#he also grew up upper-class and that must have some lasting effects on him

[museofvoid]

Can I just bring something up about Wyll that I feel is overlooked a lot of the time? Which is that he's a little bit arrogant. He likes to boast and tell stories about his past adventures and monsters he's slain, he encourages bard song about himself. He's disappointed when the tiefling kids have heard of Karlach but not him. He does a superhero pose when he introduces himself for goodness sake!

Now don't get me wrong, he's still very much that selfless and self-sacrificing hero who wants to inspire people and wholeheartedly cares for the Sword Coast. Wyll is a good man! But that doesn't mean he's not enjoying the attention it brings. He's basically living out his childhood fantasy of being a great hero and he loves it! Despite the ugly parts of it.

People also like to see Wyll as someone who's saving himself for marriage, which I definitely can see, but as I said, he revels in the attention, and I honestly don't believe he's above spending the night with some maiden he picked up in a tavern during his travels, from time to time. In game lf you have him in your party together with Shadowheart and Lae'zel he'll openly flirt with both of them. In front of the other.

Now do I believe part of it is an act? That the Blade of Frontiers is a sort of persona he puts on to inspire bravery, or because he feels like he needs to? Yes. Does that mean it's all fake? No.

[captainscanadian]

Reputation | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 1)

My Masterlist

Summary: Freshman year was all about the failed friendships. Sophomore year was all about the lack of a social life. Junior year was supposed to be about focusing on school, until Bucky Barnes came along.

Word Count: 3245

Pairing: College!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+), FUCKBOI BUCKY, MINORS FUCK OFF!

A/N: Reputation, as a title, was heavily inspired by Taylor Swift’s iconic album of the same name. This is my entry for @buckysmischief​‘s 1K Writing Challenge. I know I’m a few days late but I started a fic with smut in the first chapter so... it took some time to perfect it. I’d like to thank my boo @baezen​ for being a good beta and for the constant love. Lastly, the reason why this whole fic (and my blog itself) exists in the first place was because I was reading @i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend​‘s College AUs and wanted to write one of my own. It’s been 11 months since then and I finally did it. This fic is an unofficial AU of my own fic, Better, but you don’t have to have read it to read this fic. Same characters, but they meet in a completely different time of their lives, under completely different circumstances. Better!Bucky is back, but he’s at NYU now. I DON’T OWN THE GIF & I DON’T DO TAGLISTS.

Whoever made the claim that college was the place where one would meet their lifelong friends was most definitely the biggest moron on this planet. You firmly believed that when you first arrived at NYU two years ago. Leaving your small town just outside of Philadelphia for the Big Apple, you had so many hopes and dreams when you got here. Education was your priority, but you had been so eager to meet new people and try new things just as much. After all, it’s all anyone who knew had told you. College is the place where you would meet your lifelong friends. 

Bullshit. It was all bullshit. 

Freshman year was all about newfound friendships. New kids huddled together in an unfamiliar environment, leaning on each other because being on your own for the first time in your lives was not easy. It was inevitable. It was human nature. A new environment meant the search for a sense of belonging. You had found that for yourself too.

A large group of friends, all ten of you being freshmen, you would claim one of the large round tables in the dining hall after your late afternoon biology lab. You ate, you talked, and you walked back to your dorms together. It became a ritual. But expecting that this kind of ritual would last until the end of your undergrad was a naive judgement to make.

By the end of that year, half of your friends had managed to switch to a different program and found another group of people to hang out with. The ones that remained in your group had managed to join their preferred extra-curricular activities and made more friends who shared the same interests. While you did manage to find the time to volunteer with the UNICEF chapter on campus, you hadn’t managed to make any close friends from that.

Sophomore year was to be the loneliest of years. The one friend you thought you would have for life had managed to ditch you for her sorority sisters – not that you had a problem with that. Your friendship had been hanging on a loose thread for a while before it came to a rather abrupt end. People grew up within the first two years of college, and people who grew up also grew apart from each other. It was inevitable. Margaret Sykes was also a complete fucking moron as she was, but that’s a story for another time.

Now in your junior year, you were starting to get back into the swing of things. After landing an on-campus job as an office assistant, you were hoping to keep yourself busy with your full-time course load. No time for fake friends, or real ones at that. You were finally moving on with your life, leaving behind those who had left you behind for good. After all, college was also supposed to be the best time of your life even without those lifelong friends. You might as well make the most out of the experience and build yourself a career.

It was the weekend before classes were to begin, and you found yourself sitting alone in the dining hall with a slice of pizza that was now getting cold. Having picked up your textbooks from the campus bookstore earlier that day, you decided to grab a bite before you would retreat to your dorm room for the remainder of the night. Perhaps you could get a head start on your readings.

Your lack of a social life seemed to be a blessing when it came to how you had planned ahead for the semester. When you weren’t working or volunteering, you would be studying and sleeping. One thing you had learned the hard way from your years of pulling all nighters – they did not work for you as they did to most people.  Micro-planning might just be the way to survive the next two years.

From the corner of your eyes, you could see a large group of friends sitting at the same table you used to sit at during your freshman year. You could not help but roll your eyes, an exasperated sigh escaped your lips. Naive freshmen, you assumed they were. They’d learn the harsh truth in the next few months.

You took a bite of your pizza slice as you looked out the window that you had been sitting by. The breathtaking view of Washington Square Park reminded you of your first day in New York when you had stepped out of your dorm room to take a stroll. The summery weather of New York City had brought students, tourists and locals alike to the heart of campus. You loved this city and campus for how lively it was – a true multicultural land of opportunity.

New York had become home to you in the last two years, despite the dull memories of lost friendships. Moving to New York had been the right thing to do for your education. NYU really was the place for students to be. You had no concerns about the academics here as you did the social aspects of your life. But you wondered if you really wanted to stay in the city after graduation. You had no reason to stay, no one to hold you down in the Big Apple. Moving back to your parents’ house in Philadelphia was an option for you. Your father had been hoping that you would return home after graduation and take over the family business from him, but you wanted to do more than just blindly follow in your parents’ footsteps.  

Speaking of footsteps, the sound of someone approaching your corner table made you turn back from the window. Your eyes landed on a familiar pair of blue ones, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you recognized the dark haired man who was walking up to you. He donned black skinny jeans and a red Henley, his long brown hair parted down the middle. It was a few inches longer than the last time you had seen him. A part of you had often wondered how hard it must have been to maintain those luscious locks of his. The shine and volume alone put the ladies to shame.

 “James.”

James Barnes, or Bucky as he was referred as by his closest friends, had been your neurobiology tutor during your freshman year. After failing your first quiz on the effects of dopamine, serotonin and oxytocin on the brain, you had approached your professor in desperate need of help. You needed to pass that class in order to complete your degree and failing your first quiz was not a great start to your freshman year. But you had been so determined back then to succeed academically. You still were.

Professor Van Dyne had been gracious enough to assign one of her best upper year students to help you get your grades back up. According to her, James was the teacher’s pet in the biology department and the best person to study with. His photographic memory had allowed him to maintain a consistent 4.0 GPA since his freshman year. As impressive as that sounded, his reputation precedes him. He was known around campus, or at least within the biology students, as the Casanova of New York University.

Rumours across the Greek life circuit on campus – Bucky was the resident fuckboy. It was an untold truth around NYU that he had slept with at least one person in every sorority. According to Margaret, one of the sororities even included having a one-night stand with Bucky as part of their initiation. He was apparently the best night anyone could ever have, and even if he never called any one of his flings back, he would still be found lurking around the next party and leaving with someone else later that night. It was apparently a rite of passage - a rite of passage that you had managed to avoid for as long as you had.

“Hey, doll.” He pulled the chair across from you before sitting down at the table. “Long time, no see...”

You raised your eyebrow at him as you set your pizza slice back down on your plate. Picking up a napkin to wipe your mouth and hands, you shrugged your shoulders at him. “What do you want, James?” You asked him, holding up your hand before he could answer the question. You had known him along enough to know what he was going to say. “I know, it’s been two years since I took my first year neurobiology class. And no, you don’t have to show me how oxytocin affects the human brain.”

“You’re really going to break my heart like that, Y/N?” He asked, feigning hurt with a dramatic sigh as he bought his hand up to his chest.

You rolled your eyes at him, laughing softly before shaking your head. He’ll never learn. “Why are you even here right now? I thought you graduated last year.”  

“Hey, just because I’ve graduated... summa cum laude, by the way, it doesn’t mean that I’m not welcome here.” Bucky remarked with a smirk plastered across his lips. “I have my own reasons for being here. You don’t own this campus, you know?”

You crossed your arms against your chest, still not breaking eye contact with him. There was no way you would fall for his charm. You had not done so in freshman year or sophomore year and you were not planning on doing it now. “Enlighten me.”

“Did Steve not mention that I got into NYU Med?” He asked you, his smirk not leaving his face.

Steve Rogers was Bucky’s best friend since childhood and the former president of the UNICEF chapter on campus. You had volunteered together for a few charity fundraisers over the years, but you were not as close to him as Bucky was. “Why would he have a reason to mention it?” You asked him as you leaned forward in your seat. “I would have placed my bets on you going to Columbia with him, if I’m being honest. You two seemed to be so inseparable. I can’t believe you just ditched him like that and let him take off.” 

It was true. Bucky and Steve were inseparable. After all, they had grown up together since they were young kids. They were always together on campus, having taken a majority of their classes together. It was so rare to see one of them without the other. 

“And did you really think that would impress me so much that I would actually end up sleeping with you?”

“Why?” He asked, almost in a whisper as he leaned forward in his seat. “Is it working?”

As the sun was finally setting over the New York City skyline, you found yourself perched up naked against a penthouse window in Brooklyn. The view from up here was much more breathtaking than the view of Washington Square Park from the dining hall window. But that was not the reason why you were so out of breath now. You were panting for air as you stared at the reflection of the man who stood behind you. After a heated make out session from Greenwich Village to Brooklyn, you wound up undressed in his bedroom that had a view like no other. 

“I can’t believe that actually worked on me... you obnoxious asshole.” Your heart was pounding out of your bare chest as you felt the moisture trickle down your inner thighs, and you tilted your head back.

Bucky had a smug look on his face, one that was filled with just as much lust as it was filled with pure satisfaction. You had finally fallen for his charm, after two years of fighting it. He had seen the way you glanced at him every time he volunteered with you and Steve. He knew that you must have felt attracted towards him, even though you denied it every time he had brought it up.

 He licked his lips as he gently pulled you towards him, turning you around so that he could kiss you on the lips rather roughly. “Playing hard to get doesn't suit you, doll.” His hands grasped your bare ass before his fingers slipped between your folds slick with your arousal. “You want me so badly, don’t you, Y/N? Don’t lie to me now. Your soaking pussy speaks the truth.”

You bit down on your bottom lip as you trembled to find the right words to say, your cheeks growing hot as did the rest of your body. A soft moan slipped out of you as you felt his cold fingers slide right into your entrance, sending shivers up your spine as you forgot how to stand still. You felt defeated by your own desires, having given in to his advances after fighting it for so long. You really thought you could get through your entire undergrad without being yet another one-night stand on James Barnes’ tally. But tonight, your strike was added to the drawing board with the rest of them. 

“Are you going to keep talking or are you going to fuck me like you fucked every fucking sorority sister on campus?” You gasped. “They all say that you’re the best night they’ve ever had, Barnes. I won’t believe it until I have proof.” You asked him as you began to unbutton his Henley.

“Getting desperate, are we? You made me wait a few years for this, doll. I’d have to make you wait a little longer now than a few minutes.” He was such a tease. “I didn’t fuck Margaret Sykes though.” He pointed out, a teasing look on his face as he pulled his fingers out of you and motioned you towards his bed. “You two were close in freshman year, weren’t you? And then last year, you purged your Instagram of any photos of her. I noticed.”

You rolled your eyes at his mention of your former best friend, lying back in his bed as you still tugged on his Henley. He was fully clothed while you were naked and exposed – the power that he had over you now, it was astonishing. But you could not deny how desperate you were for him. After all, your own body had lost that fight against your attraction towards this man. 

“Don’t bring up that bitch when I’m lying naked on your bed, James.” You told him, shaking your head at him. “If I could purge my own brain of any memories of her, I would.”

