his daily lessons, he walked amongst the vast halls of the mansion, knowing exactly where his parents would be

First checks the library to find Draco focused in his study

“Papa?” He calls out with a small voice

“Yes Scorp? Have you finished your studies for today?”

“Yes, father. May I sit with you?”

That was the day that Draco introduced his own passions to his son.

The little boy on his lap looks at the book in front of him with awe as Draco tells him stories of constellations and alchemy

“That’s how we named you.”

“My name is Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy!” The sound of pride ringing from his little voice strikes a chord in Draco’s heart

He kisses the top of his head

“Yes, we’re are Malfoy’s”

“And mama?”

“Mama, is Y/N Y/M/N Malfoy.” He says with his heart fluttering.

The sound of your name never fails to reduce his insides to mush.

He then removes himself to find you painting the white peacocks that scattered the lawn

“Mama, what are you doing?”

“I’m painting love. Do you want to see?” You kiss his cheek as you gather him into your arms to give him a view of your work

“I want to learn how to do that!”

“And what is it would you like to paint first?”

“The skies in papa’s books!”

-🌱-

As much as possible, you hid small arguments and issues from Scorpius

You and Draco had established three rules when confronting road bumps in your marriage:

Communicate needs and feelings

Give one another space when needed

Never go to bed with issues unresolved

The openness you taught your son, would be put into practice between you both

Fortunately, you being with Draco for more than ten years meant that you’ve practically seen him at his lowest points

He learned how to be vulnerable to you, and was your shoulder to cry on when needed

Nevertheless, each issue was resolved with a kiss, and something a little more *wink wink* (Scorpius would already be in bed dw)

Draco would catch himself staring at you in the kitchen one day, feeling the same way he would when he’d stare at you in your potions class

The smile you give when you notice him never changed

Scorpius taking note of this calls his dad out

“Papa, why do you love mama?”

“She’s my best friend, Scorpius.”

“I love mama too!”

You were the rock to your little family of three, and the older man would wonder how he became so lucky every time he thought about it.

-🌱-

Time flew by real fast in the manor. Before you know it, Scorpius turned eleven, and received his letter to Hogwarts

Robes? Check

Books? Check

Quills? Parchment? Check

Cauldron and other items? Check

Excited and nervous Scorpius Malfoy? Check.

“Papa, mama, what if no one likes me?”

Draco takes the first and last say before you can even open your mouth

“Just be yourself Scorp, and you’ll be fine.”

The platform bustling with sounds of old and new students alike

You see the Potter’s and the Weasley’s from afar and give a small wave

Draco, acting like a git, only gives a nod when you nudge his side with your elbow

Scorpius is the first to move away from his father’s side to introduce himself

“Hi! I’m Scorpius Malfoy!” He says with a toothy grin

Albus’s eyes sparkle at a new friend, “I’m Albus Potter! This is Rose Weasley! We’re both first years!”

“Me too! Can I sit with you on the train?”

The exchange throws both Harry and Draco into a spiral, leaving you, Ginny, and Hermione thoroughly amused for the day.

“Albus- he”,

“S-Scor-”

Both fathers are ignored.

But the happy grins they see on their sons faces calms them down slightly

The time comes for the train to take off

Draco wraps his arms around you as you wipe the tears forming

It was a miracle that the little boy grew up to be a kind, intelligent, and talented young man.

In that moment, Draco has never felt so grateful for his family

I apologize for the length. It’s kinda chaotic, but I hope you enjoyed reading it hehe. Thank you so much for all your support!

Tagging:

@amithatemo @littlethie @drxcomvlfx @svturtles @stretchyice @xoxohollands @dracosathenaeum @hahee154hq @mushi98 @dreaming-about-fanfictions @beiahadid @Saby06143 @rottenhexrt

#draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco x reader #draco x you #draco malfoy imagines

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winterhawk-olympic-bang · 3 years ago

Text

How To Edit Your Writing

Guest Poster: Chronicwhimsy

Here is our final Writer Workshop post, written by Chronicwhimsy. Have a read and then head over to the Discord Server where we have a channel for you to take part in a discussion based on the post, with chances to share your own ideas too.

Editing: a drive-by guide

Hi, my name is Claire, and I’m an editor.

(Hi Claire)

I’ve been asked to give a quick guide on tips for editing your stories, as I’ve been a beta/editor for various fanfic writers over the years. I’m a professional editor, working for a publishing house in the UK, and I offer independent freelance editing too, via my website. I’ll be on the Discord server answering questions this evening, but I’m also happy to chat to people either through my website or even if you wanted to drop me a line on tumblr.

The key thing to remember about editing is that the end goal is to make your story the best it can be, and make sure your initial idea comes across as clearly and purely as you first imagined it. It’s about ensuring that the lines of communication between you and your reader are 100% open.

To do that, you need to have finished your story, because you can’t fix something that doesn’t exist.

Then you edit.

What now?

So, you’ve finished your Winterhawk Olympic Bang Fic, and you’re wondering what to do next?

The very first, and most important thing you should do? Celebrate. I mean congratulate the hell out of yourself, pat yourself on the back, and have some cake. Finishing stories is hard. Getting through a first draft is one of the trickiest parts of writing, so you should be proud of yourself, and proud of your story.

Because in a short while, editing is going to make you hate both.

I mean that in the nicest possible way of course, but you absolutely are going to be thoroughly sick of this whole thing by the time you’re done, and you’re going to question everything you’ve ever written. You’re going to get a close-up view of all your narrative bad habits which will make you think you’ve never had any skill at all, and you’re going to re-read your work so many times that it’ll feel trite, old, uninspired. This is normal and it is your brain lying to you. If you remember nothing else, remember that!

“The writing itself is no big deal. The editing, and even more than that, the self-doubt, is excruciatingly impossible.” Jonathan Safran Foer

Don’t lose faith! Editors and editing exist for a reason, no first draft is perfect. You’ve done something amazing in finishing, and now you’re going to make it incredible.

Before You Start - Take a Break

You know the phrase “can’t see the wood for the trees”? It could just as easily be “can’t see the story for the words.” It’s never recommended to go straight into editing as soon as you finish writing, and part of the reason for that is because you’re too deep in the story to be able to assess it objectively, or to catch things that are missed out because you know they’re there, but the reader wouldn’t.

“Once it's done, put it away until you can read it with new eyes. When you're ready, pick it up and read it, as if you've never read it before.” Neil Gaiman

Most writers and editors advocate putting a story away for a month or so before returning to edit, so you’re looking at it with fresh eyes. Obviously, with a Big Bang (or other fic event) this sort of time is usually at a premium! Try and make as much space as you can while still leaving yourself time to edit.

If you really don’t have any time, one trick that can help is changing your location. If you write in your room, can you relocate to your kitchen? Or a café (if you can safely)? Could you print it out? (Printing Top Tip: if you do print it, try and do it double-spaced - this makes it easier on the eyes, and gives you room to make notes. Also, serif fonts can often be easier to read than sans serif fonts, as it gives stronger distinctions between different letters.)

The Filter System

I like to think of the editing process as a series of different filters which, when used one after the other, produce a finely-sieved finished product. Each filter stage has slightly smaller holes than the one before it, as you look increasingly closely at your work.

Filter 1: Structural editing

Does the story make sense? Is the pace okay? Do all the scenes work where they are, or would they be better elsewhere? Do some scenes need to be there at all? Is the characterisation consistent? Does anyone change names halfway through? Did you forget what time of year it was set halfway through?

Filter 2: Line editing

Is this phrase as tight as it could be? Have you repeated yourself anywhere? Does this sentence add anything or does it throw the pace off? Have you gone overboard with adjectives and similes? Have you been too sparse with them?

Filter 3: Copy editing

Is your style consistent? Did you start writing in present tense and switch to past tense? Could this scene transition be snappier? Are there any bits that you want to tidy up? Have you left any half-finished sentences because you got distracted before you could end it?

Filter 4: Proofreading

Is everything spelled correctly? Have you caught all the strange grammar mistakes?

Some of these things might be picked up by your beta reader if you have one. Different beta readers have different styles, and also they will work based on their relationship with you and what you prefer. Some may stick to proofreading and consistency-checking, others may be more confident to dive right in and look at structure, pacing and characterisation. Some may work through the process with you as you write, others may only look at the story when it’s complete so they can get a full overview. There is no right or wrong answer, and having a conversation with your beta about your respective styles at the start can help you work better together!

Filter 1 - Structural Editing

For this stage, you want to read your whole story through from start to finish, and resist the urge to tweak anything to begin with! You will want a way of making notes as you go through because as you do, you’ll make yourself a cheat-sheet to help you with your line edit. Things to keep track of:

Character name spellings

Character ages

Character relationships (drawing a relationship web can be very helpful to visualise this!)

The time span of the story - the date it starts, the date it ends.

As a subset of this, I find it can be very helpful to set up a spreadsheet with a timeline of what happens in the story, and who is involved. Doing this both chronologically for the characters and in order of how it happens in the story can help you keep track of what characters know when, and also when the readers find out certain information. You might have one of these from when you were planning your story (as detailed in Sara Holmes’ workshop). If you’ve kept it up to date with changes to the plot and structure as you’ve written, this will be super helpful.

At this stage, you’re looking to see if everything works as a consistent story. You want to check to see if it feels like it’s the right pace, or if there are bits where it drags or rushes through the action. Why is this? Are there scenes which aren’t adding anything to the progress? Could they just be referred to in passing, or removed entirely without impacting the story? Are there other scenes which need to be added to provide more detail and growth? Is there anything that you as a writer know that is essential to the story, but you forgot to actually put in the text?

“Crafty writers...don't allow Exposition to form Lumps. They break up the information, grind it fine, and make it into bricks to build the story with.” Ursula K. Le Guin

You’re also looking to see if the characters feel true to themselves all the way through. Do the relationships spark? Do they sound like themselves? Can you hear them in your head?

Some people recommend doing several structural edits, with a different focus each time. One pass to look at the pacing, one pass to look at the characters, one to look at the story arc. You’ll work out what floats your boat, but you will be re-reading this story a lot of times before you’re done editing - which is why it’s very important to write what you love and want to read! You’ll go through many stages of hating this story before you let it go, and that will be even harder if it wasn’t something you enjoyed in the first place.

Filter 2 - Line Editing

So you remember I told you to make all those notes during your structural edit? Here’s where you’re going to use them. Now’s the time to go through your story line by line and check that the details in your cheat sheet are correct all the way through the story. I’ve written a novel that I initially set in November, but by the time I finished it, I’d decided it was taking place in early May. I had to go back and fix all the dates and weather descriptions to make sure the action hadn’t actually been yeeted forward six months spontaneously in the middle of a conversation.

Arguably, the line edit will be the most painful part of editing. At this stage, you will be taking a fine-tooth comb to everything you have written, examining it to within an inch of its life, and casting judgement. You’re going to find every stylistic tic you have (for me, everyone is constantly quirking their eyebrows and smirking like they’ve got cramp in their facial muscles), and you’re going to get rid of them (a person only has so many eyebrows, and they can only quirk so far). Now is the time to kill your darlings - don’t hang on to anything unless you feel it’s really doing a job to further the story and the characters.

“Kill your darlings, kill your darlings, even when it breaks your egocentric little scribbler's heart, kill your darlings.” Stephen King

If you have ever worried about the unbearable sensation of being Known, the line edit is where you will experience that with every word, and you’ll be doing it to yourself. This is when the doubts will really start to creep in and you will maybe feel like everything you write is unoriginal, derivative trash and unfit for human eyes.

Here I’ll reiterate what I said above:

This is a normal feeling, everyone experiences it when editing. E V E R Y O N E.

It’s a lie. No-one else will ever read your story in this state, no-one else will ever read your story this closely. Of course it feels obvious and uninspired to you - you wrote it. It’s your idea, and you’ve read it several times, it holds no surprises for you. (I may be projecting my feelings from every time I’ve edited something here, but…)

You’ll also be catching any ELEPHANTS or whatever your mammal of choice for placeholder text is that you’ve stationed throughout the story as a flag for you to come back and add in a name, or a food, or a song title later. You know, the things you decided were a problem for Future!You. I have bad news, the future is now.

Top Tip: if you have changed someone’s name halfway through, DON’T for the love of Mike, just do a straight find and replace to correct it. Because that’s when you suddenly find out how many other words actually contain names (Mark became Bill? That’s great, until your characters are going to the superBillet to buy groceries). Some word processing programmes have a “whole word” option which is your friend, otherwise ensure to put spaces either side of the word when you search. If you don’t, you’ve just made another horrible job for yourself...

Filter 3 - Copy Editing

Once you’ve made it out the other side of the Line Edit (and given yourself a nice treat to congratulate yourself because that stage is HARD), we get onto copy editing. This is basically the set-dressing stage. You’ve built the house, you’ve decorated the room, and now you’re just making sure every bit of furniture is in the right place for optimal feng shui.

Here’s where you go through and go, do I really need a dash here, or could I just use a comma? Could I use fewer commas? Could I go in and move all of @kangofu_cb’s commas around because I’m the sort of person who will come into your house and change how you hang your toilet paper or where you keep your ketchup.

Now is the time to be as picky as possible, like you’re an interior designer for the most demanding client in the world and the ornament must be exactly equidistant from both ends of the mantlepiece and facing precisely south-west. Things that may have just survived your line edit will be measured again, and if they’re found wanting, then they get binned.

“Substitute ‘damn’ every time you’re inclined to write ‘very’; your editor will delete it and the writing will be just as it should be.” Mark Twain

Another thing you might like to do here is check that all your features and things are correct. Did you make a wild claim about the lifecycle of salamanders, or the average price of corn and then never go back to verify this? Take a second to just do that now. It may be that you decide it’s not a problem (I received one copy edit note saying that an idiom used in a book wasn’t recorded until 200 years later, and I made the editorial decision that no-one would care), but for bigger things you may want to make sure you’re accurate.