He chuckled as he sat down at the edge of his bed, his large hands firmly holding your thighs apart. “You act as though Margaret was the Antonio to your Bassanio, Y/N. It’s not like she would have cut out a pound of her flesh for you if you were ever in debt.” His bright eyes glanced down at your soaking core, his tongue peaking through his parted lips at the sight of just how aroused you were. He liked that he had such an effect on your body, knowing that you were attracted to him as he was attracted to you despite having known each other for years now. He pulled at your folds to get a glimpse of your throbbing clit, brushing his thumb over it in a quick teasing manner as he watched for your reaction.  

“I wouldn’t have taken you for a guy who reads Shakespeare.” You told him, giggling softly as you placed your arms above your head. It was a sign of you giving him full control of this ordeal; let him do what he was known to do best. After all, he did have a reputation. “But I think it’s so fucking hot that you do.” 

Another moan as you felt his thumb over your clit; you bit down on your lips not to make any noise. Bucky had warned you that Steve’s bedroom was just down the hall from his and the last thing you wanted was to have an awkward run-in with the blonde haired man who had taught you all about volunteering for charitable organizations for the duration of your undergrad.

“I can recite Hamlet’s soliloquy in its entirety while I fuck you, if you would like me to.” He joked, his fingers now drenched with your wetness as he slipped them through your entrance once again. His thumb rubbing circles on your clit as his eyes watched eagerly for your reaction.

“To fuck or not to fuck... that is the question.” You laughed at your own joke before looking up at him, rather seductively, your left hand pinching your swollen nipples as you began to feel the pain between your thighs relieve with his touch. Moaning once again as he slipped another finger inside of you. “Oh fuck, James... you really want to waste your time reciting Shakespeare with me when you could be putting that mouth to better use? What even happened... to your so called reputation of... being the best night everyone’s ever had?”

Bucky chuckled softly as he continued to finger you for another moment, pulling them out only to remove his Henley. “Desperate.” He pointed out with a wink, unbuttoning his jeans and taking them off as well. “Is that what they’ve all been saying about me now?”

“Are you telling me.... that you’re unaware of your own reputation, James?” You asked him as you sat up against his headboard, feeling the moisture between your legs now seeping through the clear white sheets on his bed as you gasped for air. “Your reputation... precedes you.”

He walked to his nightstand to retrieve a condom, hand slipping below the waistband of his boxers to slowly stroke his cock. A tantalising smirk played on his lips. “Well then, why... don’t we... put an end to it?” He asked you, pulling down his boxers to reveal his half-hard cock.

Your eyes perked up at his length. “Damn...” You gasped. “They really weren’t lying.”

James Barnes raised his eyebrow at you before tossing the condom at you. “Do the honors, doll?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” You giggled, rolling over in bed so that you could reach him. Your hand wrapped around his manhood before stroking him until he was fully erect.

Bucky hissed at the feel of your touch against his length, shaking his head at you. “Desperate.”

Removing the condom from the package, you put it on him before you looked up to meet his lusty eyes. “Are you saying that you’re not desperate for me at all, Barnes?” You asked him before you pulled yourself on all fours, moving your hair out of the way.

“Two years was a long time, doll.” He admitted, his hands caressing your ass before he let himself slip though your entrance. He took his time to position himself, not wanting to hurt you in any way. “Let me know if you feel like I’m going too fast or you need me to stop, okay? I don’t want to hurt you.”

You nodded, eagerly. “Just fuck me already, James!”

“Desperate.”

Whoever made the claim that college was the place where one would meet their lifelong friends was most definitely the biggest moron on this planet. College was the place where one would have the best sex they ever had, and Bucky Barnes really did live up to his reputation that night.

[kabrainy]

10 Things I Hate About You (1999)

There are so many different ways to hate. Count them yourself.

I know how difficult it must be for you to overcome all those years of upper middle-class suburban oppression. Must be tough. But the next time you storm the PTA crusading for better... lunch meat, or whatever it is you white girls complain about, ask them WHY they can't buy a book written by a black man!

Another addition to the high school movies based on classic literature. Unlike Easy A, however, this was charming, creative and had us invested. For me it was my first time, but my partner had seen this before and liked it a bit more than prior.

The plot of the film is genuinely engaging, all the characters, and how they get entangled in one anothers’ lives is overall fun to watch unravel. Although, the film did confuse me in who the main character was, it starts with Cameron and you follow him for a good chunk of the movie, but then he accomplishes his goal of getting the girl and is basically sidelined for Julia Stiles and Heath Ledger - leaving other characters to feel insignificant. The set-up of the film has you invested and anxious to see it all blow over at the end. Sadly, when it does all blow over, there’s not much consequence, and that’s one of my least favourite parts of this film - it doesn’t feel impactful to me, but it is still fun journey overall and I would rewatch.

The characters are suprisingly well-written overall and have depth. Kat especially grew on me. She’s very annoying at the start but then you get to know her more and understand why she does what she does, mostly in her introvertedness and protection of her sister.

The movie cleverly presents the classic literature homages, much more subtly than say Easy A. You never hear the title “The Taming of the Shrew”, but instead you are given several Shakespeare references, one of the weirder one’s being Mandella’s romantic love for him. 10 Things I Hate About You coming together by the end in the form of the sonnet, I thought was genius. Also, the several romantic subplots in the film also felt reminiscent of old plays. The sonnet was one of the better sides of the movie’s dialogue which, at other points, felt a bit unnatural and at some points unfunny.

On to the humour, the film is actually funny, it does sometimes fail, but for the most part jokes land. It surprisingly had a good blend of visual and verbal comedy. One stand out moment being the principal writing the erotica and there’s a subtle vertigo effect that stops when she gets writer’s block. The cast is great, and they definitely elevate the humour throughout. 

The score was serviceable and was one of the least interesting parts. The soundtrack was great at times though, with the large scale “Can’t take my eyes off you” being quite fun. The cinematography was cool, as mentioned the vertigo effect worked well. There’s a single take that lasts kinda long at the party and it wasn’t all in your face. 

Overall, it was fun and is probably rewatch. 

K - 7/10        B - 6/10

[kinghoranshit]

The Watchers (1D) - 00 Hours

Part 1

I watched the names light up on our hologram. You never wanted to see your name listed. It meant someone put down a sum of money to have you killed during the 24 hour purge. If your name's not on the list, you're free to join in on the hunt or stay in your house; no one could kill you, but the sounds of screams were deafening. The amount of people who turned their backs on their loved ones, both figuratively and literally by killing them, was disgusting. There were even those "friends" who thought it'd be funny to list you.

Now, you're thinking that a purge is such a dumb idea. Want to know what's more stupid?

A bounty purge.

It's the government's way to keep the crime and gambling rates down, and those who may not be fortunate in their social class have a way to level up and gain funds. It became a sport for some. This was the 100th annual year and the names being listed were a lot of celebrities; normally the ratio of high and low status didn't fare this much.

My family and I were in resistance; my mom died trying to protect someone, now it was just my dad and I. We helped those whose names were on the list, not for free of course. We're like bounty hunters, but the opposite. A guard or babysitter sounds so lame though, so don't call me those.

I felt my eyes go wide when I saw all five names that formed One Direction. Who...would do this? They weren't even technically a group anymore; they only just started a virtual reunion tour. They all went solo long ago, so it didn't make sense as to why they would be grouped together. The amount of money put on their heads was ridiculous. Sadly, I didn't see them making it through the 24 hours, unless they have some great body protection, or are suddenly kickass in combat.

The blue hue to the hologram disappeared and it was silent darkness for a while. There were so many bounties this year. It was obvious that they didn't have a limit for the 100th year. There wouldn't be enough of us. Our organization, The Watchers, dropped by a third because it was such a significant milestone year for the bounty purge. I guess people became afraid again.

"Katie," my dad stated.

I sat up and looked at him. "Yeah, what's up?"

"You're being assigned to Niall Horan, Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik and Liam Payne."

I blinked my eyes a couple times then cupped my ear for dramatic effect. "I'm what? Say that again."

"Modest!, their management, has contacted The Watchers and asked for you specifically. I guess they must've seen how well you kept Selena Gomez safe last year."

Yes, this work has lent to meeting celebrities, but the conversation doesn't tend to get that far. Last year was Selena Gomez, and the previous was Brie Larson. Both were troopers, especially Brie, she was fun to hang out with when we weren't fighting others. She still messages me every now and then when she's not working.

I cleared my throat. "That's...dad, they've got the largest sum I've ever seen for a bounty. You know how many people will be going after them?"

He smirked. "Is...Katie Lee..scared of hunters?"

I scoffed. "No, I'm not. I just know when my odds of keeping said assignment safe are high or not."

"Sorry, kiddo, there's no getting out of this one. They've prepared to set you up on a hidden bunker and arm you with anything you need if someone happens to find it."

A hidden bunker? Any weapons I want? That doesn't sound like a bad negotiation. I've definitely been dealt with less advantages.

The hologram started up again and it was one of the leaders, Rump. A cynical grin played on his lips. This couldn't be good. It was never good when his face appeared.

"Hello everyone, now that the names have been presented, we would like to bring in a new factor to the 100th year of the bounty purge. Instead of 24 hours, it will be 72 hours. That is three whole days to find your prey and get your prize. Let the purge commence in 48 hours."

For once, I felt sick to my stomach. Is this what fear felt like? Three days to keep these five boys alive? Let's hope no one trying to kill them were great trackers or hackers; if the base was hidden well enough, I could set traps outside and inside. That was going to be a must with the new circumstances.

My teeth clenched and I let out a deep breath into my fists. I sat there thinking for a little bit longer. If I was going to even manage to keep a few of them alive, I needed to leave tonight.

I stood and went upstairs to pack the essentials; I don't care if I have the weapon vault of my fucking dreams, I will never leave my crossbow at home. Every save I've had over the last eight years has been with this crossbow. When I came back into the living with my duffel bag slung on my shoulder and crossbow in hand, my dad actually had a look of worry etched into his face.

"Be careful. I know The Watcher's word is 'assignment comes first, you come second', but if it becomes too much, you get yourself out of there, okay?"

"Dad..." I trailed, at a loss for words. I've never heard my dad speak against The Watcher's word.

"You hear me?" he pushed.

I cleared my throat with a nod. "Yeah, dad. I do."

He pulled me into a tight hug. "Good. Your transport should be here any moment."

I pulled back with a small smile. I was well aware this could be the last time I saw him, but I couldn't bring myself to say the three words. It was a mutual thing we both had. We knew we both loved each other.

I peeked out the front window to see the black sudan parked in our driveway. I gave my dad a peck on the cheek before I slipped out the front door and jogged to the sudan. I opened the driver side passenger door and threw my bag and crossbow in first.

"Please state your ID number," the driver ordered.

"Watcher 402, Katie Lee, reporting for duty."

Carl smirked. "Perfect."

"That never gets old for you, does it Carl?"

He shook his head. "Never."

I laughed and buckled myself up. I pulled out my tablet to find the recent file sent to me. It was everything I needed to know about my transport, the bunker we'd be hiding away in, and the contact info for the supplier.

"So...who are you babysitting this year?"

The driver's never get told who a Watcher's assignment is for reasons. But I've known Carl for years; he was always the one who took me to the helicopter.

I still answered, out of precaution, "An important band. That's all I'm saying."

"Really? A certain boy band?" he mocked.

"You know I won't say the name, but yes that one boy band."

"That'll be fun, I'm sure."

I rolled my eyes in response.

I busied myself with contacting the supplier to get my vault sorted. This was definitely the most reinforcements I'ved used. I felt probably an unsettling amount of excitement to get my hands on everything. I knew that in the line of action I would be less thrilled.

***

The helicopter landed on the last minute created pad. It was a circle created by rocks; a majority of them were like this. I knew that we were in upper Minnesota, near the lakes. I snatched my duffel and crossbow as I got out of the helicopter and followed the other Watcher that had been waiting for me. Now, I was guided to a different car that drove off deeper into the forest.

It looked secluded enough by the trees; the bear traps were going to hide perfectly in the bushes. And if that didn't stop them? I knew that the wiring, jumper cables, and car batteries were going to work wonders for every door and window, along with strips of nails at the edge of the entrance if they happened to surpass everything else. And if they also bypass that? Well, they'll have to go through me.

I'm going to Home Alone this motherfucker up.

I was guided to the front of the house and my jaw dropped at the beauty of the steel siding and roof. Okay, the blueprint did not mention the steel exterior. And from where I stood I could see the small security cameras. There's no way they just built this in a matter of a day. This has had to be used in prior purges.

I walked up the stairs and through the front door. It was...way too fancy. Glass tables and lighting fixtures everywhere, grey couches, a fucking duve in the bathroom, and multiple bedrooms.

What was I so worried about?

I dropped my bag off in the room that had my name on the door and then saw that the rest of the members also had their own rooms. There was one name that I didn't recognize so I went to the door and knocked. It just slowly opened by itself and I peered in.

There stood, a bubbly redhead. She jumped from being startled. "Oh! Hi, I'm Maddy, the onsite medic. You must be Katie, our Watcher."

I furrowed a brow. "Uh...Yeah, I am. This place is a fucking fortress. Why am I here?"

She laughed under her breath and continued to unpack her items. "Every fortress has a fault, and they always like a backup plan."

They must be Modest!. It was clear that this wasn't Maddy's first purge hired under them. Who else has been under their company that they had hidden here? I've never been on an assignment where they had an onsite medic ready.

"Fair...do you know where the band is at? I'm going to need their help."

"In the kitchen, I believe. I will be down to help as well. My station has already been cleaned and prepared."

That was eerily comforting to hear.

"Okay," I replied and left her to her own devices.

I didn't bother unpacking yet. I probably wouldn't to be honest. Getting comfortable never sits right with me. The voices grew louder and louder as I grew closer to them. It was clear they were having a good laugh despite the circumstances as to why we were all here.

I cleared my throat and they all stopped to look at me. I gave them a small wave. "Hi Niall, Louis, Harry, Zayn, and Liam. I'm Katie, your Watcher for the duration of this purge."

"A girl? They hired a girl, who looks to be younger than me, to keep us safe?" Liam remarked.

"Mate," Niall and Louis breathed and shook their heads.

I chuckled and stalked up to the brunette who currently had his hair looking like 2014 Harry.

"I can't make you like me. In fact, that's not part of my job description. But you should reconsider... My crossbow can manage a mile range and shoot three arrows at once. I can also build a gun in under a minute, have practiced in the art of knife throwing...and I have been known to get my hands dirty in a physical fight. What can you do to keep yourself safe, Liam boy?"

The other four held in their own snickers. Liam didn't flinch in the slightest. If anything, his "tough" exterior only hardened, which just made him look even weaker in my eyes.

"I don't buy it. Modest has to be messing with us."

I smirked. "I know your ass will be calling my name, begging me to protect you, as someone tries to machete your body to pieces. You better start playing nice, mate." I stepped back and gestured to the rest. "Come on, troops. We need to set up the traps."

Luckily, Zayn, Louis, and Maddy quickly picked up on how to set up the bear traps so I put them on that duty while the rest of us stripped the entrances with nails. Of course, I knew the risk of having them set the traps rather than myself, but there was a lot to do before tomorrow morning. An hour before the purge starts, I'll set up the electrical traps. Since there were steel doors that locked down, I planned to set the electric currencies in other spots.

I familiarized myself with the layout of the rich bunker as much as I could and the security camera room. Yes, there was an entire room dedicated to the security cameras. My vault was hidden in four different locations so I'd have something at any given moment.

That evening, we were all chit chatting at the dinner table, eating the grilled chicken and potatoes Niall cooked. This was probably one of the best meals I've had the night before a purge; it was weird to feel so at ease. I knew not to get too comfy.

"So Katie, how old are you?" Louis prompted as he took a swig of his beer.

"Yeah, you seem too familiar with all of this. How long have you been a Watcher?" Niall concurred.

I laughed under my breath and dropped the fork onto my plate. "Uh, well...I'm twenty-four, and this has been my life for as long as I can remember. Both of my parents were Watchers themselves. I started assignments when I was fifteen."

"Woah," Zayn remarked. "How many have you killed?"

"That..." I coughed into my hand and ran a hand through my hair. "Hard to say...I don't like to keep track."

Louis leaned back in his chair and looked down at his lap. "How many do you think you'll have to kill for us?"

I raised my brows in surprise. "With that sort of bounty over your heads, your guess is about as good as mine."

"Fuck," Niall scoffed and jugged the rest of his beer.

"To be honest, I've never felt this confident going into a purge. And we've got Maddy for any injuries, it doesn't seem like her first rodeo either."

She smiled sweetly and shook her head. "It's not, but...I've never actually had to jump in. This bunker has always held up."

"Hear that?" I asked. "It'll be..." I trailed off. I couldn't make any promises, even if our odds did seem to be in our favor. "It'll be just another purge."

That wasn't what I mean to say either. Their facial expressions right now broke my heart.

I clapped my hands as I stood up. "Okay, I say we all get to bed now. It will be an early start."

They all nodded and put their dishes away before going to their assigned rooms. Liam sat on the couch by himself. He didn't join us for dinner, nor did he eat. If he wanted to be a loner during this, then I'll treat him as such.

I padded over and sat down next to him.

"You know I'm only here to help. If you hate me, that's fine, but you need to be a team player for the rest."

Once again, he stayed silent. I truly didn't know what his deal was. I wasn't the best at reading that side of a person's mind. I pursed my lips before I got up and went to my own room.

I slipped into my own pjs before I did a few meditations. I set my alarm for six in the morning, the purge started at eight. This is all I have ever known. Preparing every single year to risk my life for someone else's, to defy against this ridiculous event, and if I died this year, it wouldn't be in vain.

Next part: 24 Hours

[Masterlist]

[noona-clock]

Expectations - Part 6

Genre: College/Roommates!AU – Pure Fluff

Pairing: Hanbin x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: None

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 | Words: 3,170

You stared at him for a few moments, blinking at him with your eyebrows raised.

...Had he just said that? Had he just said that he had been gone for 10 hours because he’d needed to figure out his feelings for you?

“Really?” you asked softly, the words barely audible as they left your lips.

Hanbin took in a nervous breath before he nodded. “Yeah.”

“So... what did you decide?”

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been so anxious to hear someone answer a question. Your heart was doing something really weird; it was beating ridiculously fast, but it also wasn’t beating? And your stomach felt empty but filled with enormous butterflies at the same time.

It seemed like it took five years for Hanbin to reply, but when his lips finally moved... he said, “I like you, too.”

Your breath caught in your throat as a huge, beaming smile tugged at your lips. You took a step closer to him, wringing your hands together nervously. “You do?”

A smile tugged at Hanbin’s lips, as well, but it was far shyer and more apprehensive than yours. “Yeah,” he breathed.

You took another step closer. “Like -- like me? Romantically? As a girlfriend?”

Hanbin’s cheeks turned pink, and his smile became even more bashful. “Yeah,” he repeated, avoiding your gaze.

It truly took everything in you not to squeal and throw your arms around his neck. But before you could say or do something else, Hanbin took another breath.

“I actually kind of started coming up with a song while I was thinking, so I’m just going to --” 

He began to head over to his room, but your hand darted out and grasped his upper arm before he could go anywhere.

“Wait,” you chuckled, pulling him toward you. “I just --”

You exhaled deeply and slid your arms around his neck. This time Hanbin did return your embrace, his arms circling your waist and his hands clutching at the small of your back.

“I just need to make sure you’re really here. That you’re here and that you’re okay,” you murmured. 

You needed to hold him. Just for a little bit.

You felt him bury his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin and his lips brushing over your pulse as he spoke. “I’m okay. I’m sorry I made you worry.”

“It’s all right,” you whispered, closing your eyes so you could revel in the feel of him.

“I knew you would be worried, so I just -- I didn’t even look at my phone,” he murmured. “That sounds terrible. I’m sorry.”

You could hear the guilt in his voice, and it made your heart clench. “Hanbin, it’s okay,” you assured him. “If that’s what you need to do to process things, I understand. I’m not upset, I promise.”

Hanbin tightened his hold on you, balling up the fabric of your shirt in his fists slightly, and you could’ve sworn you felt him place a soft kiss on your neck. He must have because a delicious chill ran down your spine.

You held him for another minute or so before reluctantly letting your arms fall and stepping away from him. It was way past your bedtime, after all, and he’d said he wanted to start working on that song.

“I’ll tell you the next time I have to do that,” he assured you quietly, his brow furrowed adorably as he gazed down at you.

“Okay,” you whispered, the corners of your lips quirking into a smile. “I’m going to go to bed now.”

“Oh, god, that’s right,” Hanbin chuckled. “Have you ever stayed up this late in your life?”

“Yes!” you defended, reaching out and playfully punching his chest.

“Were you up this late because you were studying?”

“...Yes.”

The expression on Hanbin’s face was one of extreme satisfaction, and you simply rolled your eyes (while holding back a grin).

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” you said as you took some steps backward, heading towards your room.

Hanbin nodded, keeping his eyes on you and raising goosebumps on the back of your neck with how intense his gaze was. But it wasn’t intense in a scary way. It was more like... intensely caring.

You turned around, biting your lip to keep from smiling like an idiot as you reached your bedroom door.

“Sweet dreams,” Hanbin called out, and you glanced over your shoulder as you turned the doorknob.

“Oh, by the way,” you said as you were stepping through into your room. “The reason I realized I had feelings for you was because I had a dream with you last night and it was kind of amazing, okay, goodnight!”

You quickly closed your door behind you, holding back a sneaky giggle and heading toward your bed.

Before you could even lift the covers up, however, your door opened.

“Wait, what?” Hanbin asked. “You had a dream with me? What kind of dream? What happened?”

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” you repeated, waving him off. “Go write your song.”

“No, no, no, no,” he murmured, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. (Why? You had no idea.) You practically jumped into your bed while Hanbin shuffled over. When he arrived at the end of your bed, he got on his hands and knees and crawled on top of your mattress towards you. “Tell me more about this dream.”

“I’m going to sleep,” you announced, reaching over and turning off your bedside lamp. “I have class in the morning.”

Before you could pull your arm back from the lamp, you felt Hanbin slide his own arm around your waist and settle in behind you. He pressed his chest as close to your back as possible, curling his arm around you and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“What dream?” he whispered.

Well. It was clear he wasn’t going to let this go -- or let you go -- so you let out a short huff of breath.

“It was just a dream,” you replied, nestling deeper into your pillow and resting one of your hands on top of his. “We were... dating. And there was cuddling --”

“Like this?” he asked softly, bending his knees behind yours, effectively becoming your big spoon.

“Yes, like this,” you chuckled.

“What else?”

“We were holding hands,” you continued.

Hanbin tightened his hold on you and spread his fingers wide, capturing yours and lacing them together. “Like this?”

“Yes, just like this,” you answered with a somewhat dreamy smile.

“What else?” he asked again, and the smile on your lips grew wider.

“And... we were kissing,” you told him.

“Oh, were we?” Hanbin replied in a slightly teasing tone.

You nodded, responding with a soft hum. But before he could manage to turn you over onto your back to kiss you, you whispered, “But we don’t have to right now. If you... want to save it. For a more romantic situation... or something.”

“You don’t want me to kiss you?” he mumbled, his mouth pressed against the back of your shoulder.

At first, you weren’t quite sure how to answer him because of course, you wanted him to kiss you.

But you did kind of want to save it for a more romantic situation. Like a real date.

An idea came to you then, and you slowly turned around to face him, waiting until he had put his arm back around you before speaking.

“Can you... kiss my forehead again?” you whispered a bit bashfully, eyes widened as you gazed over at him. “Like you did last night?”

Hanbin’s eyebrows raised, and a very tiny smirk appeared on his lips. You figured he would say something like ‘Oh, you liked that, huh?’... but he simply moved his hand up to your head, smoothing your hair back and leaning in towards you.

You quickly closed your eyes, holding your breath as you felt his nose brush over your forehead. And then you felt his lips press against your skin, gently and briefly at first. You almost whined when he pulled away, but it turned out to be only the shortest of pauses.

He kissed your forehead again, longer this time as his hand moved to cradle the side of your head, his thumb gliding across your cheek. The kiss was still innocent and gentle, but you somehow understood that he was telling you exactly how he felt about you in that kiss.

His lips moved to right in-between your eyebrows, his kiss there quick before trailing down the bridge of your nose.

“Go to sleep,” he whispered just before capturing the very tip of your nose between his lips. “I’ll stay here until you fall asleep.”

...How did he expect you to fall asleep after all those kisses? Didn’t he realize how violently they’d made your heart flutter?

But, then again, it was almost midnight. And Hanbin’s presence was so comforting and warm. He was still smoothing your hair back from your forehead, and if your eyes hadn’t already been closed, they would be fluttering closed right now because of how relaxing his touch was.