If you google it (as I just did, to make sure I was definitely giving you the right information), copy editing is often conflated with line editing, and that’s because in reality a lot of the elements of copy editing actually wouldn’t usually be done by the author, and are probably irrelevant to fanfic. The copy editor is responsible for ensuring the book has a consistent grammatical style in line with the preferences of the publisher (em-dash or en-dash, curly quote marks or straight ones, how you deal with acronyms, what needs to be italicised, etc. etc.), which isn’t necessarily required for fanfic. In reality, for fanfic I’d use this stage as a second, lighter line-edit to see where things can be tightened up in phrasing, as well as perhaps a preliminary proofread where you start to mark up any spelling errors.

Filter 4 - Proofreading

By this stage, you’ll be exhausted, and sick to death of the blasted thing. But the end is in sight! Now you’re onto the proofread. This is another close read, where you go through and check for spelling errors, typos, missing full stops, strange formatting stuff (which probably will be less of an issue as AO3 basically makes everything uniform anyway).

Before you even start this, change your font.

We’ve all been there, thought we’d caught every spelling error, every weird typo, only to spot six immediately after posting. That’s because after a certain point our brain becomes used to the font we’ve written in, and will automatically correct things that aren’t right. AO3 has its own unique formatting - colour, spacing, font - and the minute your fic appears on there in this new format you brain wakes up and is like “oh shit, yeah, that’s not how it should be.”

By changing the font before you proofread, you preempt this step.

Another thing to remember: it’s unlikely you will ever catch every mistake. Published books regularly go out with a smattering of typographical errors throughout the text - how many first editions of books are valuable because of misspellings that slipped through the net? You’re only human.

“Connie's other job was proof-editing which she did very badly. Transferring the author's corrections to a clean sheet of proofs was something Connie was unable to do without missing an average of three corrections a page, or transcribing newly inserted material all wrong... she put angry authors' letters about the mutilation of their books under the cushion of her chair to deal with later.” Muriel Spark, A Far Cry from Kensington

Often, spelling errors and things you would look for in a proofread are things that a beta reader will pick up as they go, as they’re the easiest things to spot, but it’s also worth looking over yourself for anything your beta might have missed.

Whether you decide to follow any or all of these steps, always do the proofread last.There is no point carefully spellchecking a chapter you are then going to delete, or proofreading the whole thing, but adding loads of new paragraphs later that either don’t get looked at or mean you end up having to proofread twice. That’s the only hard and fast rule when it comes to editing, and it will save you a lot of unnecessary work!

FREEDOM

And then, finally, unbelievably - you’re done. Your literary child is ready to leave the nest. Resist the urge to keep re-reading and tweaking. Instead, click “publish” and give yourself a nice little treat. You’ve earned it.

Miscellany and Disclaimers

These editing stages are ones that would be applied to a published novel. An author would probably do this several times - once on their own to get it ready for submission, then perhaps again with their agent, but the really heavy work would be done with their editor. The structural edit would be done under the advice of an agent or editor where the author looks at their comments, rejigs things accordingly, and lather, rinse, repeat until everyone’s happy. The editor would undertake the line edit, and the author would decide what they wanted to keep or change. The copy edit and proofread would be done in-house or sent to freelancers, with queries and changes wafted past the author for clarification or approval.

Self-published authors will often hire freelancers to help at various stages to get feedback and advice.

Very rarely would an author go from draft to final published piece by doing all their editing alone. Because it’s hard fucking work, and because your brain will get exhausted.

In light of that, you need to remember:

You’ve written a fanfic

The editorial standards of fanfic are significantly less stringent than published books

Editing by yourself is really hard work that many people are often paid to do for published books

No-one is paying you for your fanfic

Fanfic is supposed to be fun

Some published authors will edit and rewrite and edit and rewrite again and again. At a panel I attended, Joanne Harris said that if she didn’t rewrite her work at least five times she was being too easy on herself, while Joe Hill said he usually aimed for three rewrites - Joe edited as he went along, going over the previous day’s pages before continuing, where Joanne completed her manuscripts before editing. Elizabeth May has talked about her stages of drafting, starting with her Trash Draft, then her Clean Draft, and then rewriting and editing after that.

These are people who are writing professionally, getting paid for their work, and so the time they put in has monetary results. If you want to write original fiction, their advice is extremely valuable.

For fanfiction, it’s a large time investment for something you’re doing as a hobby for free. If I’m strictly honest, I’m fairly lax with my fanfiction editing. I do structural discussions and tweaks with my beta reader as I write, and then a spell check. I’m also aware that my fanfics aren’t narratively complex, nor do they seem as polished, rich and deep as some of the other works out there. That’s fine by me. You simply need to find the level you’re happy at, where you can still feel proud of your work but you’re enjoying the experience.

In the end - it’s all for fun!

Resources:

Online

Curtis Brown Creative: An Editor’s Guide to Editing Your Novel

Joanne Harris: Ten Tweets About Editing

Joanne Harris: Writing Resources

NerdsLikeMe: Beta Reading vs Proofreading vs Editing

Books

Stephen King - On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft

Ursula K. Le Guin - Steering the Craft: Exercises and Discussions on Story Writing for the Lone Navigator or the Mutinous Crew

#winterhawk #winterhawk olympic bang #whob #writer workshops #writer workshop: editing #guest post #chronicwhimsy

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nerdygaymormon · 4 years ago

Note

Do you have a link to your thoughts on the CES letter? Because I'm sure plenty of folk have asked you about it. I'm, struggling.

The CES letter has been mentioned to me a few times in asks, but I don’t recall being asked to respond directly to it.

Before getting into it, I want to make you aware of this post about Faith Transitions, I think it may be useful to you.

I read the CES letter many years ago, probably the original version, it’s changed a lot since then. I think the CES letter is sloppy, and twists quotes, uses some questionable sources, and frames things in the worst possible way. It’s basically an amalgamation of all the anti-Mormon literature. But many of the main points of the CES letter are important and correct, even if the supporting details aren’t.

In a way, the CES letter has done the Church a favor. For a long time, Elder Packer insisted that anything which isn’t faith-promoting shouldn’t be taught. As a result, most members of the Church were taught a simplified version of Church history, leaving out anything that is messy or difficult. Although those things could be found if someone was looking for them, I found many of them simply by reading Brigham Young Discourses or other works of the early church.

With the internet, Elder Packer’s approach to history turns out to be a bad one. This information is out there and now most members learn about it from sources seeking to destroy their faith. One response to this has been a series of essays where the Church talks about some difficult subjects.

————————————————————

I’m not going to go through all the claims & challenges of the CES letter, but let me address some of the main ones.

1) There are errors in the Book of Mormon that are also contained in the 1769 edition of the Bible.

From the more faithful point-of-view, Joseph recognizes these passages, such as those from Isaiah, and knows they've already been translated into English and copies them from his family’s Bible. The non-faithful point-of-view is that Joseph copied these verses from his family Bible and tried to pass it off as his own translation.

2) DNA analysis has concluded that Native American Indians do not originate from the Middle East or from Israelites but from Asia.

This is correct. The Church has an essay which admits this and then spends a lot of time explaining how genetics works and one day we might find some Middle East connection. I find the Church essay convoluted as it goes through many possible (and unlikely) reasons for why no DNA of the Jaredites, Nephites or Lamanites has yet been found in the Americas.

3) There are things in the Book of Mormon that didn’t exist during Book of Mormon times, or in Central America (assuming this is where the Book of Mormon takes place), such as horses, chariots, goats, elephants, wheat, and steel.

This is also correct. Maybe the translation process was using a common word in English for a common item in the Book of Mormon. Maybe these are errors. Maybe it’s made up.

4) No archeological evidence has been found for the Nephite/Lamanite civilizations.

Correct. When it comes to archeological evidence, it's true that we haven't found any. For one thing, we don't know where the Nephite & Lamanite civilizations are supposed to have taken place. If you don't know where to look, it's easy to have no evidence. Perhaps Nephites & Lamanites didn’t actually exist and that’s why there’s no archeological evidence. The Book of Mormon does seem to do a decent job of describing geography of the Middle East before Lehi & his family boarded the boat for the Promised Land.

5) Book of Mormon names and places are strikingly similar (or identical) to many local names and places of the region Joseph Smith lived in.

This seems like a funny thing to get hung up on. First of all, it’s not very many names that are similar. Secondly, many places in the US are named for Biblical places & people. If the Book of Mormon people came from Israel, it makes sense they did something similar. For example, the word Jordan is in the Book of Mormon, the Bible, and in many places in America.

6) He points to obscure books or dime-novels that Joseph Smith might have read and the similarities between them and the Book of Mormon.

Those similarities are mostly at the surface level. To me it doesn't seem like Joseph plagiarized any particular book, and these specific books seem to not been very popular so difficult to say Joseph, who lived on the frontier, actually read them. Funny how no one from that time period thought the Book of Mormon resembled those books, probably because they hadn’t heard of them. But Joseph did hear and read a number of stories and some of that phrasing or whatever of the time influenced him. Think of songwriters, they create a new song then get accused of plagiarizing because it's similar to another popular song. Even without intending to, they were influenced by things they heard.

7) The Book of Mormon has had 100,000 changes.

Most of the "100,000" changes to the Book of Mormon were to break it into chapters & verses, to add chapter headings, or to add grammar such as commas and whatnot. There are some changes to fix errors that got printed but differed from the original manuscript. And there's been some clarifications made, but these are few in number. By claiming "100,000" he's trying to make it seem like there's a scam being done. It's easy to get a replication of the first Book of Mormon from the Community of Christ and read it side-by-side with today's version. I’ve done that and occasionally there’s a word or two here or there which differ, but overall it's mostly the same.

8) There were over 4 different First Vision accounts

True. Over the years, the way Joseph described the First Vision changed. I think different versions emphasize different aspects of the experience. I don’t find them to be contradictory. Oh, and the Church has an essay about this.

9) The papyri that Joseph translated into the Book of Abraham has been found and translated and it’s nothing like the Book of Abraham.

This is true. The Church has an essay about it. The Church now says that the papyri inspired Joseph to get the Book of Abraham via revelation, much like his translations of the Bible weren’t from studying the ancient Greek & Hebrew. It is a big change from what the Church used to teach, that this was a translation of the papyrus. The papyri has nothing to do with the Book of Abraham, and the explanations of the facsimiles in the Pearl of Great Price don’t match what the scholars say those pictures are about.

10) Joseph married 34+ women, many without Emma’s consent, some who had husbands, and even a teenager.

This all appears to be true. Emma knew about some of them, but not all. As for the married women, they were still married to their husbands but sealed to Joseph (I know this is strange to us, but this sort of thing was common until Wilford Woodruff standardized how sealings are done).

Polygamy was illegal in the United States. Most people who participated were told to keep it secret. So of course there’s carefully-worded statements by Joseph and others denying they participate in polygamy.

The salacious question everyone wants to know is if Joseph slept with all these women. We don’t know, but a DNA search for descendants of Joseph has taken place among the descendants of the women he was ‘married’ to and none have been found. But still, if he wasn’t doing anything wrong, why is he hiding this from Emma?

11) The Church used to teach that polygamy was required for exaltation, even though the Book of Mormon condemns polygamy.

This is accurate. The Church says polygamy was part of ancient Israel and so as part of the restoration of all things, polygamy had to be restored, see D&C 132:34. Now we no longer say polygamy is required to get to the highest level of the Celestial Kingdom.

12) Brigham Young taught Adam-God theory, which is now disavowed by the Church.

True. Joseph Smith didn’t teach this and John Taylor & Wilford Woodruff don’t seem to have any time for this teaching. It’s a thing Brigham Young was hot about and taught, but seems a lot of the church didn’t buy it as it was discarded after his death.

13) Black people weren’t allowed to hold the priesthood until 1978, despite Joseph having conferred it to a few Black people during his life.

Very true and very sad. This and the Mountain Meadows Massacre are the two biggest stains on the Church’s past. There is a Church essay on Race & the Priesthood. The ban appears to have begun with Brigham Young and he developed several theories to justify it, and these explanations expanded over the decades and bigotry was taught as doctrine. The Church now disavows all explanations that were taught in the past.

No reason for the priesthood ban is put forward in the Church essay other than racism. The past leaders were racists and that blinded them to what God wanted for Black people. There’s a big lesson in that for LGBTQ teachings of the Church.

14) The Church misrepresents how Joseph Smith translated the Book of Mormon.

The accounts of Joseph Smith putting a seer stone in a hat and reading words from it, that's part of the historic record. Quotes about it don’t make it to our Sunday School lessons, but if you go back to the Joseph Smith papers and other accounts, it’s there to read. Joseph also used the Urim & Thummim, and wrote out characters and studied them, but he seems to have most favored the stone-in-hat method. I think the main problem here is the Church in its artwork and movies does not depict this, and therefore most members are unaware until they see anti-Mormon literature. Why does the Church not show Joseph looking into a hat? Because it seems magical and weird to modern people. But how much weirder is it than he put on the Urim & Thummim like glasses and could translate that way, or he wrote out these characters from some extinct language and was able to figure out what they mean?

————————————————————

A number of the main points in the CES letter are true (even if explanations/supporting details in the CES are problematic). Some of the main points have simple explanations and don’t seem like a big deal. Others challenge what the Church has taught. To its credit, the Church put out essays by historians & scholars, with sources listed in the footnotes, addressing several of these controversial topics.

————————————————————

Religion is meant to help humans make sense of their world and our place in it. Most religious stories are metaphorical but end up getting taught as literal history and, in my opinion, the same is true of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. And that’s why the CES letter has power, it points out things aren’t literally true but were taught by the Church as factual, and the CES letter shows us part of our messy history that the Church tried to hide.

————————————————————

The story of Adam and Eve can’t literally be true. It doesn’t fit our evolutionary past, but it’s meant to make our lives important, God created us and we have to account to Him for our choices, and it’s important to find someone to go through life with. We can say the same of Job and the Book of Ruth, fiction with a purpose.

While there are some real events included in the Bible, much of what’s written is there to teach lessons, culture, and give meaning to life. Jesus taught in parables so at least he was upfront that they were stories that contained morals.

Can I believe the same about the Book of Mormon, that it’s inspired fiction with meaning I can apply to my life, or must it be literally history to have value?

————————————————————

I went through a massive faith crisis while attending BYU. I had access to materials that told a different story of this religion than I’d been taught (the sorts of things in the CES Letter) and it threw me for a loop.