So, you dipped your chin into a single nod, a hum barely escaping from the back of your throat.

“Unless you want me to stay all night?”

“No, it’s okay,” you murmured sleepily. “You have homework to catch up on.”

A low, rumbling laugh vibrated through Hanbin’s chest, and he placed yet another kiss on your forehead. “But what if there’s a storm? Won’t you want me --”

“Zero percent chance of rain,” you interrupted with a bit more force and energy in your voice. “Of course, I checked. I would’ve had a panic attack if you had been caught out in bad weather.”

“I should’ve known,” he chuckled, his lips still brushing over your skin. “All right, I’ll leave when you start snoring.”

Your eyes flew open as your forehead wrinkled deeply at his words. “I snore?!”

Oh, god, you really had snored in his bed last night!

“I’m joking!” he replied immediately, obviously trying to hold back a huge burst of laughter. “It was a figure of speech! I’ll leave when you fall asleep.”

“So, I don’t snore?” you asked, just to be sure.

“No, you don’t snore,” Hanbin assured you. “You actually look like an angel when you sleep.”

Okay, his snoring comment had made your stomach tighten up in anxious knots... but now your heart was melting because he thought you looked like an angel.

“If you didn’t know any better, you would think I really was an angel, huh?” you asked with a hushed laugh as you began to settle back down.

“I do know better,” Hanbin murmured, his thumb trailing over your jaw and chin. “But you are an angel. A very organized, Type-A angel, but definitely an angel.”

A smile quirked at your lips, and you mentally added ‘Incredibly Sweet’ to the list of pros in your notebook.

Had it really been just that afternoon you’d written that?

You suddenly felt like telling Hanbin all about it, but you knew it would be better to wait. Once he got back from his classes tomorrow evening, the two of you would sit down and talk about everything. You had a feeling it wouldn’t be easy to get Hanbin to talk about his feelings, but you would try.

Even if you had to bribe him with food.

You expected Hanbin to come in after his classes and comment on how amazing it smelled in the dorm. You were the one cooking, yes, but you weren’t afraid to toot your own horn. You knew how to cook, and you knew how to cook well.

You’d decided to make ramen tonight; Hanbin had commented many times during your Breakfast for Dinner meals that you didn’t have to go to so much trouble to make such a nice meal. You guys were in college, you could just make ramen like any other poor university student would.

So, tonight, you’d made ramen. But really nice, fancy ramen, not just the kind from a 10 cent package.

Instead of a remark about the pleasant aroma or how excited he was to eat, though, when Hanbin came through the front door, he greeted you by practically slamming it closed. And then he let his bookbag drop to the floor with a thud.

And then he made a beeline for his room.

“Hanbin?” you called out after him, your brow furrowed.

He didn’t answer; he simply disappeared into his room and shut the door behind him.

Without hesitating, you turned and twisted the knob on the stove to shut off the heat. Hanbin wasn’t going to get away from talking about your relationship that easily.

You scurried over to his room, briefly pressing your ear against the door to make sure he wasn’t undressing or anything. Not that you would be able to know he was undressing just by hearing it, but still. You knew he wasn’t because you didn’t hear anything.

Without even knocking, you turned the doorknob and pushed it open just enough to see him sitting on the edge of his bed, away from you.

“Please go away,” he mumbled, but you pretended like you hadn’t heard him.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, staying in the doorway -- for now.

“Nothing.”

Your lips pursed in very slight annoyance because that obviously wasn’t true. So, you slipped through the door and padded over to sit next to him. Hanbin looked away from you, so you lifted a hand up to comb his hair behind his ear.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

He let out a long, deep breath, and you were prepared to push him to answer you.

“That song I told you about last night,” he muttered, still not looking at you. “I can’t -- I can’t get it right.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion because... really? That was it?

“You just started it last night,” you pointed out with a soft chuckle. “I’m sure it takes a little while to --”

“But this is a song about you, and I wanted it to be perfect, and I didn’t want to try hard to make it perfect because I shouldn’t have to.”

...What?

There was a lot to unpack there.

But you brought up the one thing which stuck out the most to you.

“You... the song is about me?”

“Of course, it’s about you,” he grumbled, glancing at you for the first time since he’d gotten home. “I started writing it yesterday. While I was gone.”

Hanbin sounded so grumpy right now. It made you pause, and you let your hand fall from the side of his head. He wasn’t doing anything to show he was enjoying you combing his hair with your fingers, so you figured you would stop.

But before your hand could land beside you on the bed, Hanbin furrowed his brow and looked over at you, directly in the eye.

“Can you keep doing that?” he asked in a low, quiet voice.

You couldn’t stop a smile coming to your lips, and you had to hold yourself back from leaning and kissing him.

At his request, you lifted your hand back up and continued combing through his hair, tucking it behind his ear and stroking the back of his head down to his neck.

“What do you mean you shouldn’t have to try hard?” you asked softly.

Hanbin didn’t answer for a few moments, and then he finally just shook his head. “Never mind.”

“No, tell me,” you urged. If the two of you had feelings for each other and were going to be in a relationship, you had to learn how to communicate more openly.

“It’s stupid,” he murmured.

“I don’t care,” you assured him. “And it’s probably not stupid.”

He let out a deep breath, focusing on his knees and the floor as he began to speak. “Up until now, all the songs I’ve written have just been from my imagination.”

You remembered him telling you he hadn’t written anything from real experience; you had kind of completely forgotten he’d never had a girlfriend before.

“But this song is not,” he continued. “It’s real, it’s coming from my actual feelings. It should be way easier to do that.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked with gentle amusement. “You really think that actual feelings are easier than imaginary feelings?”

Hanbin simply looked at you in confusion.

“When they’re not real, feelings can be whatever you want them to be. Imagining being with someone is way different than actually being with someone. Real feelings can be messy and unpredictable. You can’t control them,” you reminded him, still combing through his hair.

“You sound like you’re okay with that,” Hanbin replied with an emotionless chuckle. “You. Okay with not having control over something?”

“Why do you think I wanted to become a psychologist?” you asked with a smirk. “So I can learn as much about all this uncontrollable stuff as I can.”

A genuine smile touched his lips then, and you scooted just a little closer to him.

“It’s okay to struggle with something,” you told him. “I know you’re a perfectionist, especially when it comes to your music, but I hate seeing you so upset like this.”

Hanbin simply nodded, and you saw the soft curve of his lips harden into a thin line.

“I know I don’t have to tell you this, but life is not a plateau. Or even a staircase. You don’t just keep going up until you get to the best part and that’s it. It’s more like... a mountain range. There are highs and lows. But the good part is, when you’re down in a valley, you know there are peaks coming. You just have to climb up and get there. And no matter what happens with us, no matter where our relationship goes, I’ll be there for you. I’ll be there to celebrate with you on the highest of the mountaintops, and I’ll be there to help you get back up from the lowest of the valleys.”

...Okay, maybe you’ve been spending too much time reading your psychology textbooks.

Hanbin looked over at you, that soft, barely-there smile back as his eyes shone. “Have you always been this good at giving pep talks?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Yes, kind of,” you answered. “It’s why I got elected class president.”

“Well, I would vote for you any day of the week,” he said, one corner of his lips lifting into a lopsided grin.

“Thank you,” you beamed. “Now, can we eat dinner and talk about our feelings?”

Hanbin straightened, reaching up and taking your hand from his head. He held it in his lap, focusing his gaze on your fingers as he began to play with them. “I think I’ve talked about enough feelings tonight.”

“But we --”

“We can eat dinner, and then we can talk about when I can... take you out on our first date.”

Part 7

[alj4890]

None But You

Request from @pixieferry for (Thomas x Amanda) in a Regency Era Romance.

A/N This was originally meant as a one shot but my mind decided to stretch it out and @pixieferry was very encouraging toward my madness. This story takes place in London around 1819. I'm not sure how many parts this mini series will have yet or who will appear, but here we go 😉

Our Main Characters: Lord Thomas Hunt, Viscount Kirkwood of Kirkwood Manor in Norfolk. Lady Amanda Bridgerton, heiress to Snowfield Abbey in Doncaster. 

@graceful-popcorn @krsnlove @alleksa16 @hopelessromantic1352 @pixieferry

Masterlist

Chapter 1

"Now then. We must go directly to a modiste as soon as possible. If you are to have a proper season amongst the ton then the right wardrobe has to be purchased." Lady Lucinda Bridgerton explained to her niece.

"Yes ma'am." The young lady softly responded. She gazed out at the fashionable homes in London's Mayfair. Amanda Bridgerton tried not to dwell on the reasons for having to attend a London Season. It would do nothing but cause the tears she had yet to shed to fall from her eyes.

Her sweet, widowed aunt was all she had left for family. Her parents death three years earlier had revealed that their estate was near ruin. Her father had been the Earl of Snowfield. He had been a compassionate landowner that had made certain the families that farmed his lands and tended the sheep herds were taken care of during destitute times.

His wife had been of the same mindset and had trained their daughter to be a benevolent lady of the manor. When they died, her Uncle Nicholas and his wife, Lucinda, came to live at Snowfield Abbey. The new earl tried to continue his elder brother's mission but soon found that the coffers were nearly depleted.

He worked himself to death to try to recoup their losses and keep Snowfield and his family well taken care of. Now it was up to Amanda to make things right. The estate was beginning to thrive again yet there was a need that only a well established fortune could provide. The land alone would garner many a proposal from a titled gentleman. Her only wish was that she could marry for love. If not love, then perhaps she could have friendship with her husband.

"Here we are, dearest." Lady Lucinda stepped out of the carriage before a freshly painted building. They walked in and were immediately greeted by a whisper thin lady who spoke with a questionable French accent. Amanda lips curved in humor as she suspected the woman who asked to be called Marie, was really a Mary. She gestured dramatically while pretending to struggle to find the English words to describe Amanda's figure.

The young lady grimaced. There was no chance she would ever be considered a diamond among the upper class. She was the exact opposite of being deemed the ton's incomparable. Instead of a willowy, blonde angel with blue eyes; Amanda was cursed with her father's dark hair and eyes along with her great grandmother's voluptuous figure. She was much too tall for a lady, or at least that was what some of the shorter gentlemen had been heard to whisper at the local assemblies.

Her aunt and the seamstresses debated over silks, velvets, and muslins. It was soon discovered that pastels made Amanda's skin appear sickly. Jewel tones brought out her peach tinted cheeks and made her dark hazel eyes sparkle. She was set on a stool and measured, poked, and remeasured.

After many hours of this particular torture, they were at last released. As they stepped outside, Amanda gazed longingly toward a shop with windows filled with books across the street. "Aunt Lucy? May we go in there before we return home?"

Lady Lucinda chuckled and linked her arm with Amanda's. "We might as well. I fear that we will not find any of Lady Radcliff's novels in the library of our town home."

They entered the shop and both sighed in contentment. They took a deep breath of the leather bound air and spilt up to see what could be discovered to tickle their fancy. Her aunt chose the poetry section while Amanda went toward the back of the store where an attendant told her the novels were located.

She noticed a gentleman searching through the books on an upper shelf. He glanced at her and nodded politely. She returned his nod with a pleasant smile before squeezing past. Her attention was captured by the number of different novels avaiable. After running her fingers along a shelf, she picked up one and flipped through the pages. She stopped at the last chapter and began to read.

The gentleman she had passed watched her curiously. He frowned when he noticed her quickly reading the end of the story before choosing another to only do the same. When she started to repeat the process with a third book, he could remain silent no longer.

"See here, miss. You are ruining each story you pick up!" His deep voice was gruff with irritation. "Why are you only reading the final chapters?"

Amanda narrowed her eyes at his nerve and tone of voice. "For a very simple reason, sir. I prefer certain types of endings in stories. The only way to ensure such is to read the last chapter of books that have been recommended to me."

"Can you not simply read what is recommended without spoiling it for yourself?" He persisted. "Dash it all! People spend months to years creating such for someone to enjoy. They do not do so to be judged solely by the final chapter!"

Amanda bristled at his losing his temper with her. "Did you write this?"

He glanced at the title of the book she thrust at him and his frown grew fierce. "I did not."

Her chin lifted in defiance. "Then you, sir, have no right to be offended." She presented her back to him and set the book she was holding back in its proper place. She could feel those dark eyes of his on her and finally turned around in a huff.