It felt like the floor of faith I had stood on shattered and I fell with no way to stop myself. After I had a chance to process through the things I was feeling, I looked at my shattered faith and picked up the parts that were meaningful to me.

I had lined up my faith similar to a line of dominoes. If the Book of Mormon is true, then Joseph was a prophet. If Joseph was a prophet, then this is the true church. If this is the true church, then...

This works until it doesn’t. Once a domino topples over, it starts a chain event.

Now I look at principles and concepts and decide if they’re meaningful to me.

I love the idea that we can spend eternity with the people we love most.

I believe we should be charitable and loving to others.

People on the margins need to be looked after and helped and lifted.

Poor people deserve dignity and the rich to be challenged.

We have a commitment to our community and we all serve to make it better.

All are alike to God, we’re all loved and God has a grand plan for us.

Those who passed away can still be saved through the atonement of Christ.

Those are all principles I find in the Bible and Book of Mormon or at church and I find Love flows through all of those.

This new approach works for me. I don’t have to believe or hold onto problematic teachings. I can drop them and still hold the parts that I find valuable. I can reject the teachings and statements which are bigoted, homophobic, transphobic, racist, ableist, misogynistic. Prophets can make mistakes and still have taught some useful things.

That little voice of the spirit and what it teaches and guides me to do, I trust it over what Church leaders say. Overarching principles are more important to me than specific details for how this gets applied in the 1800′s or 1950′s or Biblical times.

————————————————————

I truly hope some of what I’ve written is helpful.

There’s no use pretending that the CES letter doesn’t get some things correct. It’s also helpful to understand it’s not just trying to share truth, but has an agenda to make the Church look as bad as possible.

What about the things the CES letter is correct about?

Has this church helped you learn to connect with the Divine?

The Church has some very big flaws, but also has some big things in its favor. Some of its unique teachings are very appealing and feel hopeful and right.

Can you leave the Church and be a good person and have a relationship with God? Absolutely.

I also know this church is a community and it’s hard to walk away cold-turkey with nothing to replace it, without another network to belong to. It’s as much a religion as it is a lifestyle and circle of friends.

Are there parts you can hold onto? Parts you can let go of?

You have a lot to think about and work through.

#long post #ces letter #this is a much longer answer than I thought I would write

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silverwhiteraven · 4 years ago

Text

Borne of the Stars - Chapter 15 - An MLB Kryptonian AU

Tag List: @weird-pale-blonde-person @kris-pines04 @catthhay @abrx2002 @amayakans @vixen-uchiha @heldtogetherbysafetypins @raisuke06 @dorkus-minimus @mopester-is-here @moonlightstar64 @toodaloo-kangaroo @the-navistar-carol @elspethshadow @chocolatecatstheron�� @ivymala07 Questionable Tags that don’t work?: @daminett4life @captainartsypants @annabellabrookes @eve-valution

[Author’s Note: Oh Hi there! This fic is now over a YEAR old! Woah!! ]

[ Summary: Ladybug figures out her Lucky Charm, just in the nick of time. ]

[ Posted on Ao3 ] [ Chapter 1 ] [ Chapter 14 ] [ Chapter 16 ]

Ladybug was up high, holding on to the top of the Eiffel Tower like a cliche reenactment of that Dancing in the Rain scene where the man is swinging around a lamp post. Only, she’s over 300 metres above the ground instead of just one, and she’s admittedly quite terrified of looking directly downward. Still, she pushes down the instinct to be terrified and looks out, beyond the surrounding park below, towards the glowing lines still spreading through the city.

“Map, roads, landmarks, personal pins, lost items…” Ladybug’s mind tried to piece together all the little clues she had gathered. She looked down to her hand, a small roll of red paper clutched in it. Letting it unfurl, she took note of the various numbers and letters printed in black ink. There was almost a pattern to it, though they made no particular sense to her.

“Map, landmarks, numbers, map, landmarks, numbers,” she repeated to herself, before it clicked. “Numbers and personal pins, all on a map. These are coordinates-! Ack! ” She held tighter to the tower, her momentary distraction making her tilt a bit too far out.

Still continuing to avoid looking down, Ladybug took one more glance to the skyline, and a certain marker caught her eye. It was one of the unique ones, further out towards the edges of the growing map. It was moving. But it wasn’t along any of the main roads. At least not above ground. And the Akuma had mentioned the subway.

“More than just a map,” Ladybug realized. “Slowly growing like a buffer, keeping track of places and active transit routes... This is a GPS! Of course! Atlas lost something, now they’re trying to track it down!” She looked down toward her hand, “My Luck Charm must be-” and she saw the ground, far, far below.

And Ladybug thought she was scared earlier when she was swinging precariously through the streets of Paris by the cord of a yo-yo.

It didn’t help that an unexpected beeping suddenly invaded her ears just as wind whipped hair into her eyes, and by instinct both hands went to her ears, eyes screwed shut.

Ladybug gasped, breath catching and body stiffening as she realized she was tilting away from her perch on the tower once again. Only now, she didn’t have a hand holding her to it, and the arm that finally reached out to grab for something, anything , was a moment too late.

There was no scream as she fell, only the rush of air around her, contrasting to the lack of breathing in her chest. Her two masked eyes opened out of fright, flinching from the wind. For a moment, she didn’t know which way was up or down, until her peripheral saw the top observation deck pass by in a blur.

She reached for her yo-yo clumsily, and knowing every second counted toward saving herself only made her muscles refuse to cooperate. Barely managing to get a finger through the yo-yo’s ring, Ladybug threw her only weapon out, towards the beams of the tower, hoping beyond hope that it would catch hold.

Her luck held, and the yo-yo caught.

But she was still falling, of course, and as the ground grew closer and the string drew taunt, Ladybug squeaked as she was suddenly swinging into the force of her own pendulum.

She swung past the ground between the legs of the Eiffel Tower and went back upwards, straight up through the open center of the first observation deck.

Her breath caught again as gravity slowed her upward trek, and for a moment, she felt herself suspended in the open air.

That moment stretched longer.

Before her brain could question the fact she was closer to floating than actually reaching the peak of upward lift, gravity reclaimed Ladybug, and she was falling again.

“Ack! Gotta stop gotta stop-!”

Tugged at the string of her yo-yo as she went, and it expanded, dropping her closer to the ground than before. At the moment she swung parallel to the ground, she gave another tug, and the yo-yo’s main body, wherever it had caught on the tower above, let itself free, and Ladybug tumbled into a roll across the ground.

“Owch… I really need to get better at this,” She grumbled to herself as she staggered back to standing. A black clad figure slid into place beside her, a hand reaching out to give balance, the other with an extended baton held out defensively.

“You sure do, Buggy,” Oncilla said. “Welcome back to the battle. Sorry I couldn’t catch you myself, Atlas is surprisingly tough to distract.”

Ladybug shook her head, “Think nothing of it, I’m fine. Thanks for giving me the time I needed to figure out what to do.”

“No problem! So what’s the plan now?” Oncilla asked as she picked up a still unsteady Ladybug and jumped out of the way of Atlas as they charged forward. It had barely been a minute since she left the battle to call for her Lucky Charm, but Ladybug already felt like the last time she had been moving around this much had been an hour ago. She was really going to need to get used to this whole stop-and-go process, and hopefully soon.

“My Lucky Charm gave me coordinates. I noticed that this whole thing, all the changes to the city, it’s a giant GPS system, tuned in to the Akuma’s own needs.”

“How does that help us fight it?” Oncilla asks, puzzled.

“We- we might not have to, I think that’s the point. Sometimes, the best thing to do in a fight is to not fight, but to help ,” Ladybug realized. “Quick, put me down, I need to get Atlas’s attention.”

Oncilla did as asked, and Ladybug immediately started waving her arms over her head.

“Truce! We call a truce!! I know how we can help each other without needing to fight!”

The Akuma paused in their attack, before flying straight to Ladybug and stopping directly in front of her, an intimidating figure that made the new hero flinch. Oncilla stood close, tense.

“Explain,” Atlas commanded with a voice of steel. “You have 30 seconds.”

“You’re connected to the map that's imposed over the city, right?” A nod in response. “Well, I think we found your items that you lost. At least, sort of.”

“ Sort of? ” they growled, prompting the Black Cat user to step closer and growl back.

“You’ll have to confirm it for us,” Ladybug appeased gently. “I have coordinates, they should lead you where you need to go since you know how to use the map. But…” She paused, glancing at her partner before continuing more confidently, “But we have to trade. Your Akumatized item, for my Lucky Charm. You get what you need, and we get what we need. A fair trade, right?”

There’s a pause, stretched out by held breaths and the flickering of a butterfly outline over eyes.

Atlas glanced at Ladybug's earrings, just as they started to beep for a second time, and the hero gulped. Then, the supervillain stepped back.

“You have a deal,” Atlas proclaimed, clearly ignoring Hawk Moth’s interruption. The two heroes let out relieved breaths. “But you’re coming with me. If I don’t get what I want, you’re both going to pay dearly.”

Oncilla and Ladybug nod in understanding, Ladybug a bit nervous in contrast to Oncilla’s confidence. No, it was pride, directed at Ladybug. “You’re doing great, Little Lady,” the Black Cat hero reassured with a grin. “This will be over soon. Let’s go.”

And with that, Ladybug hands her Lucky Charm to Atlas, who in turn hands over their own item. It was nothing more than small, shaped sticky notes meant for organization. It felt unnerving in Ladybug’s hand, something so small and simple able to be used for something so strong and menacing.

The two heroes then followed Atlas as they pinpointed the exact location of the coordinates. It was near one of the personal landmarks, a place Ladybug didn’t know, but Atlas clearly knew it. After some frustrated searching, another round of beeping from the earrings, and a couple tense moments where the heroes thought the Akuma might blow their top, the missing items were found.

Atlas held the pack of calligraphy and felt tip pens like they meant the world to them.

“Thanks,” they said quietly, genuinely. They handed the no longer needed Lucky Charm back to Ladybug with an appreciative nod. “Do what you need to do. I don’t need Hawk Moth any longer. I can deal with my own battles myself.”

Ladybug turned to Oncilla, smiling big with the overwhelming emotions of an unexpected victory. “Want to do the honors?” she asked as she held out the Akumatized sticky notes.

“I’d be happy to,” Oncilla purred, taking the item in her ringed hand. “Cataclysm!”

The sticky notes disintegrated, and a dark butterfly emerged like it was hatching from a cocoon. Ladybug, with an encouraging nudge from Oncilla that also served as a reminder, took out her yo-yo once more, activated its ability to purify, and caught the little insect.

“Bye-bye, little butterfly,” she whispered to the creature as it fluttered away. Then, with a deep breath, she clutched the Lucky Charm before tossing it high; “Miraculous Ladybug!”

Ladybug jumped back with a squeak, surprised by the sudden burst of black, red, and white magic from the item, watching in awe as it swept down the streets and into the distance.

A fourth set of beeps rang in her ears, drawing her attention away with a start.

“I need to go! Oncilla, can you-?”

“I can cover the civilian and make sure they get home; don’t worry, I got this! See you later, Your Ladyship ,” the other hero reassured and teased with a playful wink.

Ladybug giggled and flushed at the whole embarrassing ordeal. “Yes, of course- See you around then, Lancelot ,” she managed to return the tease through her flustered state, before throwing out her yo-yo and pulling herself back towards home.

#Borne of the Stars #maribat #Krypto-Mari AU #marinette dupain cheng #kara danvers #miraculous ladybug #dc super hero girls #kryptonian au #black cat kara

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vs-redemption · 4 years ago

Text

Worthwhile (Endeavor x Male!Reader)

Requested by: @dyceaverruncus

I was a little nervous to write this at first, but I ended up having a lot of fun with it. I hope it turned out the way you hoped! It was my first time writing for Endeavor and my first time writing for a male reader.

Living with a man like Enji Todoroki was a far cry from what you’d call domestic bliss. He was stubborn as a mule and had an irritable demeanor that most people just could not tolerate. The dark misdeeds of his past were enough baggage to drive anyone away and his bristly personality should’ve been the final nail in the coffin that contained his love life. There was one redeemable trait that stood out though, and that was Enji’s desire to change and be a better man. As far as shining heroes went, he was definitely a work in progress. He had a long way to go before he was on par with All Might, but the changes he was making in his everyday life had not gone unnoticed. Being a lower level employee at his agency had allowed you to see him trying to have more interaction with his fans and be more personable in interviews. Apparently you’d watched him a little too closely because you had ended up falling in love with the huge idiot.

At first, you dismissed your feelings as nothing more than a crush. There was no way the number one hero would even notice a guy like you let alone take you on a date, even with all of his personality flaws. He was strong and muscular while you were admittedly a bit squishier around the middle. You felt pretty sure you weren’t the type of guy he would go for. Your chances seemed to diminish even further after getting into a few heated arguments about the due dates for some of his reports. Most of your coworkers would apologize and take the blame when he missed a deadline, but you took too much pride in your work for that. For better or worse, you never hesitated to print off an email or make a phone call to prove you hadn’t made a mistake. You would’ve thought your actions would put you on his shit list, but it turned out they had the opposite effect. Enji started coming to you personally with requests and eventually started asking you to join him for lunch to go over his reports.

The lunch meetings progressively turned into lunch dates without either of you really noticing. Enji’s questions became less about the work you did at his agency and more about you and your personal life. At times, he’d regress to his old self and you’d have to call him out for being overbearing or controlling, but this never seemed to stop him from wanting to spend more time with you. His pride prevented him from doing anything that made him vulnerable though, so you were the one that had to bite the bullet and finally ask if you were boyfriends or not. Getting him to admit that you were was like pulling teeth, but it was well worth the struggle once he wrapped you in his huge arms for the first time. It turned out you should’ve never worried about your weight being an issue either because the man could not keep his hands off you whenever you were alone, and you’d nearly melted the first time he’d mumbled out how much he loved how soft you were.

As your relationship with Enji continued, he slowly began to open up to you. And once he really felt comfortable, he surprised even himself when he asked you to move in with him. It was a rocky transition to say the least, but you both managed to fall into a comfortable routine after a while. You’d first gone into the relationship with reservations about yourself, so it came as a shock to find out Enji had a few insecurities of his own.