Their wills clashed silently, each glaring darkly at the other. If he had not angered her, she would have thought him handsome. He was tall (a blessing in itself) with dark brown eyes and hair. The indentations in his cheeks hinted at dimples being present if he were ever caught smiling. His clothing was finely made and molded over a figure not given to the idol laziness that plagued many gentlemen in society. What a pity he should be possessed with such a sour disposition.

She began to feel guilty for her loss of temper. The good manners and kindness instilled by her upbringing forced her to utter an unwilling apology. "Forgive me. I should not have been rude to you. I'm afraid my patience was sorely tested earlier at the dressmaker’s." 

His eyebrows lifted in surprise. His own chagrin flickered in the dark depths of his eyes and the easing of his lips. "I believe I am the one at fault here. I should not have chastised you over such an action."

Amanda smiled warmly at him, knowing that he was not one to apologize easily if his strangled words were any indication.

He found his own lips turn up some at her friendliness and held his hand out. "My apology would be more heartfelt if I had the name of the lady I am giving it to."

She placed her hand in his. "Lady Amanda Bridgerton."

He bowed over her hand. "Lady Bridgerton. A pleasure." He released her hand when a servant approached.

"M'lord, you asked to be reminded of the time."

"Ah, yes. Thank you, Walters." He turned back to Amanda and started to take his leave. He paused and reached over her shoulder. She softly gasped at nearly being pinned between his chest and the bookcase He glanced down when he heard her indrawn breath and placed a book in her hands. "Do not read the final chapter until you finish the ones before it." His lips finally curved into a smile. "Perhaps one day we will meet again and you can tell me what you think of it."

She looked down at the title, Persuasion. She let out a laugh. "Well played, sir. You chose a title that not only reveals your intentions toward my reading habits but also one that leaves a mystery to its plot."

He took her hand and brushed a kiss to her knuckles. "Promise me you will read it properly."

She shook her head in admonishment while her glowing smile ruined the effect. "Very well, though it would be nice to know to whom I am giving my word."

"Thomas Hunt, Viscount Kirkwood." He bowed and began to leave. He looked over his shoulder and spoke once more. "I look forward to hearing your opinions, my lady." Once he was gone, she hugged the book to her chest and searched for her aunt.

"Aunt Lucy! Did you see the gentleman who left a few moments ago?"

"I did indeed. Well done, my dear! I have heard of Lord Hunt. He is not one to remain in conversation with ladies longer than manners demand." Lucinda took the book from her niece. "You will have to read this now. He will be at many of the functions you will attend." She took her selection and Amanda's to the clerk and paid for them.

Amanda felt a warm fluttering in her stomach at the thought of speaking to him again. Once they were returned to their home in Mayfair and had eaten dinner, she escaped upstairs and quickly changed into her nightgown. She climbed into bed and began to read about Ms. Anne Elliot and her rather unfortunate romance with Captian Wentworth.

A few nights later, she and her aunt walked into Almack's. It was a warm evening and Amanda sighed at having to gain permission from the grande dames to waltz at the balls that were to begin next week. So many ladies, a few years younger than herself, were standing with painfully young men that had most likely been bullied into dancing attendance on their sister's friends.

Lady Jersey, one of the patronesses of Almack's, was in conservation with Lucinda and was looking over at Amanda in a critical fashion. She nodded in respect to the older woman and received a nod of approval. She only needed one to give their permission. Amanda wondered how she was to do so if no man approached her.

While lost in thought, murmurings reached a fevered pitch in the room behind her.

"Can you believe he came?"

"He never attends opening night at Almack's! My cousin Matthew swears the man avoids these type of functions and matchmaking mothers."

"He is so handsome. Mamma is going to have Howard invite him to our home for dinner one evening."

Amanda ignored the dramatic whispers of what had to be about another shy young man and moved closer to the open doors leading to the outside courtyard. She longed for a breeze to blow through the stifling room. She closed her eyes in pleasure when a cool wiff of air touched her overly warm skin.

"Falling asleep? I can't say I blame you. Finding buried treasure under the floorboards is more likely than finding a person to converse intelligently amongst this crowd."

Her eyes snapped open at the deep voice near her ear. Her lips parted in surprise. "Lord Hunt!"

He gave a quick nod. "Lady Bridgerton, we meet again." He noticed some ladies coming to join their conversation. "Good heavens, they are like a plague of locusts." He took her hand and placed it in the bend of his arm. "Introduce me to your aunt." He quickly walked off with her and stopped before her Lucinda and Lady Jersey.

"Thomas!" Lady Jersey gasped. "You're here?"

He lifted an eyebrow before looking down at himself. "So it seems." He took Lucinda's hand and bowed. "Lady Bridgerton, it is a pleasure to meet you."

Once she was over her surprise, she smiled at him. "And you, m'lord. My niece has spoken highly of you after your book recommendation."

His lips curved. "Lady Amanda is too kind." He turned his gaze back to her after studying Amanda for a heated moment. "May I have your permission to dance with her?" His mocking smile landed on the patroness. "And yours of course Lady Jersey?"

Once permission was given in a stuttered manner, Thomas led her in a waltz. He smiled softly as he looked down at her. "What do you think of the novel so far?"

"Anne and Fredrick's relationship is quite heartbreaking. To be parted so cruelly only to meet again with such coldness..." She shook her head when words failed her. "I find myself in amazement that she refused Charles once Fredrick left."

His brow furrowed. "You think she should have married Charles though she loved another?" Perhaps Amanda was not the type of lady he thought she was.

"Not at all! Just that, I am in amazement she was not tempted to do so to escape her ridiculous father and sister. The Musgroves are by far superior to the Elliots." Her smile grew when he laughed.

"I admit that I myself would be tempted to do so now that you reminded me what Anne has had to endure remaining with those two." As they continued to converse, he realized he was chuckling more than he ever had while dancing. She easily held his attention like she had at the bookshop. Once the dance ended, he led her back to her aunt.

He placed his hand over Amanda's as he offered to escort them both to the opera on Thursday evening. "My box has an unparrelled view of the stage."

Lucinda glanced at Amanda's surprised smile and nodded her consent. "Thank you, Lord Hunt. We look forward to it."

Thomas took his leave when he noticed the more determined mothers approaching with their simpering daughters. He kissed Amanda's gloved hand and reminded her to not read the ending to Persuasion yet.

The next day, she curled up with the book and had just come to the part where Anne overheard Captain Wentworth share that she had changed so much he would not have known her when the butler came in with a calling card. She saw the name and frowned. Who was the Earl of Comery? "Do show him in Hudson. And please inform Lady Lucinda of our visitor."

A short, stocky young man walked in with a bouquet of flowers. "Lady Bridgerton?"

Amanda stood up and noticed that she was a couple of inches taller than him. He bowed over her hand and flourished the bouquet before her. "It is a pleasure to meet the heiress of Snowfield Abbey."

Her smile of welcome dimmed. "Thank you, my lord." She motioned for him to sit down and set the flowers in a vase. He began to extoll the beauty of Snowfield and it's many fruitful acres of land. Amanda listened with half her attention. Of the two of them, she believed she knew her own home better. During a pause, she asked him about his estate.

"I'm afraid I am unfamiliar with Comery. Is it South of here?"

He nodded, pleased at her interest. "Southeast actually. It is in Kent."

Lucinda walked into the drawing room with a small package. She greeted the Earl then turned to Amanda. "Dearest, this was just delivered."

Amanda took it and noticed there was no return address or name of who sent it. She opened the box and lifted a beautiful seashell out. "How lovely!" She exclaimed. She took the scrap of paper with it and read the elegant script. Perhaps Capt. Wentworth found a seashell such as this during his travels and gifted it to a certain lady.

Lucinda peeked over her shoulder and smiled at the hinted sentiment. "Do we know who sent it?" She asked for Lord Comery's benefit.

"It is unsigned." Amanda said softly. She set it back in the box and turned her attention back to the earl. After a dull tea with him, he finally left once her aunt urged him to leave before the rain began to fall.

"Lady Bridgerton, there is not a cloud in the sky." He argued with a smile.

"That does not mean it is impossible. The pain in my ankle signals that a deluge will occur within the hour. I insist you leave and get to your next destination quickly." He was no match for her arguments and subtle nudges out the door. He left with a spoken desire to see them soon.

Lucinda was not about to promise such. "I am certain our paths will cross during the social season." Once Hudson shut the door, she hmphed. "Thank heavens you will not be reduced to marrying a man like that."

Amanda chuckled. "Aunt Lucy, I am afraid you are the only one to believe I will end up having a number of suitors. We both know I need to marry a man with a fortune if we are to keep Snowfield and our tenants in the lifestyle they are accustomed to."

"Yes, but there is bound to be a man out there that can be not only well heeled but also of a more pleasing temperament."

"I know Lord Comery lacked stimulating conversation, yet he seemed to be a pleasant sort of man." Amanda argued half heartedly.

Lucy snorted. "He complimented your inheritance more so than you." Her green eyes flashed with angry determination. "I would rather we be forced into a small cottage somewhere than to see you married to such a man."

Amanda rose from her chair and hugged her. "You are a darling and I love you, but I am going to do my best to make certain you and Snowfield are taken care of."

Lucy gently patted her cheek. "You are a stubborn creature." She stood and smoothed the wrinkles in her dress. "Come. Let us go for a walk and see who we meet along the way."

"Walk? Outside? Were you not predicting a deluge approaching?" She teased.

Lucy suppressed her mirth for a moment before bursting into laughter. "I need to remember which ankle is the more intelligent of the two for future escapes."

"I would go with the right one." Amanda suggested between giggles. "That way you can stress how correct it is."

"Minx." Lucy chided.

[bloodfromthethorn]

Screaming

Callahan has a grudge to settle, but Mac's refusing to play ball.

Part seven of the July of Whump 2021 prompt challenge, and a continuation of yesterday’s entry.

Also on AO3. 

..

Mac didn’t know, precisely, where he was or how long he’d been there. What he did know was that he’d very much like to go home if that was quite alright with everyone. He was exhausted and aching and he was pretty sure one of the guys who’d bundled him into the boot of the car had broken his wrist wrenching it behind his back. All in all, his day wasn’t going well, and he was more than ready for it to be over.

Callahan had done as he’d promised and spent a good few hours knocking Mac around like that was his job or something, but Mac’s insistence on not making a sound had rapidly stolen any pleasure he might have found. It wasn’t exactly a victory when it left Mac sporting a bloodied lip and bruises on top of bruises, but it won him just the slightest sliver of power back. He wasn’t about to let that go.

Robbed of the power trip he’d evidently been seeking, Callahan had spat some general abuse at him and stalked off, promising worse things to come. Mac didn’t doubt him. He also didn’t have much hope of escaping given the aforementioned broken wrist, and the guard Callahan was apparently smart enough to leave just inside the door staring at him intently. Even if Mac could get out of his cuffs, which let’s be honest would hardly even rank as a challenge, he didn’t fancy his chances in a fistfight right then.

With that plan out the window, Mac’s options were wait around for an opening he could exploit, or wait around in the hopes that Jack turned up with his rescue. Either way, his immediate choice was the same.

The problem was that left him free to fret over Bozer – he’d still been breathing when Mac had been unceremoniously dragged from the house but Mac had no idea what had been in that syringe and Boze had hit the deck hard. Jack and Riley had been planning to come over for dinner so one of them must have stumbled across the scene by now, but that was no guarantee of anything at all. For all Mac knew, Boze could have been dead and gone long before any of them had the chance to get anywhere close.

The thought was crushing, unbearable, but Mac just couldn’t get it out of his head. Even as he knew Jack would be scolding him for not worrying about his own safety when it was in such immediate danger, all he could think about was the surprise on Boze’s face when the needle had slid into his arm. Had it been too late then? Had the die already been cast?

Mac was built to fix things, but there would be no repairing that loss.

Tangled up in his thoughts, it was almost a relief when Callahan reappeared – almost. He was tailed by a much smaller man holding a doctor’s satchel who looked like he had about as much desire as Mac to be there. When his eyes landed on the prisoner though, something bright came alive behind his oval glasses and Mac felt his heart sink; whoever this man was, he might have distaste for the run-down farmhouse he’d been brought to but that evidently didn’t extend to the work he was meant to do. Mac had seen that look on the faces of others before, and every single time in the past it had promised pain.

“I hope you have been comfortable in my absence,” Callahan said insincerely, his natural accent barely noticeable under the faux American affectations. “I would hate to think of my guests as unhappy.”

True to his earlier resolution, Mac bit his tongue and kept silent.