“Look at this!” he bellowed while slapping a newspaper article down in front of you one morning. There was a picture of him on the first page that had been taken after he’d apprehended a villain the day before.

“You’re on the front page,” you point out with a shrug. “Shouldn’t you be happy?”

“I told them not to use that picture!” He turns away and stomps over to the refrigerator to grab the breakfast shake you’d prepared for him.

“Why?” you pull the paper closer to get a better look. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s just…” He growls in frustration and you worried he might lose his temper and set something on fire. It wouldn’t be the first time. “It’s just not flattering at all!”

“What?” You felt a little amused as you watched him get flustered. “What do you mean?”

“It must’ve been the angle of the camera,” Enji snatches the paper off the table and tosses it in the trash. “My thighs practically take up the whole picture.” You turn to look at him with raised eyebrows.

“Sorry to break this to you,” you tell him teasingly, “but your legs are massive. It has nothing to do with the angle of the camera.”

That had been the completely wrong thing to say because it sent Enji into a fiery rage ending with him storming out of the house to go to work without so much as a goodbye kiss. You never thought he’d be that self-conscious about the size of his thighs but you stored the information away for later since you were not above using it to your advantage. It definitely came in handy later that day when Enji returned home with an attitude just as sour as when he’d left.

“This place is a mess!” he shouts after just walking in the door, “What have you been doing all day?”

“I’m sorry,” you say even though the look on your face wasn’t very apologetic. “The house looked like this when you left this morning. I guess you didn’t notice.”

“You could’ve tidied up or something!” He crosses his arms over his broad chest. “This is unacceptable behavior.”

“Excuse me?” you stand up to confront him head on. You snatch the dirty t-shirt off the back of the couch. “You’re the one who leaves their laundry all over the place. Today was my day off and I didn’t want to spend it cleaning up after you.”

“How dare you talk back to me like that!” Enji puffs up his chest to try and look more intimidating.

“I’m your boyfriend, not your child,” You remind him flatly. “I’ll talk to you however I please. And if you don’t start treating me with a little more respect, there are going to be consequences.” Enji seems to hesitate for a moment after that.

“What kind of consequences?” he asks cautiously.

“How about I post all over the internet about your reaction to the newspaper this morning?” You suggest with a shrug, “or tell everyone that the number one hero is incredible enough to take down any villain in the country but can’t seem to throw a single pair of his dirty underwear into a hamper?”

Enji’s face was priceless. He definitely didn’t want to back down, but he also knew you weren’t bluffing about posting his embarrassing secrets for the world to see.

“You wouldn’t,” he says with false confidence.

“You feeling like testing that theory?” you walk up to him with a mischievous smirk. Enji furrows his eyebrows before letting out a sigh and shaking his head.

“Fine,” he mumbles under his breath, “I’m sorry.”

You told him he could prove it by throwing a load of clothes in the wash. He didn’t really appreciate that, but knew he’d lost the fight this time and couldn’t really complain. He also understood that his temper caused him to act inappropriately sometimes, so he was thankful that you had both the strength and patience to keep him from going back to the person he used to be. He always remembered to reward you for holding your ground during an argument too by offering to clean up the dishes after dinner and giving you extra cuddles at night so that neither of you would fall asleep angry at each other. The life you both lived couldn’t exactly be described as domestic bliss, of course, but there was a balance between the two of you that made every moment worthwhile.

#Enji Todoroki x reader #endeavor x male reader #Endeavor x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #Enji Todoroki #Endeavor #My hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #my writing #writing requests #Cindy's Writing

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xbellaxcarolinax · 4 years ago

Text

Heartbreaker- Part 2

Pairing: Modern Ivar x Female character/ reader (She)

Word Count: 5573

Warnings: Sexual content, language and angst.

Beautiful mood board by the amazing @peterquillzsblog Thank you again 💙

So clearly, I have no self control. I got a little carried away. This was only meant to be a one-shot and here I am posting a second part 😅 @youbloodymadgenius, I hope you don’t mind 💙 Thank you for all the wonderful feedback from the first part, it inspired me to write this second part.

Part 1

...

“Here we have the famous Oseberg Ship. It was discovered by a farmer in Vestfold over a hundred years ago in 1904,” Her heels click against the hardwood floor, coming to an abrupt halt right by the ancient Viking ship, “It is known as the most beautiful Viking tomb to be discovered.” She watches the tourists surround the vessel, all sporting wide eyes as they take in the sight of the giant ship.

She goes on to explain the history of the ship, the noblewomen that were buried within and the various items unearthed in the vessel. She never grew tired of watching tourist faces twist in fascination as she educates them on the Viking Age and of the narrative that most didn’t know about besides knowing that the Norse were fearsome warriors. They were much more complex than that. The last half hour was spent exploring the rest of the exhibition and alerting the small crowd of the donations that would kindly be accepted for the preservation of the vessel.

Leading the small group back towards the entrance of the museum, she waves them off, thanking them for their time and wishing them a good day. That was only her first tour of the day. 2 more to go. Smoothing down her nicely fitted black pencil skirt, she goes behind the ticket counter, greeting the 2 cashiers, Anders and Christina, before checking the roster posted by the register for the next tour.

“I’d like to purchase a ticket for the tour at 2.” Immediately her head snaps up to look towards the familiar voice, her jaw clenching as soon as she sees those familiar blue eyes. Fuck. Her hand grips Christina’s shoulder tightly, causing the cashier to look up at her before she could hand him his ticket and change.

“What?” Christina questions, shifting away from her touch before smiling prettily at Ivar, “Enjoy the tour, sir.”

“Thank you.” He smiles back charmingly, the same kind of smile that had her hooked at that stupid party. His eyes shift to hers immediately, cocking his head as he purses his lips, trying to elicit a reaction from her. The reaction would have been to slap him, but she’d rather keep her job. Adjusting the collar of her white pinstriped button down, she turns away, muttering something to the cashiers before going straight toward the museum cafe. She ignores Ivar completely, her nude heels clicking desperately against the floor as she tries to get away from him as quickly as possible. He wouldn’t be able to catch up with her with his crutch. He must have been in pain that day to be going out with it. And who cares? Fuck him.

She gets herself a bottle of water, tapping her foot impatiently as the cashier takes his sweet ass time getting her change. She should have given him her card. Before she could slink away, Ivar gets a firm grip on her wrist, his large hand pushing her bracelets up against her skin uncomfortably.

“Wait,” He says smoothly, turning her gently to face him. She bites her lip, finally bringing her eyes to meet his. She couldn’t read him at that moment, but really, could she ever? Ivar was like a fucking android when he wanted to be. “You blocked me. I’ve been trying to reach you for days now.” She scoffs, removing herself from his grip and folding her arms over her chest.

“I’ve been unavailable.” She says with a shrug, giving him the best glare she could muster. It had been a little over a week since the incident and she had done well to stay out of his way, not that it was difficult to do so in the first place. They lived about 15 minutes away from each other, but it was still far enough that she wouldn’t really run into him, and Ivar drove everywhere which was the upside of her walking and taking public transit. Thankfully, they worked completely different jobs. What a nightmare that would have been if they didn’t. Of course, he knew where she worked. The museum wasn’t far from his office and he sometimes picked her up after work when he had the chance. She supposed that was the downside.

Ivar gives her a once over, admiring how her pencil skirt hugged her gentle curves and how her legs seemed endless in those pricey heels. He remembered how happy she had been when she bought them for herself. He insisted on purchasing them for her, what was a measly 2000 krones? That wasn’t easy on the salary of a museum tour guide, but she refused of course, and he kinda liked her all the more for it. But that was in the past.

“You’ve been ignoring me.” He corrects, leaning heavily on his crutch, masking his discomfort as well as he could, but he couldn’t fool her. He licks his lips, raising a brow as if insisting she give him a decent answer. Who was he to insist upon anything?

“I have nothing to say to you, Ivar.”

“Come on, really? Nothing? I doubt it,” He snorts with a shake of his head, “Did you at least like the flowers? I stayed up all night finding the right florist that had your favorite flowers and that could deliver them early on such short notice. I had to pull some strings. It wasn't easy, you know.” What, did he want her to fall to her knees and kiss those expensive ass beige Chelsea boots that went well with his navy blue fitted suit? Fuck, she needed to stop.

“Oh yes, I loved them so much that I had to throw them out. They were too pretty. The little card was the best part. Thank you so much for that, asshole.” He trailed after her when she pushed past him, rushing out of the cafe. 5 minutes left till the tour started.

“Wait, slow down,” He calls out to her as he maneuvers himself through the crowd of people, finally catching up to her quick steps, “What did you want me to say? I warned you-”

“Yes, yes, not to fall in love with you, got it,” She dismisses his comment, “And I’m trying to accept that, so why aren’t you?” Ivar clears his throat, shoving a hand into the pocket of his tight dress pants.

“I want you to come back.” She snorts at his audacity, and he frowns, abruptly coming to a stop in front of her. He looks deeply into her eyes, her lashes nice and thick from her coat of mascara. He moves his eyes down to her lips, set in a snarl. That’s not the reaction he wanted, but at least she wore a pretty shade of lipstick.

“You must be out of your mind. Go back where? Your bed?” She whispers harshly over to him, “You’ve made a decision and so did I. Go do what you do best and leave me out of it.”

“But we were doing so great,” He whines, and she found it hard to believe she was talking to a grown ass man, “And I miss you.” He missed her body, not her.

“Fuck you.” She spits, fighting the urge to pour her entire bottle of water over him. Wouldn’t it be a sight to see him looking like a drowned rat.

“That’s what I’d like for you to do, yes. Preferably with you on top.” He smirks, loving how her face burned in both embarrassment and anger. He absolutely loved when she got flustered. It was cute. She quickly looks around hoping no one has witnessed their little exchange.

“This is a professional setting Ivar, so please do me a favor and respect my job,” She looks down at her watch, “I don’t have time for your bullshit. The tour is about to start. I gotta go.” She could already see the small group lining up, waiting to be led into the exhibit.

“Luckily, I’ll be joining you.”

“You hate museums.”

“Please, I’m totally interested in…” He pulls out the ticket, squinting his eyes at the description typed in the finest of print, “...The Gokstad ship.” He didn’t even know what tour ticket he fucking purchased.

“Oh god.” She groans, rushing over to the group to greet them. Ivar smiles, following right behind her.

God, her ass looked great in that skirt.

…

“The Gokstad ship was built at the height of the Viking period,” She begins, trying her very best to ignore Ivar’s piercing gaze. She was used to having eyes on her whenever she did her public speaking, but Ivar’s eyes were different. He wanted to devour her. “It was extremely versatile, but mostly used for raids and voyages.” The group of tourists, consisting of families with young children, began their picture taking of the massive ship.

“If you look up toward the stern posts, notice the absence of the notorious dragon heads. Although most of the wood has rotted away, archeologists believe there were never dragon heads fitted in the first place. This ship is quite fearsome without them, don’t you think?” The group erupted in murmurs as they turned their eyes up toward the very top of the ship.

The only person who lacked interest was Ivar. He smirks at her, leaning against the arched entryway while the rest of the group roamed around the perimeter of the ship, unaware of the silent battle between the handsome crutch man and the pretty tour guide. The fucker was making her nervous, her hands beginning to sweat as she fumbled with her fingers behind her back. When she shifts her eyes back to his she gulps. Slowly, he drags his tongue over his lower lip, coating the plump muscle in a shine before he bites down gently, wiggling his brows in suggestion.

Fuck him.

After what seemed like hours, the Gokstad tour finally ended and once again she brought the group back towards the entrance of the museum, suggesting they visit the cafe for a quick meal before bidding them a good day.

“I forgot how smart you are,” Ivar pulls up right behind her, his breath close enough to form gooseflesh on the nape of her neck, “My little bookworm, hmm?

“I’m nothing to you,” She whirls around, looking up at him with sad eyes and the same frown she’s been wearing for most of the tour, “Have a good day, asshole.”

…

Norwegian weather never seemed to agree with her. It was pouring outside and she didn't bring an umbrella. There wasn't even rain in the forecast till tomorrow. She runs down the steps of the museum, careful not to slip in her damn heels. The sidewalks were already slippery, and she had to mind her steps to avoid falling on her ass.

A familiar expensive car pulls up right beside her. This fucker waited an extra 2 hours for her to finish work, just to pull up in his car? "Let me give you a ride." Ivar lowers the window of the passenger seat, tapping on the gas pedal lightly to match the extremely slow pace she had in those heels.

“I’m fine.” She bites out, awkwardly maneuvering her trench coat over her head in a pathetic attempt to shield herself from the rain. It wasn’t too bad, she told herself, and the train station wasn’t that far.

“Seriously? You’re soaked and you’re gonna get sick. Stop being stubborn.” He scoffs, craning his neck to get a better look at her.

“Ivar, you're holding up traffic, just go.” The cars behind him began to honk their horns at Ivar’s turtle-like pace, but all he did was roll down his window and flip everyone off.

“Which is exactly why you should get in. Come on, it’s the least I can do.” He flashes her that charming smile, and all she could really do in that moment was to stare at his pearly white teeth and his perfect lips.

“Fine.” She grumbles, opening the door as soon as she heard him unlock it, quickly shuffling inside. She sits on her trench so as to not wet the fancy leather interior of the sleek black car. That was way too nice of her.

“That wasn’t so bad now, was it?”

“Just shut the fuck up and drive.” Ivar chuckles at her irritation, unaware of the potty mouth she had, but he liked that. He does as told, hitting the gas and taking off down the street.

The drive to her flat was mostly silent with the exception of the radio playing softly in the background. She makes sure to look out the window, staring at the most mundane details of a tiled roof, or counting how many people she could spot walking down the street. That was the only way she could successfully ignore Ivar without getting trapped by his gaze. After 25 minutes he pulls up in front of her building, and she doesn’t hesitate to hop out the car, slamming the door with more force than necessary.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” He rolls down the window, calling out to her retreating figure.

“Fuck no.” She yells back, not bothering to look back at him.

An elevator ride to the 3rd floor and a quick conversation with her neighbor, and she was entering her cozy flat in no time. After tossing her keys in the ceramic dish, she removes her heels, setting them to dry by the coat rack where she hung her trench and purse. She removes the tie holding her hair up in a ponytail, quickly ruffling her fingers through the knots to no avail. After switching on her fairy lights, she immediately goes to pull out a bottle of Pinot Noir from the cupboard, wasting no time in pouring herself a glass and gulping it down in almost one go. There wasn’t enough wine in the world to muddle her thoughts away from Ivar. Her heart was beginning to ache again.

The loud obnoxious knock on her door had her sighing dramatically as she already knew who was behind it. All she wanted to do was shower, maybe watch a show, eat takeout, and go to bed. It could’ve been so simple if it weren’t for Ivar.

“No one’s home.” She calls out, leaning her back against the door with the glass of red wine in her hand. She sips it lazily, hearing Ivar’s frustrated grumbling from the other side.

“Can I please come in?” His tone was boardline pleading, and she let out the most unbecoming snort before turning around and flinging the door open.

“What do you want?” She questions.

“A ‘thank you’ maybe?” He was leaning heavily against his crutch now, all that standing, walking and driving catching up to him. His nice clothes were damp from the rain and a few strands of hair escaped his almost neat bun, plastered down on his prominent forehead.

“Thanks. Goodnight.” Before she could slam the door in his face he shoots a hand out, stopping the door from closing any further.

“Please.” Was all he said, and if she wasn’t mistaken, there was something akin to sadness swimming in those big eyes of his. Fuck. She steps to the side, opening the door wide enough for him to slip in before slamming the door shut. He stands there awkwardly as she moves back to her kitchen counter, pouring herself another glass before going on her phone in search of a playlist.

“Well?” He finally questions, removing his dressy boots and placing them right beside her heels.

“Well?” She questions back, brows raised.

“Aren’t you going to offer me a glass?”

“Here’s the wine,” She pushes the bottle forward, “I’m sure you remember where the glasses are.” She hears Ivar grunt in displeasure as she flopped down on the sofa, not caring that her clothes were soaked and most likely seeping through the material of the sofa. She should probably invest in some leather ones. After a minute Ivar plops down beside her, setting aside his crutch with one hand while gripping his wine glass in the other.

Once again, there was silence between them as her playlist filtered throughout the living room from her hidden wireless speakers. She always did have a love for classical music, Ivar realized. It was something to calm her nerves, like the star projector in her room. He does a quick scan of the living room. He hadn’t been inside her flat in a while, but nothing really changed. Maybe she added a couple of new plants to her collection but that was it. He wasn’t sneezing yet, which was a good sign. That meant no candles were lit. And that fucking cat hasn’t shown up to hiss at him, another good sign.

“You want some takeout?” She asks him in a bored tone, the kind of tone she used when she wasn’t particularly keen being in someone’s presence, mostly towards those she disliked. It was always the one she used when around a specific set of Ivar’s friends, or even his brother, Sigurd. She bends forward, picking up the stack of takeout menus that were neatly placed in a pile on the small wooden coffee table, filtering through them until she pulled out a menu that caught her eye. “Mexican?”

“Mexican is fine.” He agrees, taking another sip of the bitter wine as he raked his eyes over her form for what seemed like the millionth time that day. Her cheeks were dusted in pink and her hair was a wet mess. Her white button down was soaked, giving him a great view of the white bra underneath the thin cotton fabric.

“Stop fucking staring,” She mutters, “You’re not entitled to that anymore.”

“You’re right.” He clears his throat, bringing his attention to the TV that never seemed to be in use. He stared at his reflection off the black screen, wondering just what the fuck he was doing there. It was all spontaneous, you see. He’d woken up that morning with dozens of messages from his brothers and another dozen missed calls from Freydis. But none of them were from the person he wanted.

After his lunch break he decided to take the rest of the day off, much to Ubbe’s annoyance. He left his older brother’s office while hearing him shout out something along the lines of him being a lousy paralegal. Instead of doing his actual job, which was to draw up contracts for Ubbe’s clients, he decided to pay the fucking Viking Ship Museum a visit. He decided to pay her a visit. He didn’t give a flying fuck about those Viking ships, and he had little to no interest in his ancestors and their artifacts, but there was no denying that she looked amazing while talking about it.

While she orders over the phone, her cat decides to hop on the coffee table, baring his teeth and hissing at him immediately.

“Benji, come on,” Ivar groans, lolling his head to the side to eye the angry calico, “I send you your favorite treats and this is how you repay me?” Benji hisses at him again, standing on his little legs to appear more intimidating, but all he did was look like a fat spotted meatball. She tosses a throw pillow at him, successfully hitting the cat in the face and he immediately bolts off the coffee table and into her room.

“Your cat hates me.” Ivar complains, watching her set her phone down before getting up to pour herself another glass of wine.

“That makes two of us.” Was her snarky reply, her lower lip resting over the rim of the glass. Her eyes held a glint of danger, like she’d chuck the glass at him at any given moment. Thankfully she wasn't crazy like that. Instead she rolls her eyes at him, taking a sip of her drink as she leaned against the counter.

“You hate me?” He asked softly, his brows curving up in a worrisome look. He had absolutely no business looking the way he did. It was borderline adorable and she hated her thoughts for even thinking to describe him that way.

“Maybe hate is a strong word,” She says, swirling the dark liquid around the glass, “Dislike. I dislike you, Ivar Ragnarsson.” He frowns, turning away from her searing eyes for a moment, grunting when he stood with the help of his crutch. Fucking legs. Today was not the day. He walks over to her small kitchen, stepping closer to her until he gets in her face, arms caging her in as his hands gripped at the edges of the counter. His nose was mere inches away from hers, his blue gaze so penetrating she thought she could melt right into his arms. No. This was bad.

“What a shame,” He whispers, tilting his head down until his brow touched hers. He could hear her intake a sharp breath, her fingers gripping the wine glass tightly in the small space between them as her eyes fluttered closed. She looked so beautiful like this, cheeks flushed and lips parted as if begging for a kiss, and he had the biggest desire to do just that. He tilts his head, his nose tracing alongside hers, his lips so close to molding perfectly over her own. The knock on her door had him releasing a breath of pure frustration, groaning at the interruption. She blinks up at him, her eyes glazed in that lustful way he was familiar with. God, he missed that.

Shaking her head as if to clear her mind, she pushes Ivar away with little grace, hearing him stumble a bit as she made for the door. This was bad. Very bad. Searching the pocket of her trench coat, she pulls out her wallet, fishing for a few bills before pulling the door open, grabbing the bag of food from the delivery boy and handing him the money.

“I could have paid, you know.” Ivar says as soon as she slams the door closed, watching her drop the food onto the coffee table and rummaging inside.

“Paying for food isn’t going to change anything. Flowers aren't going to change anything.” She says, sitting on the sofa with a taco in hand. Ivar bites the inside of his cheek, sitting beside her and grabbing a taco of his own. She turns on the TV, putting on some random documentary about the Sami people as she takes another messy bite of her taco. Had she always looked this good while eating? He didn’t notice before, but he sure as fuck did now.

After a few minutes of silence, she gets up, packing away the trash and moving back to the counter to pour herself the remainder of the wine. She only drank like this when she was anxious, meaning, Ivar was making her anxious. He didn’t know how to feel about that. Hurt maybe? No, women never hurt him, not since that incident with Margrethe. He was the one doing the hurting now. So what made this any different?

Again, he gets to his feet with the help of his crutch, walking over to her and caging her in again, this time with her back pressed up against his torso. He lowers his chin to her shoulder, feeling her tense up at his actions. She smelled of her usual perfume. Chanel? He couldn’t remember, but the scent was amazing and had a desire raging within him. She pushes him back just enough to turn around within his arms, tilting her head up at him in a type of defiance that made him want to ravage her.

“It seems like that blonde hasn’t been fulfilling your needs. What was her name again? Freydis?” She knew what she was doing when she fluttered those lashes, worrying her lip between her teeth. She was teasing him, he knew. He didn’t want her to mention Freydis. He didn’t want to be thinking of that bimbo, not when he’s been craving her like madman for the past week and a half and finally, she was right in front of him just waiting to be tasted.

“She could never do what you can.” He mutters, inching his face closer to hers, his lips hovering over hers as they did before. He tries to steal a kiss, but she turns away from him, his lips landing on her cheekbone. Ivar groans, annoyed, pulling back to reveal his utter displeasure. He was desperate to kiss her, to feel her lips on his where they rightfully belonged.

“What a shame.” She shrugs, bringing her glass to her lips and taking another slow sip of her wine. She knew she was driving him crazy. He wanted her, she could see it in his eyes, in the way his body yearned for hers, how his hands gripped tightly at the edge of the counter, his knuckles white. He was like a wanton whore, silently begging for release.

“She could never do what you can.” He repeats again with a sigh.

“And what’s that, hmm?” She inches closer, her face so close to his as she questions him, “What is it that I can do? Because from the look of it, you seemed quite happy with her under your sheets.” She didn’t mean to say those words that angrily, but they came out rushed and heavy, the rage bubbling up within her. Ivar takes note of the vexation in her eyes, shifting his gaze back down to her lips. Fuck it.

He surges forward, crashing his lips to hers, molding them just like he wanted to. She takes a breath of surprise, hesitating to return the passion he was giving her until finally, she gives in, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down towards her. She moans, delighting him greatly, and it was enough to grip her backside in his big hands, lifting her up onto the counter.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this,” He mutters over her lips, pulling out her dress shirt from her skirt, desperate to feel the soft skin beneath, “I’ve missed you.” She doesn't bother to reply, continuing to kiss him while she pushes his lapel jacket from his shoulders. She tosses it to the floor, moving to untuck his white dress shirt. “Did you miss me, kitten? I think you did.”

“Shut the fuck up and kiss me, asshole.” She growls, working on unbuckling his belt. Ivar grins as a new wave of arousal hits him, slapping her hands away in order to rip her shirt open. The buttons flew everywhere, clinking over the counter and onto the floor, and wherever else they happened to fall, he didn’t really care. “Ivar! Benji might eat one of those!”

“Fuck it. I’ll buy you a new cat.” He says, pulling down her damp bra to release her breasts, her nipples immediately hardening as the air hit her skin. He wastes no time in latching on to a nub, swirling his tongue over her heated flesh. She squeals, her fingers weaving their way through the roots of his hair and giving a harsh tug, his neat bun tumbling down into a messy ponytail.

“Shit.” She groans, tilting her head back as Ivar nipped and sucked, worshiping her skin until finally dragging his tongue toward the valley of her breasts and up towards her neck. Just the way she liked it.

Ivar makes a noise of approval, grunting at the tight grip she had on his shoulders. He peppered kisses up her neck and over her face, being as gentle with her as he possibly could. Usually Ivar opted towards the rougher side of sex, with heated touches and sloppy kisses, but not that night. He wanted to give her soothing touches and tender kisses, anything he could do to please her. Anything to get her back to him.

He pushes a lock of her hair behind her ear, moving his hand to cup the side of her face while the other holds onto the edge of the counter. She was breathing heavily, uncertainty swimming in her eyes as she looked up at him with a growing desire.

“Bedroom?” He whispers. She sighs, biting her lip. This was very bad. Bad, bad, bad. She nods her head weakly.

“Bedroom.”

…

Ivar didn’t notice when she had turned on her projector, but he was staring up at it now, watching the stars twinkle brightly against her ceiling. He laid with an arm behind his head, his skin still damp from recent physical activities. It was amazing, like fireworks shooting off in his head and it was exactly what he needed. It was exactly what he’d been missing, the touch of her skin, her little moans and whimpers, her nails scratching down his back. He was sure his back was riddled with angry red lines, and he knew it would sting once he showered, but he enjoyed it, so it didn’t bother him much.

He turns to look at her when he feels the bed shift, watching her naked form move in the darkness to light those damn scented candles around her room. He smiles, eyeing the little dimples on her lower back that became more pronounced when she leaned over her nightstand. The scent of roses filled the room, reminding him of the garden back in his family’s summer home. His nose pricked with the familiar sensation of a sneeze, and he immediately wrinkles his nose to keep it at bay.

She settles back on the bed, bringing the quilt patterned sheets she favored over herself. She faces him, but doesn’t look at him, choosing instead to follow the geometric shapes of a mandala printed on the linen. Ivar reaches out to touch her cheek, his finger tracing down her skin in gentle swipes. She looked so beautiful. The starlight from the ceiling and the flickering candles danced over her skin, draping her in a glow that made her look ethereal.

Any other time before last week, she would have enjoyed such touches. Okay, maybe she was enjoying them a little too much in that moment, but this was probably the last time she’d let herself fall into his sly little trap, right? Feeling his toned chest under her palms felt amazing, and his skin still had the lingering scent of his body wash. He was always meticulous in the products he used for himself, which meant he never used one of those 3 in 1 body washes that are a typical man’s holy grail. His skin always had a fresh smell, like cucumbers, and his hair had that pleasant coconut scent from the shampoo she introduced to him.

“You’re amazing.” Ivar whispers, bringing her out of her thoughts. His eyes flutter with the signs of sleep, his day ending in complete satisfaction. She was almost sad to be bursting his bubble, but if it were the other way around he wouldn’t be sad to burst hers. She clears her throat, preparing her next words carefully.

“Ivar?”

“Hm?”

“You can leave now.” Whatever drowsiness he felt had disappeared almost immediately, eyes now wide enough to bulge from his sockets. She wanted to laugh, but felt it would ruin the moment, and he wouldn’t take her seriously if she broke out in laughter, so she kept her serious face on.

“You don’t want me to sleepover?” He asked, dumbfounded, sitting up to lean on his elbows, gazing down at her.

“What for? You hate it here.” She says, waving her hand around to make her point. Ivar frowns, not really understanding her. She used to beg for him to stay, and she eventually stopped asking him after a while, but he was so sure that having him there and him deciding to spend the night would make her happy, so why was she not happy?

“I don’t.” He answers.

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying,” He pouts, “I just prefer my place.”

“I’m not stopping you from going, Ivar.” She says flatly. His expression was comedic, mouth slightly agape and eyes blinking stupidly. The sheets pool around his waist as he sits up, staring down at his hands. His ego had just taken a beating.

“Are you serious?”

“Very.” Ivar’s face twists in utter confusion. How could she deny him? She wanted him. She loved him...didn’t she?