Callahan’s mocking grin curled into a snarl. “Ah, of course, yes, you refuse to speak with me. The people of your country are so terribly rude, did you know? That’s why I’ve brought my friend here.” He gestured broadly to the man beside him, who was still staring at Mac like he was a piece of meat to be savoured. The sensation was deeply unpleasant. “Doctor, please, your work awaits you.”

That was the only prompting the man needed, apparently, because he strode purposefully towards the table off to Mac’s left and started rummaging through his bag. When his hands reappeared with a packaged syringe and an unlabelled vial, something cold went down Mac’s spine.

Callahan had taken issue with Mac’s refusal to cry out in pain, but he hadn’t been demanding information from him so the chances of it being something to induce suggestibility wasn’t all that high. That left- well. A whole bunch of awful shit Mac one hundred percent did not want having free reign in his bloodstream.

The doctor tore open the syringe pack with his teeth and deftly inserted it into the vial, his eyes still on Mac. “Hmm,” he was muttering to himself, “About six foot, muscles – maybe 190 pounds? Young, strong heart…”

He was judging the dose, Mac realised suddenly. Not only was he about to be injected with some unknown substance, he was apparently going to be getting a dose eyeballed by a man who looked like he’d enjoy watching Mac die just for the academic interest it would provide. This day just got better and better.

Callahan was watching with a smug, self-satisfied smile on his face. Even if every alarm bell wasn’t already going off in Mac’s head, that would be warning enough that things were about to get really, really bad. Now would be an absolutely fantastic time for Jack to show up.

Only, this apparently wasn’t that kind of story because Mac was forced to watch helplessly as the doctor cross to his side, rolled up his sleeve, and plunged the needle into his arm without the slightest hesitation. There was a tiny prick of pain as the needle went in, then the tell-tale flash of ice as the cool liquid hit his system, spreading up from his elbow to engulf his upper arm. The rest of him broke out in a cold sweat as his cortisol levels hit the roof and kept rising.

“Well now,” Callahan said cheerfully, “That should help, don’t you think? I don’t imagine we’ll get much coherent out of you, but I don’t suppose that matters. I’ll just be pleased to hear you sing.”

It took every ounce of Mac’s self-control to keep himself still and quiet. The instant he was out of these cuffs, he fully intended to introduce his fist to Callahan’s face as fast as humanly possible.

“Tell me, have you heard of yohimbine?” The man asked pleasantly.

It was obvious from his tone that he expected the answer to be no, but then, he didn’t know Mac. He raced through his knowledge of the most recent scientific studies he could remember, producing a quick mental checklist of side effects and risks. There wasn’t a lot he could do about any of them right now, of course, but if that rescue did show up, it would be good to have as much information as possible. Still, as it was… this was not good news.

“It’s a strange little chemical,” Callahan continued, unphased by Mac’s sudden revelation. “People used to think that it could be used to help men succeed in… certain intimate activities.” He raised a lascivious eyebrow. “They were wrong, I’m sure you’ll be relieved to hear, but their greatest failing was not realising the true potential of what they had. Now, it’s not perfect on its own. A few doses of yohimbine can cause anxiety and stress, but that’s hardly too impressive. After all, why would I need a chemical to do in days what I can do in minutes when given the right equipment?”

He started circling the room slowly, as if delivering a lecture to an interested class. More uncomfortably, the doctor settled himself down on the floor right in front of Mac with a notebook perched in his lap, ready to record his reaction. Mac’d been in plenty of distressing situations before, but none of them had made him feel like a lab rat quite as much as this.

“But then I met my friend here,” he said with another gesture towards the doctor, “And together we realised that it can do so much more with a little help. It turns out that if you combine yohimbine with thiopental sodium and palmitate you can drastically increase its potency. Mix them all together in just the right quantities and the results are… sublime.”

Mac did a quick mental search: pentothal to induce suggestibility or hypnosis and palmitate to increase cellular uptake, at the risk of lowering the toxicity barrier. In theory, both could work together to make the yohimbine faster acting and much stronger, turning ‘mild anxiety’ into something a lot more threatening. Assuming there weren’t any adverse interactions he couldn’t foresee and the doctor had judged the dosage correctly, Callahan was right: Mac’s day was about to get so much worse.

And, as if that wasn’t enough, there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

..

The discomfort crept in slowly at first, so much so it was hard to disconnect it from the general sense of worry and stress he’d been warding off ever since he was abducted. After all, this was hardly a situation in which anxiety was an unreasonable response.

Unfortunately, that didn’t last all that long. He could feel his heart rate steadily climbing as panic built up in his gut, followed by the nausea that swept in to keep it company. His breath quickened to match his racing heart; soon enough he was having to actively concentrate on stopping himself from hyperventilating as he grew more and more lightheaded and his vision turned foggy and grey. Next came the hallucinations – whether a product of the drug itself or merely an unintended side effect brought about by a lack of oxygen in his brain, he had no idea – which began with sudden flashes of movement in the corner of his vision before evolving into more substantial threats as his mind sunk deeper into the hold of the drug.

From what little he could still see, the doctor was busy scribbling notes on his observations while Callahan leaned casually against the wall, staring at him like anyone else might behold a museum exhibit. Neither of them seemed at all concerned with the shadows creeping around the edge of the room, moving ever closer to where he was bound.

One came within arm’s reach in a rapid darting motion before falling back to join its fellows and before he knew what he was doing, Mac had half thrown himself in the opposite direction with a strangled whimper. The noise seemed to scare the shadows back for a time, and Mac was able to haul in a few unhindered breaths, but they came crawling back in all the same.

He had no idea what they were or where he was, all he knew was that he wanted out. He needed to get out of there, away from the shadows, and he needed help to do it. Where was Jack? Jack would never leave him there when he was so afraid, Mac was sure of it. He’d never once hesitated to put himself between Mac and a threat, even when that threat was something he himself was afraid of – that was just the sort of person Jack was. So even if he was as terrified as Mac felt in that moment, he should be there.

Something brushed against the back of his knee and he kicked out wildly with a yell, nearly toppling his chair with the force of his thrashing. He squeezed his eyes shut in the hope it would somehow help, but he immediately realised that not being able to see the creatures sneaking up on him was incalculably worse. He wrenched them back open with a sob of fear, eyes rolling about wildly as he tried to identify anything he’d missed.

Distantly he could feel his heart about to beat of his ribs, the pulse so rapid that his whole chest was throbbing with the strain of it. Each breath had to be pulled in through a clenched tight, aching throat. Any concept of where he was and what he was going there was long gone, replaced by simple fears and base terror. His body was trembling like a leaf.

A weight landed on his shoulder, and his head snapped around to look at the clawed, deadened hand grasping at him, tightening in his shirt to drag him down, back into the depths of the hell it must have crawled out of and Mac could feel it now, the coldness sinking into his skin with a wild thrill of unnatural and no matter what he did, he’d never be able to wash that away and-

-he screamed.

And screamed.

And screamed.

..

Jack knew it had been naïve to assume arriving at his partner’s house to find Bozer unconscious, no Mac, and the obvious signs of a struggle would be the worst moment of his day, but he’d still sort of hoped, y’know? The chances of finding Mac completely unhurt might have been low, but even with that in mind, he’d still been utterly blindsided by the scene they’d eventually uncovered: Callahan, a guard, and a seriously creepy dude with a notebook all standing around watching a bound Mac as he screamed and convulsed.

Mac’s face was a mess of bruises and blood from a split lip and what might have been a broken nose, but the superficial damage utterly paled in comparison to his overall state. The blonde’s eyes were rolling in his skull, froth bubbling at the corner of his gaping mouth as he thrashed against the ropes holding him down. Even with his breath shuddering and rasping, he was still somehow finding enough air to unleash a barrage of screaming and sobbing, studded by the occasional string of garbled words that sounded vaguely like pleading. He didn’t look like he was aware of what was going on around him – didn’t look like he knew what planet he was on – but whatever he was seeing, it clearly wasn’t good.

It took all of one second of Jack seeing his partner like that for something red to descend over him and by the time he next took stock of himself, the guard was unconscious and Callahan was shrieking something about the gunshot that had just shattered his knee. Jack answered him with another bullet, and the man fell silent. The weird guy with the book was cowering in the far corner, staring at Jack like he was the twisted one in this scenario, but he was unarmed and Jack dismissed him as no real threat. He could leave the tac team right behind him to worry about that one.

No, his focus needed to be on Mac. It took a surprisingly long amount of time to cut him free of the ropes what with the way he was thrashing, completely insensate and oblivious to Jack’s presence. All the same, Jack kept up a steady stream of soothing words as he worked, hoping that somewhere in there, his partner could hear him and know that help had finally, finally arrived. If Mac did hear him, he certainly didn’t show it.

When the ropes came free, the most Jack could do for him was get him on the ground, his head pillowed in Jack’s lap, and keep track of his racing pulse while the medical team streamed into the room. Jack had never been happier about Matty’s preparedness, but so much of his being was focused on Mac in that moment he couldn’t spare the attention needed to voice it. Instead, all he was left to do was sit there and watch as his partner fell to pieces.

..

When Mac woke, it was with a familiar sense of knowing that he’d been asleep for a long time. His limbs felt heavy and uncoordinated, and his head was stuffed with cotton wool in a way it only really was when he was coming out of anaesthetic. It wasn’t a nice sensation, but he’d grown used to it years ago and these days it was largely associated with the relative safety of hospitals. Being in them might not be good, but it was usually better than whatever had landed him there in the first place.

A quick mental assessment identified a few points of pain – his face felt swollen and his throat was burning faintly – but for the most part he seemed remarkably intact. That was… well, not exactly a first, but certainly not the norm. The curiosity of it more than any real desire to wake up was what made him open his eyes, automatically searching for the figure he knew would be at his side.

Jack blinked lazily back at him. He had one elbow propped up on the arm of his chair, supporting his chin. The other arm was draped idly beside Mac’s hip on the bed, his hand resting over his partner’s. When Mac just stared at him, Jack’s eyes narrowed in consideration. “You look like you’re actually awake this time.”

Mac wanted to ask what he meant by this time, but when he opened his mouth, all his throat gave him was a sad little hiss of air.

“Ay, don’t try to talk,” Jack scolded instantly, half rising out of his chair as though he could do anything to help. “Your throat’s all torn up, you’ve gotta rest it. No talking,” he said again, sternly, with a pointed finger as he settled back in his chair. “You’re actually awake then? For real this time?”

Lesson learned, Mac offered him a very careful nod.

His partner’s face did something complicated, flickering through any number of emotions too rapidly to track before finally settling on what Mac would probably have dubbed ‘exhausted relief’. They both politely pretended Jack’s eyes weren’t red. “Well. Thank fuck. You’ve gotta stop doing this to me Mac, my heart can’t take it. You had Bozer and Riley all worried too – I’ve only just managed to convince them to get some rest.”

Mac was momentarily bowled over by sudden, sheer relief – Bozer was alright. Jack wouldn’t be talking about him like that if he wasn’t, which meant that all of Mac’s fears about whatever drug had been in his system were all for nothing. No matter what else had happened, that was all that really mattered. The scariest part about waking up in any hospital was not knowing what had happened to the rest of his family and that went double when one of the last things you could remember was one of them in trouble.

Fortunately, Jack knew him well enough to fill him in on the details unprompted. “Yeah, Bozer’s fine, don’t worry. Whatever they hit him with knocked him out for a few hours, but it’s all out his system now and he’s doing great. He’s been much more worried about you, to be honest. We all were.”

From the little bits and pieces Mac could remember of his time with Callahan, he thought he could probably understand that. Whatever scene Jack had arrived to find, it couldn’t have been pretty. He wanted to apologise for that, and to thank him for what had no doubt been a spectacular rescue, but his throat wasn’t about to cooperate. Given the abuse he vaguely remembered giving it, he wasn’t entirely surprised. All he could really do was twitch his fingers against Jack’s arm and offer him the shadow of a smile.

As he always did, Jack understood.

“Yeah man,” he said, choked up and pretending not to be, “I’m glad you’re back too.”

..

AN: So I basically invented Scarecrow's fear toxin and backed it up with fake science? For clarity, thiopental sodium can induce suggestibility, palmitate does lower cellular toxicity thresholds (and is really, really bad in oh so many ways), and yohimbine was originally used as an erectile dysfunction medication but has subsequently been found to be ineffective. There is some evidence that it can cause increased anxiety, but it 100% does not work like I pretended it does.

[carldavidson]

Graphic by Carl Davidson Right click on it and open in new tab to get a closer look.

The U.S. ‘Six Party System' 3.0: Revising the Hypothesis Again

By Carl Davidson

Keep on Keepin' On

"Successful strategic thinking starts with gaining knowledge, particular gaining adequate knowledge of the big picture; of all the political and economic forces involved…It's not a one-shot deal. Since both Heaven and Earth are always changing, strategic thinking must always be kept up to date, reassessed and revised."

May 30, 2018 - This statement above was part of the opening to a widely circulated article I wrote twice, about two and four years ago. With the upcoming November 2018 elections, it's time to take my own advice again and do another update. The strategic terrain is always changing, and we don't want to be stuck with old maps and faulty models.

In the earlier versions,  I suggested setting aside the traditional ‘two-party system' frame, which obscures far more than it reveals, and making use of a ‘six-party' model instead. The new hypothesis, I suggested, had far more explanatory power regarding the events unfolding before us. Some critics have objected to my use of the term ‘party' for what are really factional or interest group clusters. The point is taken, but I would also argue that US major parties, in general, are not ideological parties in the European sense, but constantly changing coalitions of these clusters with no firm commitment to program or discipline. So I will continue to use ‘parties,' but with the objection noted. You can substitute ‘factions' if you like. Or find us a better term.

For the most part, the strategic picture holds. The ‘six parties', under two tents, were first labeled as the Tea Party and the Multinationalists under the GOP tent, and the Blue Dogs, the Third Way New Democrats, the Old New Dealers, and the Congressional Progressive Caucus, under the Democratic tent. In the second version, we had three ‘parties' under each. 

First and most important for us on the left was the rise of Bernie Sanders, who showed far more strength than imagined.  The second was the dramatic and unexpected flowering of Trump and rightwing populism on the right. Both of these, from different directions, challenged, narrowed and weakened the dominant neoliberal hegemonic bloc, which spanned both the GOP multinationals and the Third Way Democrats. It saw the Blue Dogs disappear and the Tea Party divide into Rightwing Populists and Christian Nationalists. Now here's the new snapshot of the range of forces for today, (including a graphic map). The two main changes are the re-emergence of the Blue Dogs, due to the recent three-way breakup of the Labor-Liberal center bloc, and the powerful growth of the Rightwing Populists under Trump. Starting from the left upper corner of the map:

The Rightwing Populists. This ‘party' has mushroomed via the Trump candidacy and unexpected 2016 victory. Trump, an ‘outlier elite' in his own right, is now directly connected to the Robert Mercer family fortune, the 4th ranking billionaire funding right causes. For example, the Mercers keep Breitbart News afloat and funded the career of Steve Bannon, former Trump ‘strategist' that took him to victory in the last stretch. Now along with Breitbart, Fox news is the hourly mouthpiece for Trump's war against the mainstream ‘fake news' mass media. Trump and his allies are waging political warfare against the ‘Deep State.' This is actually a contest for a new ‘America First' nationalist hegemony against the neoliberal globalists under both tents, the GOP Establishment and the Democrat's Third Way. This also includes the ‘intelligence community,' with a long list of Trump-targetted CIA and FBI ‘corrupt leaders', of which FBI director James Comey was the first to fall. ‘Corruption' was their refusal to pledge loyalty to Trump personally, like an old-style Mafia boss.

Trump also has a strong alliance with the Christian Nationalists (Mike Pence, Betsy DeVos, et al), and the DeVos family (Amway fortune), which represents another billionaire donor to the GOP right. Devos's brother, Erik Prince, has also massed billions from his Blackwater/Xe firms that train thousands of mercenaries to serve as ‘private contractors' for US armed intervention anywhere.

Where these two blocs under the GOP tent grew in strength all during the campaign, the Establishment Neoliberals divided a dozen ways, and they were defeated with some humiliation one by one. After the primaries, they were much weaker and were left with the choice of surrender, voting for Hillary Clinton (HRC) or staying home.

Trump's reach under the Dem tent to form an alliance with the Blue Dogs was more tactical. It stemmed from his appeals to ‘Rust Belt' Democrats and some unions on trade and tariff issues, plus white identity resentment politics. The economic core of rightwing populism remains anti-global ‘producerism' vs ‘parasitism'. Employed workers, business owners, real estate developers, small bankers are all ‘producers', and they oppose parasite groups above and below, but mainly those of ‘the Other' below them—the unemployed (Get a Job! as an epithet), the immigrants, poor people of color, Muslims, and more. 

Trump entered politics by declaring Obama to be an illegal alien and an illegitimate office holder (a parasite above), but quickly shifted to Mexicans and Muslims and anyone associated with ‘Black Lives Matter.' This was aimed at pulling the fascist and white supremacist groups of the ‘Alt Right,' using Breitbart and worse to widen their circles, close to Trump's core. With these as ready reserves, Trump reached farther into Blue Dog territory and its workers, retirees, and business owners conflicted with white identity issues—immigration, Islamophobia, misogyny, and more.

Trump's outlook has deep roots in American history, from the anti-Indian ethnic cleansing of President Andrew Jackson to the nativism of the Know Nothings, to the lynch terror of the KKK, to the anti-elitism of George Wallace and the Dixiecrats. Internationally, he combines aggressive jingoism, threats of trade wars, and an isolationist ‘economic nationalism' aimed at getting others abroad to fight your battles for you, while you pick up the loot (we should have seized and kept the oil!).

All this has set up the Rightwing Populists, aligned with Christian Nationalists, in a bid for hegemony over Establishment Neoliberals. So far, Trump is making gains, and the November midterms will bright to light the new balance. Trump's successes, however, also contain his internal weaknesses: the support of distressed white workers. At present, they are forming a key social base of his victories, assuming they will get lush jobs or rising 401Ks of the ‘Make America Great Again!' promises. The problem, however, is that Trump has not implemented any substantive programs apart from tax cuts. These mainly benefit the top 10% and create an unstable class contradiction in his operation, one bound to surface as promises are unfulfilled. His white supremacist demagogy and misogyny has also united a wide array of all nationalities of color and many women and youth against him. 

The Christian Nationalists. This is a subset of the former Tea Party made up of several Christian rightist trends, that has gained more coherence with the election of Mike Pence. It's made up of many who are simply conservative evangelicals.  A good number, however, are theocracy-minded fundamentalists, especially the ‘Dominionist' sects in which Ted Cruz's father is active. They present themselves as the only true, ‘values-centered' (Biblical) conservatives. They argue against any kind of compromise with the globalist ‘liberal-socialist bloc', which ranges, in their view, from the GOP's Mitt Romney to Bernie Sanders. They are more akin to classical liberalism than neoliberalism in economic policy, and thus stress abandoning nearly all regulations, much of the safety net, overturning Roe v. Wade, getting rid of marriage equality (in the name of ‘religious liberty') and abolishing the IRS and any progressive taxation in favor of a single flat tax. 

This is a key reason they attract money from the Koch Brothers, while the Kochs hold Trump and his populists in some contempt. As mentioned above, they also have some access to the Devos fortunes.

Effectively, Christian nationalist  ‘prosperity economics' amounts to affirmative action for the better off, where the rise of the rich is supposed to pull everyone else upwards, so long as those below also pay their tithes and pull upward on their ‘bootstraps.' They do argue for neo-isolationism on some matters, but favor an all-out holy war on ‘radical Islamic terrorism,' to the point of ‘making the sand glow.' They pushed for moving the US Embassy in Israel to Jerusalem and ripping up the Iran nuclear deal. All this is aimed at greasing the skids for the ‘End Times,' the ‘Rapture, ‘and the ‘Second Coming' in the Middle East. With Cruz, Pence and Devos as leaders, they have become the second most powerful grouping under the GOP tent, and the one with the most reactionary platform and outlook, even more so than Trump.

The Establishment Neoliberals. This is the name now widely used in the media for what we previously labeled the Multinationalists. It's mainly the upper crust and neoliberal business elites that have owned and run the GOP for years, including the quasi-libertarian House ‘Freedom Caucus,' the smaller group of NeoCons on foreign policy (John Bolton and John McCain), and the shrinking number of RINO (Republican In Name Only) moderates. The Establishment also favors a globalist, US hegemonist and even, at times, unilateralist approach abroad, with some still defending the Bush-Cheney disaster in Iraq. Their candidates were Jeb Bush and Marco Rubio, but when both of these collapsed under fire from Donald Trump, their voice was reduced to that of John Kasich, governor of Ohio. Kasich presents himself as a pragmatic, pro-worker neoliberal, a difficult circle to square. But he had the NSA/CIA's Michael Hayden and many from the ‘Intelligence Community' in his camp near the end. When Kasich was defeated, some went over to Clinton. Under Mitch McConnell's smothering wings, most are riding out the Trump vs ‘Deep State' storms in silence, as best as they can.

This is a big change. Previously dominant in the GOP and anchored on Wall Street, the Establishment forces were seriously weakened by both the Rightwing Populists and the Christian Nationalists.  It's possible they could be pushed out entirely, but a lot will depend on the results of Robert Mueller's investigations and the outcome of the 2018 mid-term elections. They could purge a weakened Trump and rebuild. They could try to form a new party with neoliberal Dems. Or they could join the Dems and try to push out or smother those to the left of HRC's grouping.

Now let's turn to the Dem tent, starting at the top of the graphic.

The Blue Dogs. This ‘party', while still small, has grown and gained some energy. This is largely because the United Steel Workers and a few craft unions decided to ‘work with' Trump on tariffs and trade. The USW got firmly behind Connor Lamb for Congress. Lamb's narrow victory was won in a Western PA CD in a rural and conservative area, but with a good number of USW miners. Now that the earlier gerrymandered lines have changed, however, Lamb has to run again in the new 17th CD, which is Beaver County and part of Pittsburgh itself, where Trump has less support. Support for ‘Medicare for All' is strong in this area. Lamb claims to favor it but claims it's unaffordable for now. This is a sore point for a good number of left progressive Democrats. They're likely to vote for him, but put their energies into working for better candidates running for legislative seats in Harrisburg.

The Blue Dog resurgence may not last. On one hand, the DNC Third Way gang currently loves people like Lamb, and want to see more candidates leaning to the center and even the right. On the other hand, Trump is unstable on tariffs. If he doesn't follow through on those he has put out as proposals, and folds up on major infrastructure plans save for ‘building The Wall, the unions involved may turn against him.

The Third Way New Democrats. Formed by the Clintons, with an international assist from Tony Blair and others, this dominant ‘party' was funded by Wall Street finance capitalists. The founding idea was to move toward neoliberalism by ‘creating distance' between themselves and the traditional Left-Labor-Liberal bloc, i.e., the traditional unions and civil rights groups still connected to the New Deal legacy. Another part of the ‘Third Way' thinking was to shift the key social base away from the core of the working class toward college-educated suburban voters, but keeping alliances with Black and women's groups still functional.

Thus the Third Way tries to temper the harsher neoliberalism of the GOP by ‘triangulating' with neo-Keynesian and left-Keynesian policies. But the overall effect is to move Democrats and their platform generally rightward. This had been Hillary Clinton's starting point in her campaign. But caught off guard by the Sanders insurgency, she adopted some positions, at least for the sake of campaigning, from both the former Liberal-Labor bloc and the Congressional Progressive Caucus. She kept her ‘Rainbow' allies with her this way.

Now that HRC was narrowly defeated, the Third Way's power in the party has diminished somewhat. Its labor alliances have weakened, with unions now going in three directions. In terms of the current relation of forces in the party apparatus, the Third Way about 60% of the positions but still controls the major money. In California, for example, the Regulars kept control of the state party committee only with extremely narrow margins over Bernie supporters. The key test is the November midterms: Who will inspire and mobilize the much-needed ‘Blue Wave', give it focus and put the right numbers in the right places?  The measured moderates? Or the insurgent left? This brings us to the last of the six ‘parties.'

The Social Democrats. This is a better description than simply calling it the Congressional Progressive Caucus, as in the first version. I've also taken off ‘Rainbow' from the second version because this term is more fairly shared with the Third Way, which has kept the older and more pragmatic voters of the rainbow groupings under its centrist influence. And as before, the ‘Social Democrat' title doesn't mean each leader active here is in a social-democrat group. It means the core of the CPC, PDA, WFP and Our Revolution platforms are roughly similar to the left social democrat groupings in Europe.  