“But…”

“What’s the matter?” She moves closer to him, “Are you upset?” She taunts, her naked chest in full view for him to admire, but before he could, she grabs his jaw tightly, holding it in place to lock eyes with him. His blue irises were intense and mesmerizing, and was one of the reasons why she fell for him so hard. Ivar was beautiful, but his heart was ugly, and he needed to be put in his place. “Did you want me to still be in love with you despite the many times you’ve warned me not to?” Ivar remains silent, searching her eyes for something more than the words she’s uttered. There was nothing there.

She loosens her grip on his jaw, pushing him away from her. His face falls, utterly dejected. The corners of his mouth twitch as he stares at her, noting the little smirk that played on her lips.

“Get the fuck out of my flat, Ivar.”

...

@a-daydreamers-day @heavenly1927 @didiintheblog @inforapound @a-mess-of-fandoms @leilabeaux @shannygoatgruff @syrenak

#ivar #ivar imagine #ivarfanfiction #vikings #vikings ivar #alex hogh andersen #ivar the boneless #ivar x reader #ivar smut

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elianthvia · 4 years ago

Text

7 Reasons Why I Quit

(only for a little bit)

It has, alas, been another few weeks since I posted. I have an excuse for my unpunctuality: I've been spinning non-stop like a top. The conclusion of the last Zoomester and the start of summer are to blame. I have seven partners in crime.

Culprit 1: Puppetry Workshop

Towards the end of the year, DTI (Design Thinking Initiative), in collaboration with the Theatre Shop, hosted an in-person puppetry workshop where a small number of people could participate per covid protocols. In-person events were few and far between this semester, so of course I rushed to sign up. The workshop ran for about 2 hours on three consecutive Mondays. We met in the theatre shop inside Mendenhall Center for Performing Arts.

The first day we made shadow puppets (and mine was a bee); the second day we made hand puppets (mine was a ... cyclop ghost king?); the third day we made marionette or string puppets (I attempted to make a teru teru bōzu, but everyone thought it a ghost). I had a lot of fun trying different fabrics, re-learning how to use a bandsaw, and magically joining things together with the help of a hot glue gun. (Side note: Polymer chemistry is the magician behind the scene, and I will be learning more about the science of hot glue guns in the polymer class I am taking next semester!) The workshop was surprisingly not as popular as I anticipated, maybe because people were busy as the semester came to a close. The good news is that DTI will be running the workshop again in the fall so more people will get to participate.

(Is she a ghost or teru teru bōzu?)

Culprit 2: Spring Piano Recital

I did not expect to attend a live concert this semester, but I was invited to the spring piano recital as a "special guest." It is a habit I developed while working as a concert crew at Sage, to sit outside the Sweeney Concert Hall and listen to the rehearsals after I finished setting up the stage. That day I was going to do homework outside the concert hall while waiting for my performing friend to finish. The piano instructor spotted me and asked me if I wanted to join. Disbelieving in my good luck, I accepted the invite. About ten students were scattered in the almost empty concert that felt sad and lonesome, but soon music filled the air. I thoroughly enjoyed every performance. Lots of Chopin were played, but my favorite one is Rhapsody in Blue which just entered the public domain this year. All pieces are about or more than a century old, which is not a surprise, but refreshingly, there is a piece by a female composer, Amy Beach, whose granduncle co-founded Bates College. You can find the full program here.

Culprit 3: End of Classes

The end of classes was epitomized by professor-resembling pixels on our computer screens bidding us goodbye. Usually professors would plan something fun for the last day of classes, virtually as well.

I remember last semester my Multivariable Calculus professor changed his virtual background to a wall of donuts, explaining that during the pre-pandemic times he used to bring a box of donuts for students on the last day. This semester in Mathematical Methods for Physicists and Engineers, we explored the applications of Fourier Transform by looking at the velocity of a star and detecting the number of planets around it. Our last Circuit Theory lab was in person, where we got to listen to a song/piece of our own choice through the low pass filter and the high pass filter pictured below. The professor handed out prizes (cool items she accumulated in conferences) to students to reward them for their participation in the pre-class trivia games. I received a mini glow moon. In addition, our circuits professor left out end-of-class fun packs with origami papers and stickers outside her office. Our last Organic Chemistry lab was also in-person, where each lab group presented their experiments and findings (through a projector rather than Zoom screen share!) My presentation group decided to dress up for this special occasion after a long year of virtual school. Lastly, for Organic Chemistry, we played organic chemistry jeopardy in our last lecture.

With all the professors wishing you a happy summer, you start daydreaming about the sunny beach and breezy wind. Oh wait, you still have final exams to take. All in three days!

Culprit 4: Final Examinations

This semester we had a three-day final exam study period (or reading period) when professors are not allowed to assign any homework or set deadlines. Right after the reading period is our final exams. Smith is known for its flexibility when it comes to exams thanks to its Honor Code system. Many exams are self-scheduled. Some are open-notes, and some are untimed. In a normal year, students go to Seelye Hall to print out and take the exams when they feel prepared.

For the classes I am taking this semester, I had three hours to take my Math Methods final, a whole day to take the Circuits Theory final, and the entire finals period to take my Organic Chemistry I final. Besides the exams, I had several other writing assignments to turn in. I was very fatigued at the end of the semester, so even though I only had three exams, I struggled to muster up mental energy to study. To make things worse, I got my second Pfizer shot during the reading period and had a pretty bad reaction. As a result, I asked the class dean to give me an extension on an exam, which was generously granted, and I was gratefully less overwhelmed.

Culprit 5: SmithCycle

The finals are now over, but my vacation didn't start yet. I am staying on campus for a few extra weeks to work for SmithCycle. SmithCycle is a program that collects, sorts and redistributes gently used dorm items students donate in the move-out process at the end of each school year. It gives purpose to items of reusable value and creates a more sustainable campus. In the past week, we have collected hundreds of bags (no exaggerations!) of items. Besides clothes, books, school and dorm supplies, some of the unexpected items include coffee makers, brand new water filters, and a monitor. One of my coworkers commented that first-years shouldn't have to shop clothes hangers again while they were going through three boxes of donated hangers.

The winter clothes we collected are going to the International Students and Scholars Office. They have an event called Winter Clothes Closet every fall where international students "shop" for free to help them get accustomed to the New England weather. School supplies will be moved into the Common Goods Resources Center which CEEDS hopes to launch in Fall 2021 (very exciting!). I cannot plug SmithCycle enough. If you are an incoming first-year, visit the Common Goods Resources center before you head to Target!

I have always been interested in sustainability and renewable energy and want to get more involved. When I saw the SmithCycle worker position posted on Workday, I immediately applied. Every SmithCycle worker's job varies. I am mainly responsible for washing and drying the linens and blankets. When waiting for the washer and dryer, I help with unloading the van that circulates between houses to pick up bags of donations. I also help with sorting. Pictured below is the inside of Scott Gym where all the items are currently stored.

Culprit 7: Summer Housing

As college transitions into summer, students who are staying on campus for some part of the summer had to move out of their spring housing assignment into their summer housing. I moved from Chapin, the house in central campus, to Capen, which is on the periphery of Smith. I know Chapin and Capen sound alike, but they are very different houses location-wise and personality-wise! To make up for its distance to the academic buildings, Capen House has its own garden, Capen Garden. The garden a gorgeous place many current Smithies are missing out on. There is a mini fountain, hedges, a garden temple, a plant arch, and a bizarre owl statue. Look at the last picture of the garden in this blog, and you will agree with me that the Paradise Pond is overrated.

Built in 1825 and acquired by Smith in 1921, Capen House is named after Bessie Capen, the second woman to be admitted to MIT. She taught chemistry at Smith College. Fun fact: Bessie Capen was once the associate principal of the Mary A. Burnham School for Girls, now Stoneleigh-Burham School; I went there for horseback riding lessons during my first year at Smith. Small world, right?

Case Closed

Thanks for reading this long-ish explanation. I hope my tardiness in delivering this post may be justified by the causes above. To compensate, I will write about my other summer plans and updates in the next few weeks. Stay tuned! Meanwhile, enjoy your summer!

#puppetry #piano #music #finals #smithcycle #capen house #capen garden #summer #pfizer #college #Smith College

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hopelikethemoon · 4 years ago

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Headlines (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Headlines Rating: PG-13 Length: 2000 Warnings: None. Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set in March 1998. Summary: The article hits the newstands.

@grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes @thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale @roxypeanut @snivellusim @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper @awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie @swhiskeys @lady-tano @beskar-droids @space-floozy @cable-kenobi @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes @findhimfives @pedrosdoll @frietiemeloen @arrowswithwifi @random066 @uncomicalhumour @heather-lynn @domino-oh-damn @cyarikaaa @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl @yabby-girl @xqueenofthecraziesx @punkass-potato @coredrive @pascalesque @theduchessofkirkcaldy @queenquazar @sabinemorans @buckstaposition @holkaskrosnou @yespolkadotkitty @fleetwoodmactshirt @seeking-a-great--perhaps

DRUG ENFORCEMENT AGENCY UNDER FIRE FOR GENDER-BASED DISCRIMINATION

America was captivated by the DEA’s pursuit of the Colombian drug lord Pablo Escobar. Following his death in 1993, two names became synonymous with the chase — but there was another name carefully removed from the narrative.

In 1987, Annie Morley transferred to Colombia from the DEA’s Atlanta Division eager to make a name for herself within one of the government’s most notorious agencies. Her drive led to numerous successful apprehensions. Most notably, she led the takedown on a notorious associate of Escobar within her first twenty-four hours with the agency.

The DEA rewarded her loyalty to the agency by burying her efforts and scrubbing her dedication from the record books.

Following Escobar’s death, Morley entered into a quiet relationship with her longtime partner, Javier Peña. After years of fighting against the rampant sexism at the embassy, she was forced to conceal not only the relationship, but the paternity of her daughter.

The DEA’s response to her pregnancy was to place her on indefinite desk duty, prematurely ending the career of one of their best field agents. She was replaced by Chris Fiestle, a junior agent with a record for complacency, forged documentation, multiple disciplinary infractions, and at least one harassment-based misdemeanor on his record. Fiestle’s connections within the DEA agency allowed for his unowned momentum, despite his unfavourable records. While Morley found herself under increased scrutiny, harassment, and intimidation merely due to her transition into motherhood.

Once the couple’s relationship became known to the agency, the DEA swiftly severed Morley’s employment and terminated her work permit sponsorship in Colombia. Morley and Peña have provided the paper with first person accounts and documentation of numerous actions undertaken by the DEA to silence, intimidate, harassment, and even blackmail them into subjugation.

Files obtained by the Post, courtesy of the Freedom of Information Act have confirmed internal communication between several upper level members of the DEA actively conspiring against the couple. Including, but not limited to, explicit correspondence reflecting on the nature of Morley’s morals and whether other members of the agency would be willing to “share her”.

Two years ago, Peña contacted the Post to investigate Morley’s omission from official DEA records and was met by the DEA financially blackmailing one of his students at The University of Miami, orchestrating false sexual assault claims in an attempt to silence their attempts at going to the press with their story.

The Post will continue coverage on these shocking allegations next month.

———

The newspaper trembled as your eyes skimmed over the article. There it was. In print. The summation of your six years with the DEA. Pictures of the three of you on assignment — a copy of the one that had sat framed in your apartment for years. You had been there. You had given your blood, sweat, and tears to the agency and in return, they’d buried your contributions all because you had become a mother.

“I didn’t know that.” You remarked, peering over the edge of the newspaper, watching Javier as he read through his own copy of the Post.

“What?” He questioned, arching a brow at you.

“That they wanted to share me.” Just repeating what you had read made your skin crawl. You sat in briefings with those assholes — stupidly thinking they saw you as an agent and not as a woman. “I must’ve missed that in the FOIA files.”

Javier nodded, “That’s tame, in comparison to what Vickers has sitting on his desk.” He reached over and gave your leg a squeeze. “You good, baby?”

“It’s just surreal.” You admitted, covering his hand with yours as you sat up. “I never thought it would come to this, you know? When we were back in Colombia — before Josie… I would never have imagined this.” You gestured to the paper.

And it was just the beginning. Now that it was out, you were certain the DEA would retaliate. They’d dredge up something to hurt your image, to hurt Javier’s. They played dirty and you weren’t sure how swift their retaliation would be this time.

“I wish I could be a fly on the wall when Chris reads this.” Javier said, loosely shaking out the newspaper before folding it closed and sitting it aside on the coffee table. He stared at you for a long moment and you could feel his eyes on you. “C’mere baby.”

You sighed heavily as you sat the newspaper aside, crawling down the length of the sofa to him. Javier pulled you into his arms and you settled against his chest, listening to his heart beating beneath your ear.

“Are you glad we did this?” Javier questioned, pressing his lips to the top of your head.

You swallowed thickly, nodding slowly. “I think so.” You trailed your fingers over his arm, drawing little patterns against his skin. “You know, it’s really wild to see our relationship put to print. Because it was a quiet affair, we’ve never made it into something.”

Javier played his fingers through your hair gently, his other hand sliding down your back. “Do you want to make it into something?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so.” He chuckled quietly. “But you’re not wrong, baby. Seeing the two of us in the paper like this — it’s fucking weird.” Javier gestured to the newspaper on the table. “Seeing everything put so plainly, spelled out for the world to see.”

You tilted your head to press a kiss to his throat, “Thank you for this very belated Christmas gift.”

Javier snorted, “Well, we had to have a baby and move first, didn’t we?” He stroked his fingers up and down your back.

You cracked a smile, resting your cheek against his chest again. “The last year has been a blur.”

“Make that ten years.”

“Truly.” Your eyes flickered towards the newspaper, your heart best quickening as you stared at the picture of yourself right there on the front page.

One. Two. Three.

You exhaled heavily.

Javier pressed a kiss to the top of your head, just as the phone started ringing in the kitchen. “I should get that. It might be the daycare.” He remarked, reluctantly starting to get up.

You pulled away from him, reclining back on the sofa as you watched him head into the kitchen to catch the call on the third ring.

“Hey, baby?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s for you.”

Your brows rose upwards are the somewhat odd tone Javier was using. You hadn’t actually considered that people might call you in regards to the paper until that moment.

“Who is it?” You questioned, hands on your hips as you stared at him. He had the receiving pressed to his chest to muffle out your voices.

“Lance.”

“What?”

Javier shrugged, a casual indifference that you knew wasn’t indifference.

“Javi,” You rolled your eyes as you took the phone from him. You turned back towards the wall to press the speaker button on the phone. “Hey, Lance! You’re on speaker.”

Lance chuckled coolly, “Saw the headlines this morning, thought I ought to drop a line.”

“Yeah, it’s been a long time coming.” You admitted, folding your arms across your chest. “How’s Sheena?”

“It’s going great. We actually just moved back closer to her parents. She’ll need the help in about four months.”

“Congratulations, Lance.” You offered, “I know how much you wanted kids.”

“Got my wish too. Twins.”

Javier arched a brow at you, looking in between you and the phone.

“What?” You mouthed.

He shook his head and headed over to make himself a cup of coffee, eyes still flickering your direction.

“How are your kids doing?”

“Josie’s a spitfire. I don’t know how she’s going to manage kindergarten.”

“Kindergarten? No shit. How the hell is she five?”

You laughed, “She’s still got a couple months. And Sofía’s doing really well.”

“Sofía. Sheena actually has that one on the name list.”

“It was my mother’s name.” Javier remarked, with just the edge of annoyance to his voice. You stepped away from the phone, curling your fingers around his arm.

“Stop.” You whispered when he tried to pull his arm away from you.

“Well then, I’ll promise to steer Sheena away from the name then.” Lance remarked with a good-natured laugh.

Javier’s expression softened as you cupped his cheek and leaned up on your toes to kiss him. You drew back, brushing your nose against his. “You jealous fool.” You whispered just for him, ruffling your fingers through his hair.

“I wish I was calling just to congratulate the two of you for sticking it to the DEA, but I, uh… I come with some unfavorable information.”

You stiffened and Javier reached for your hand. “What do you mean by unfavorable news?”

“Looks like the DEA got ahead of your story in the Post,” Lance explained. “First thing this morning I had the public relations team at the DEA Headquarters calling me. They were wanting any information I would give them about our relationship.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Javier hissed out.

“Easy there, Peña.” Lance warned him, “I told them we had a good relationship, but we both ultimately wanted different things. They seemed rather disappointed to find out you and I still talk.”

Javier’s hand tightened around yours.

“What kind of questions were they asking?” You questioned, biting down on your bottom lip as you worried about what the DEA could possibly be up to. “Specific questions about our relationship?”

“Start and end date. Whether I suspected that you and Javier were more than partners.” Lance chuckled. “You and I were long over before the two of you got together. I told them they didn’t have a story with me. But that means they’re going to be following other leads that might be able to discredit your story.”

“We have the fucking FOID files. There’s nothing to discredit.” You seethed.

“You’re welcome to pass my contact info along to the journalist,” Lance told you. “I’m happy to lend whatever assistance I might be able to render.”

“You might be a fucking suit, but you’re not a bad guy, Lance.” Javier retorted, his tongue pressed into his cheek as he glared at the phone.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Peña.” Lance countered. “You make her happy and frankly that’s all I care about. You two have a good rest of your day.”

“Thanks for calling, Lance. I’ll pass your information along to Vickers.” You offered as you stepped towards the phone to hang up. “It’s not like we should be surprised that the DEA is already trying to damage control.”

Javier gave you a look, his lips drawn thin. “So you keep in touch with Lance?”

You rolled your eyes, “You are ridiculous. You should be thanking me for keeping in touch with him. Otherwise we wouldn’t know what the DEA is up to right now.” You approached him, poking him in the chest. “Once again, I prove to be a better agent than you.”

“And how’s that?” He questioned, curling his hand around your hip as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“I keep people close,” You answered, resting a hand on his shoulder. “People who someone might be able to turn against me. I keep that relationship — no matter how badly it ended — in good condition. The old adage is ‘an enemy of my enemy, is my friend’ and I try to keep that from being used against me.”

“Is that why you went to coffee with Elena?”

You shrugged, “I always liked Elena.”

“Me too.” He admitted, “She let me talk about you.”

You made a face, “Pretty sure I talked about you to Lance and neither of us knew why.” You reached down and took both of his hands into yours, interlacing your fingers before bringing them to your lips. You pressed a kiss to each knuckle. “We knew this wasn’t going to be easy. Look what the DEA did just because of a FOIA.”

“Yeah.” Javier sighed heavily, clicking his tongue against his teeth. “I’ll fucking tear that entire institution down if they try to hurt you for this. I’ll burn it all to the ground.”

“Oh, arson.” You pursed your lips, giving him an appraising look. “I hadn’t taken you for an arsonist.”

Javier snorted, tracing his tongue over the edges of his teeth, “DEA deserves to burn. And I’ll use the embers to keep you warm, baby.”

“I’ll get the matches.” You smirked, tracing your fingertip down the length of his nose, before you tilted your chin and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

#javier pena x reader #javier pena #pedro pascal x reader

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 3 years ago

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LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

September 28, 2021

Heather Cox Richardson

Today, the fight over the debt ceiling continued. As Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen warned that breaching the debt ceiling would delay Social Security payments and military paychecks, as well as jeopardizing the status of the U.S. dollar as the international reserve currency, Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer (D-NY) offered Senate Republicans “a way out” from having to participate in raising the ceiling, despite the fact that the Republicans had added $7.8 trillion to the now-$28 trillion debt during Trump’s term. Schumer asked for unanimous consent to pass a debt ceiling increase with a simple majority that the Democrats could provide alone.

Senator Minority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-KY) blocked the effort. “There is no chance, no chance the Republican conference will go out of our way to help Democrats conserve their time and energy, so they can resume ramming through partisan socialism as fast as possible,” he said.

It is hard to escape the conclusion that McConnell is deliberately running out Congress’s clock, and it is hard to ignore that the big item on the Senate’s agenda is the Freedom to Vote Act, which Senators Joe Manchin (D-WV), Amy Klobuchar (D-MN), Raphael Warnock (D-GA), Jon Tester (D-MT), Tim Kaine (D-VA), Jeff Merkley (D-OR), Alex Padilla (D-CA), and Angus King (I-ME) have worked to hammer out in place of the voting rights bills passed by the House.

The Freedom to Vote Act protects the right to vote. It also bans partisan gerrymandering.

States have already begun to carve up districts based on the 2020 census numbers. The Texas legislature, for one, has gerrymandered its state—one that is imperative for the Republicans to hold for the 2024 presidential election—to protect Republicans and underrepresent Black and Latino voters, who tend to vote Democratic. (Growth in the Latino population is what gave the state two new representatives.) If Texas redistricting is completed by November 15, the candidate filing period will end on December 13. At that point, after candidates have filed according to established district lines, it will be significantly harder for courts to overturn those lines before the 2022 election.

So if McConnell can tie up Democrats over the absolutely must-pass debt ceiling increase and can stave off a voting rights bill, Republican gerrymandering might well survive for the 2022 election.

Indeed, the political news out of Washington must all be read with an eye to the 2022 election, including the other big story from today: the testimony of Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff General Mark A. Milley, Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin, and General Kenneth F. McKenzie, commander of the U.S. Central Command, in front of the Senate Armed Services Committee.

Before his testimony, Milley submitted a statement that was quietly remarkable. A highly decorated career soldier, Milley was appointed by former president Trump and, after making the mistake of walking with Trump across Washington, D.C.’s Lafayette Square in June 2020 for the former president’s ill-received photo-op with a Bible, has become a principled and outspoken advocate for the military’s defense of the United States Constitution, even, when necessary, against domestic enemies.

In his statement, Milley laid out the course of the war in Afghanistan. He noted that in 20 years there, more than 800,000 U.S. military personnel served; 2,461 were killed in action, 20,698 were wounded, and countless others came home with internal scars. Milley expressed his opinion that their service in Afghanistan prevented another attack on America from terrorists based there.

Then Milley talked of our exit from the country, emphasizing that it is a mistake to focus only on our rushed exit in August. In 2011, we began a long-term drawdown of troops from their peak of 97,000 U.S. troops and 41,000 NATO troops. On February 29, 2020, when the Trump administration signed an agreement with the Taliban, there were 12,600 U.S. troops, 8,000 NATO troops, and 10,500 contractors in Afghanistan. With that agreement, known as the Doha Agreement, we agreed to withdraw if the Taliban met seven conditions that would lead to a deal between the Afghan government and the Taliban, while we agreed to eight conditions.

Milley wrote that the Taliban honored only one of its seven required conditions: it did not attack U.S. personnel. It did not cut ties to al Qaeda, and it significantly increased, rather than decreased, its attacks on Afghan civilians. Nonetheless, in the 8 months after the agreement, “we reduced US military forces from 12,600 to 6,800, NATO forces from 8,000 to 5,400 and US contractors from 9,700 to 7,900….”

On November 9, 2020, six days after the presidential election, Milley and then–Secretary of Defense Mark Esper recommended stopping the withdrawal until the Taliban met the required conditions. Two days later, on November 11, then-president Trump ordered the military to withdraw all forces from Afghanistan by January 15, 2021. Blindsided, military officers were able to talk Trump out of that rushed timetable, but on November 17, Trump ordered Milley to reduce troop levels to 2,500 no later than January 15.

So, when President Biden took office, only about 3,500 U.S. troops, 5,400 NATO troops, and 6,300 contractors were still in Afghanistan, leaving him with the problem that he would have either to leave altogether or to put in more troops in anticipation of resumed hostilities with the Taliban. Biden ordered a review of the situation and ultimately decided to withdraw from the country altogether.

Milley went on to explain some of the issues that have preoccupied pundits. He said he saw no predictions that the Afghan Army would melt away in 11 days. “The speed, scale and scope of the collapse was a surprise.” He said that holding the Bagram air base would have required 5,000–6,000 additional troops and that staying on after the August 31 deadline would have required 15,000–20,000 more troops, who would have faced significant risks, including the likelihood of casualties. “While it was militarily feasible,” he wrote, “we assessed the cost to be extraordinarily high…. Therefore, we unanimously recommended that the military mission be transitioned on 31 August to a diplomatic mission in order to get out the remaining American citizens.” In response to a question from Senator King, Milley put it more clearly: “On the first of September, we were going to go to war again with the Taliban. Of that there was no doubt.”

In short, Milley’s statement was a clear explanation of the last year and a half of U.S. involvement in Afghanistan, and it placed the blame for the messy withdrawal largely on Trump, rather than Biden, despite Milley's own advice to Biden that the new president keep in place the troops remaining there when he took office.

But that did not reflect the questioning of the Republicans on the committee. They focused not on finding out about the failures—or successes—of our time in Afghanistan, but on attacking Milley himself. Washington Post columnist Dana Milbank noted that the Republicans “assassinated his character and impugned his patriotism, accusing him of aiding the enemy and of placing his own vanity before the lives of the men and women serving under him.” Milley explained that recent reports of his having communicated with his Chinese counterpart to assure him the U.S. would not attack in the last day's of Trump's term were incomplete: he was authorized to do so by law, did so with the knowledge and advice of Esper and other administration officials, and made the calls with a significant number of people in the room.

Nonetheless, Republicans berated him, often not permitting him to respond. They seemed to be following the pattern established at hearings during the Trump administration of creating sound bites for later right-wing media stories. In this case, though, there is a deeper story: they are continuing the right-wing media’s undermining of the military officers who defended our Constitution.

The Republicans accused Milley of working with “the Chinese Communist Party” and leaking “private conversations with the president.” Senator Josh Hawley (R-MO) suggested that Milley was personally responsible for the deaths of the 13 personnel killed in the last days of the Afghanistan evacuation and told him: “General, I think you should resign.”

It’s hard to miss the mechanics and narratives being set up for 2022.

“I have served this Nation for 42 years,” Milley wrote in his statement. “I’ve spent years in combat and buried a lot of my troops who died while defending this country. My loyalty to this Nation, its people, and the Constitution hasn’t changed and will never change as long as I have a breath to give. My loyalty is absolute.”

Notes:

https://www.cbsnews.com/news/mcconnell-stops-schumers-latest-attempt-raise-debt-ceiling-limit/

https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/interactive/2021/texas-republicans-redistricting-proposal/

https://www.npr.org/2021/09/14/1036812609/senate-democrats-offer-a-new-voting-bill-but-a-gop-filibuster-likely-blocks-the-

https://www.ncsl.org/research/elections-and-campaigns/2022-state-primary-election-dates-and-filing-deadlines.aspx

https://www.cnn.com/2021/09/14/politics/woodward-costa-book-trump-afghanistan-memo/index.html

https://www.armed-services.senate.gov/imo/media/doc/Printed%2028%20Sep%20SASC%20CJCS%20Written%20Statement.pdf

https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2021/09/28/mark-milley-senate-hawley-blackburn/

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

#political #authoritarian #corrupt GOP #criminal GOP #voter fraud #voter suppression #gerrymandering #Letters From An American #Heather Cox Richardson

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amphtaminedreams · 5 years ago

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The Women of Euphoria and Personal Style: Lookbook no.8

Hi to anyone reading,

I hope you’re well considering everything going on! It feels weird to want to talk about fashion or TV shows or red carpets or whatever when 90% of my Google searches are COVID-19 related but there you go. It’s all about trying to power through as normal (minus the social interaction) and pretend the world isn’t ending, right? Queue nervous laughter.

And as if things aren't shitty enough, production of season 2 of Euphoria has been postponed until further notice.

Okay, in the grand scheme of things, having to wait a bit longer for a TV show isn’t catastrophic but it does just about sum up the transition from 2019 to 2020 thus far that after HBO redeemed itself by broadcasting Euphoria in the summer following an ending to Game of Thrones that has made the whole series unrewatchable, the glimmer of hope in me reignited by the prospect of series 2 this year has been quickly dashed. 2021, I’m rooting for you, because it doesn’t seem like things are getting better any time soon, and in all seriousness, I think everyone needs a break from the collective suffering of the last few months.

For me (and undoubtedly for many others if the hundreds of makeup looks and styling videos are anything to go by), Euphoria’s effect on the world of fashion and beauty is unprecedented. I really can’t recall a TV show in living memory that has had as much of an impact on the way young people dress. I mean, this might partially be because the style of the characters already kind of caters to and draws from the target audience but also, aside from Blair Waldorf did anybody really give THAT much of a fuck about what anybody in Gossip Girl wore?

The draw of the styling on Euphoria is that it has something for everyone. The style of each of the main girls, Rue, Kat, Maddy, Jules and Cassie, all of whom I’ve attempted (emphasis on attempted!) to base (emphasis on base!) outfits around, is varied and distinctive but still so current and realistic at the same time. It’s also consistent; even if you don’t own the specific pieces worn by any of them, similar shapes and details reoccur enough in different looks throughout the series that it’s not hard to create an outfit which matches your favourite character’s overall vibe without buying anything new. That’s kinda what I have attempted to do here and without further ado, I’m gonna get on with it! First up:

Jules (Played by Hunter Schafer)

When it comes to whose style is the most experimental, Jules is the obvious answer. A lot of her outfits are what I imagine a cartoonist in the near-distant future will envision their cool girl protagonist wearing. Whilst her ensembles are generally whimsical and girly for the most part, there’s usually a few slightly punk-ish finishing touches thrown in there too be it through chunky shoes or bold makeup or that incredible mesh trench coat she wears in the series finale with the trans symbol on the back which, honestly, deserves a moment of silence.

There are definitely nods to current fashion trends sprinkled throughout her wardrobe too. I'm not going to lie, despite someone at work seemingly thinking it was an insult to tell me I look like someone who does (I still don’t know but this person has a Rick and Morty keyring so I don’t give it too much weight), I’ve never watched any anime. BUT, that being said, given the abundance of anime screenshots posted by all these aesthetic oriented Instagram and Tumblr moodboard accounts, I have a vague idea of what some of the more iconic characters look like and a lot of Jules’ looks seem to be very much modelled after or at least inspired by them. In a way, I see a lot of her looks as a blend between modern “e-girl”, Y2K skater chick (yes, I’m thinking early Avril Lavigne), and 2013 Tumblr “hipster” a la 2014 Joanna Kutcha and Charlie Barker, and though on paper that sounds like a nightmare combination, it works. I know-if that sentence were a Depop description I would’ve just gained 30 followers.

When it comes to my own interpretation of Jules’ style, it’s definitely something I like to channel when I’m putting together a proper OUTFIT outfit. Meaning an outfit I actually put effort into and thus will most likely want to get a good photo in, lol. The way her character dresses is almost quite Christopher Kane in that it’s fresh and unusual but still understated enough that I wouldn’t walk into a room wearing any of these feeling like I’m doing a Rick Owens runway.

I’m not TOO far out of my comfort zone but still at the same time, I’d be trying something new and maybe a little bit more zany than I'm used to. As for noting where any of these pieces are from, only a few have been bought in the last 6 months, but from left to right clockwise I have marked out those that have in case they’re still available (though be wary of the fact that it seems a lot of online clothes stores are still forcing warehouse employees to work in close confines at the moment and so perhaps aren’t operating the most ethically):

LOOK 1

Corset-Jaded London

Shoes-TK Maxx

LOOK 2

Dress-Motel Rocks

Boots-Koi Vegan Footwear

LOOK 3

Dress-Jaded London

LOOK 4

Dress-Jaded London

Beret-Ebay

LOOK 5

Beret-Ebay

LOOK 6

Mesh Top-Depop

Hair Clips-Urban Outfitters

Kat (Played by Barbie Ferreira)

Eurgh, Kat.

I LOVE THIS BITCH.

If I had to choose my favourite character in the show, it would be a very close toss-up between her and Rue, and though I think Rue might just about nab the top spot for her relatability factor, Kat is the girl I want to be or wish that I had been when I was at school. I mean, there’s definitely an argument to be made in that a lot of what she’s doing with her cam work could be seen as a means of validation (Sam Levinson has basically said everyone on the show has some kind of an unhealthy coping mechanism and I would guess due to the circumstances in which her cam girl career was borne and the fact she’s underage, this would be hers) but I do think in other ways we really see Kat reclaim her power and recognise herself for the smart, capable, gorgeous woman that she is. Honestly, the definition of divine feminine energy, and I would completely let Barbie Ferreira/basically Kat if she was also actually 23 dominate me.

Plus! Her! Style! Is! The! Bomb! Definitely the easiest character to base looks around because if I’m totally honest Kat’s energy is pretty much just what I want to emulate in every day life.

It’s either pieces that are typically feminine, cutesy, and even slightly preppy at times drenched in everything grunge OR vice versa where you have something semi-gothic and then add a colourful, more playful touch in there that harks back to the beginning of the series before Kat had began to explore her identity and sexuality and dressed slightly more Forever 21.

I’d say, not yet with my whole chest, that on a good day the outfits I put together when making an effort aren’t too far off something Kat would wear, minus the more overtly BDSM touches; if wearing a ring choker in London is enough to get me a creepy comment from a gross middle aged shopkeeper (because I apparently forfeited my right not to be perved on when I decided to buy a bottle of Oasis summer fruits), then you can only imagine the kind of looks wearing a full-on harness would get in my conservative OAP dominated hometown. Not the most doable right now, especially considering the only time I get out is to work and to go for a run. The chafing I could deal with but the horrified glares of pensioners whose M&S prawn mayo sandwiches I’ve ruined by simply being in their eyesight not so much.

LOOK 1-

Corset-Urban Outfitters

LOOK 2-

Bodysuit-Depop

Skirt-Zara

Harness-Ebay

LOOK 3-

Co-ord-Depop

Lace-up Corset-Missguided

LOOK 4-

Dress-Vintage

LOOK 5-

Belt-Ebay

LOOK 6-

Coat-Topshop

Dress-Jaded London

LOOK 7-

Fishnet Top-Ebay

Skirt-Urban Outfitters

Maddy (Played by Alexa Demie)

Not gonna lie, I was kind of scared to do Maddy. I’m scared to be posting this, lol! Alexa Demie has played this character for a single season and she’s already one of the most iconic women to grace our screens in years. This is a huge undertaking and I don’t have the bank balance or the body confidence (lmao) to raid IAmGia.

And this is where I want to stress: THESE ARE NOT OUTFIT RECREATIONS. THESE ARE INSPIRED BY. I HAVE ADDED ELEMENTS OF MY OWN STYLE INTO THEM. PLEASE DON’T DRAG ME. I KNOW, I’M NOT ALEXA DEMIE. I WOULD NEVER ASSUME TO BE ALEXA DEMIE. I’M NOT ABOUT TO TAKE THE LORD’S NAME IN VAIN LIKE THAT. So now we’ve got that out the way (wipes bead of sweat off forehead), let’s continue.

Everything about Maddy Perez is extra. She has very much been established as a centre of attention character, and her outfits are a key part of that. They’re daring, they’re hyper-feminine, and they are always glamorous. We’re told that she competed in beauty pageants when she was younger and it’s clear that level of excess and coordination and glitz and all-round-boujeeness wormed its way into her DNA during that time. Even the “depression” outfit she wears to school following Nate becoming violent at the fair is costume-like, a 2019 Bratz doll Off-White street style collaboration.

Do you know how HARD I had to try to be HOT!? For these photos. Alexa Demie is one of those blessed women who doesn’t have to try at all, and that translates into the character completely. At any given moment, Maddy could add or remove one item or clothing and be let straight into the VIP section of a club, and that, honestly, is inspiring to us all in these dark times.

One thing I tried to keep in mind is that she always looks polished and coordinated, I.E the kind of look I would prepare for a night out is something Maddy would wear on an average day. Co-ords and delicate prints seem to be more subtle wardrobe staples along with mesh and PVC and glitter and feathers and fur and basically anything that toes the line between expensive looking and tacky. Yes, I am aware we may toe different sides of that line but please let me stay delusional and believe that’s not the case for 5 minutes. Much appreciated xoxo

LOOK 1-

Bodysuit-Jaded London

LOOK 2-

Bralette-Depop

LOOK 3-

Co-ord Suit-Boohoo

Bodysuit-Boohoo

LOOK 4-

Dress-Motel Rocks

Shoes-Schuh

LOOK 5-

Bodysuit-Zaful

Trousers-Depop

Coat-Topshop

LOOK 6-

Dress-Zaful

Belt-Zaful

LOOK 7-

Top-Jaded London

Hair Clips-H&M

Rue (Played by Zendaya Coleman)

I have a complicated relationship with Rue as a character. When I started season 1 of Euphoria, I was like “Oh my god, this girl is the worst. Jesus, she’s so negative and draining and willingly self-destructive and-”

Then, oh my god is this what it’s like to live with me!?

I will say, to my own credit, that I don’t think I've ever been quite as hard to deal with as Rue (a lot less smashing stuff up and a lot more moping), and to HER credit, by the end of the season we come to realise she’s been through a fucking lot and so it makes sense, but wow. I don’t think I have ever seen a teen show handle drug abuse and mental illness in such a brutal way. It’s quite a talent to be able to show a character cause so much pain to those closest to them and yet do so through a sympathetic lens. And issues aside, whether it’s her occasional social awkwardness or her relationship with her family or watching bloody Love Island (still quite surreal to see Zendaya Coleman witnessing the Amy/Curtis drama unfold), Rue is just my favourite character to follow.

Her style, though. AH. The thing is, I can hardly drag it, because it’s pretty much what I wear when I’m moping about the house-or just any time I can get away with it to be honest-to a T. I want to stay true to character, but that being said, creating a “Seth Rogen”-esque outfit that’s worth posting on here is difficult. So, with the same kind of artistic license that had me wearing berets whilst cosplaying Maddy Perez, here is the best I could do:

I know, I know, it’s probably too much colour and jewellery for Rue but this is as toned down as I could do and I tried to stick with the key silhouettes we see from her throughout the season; I mean, I can’t see her wearing leopard print but the structure of the coat in outfit 1 is very similar to the one seen in Shook Ones pt.II. I think the bottom line when it comes to her character is keeping things effortless and not overly-feminine; you want to mix street style, athleisure and your dad’s wardrobe favourites like your life depends on it. Plus messy hair and smudged makeup, both of which I’ve already got down according to the completely inappropriate number of customers who’ve asked if I'm tired at work so thanks for that guys, and glitter tears. Lots and lots of glitter tears.

OUTFIT 1-

Dungarees-Vintage

OUTFIT 2-

Trousers-Depop

Cardigan-Urban Outfitters

OUTFIT 5-

Beanie-Depop

OUTFIT 6-

Shirt-Boohoo Man

Sports Bra-TK Maxx

Trousers-Urban Outfitters

OUTFIT 7-

Shirt-Jaded London

Cassie (Played by Sydney Sweeney)

Style-wise, Cassie is a hard one. When putting outfits for her character together, I found myself gravitating towards a direction that’s probably a bit too bohemian for her character, under the guidance of loose terms like “girl-next-door”, “floaty”, “delicate”, you get the idea. She definitely feels the least fully-realised in terms of all the main girls and I think it’s fair to say she’s probably got a bit of self-discovery to do. Most of her storylines in the season are dictated by her relationships to other people: McKay, Maddy, Lexie, her parents and so on.

Nevertheless, I tried to stick to the airier, more traditionally “pretty” pieces whilst still channelling the confidence and ease with which Cassie pulls them off. Sydney Sweeney has the most incredible figure and I feel like whilst the clothes the on-set stylists put her in flatter that and don’t hide anything, they’re still the focus. It doesn’t feel like there’s anything more inherently sexual about her character than any of the other main female characters despite the way the men within the narrative view her, and I think it’s a testament to the the wardrobe department that to me she still gives off big modern Disney princess energy and a certain innocence even whilst we hear her being continuously sexualised by her male peers.

If anything, Cassie probably dresses the most like an actual teenage girl, and her style, whilst less distinctive than the other girls, still does a good job of capturing the youth and romanticism of her character.

The colour palette of her wardrobe tends to be quite neutral, with a couple of pastels thrown in there, and if there are any details, they’re usually quite dainty. Similarly, Cassie is probably the least experimental when it comes to her makeup; we don’t really see her wearing the bold eyeshadows or liners or gems like the other girls at any point.

OUTFIT 1-

Bodysuit-Motel Rocks

Hair Clips-Bershka

OUTFIT 2-

Dress-Jaded London

OUTFIT 3-

Trousers-Urban Outfitters

OUTFIT 4-

Top-Urban Outfitters

Hairband-H&M

`OUTFIT 5-

Top-Urban Outfitters

Jeans-Zaful

Headband-Primark

OUTFIT 6-

Top-Urban Outfitters

OUTFIT 7-

Dress-Urban Outfitters

Hair Clips-Boohoo

SO, I guess that’s it for my Euphoria lookbook! As always, let me know what you think (nicely pls, my ego is fragile lol) and I’d love to hear your opinions on the show too! I really haven’t got this excited over a new TV show in ages and I just think that it does everything so excellently-from the writing to the cinematography to the soundtrack, you can tell each element is so carefully and purposefully constructed. It immerses you into the dramatic highs and lows of being a teenager in a way I haven’t seen since UK Skins and I never thought I’d watch a show which held a candle to that.

In terms of what I’m doing next, I’ve got a very delayed fashion week masterpost in the works as well as something to fill the Met Gala shaped hole in our lives, which I hope to get up over the next couple of weeks. In the meantime, if you read to the end, THANK YOU! And I hope you’re staying safe and AT HOME where possible. I know this self-isolation feels never-ending and if I’m honest, it is having a hugely negative effect on my mental health, but NHS staff are doing their very best with the shitty recourses they have and whilst it seems that our government have thrown workers under the bus once again, we can all do our bit to combat that by slowing the spread of the virus. Also thank you to anybody who’s out working now in such a scary and uncertain time! I work at a grocery store and can say from experience that the best way to show this thanks is just through kindness and following employee’s instructions without giving them grief for it. Everyone’s scared right now and the best we can do is pull together and look out for each other, as difficult as that might seem at times.

Anyway, sorry for the ramble, and like I said, stay safe! Thanks once again if you read til the end or even if you’re just here for the photos. Appreciate it more than you know either way!

Lauren x

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