This is made even more evident with Bernie's self-description as a ‘democratic socialist' in the primaries, where it only seemed to help. It must be noted, however, that the platform is not socialism itself, but best described as a common front vs finance capital, war, and the white supremacist right. This is true of groups like Die Linke (‘The Left') in Germany as well. 

Finally, there is the dramatic growth of the Democratic Socialists of America due to their wise tactics in the Bernie campaign. They went all in for Bernie but also lost no opening to make themselves visible. Now with over 32.000 members which chapters in every state, they are winning a few local and statehouse races. They are now a player in their own right.

This is all to the good. The common front approach can unite more than a militant minority of actual socialists. Instead, it's a platform that can also unite a progressive majority around both immediate needs and structural reforms, including both socialists and non-socialists. Apart from winning many state primaries and 46% of the Convention delegates with a positive, high road approach, this party is now noted for two things: first, the huge, elemental outpourings of young people, mainly women, students and the young workers of the distressed ‘precariat' sector of the class, in elemental risings of millions after Trump took office.  Second, its organized character, with groups like Our Revolution, Indivisible, and the Working Families Party added to this dynamic and growing cluster.

What Does It All Mean?

With this brief descriptive and analytical mapping of the upper crust of American politics, many things are falling into place. The formerly subaltern groupings in the GOP have risen in revolt against the Neoliberal Establishment of the Romneys and the Bushes. Now they want hegemony. On the other hand, the Third Wayer are seeking a ‘restoration' of the Obama coalition, with its alliances with the Keynesian Labor Liberals, while co-opting and controlling the Social Democrats as energetic but critical secondary ally. The Sanders forces have few illusions about this and don't want to be anyone's subaltern. So they continue to press all their issues and policies of a common front vs finance capital, war, and the white supremacist right, building more organization and more clout as they go.

This 'big picture' also reveals much about the current budget debates, which are shown to be three-sided--the extreme austerity neoliberalism of all three parties under the GOP tent, , the 'austerity lite' budget of the Third Way-dominated Senate Democrats, and the left Keynesian, progressive and social democratic 'Back to Work' budget of the Social Democrats and the Congressional Progressive Caucus. The 'Keynesian Labor Liberals' are divided, though they often holding decent programs as positions. But looking for side deals with Trump at the same time may not turn out too well. 

We have to keep in mind, however, that 'shifting the balance of forces' is mainly an indirect and somewhat ephemeral gain. It does 'open up space', but for what? Progressive initiatives matter for sure, but much more is required strategically. We are interested in pushing the popular front vs. finance capital to its limits, and within that effort, developing a 21st-century socialist bloc. If that comes to scale in the context of a defeat of the right, the 'Democratic Tent' is also likely to collapse and implode, given the sharper class contractions and other fault lines that lie within it, much as the Whigs did in the 19th Century. That demands an ability to regroup all the progressive forces there and on the outside into a new 'First Party' alliance, one that also includes a militant minority of socialists, which will be able to contend for power.

An old classic formula summing up the strategic thinking of the united front is appropriate here: 'Unite and develop the progressive forces, win over the middle forces, isolate and divide the backward forces, then crush our adversaries one by one.' In short, we have to have a policy and set of tactics for each one of these elements, as well as a strategy for dealing with them overall. Moreover, take note of warning from the futurist Alvin Toffler: 'If you don't have a strategy, you're part of someone else's strategy.' Then finally, as to tactics, ‘wage struggle on just grounds, to our advantage and with restraint.'

To conclude, we still need to start with a realistic view of ourselves as an organized socialist left. Save for DSA, we are quite small as organizations, but now we can see we are swimming in a sea of millions open to socialism. What can we do now? If you can see yourself or your group honestly working to achieve DSA's stated program, by all means, join and make them larger. Or set up Jacobin / In These Times Reading Groups in your living rooms and unite socialists with them. Join or start PDA or WFP chapters everywhere, use base organizations and broad 'Third Reconstruction' alliances and popular rainbow assemblies to build mass mobilizations and defeat the GOP in November. 

With both socialists and Rainbow progressives, start at the base, focus on city and state governments, and expand the Congressional Progressive Caucus. You rarely gain victories at the top that have not been won and consolidated earlier at the base. Most of all, in order to form broader and winning coalitions, you need organizations of your own to form coalitions and alliances WITH! Seize the time and Git ‘er done!

Carl Davidson is a national committee member of the Committee of Correspondence for Democracy and Socialism,  a DSA member in the Steel Valley, an activist with Progressive Democrats of American in Western PA's 17th CD, and a LeftRoots Compa. The views expressed here are his own.

[multiversemuses]

Never Tickle a Sleeping Dragon || A Slytherin House Altercation

@darthvoldemaul

Cori could ignore a lot of nonsense. When it came to student rivalry, Slytherin was known to do its fair share of bragging and swaggering. However, some members of her house seemed to be all hiss and no bite. One boy struck her as especially guilty of this. Due to being louder than any other arrogant parties, he was also significantly more difficult to tune out. Draco Malfoy. The privileged only son of Lucius Malfoy preened more than the albino peacock his family kept on their property, and he made just as much ruckus. The Malfoys had money, influence, and power -- all facts which Draco had doubtless been fed since birth, and all of which gave him the impact of being a richly powerful pain in the ass.

Today, Draco was boisterous as he swept into the common room with a large posse in tow. Crabbe and Goyle (whose nose looked oddly speckled and sore) flanked him. Pansy Parkinson was not far behind and trying her best to weave past them. Several strides back from the usual trio, Cori estimated that there were at least an additional dozen following Draco’s every step. She curled her lip and went back to her Potions textbook. Her brow furrowed as she tried to block out Draco’s voice and focus on homework. The expression of concentration on Cori's face morphed into an irritated scowl as Draco's calls grew noisier with each proclamation. 

“Badges! Get your badges, if you haven’t already!” he shouted gaily. His hand plunged repeatedly into the bag at his hip. Draco passed the contents to his cronies, delegating the task of distribution to everyone but himself. “Supplies are limited, so don’t miss out!”

Judging from the metallic clinking that reached Cori’s ears every time Draco rifled past his books, this was a bold-faced lie. He had enough to adorn all of Slytherin house and then some, from the sound of it. The braggart merely wanted to create a false impression of high demand. 

Crabbe shuffled across the floor with several badges clenched in his sweaty hands. He came to a halt in front of Cori and fanned out his fingers, waiting for her to take one. 

“No, thanks,” she said tersely without making eye contact. 

Crabbe blinked at her in befuddlement. He nudged a single badge over his skin with a short and jagged fingernail. His arm extended farther, entering Cori’s field of vision. It was as if Crabbe thought forcing her to get a closer look at his offering would change her mind. Cori tucked two fingers into the Potions book to mark her page and finally looked up at him. Her lips formed a flat line.

“Yes, I saw it perfectly well from across the room, which I’m sure was the point of its design,” she acknowledged. “Still don’t want one, you semi-sentient boulder. Move along.”

“What’s this, then?” a second voice interrupted. Draco.

Cori let out a beleaguered sigh. She turned her still very visibly perturbed face to him. 

“Go on, Selwyn,” Draco goaded with what he must have assumed to be a charming smile. “They’re two for one, really. The message changes, see?” 

The pad of his forefinger covered the upper half of the badge, which read SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY. All the letters of the first slogan swirled and changed before turning green to spell: POTTER STINKS.

Cori’s eyebrows lifted. “You wasted that much time on little button things for other houses?”

A flicker of annoyance crossed Draco’s face. He plucked the badge off Crabbe’s hand and pinched the pin between two fingers. 

“It’s not a waste,” he argued. “It’s taking Potter down a peg, which still leaves his opinion of himself about fifty notches above where it ought to be.”

“Sounds like you know a lot about having an excess of self-confidence,” Cori remarked dryly. “Half your badge might do that, but the other half cheers on Cedric. He’s a Hufflepuff. Harry’s a Gryffindor. Why mention either by name if they aren’t Slytherins like us? It could just say something about Hogwarts in general.”

“Because it’s important everyone sees that nobody wanted Potter representing us. His trick to get attention backfired. Everyone hates him now.” Draco cast a look behind him at his friends. Several murmured in agreement or nodded their assent. 

“And yet I don’t see anyone else making merchandise to say so.” Cori set aside her book and sat up straighter, resigned to the oncoming argument. She squared her shoulders and draped her open hands across the arms of the chair.  

“I expect they would’ve, but I beat them to it. Anything after this would look like a pathetic knockoff.” Draco bounced the heel of his hand, causing the badge to flip midair and catch the light. He caught it and held the emblem out to Cori as Crabbe had done. “Take the damn badge. You’ll be the only one here without one, elsewise, and you wouldn’t want people thinking you’re a Potter fan. You don’t support Potter do you, Selwyn?” His smile shifted into something more smug and jeering.

“I don’t give a good goddamn who got chosen, so long as Durmstrang and Beauxbatons get obliterated in the tasks. They’re the ones who really need to be taken down a peg or two, if you ask me. Put them on one of your buttons.” Cori reached as if she were going to pick up her textbook again but, predictably, Draco wasn’t finished yet. 

“Little Coriander Selwyn, waving a banner for half-blood Harry Potter.” Draco tsked. “What would Mummy and Daddy have to say about that?”

“I don’t know or particularly care. I’m not the one who keeps my parents as pen pals,” Cori retorted. She held an imaginary quill in the air and made strokes across an invisible piece of parchment. “Dear Mum, Second best at everything, as ever, but I made wearable circles with words on them and everyone thinks they’re brill! Love and Kisses, Draco. P.S., Please ask Father to stop sending back his envelopes unopened.”

Pansy swooped down and emitted a steady stream of scathing insults, but they were drowned out by Draco’s sharp reply.

“Careful, Selwyn, the last person who crossed me went to the hospital wing.”

Cori scoffed. “Granger? You can’t take credit for that one, Malfoy; the hex was meant for Potter!”

“Potter’s hex missed, too!” Pansy was quick to retort.

Draco jumped in immediately afterward. “Granger went from rabbit to walrus in ten seconds flat!” He and Pansy laughed. 

“And what difference does that make?” Cori overrode them both. “Why do you even know how long they were to begin with? Do you spend a lot of time staring at Hermione Granger’s mouth?”

Pansy looked as if she could breathe fire, but Cori noted with satisfaction that her eyes darted frantically to the boy at her side. Draco, for his part, had an unusual amount of color in his generally pale face. 

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Draco snarled. “Anyone who’s ever had a class with her knows what her teeth are like. They’re right in your face every time she speaks.”

“And she never shuts up!” Pansy added. 

“Right, sure.” Cori nodded slowly. She touched her fingers together in a steeple. “You know, Malfoy, if Granger bothers you in class so much, why don’t you just spend more time studying so you can answer faster? I’m sure everyone will be thankful for the peace and quiet while you have that pointy nose in a book.”

Pansy harrumphed. “What, like you?”

“And how do you stand up for Slytherin?” Draco crossed his arms over his chest, one hand closing around the badge. “What would you suggest, exactly?”

“We’re the house known for our ambition! Let your actions speak for themselves. Tearing down the competition doesn’t raise you any higher, you fumbling git. Beating them at their own game is what makes sure you stay at the top. If you’ve got a problem with someone, you defeat them at what they do best and make sure there are witnesses.” Here, Cori mirrored Draco’s earlier smirk back at him and looked pointedly at the crowd of fellow Slytherins behind them. A look of dawning comprehension appeared behind his gray eyes. 

Draco’s jaw clenched. He cast the badge aside. It hit a nearby pillar with a quiet crack and clattered to the floor. 

“All right, Selwyn, since you’re so keen for a fight,” Draco growled through clenched teeth, “how about you and I settle this in a duel?”

Cori was on her feet, wand in hand and pointed just below his chin, before Draco had even twitched his fingers toward the pocket of his robes.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you not mean now?” Cori asked innocently, although her wand remained exactly where it was. “I can give you a while to prepare, if you’d like. You can send your dear old mum a list of last wishes. Tell your dad how you’re about to get your ego blasted off and handed to you by a girl who’s eight inches shorter and a year your junior.”

For a moment, Draco tried to draw himself to his full height and sneer down his nose at her. Cori could see the calculations that must be taking place in his mind, realizing just how much judgment and criticism he would face if Cori were the victor. She could also tell how badly he wanted to inform her that his father would hear about this, but she had effectively denied him his most reliable threat. 

“This isn’t over, Selwyn,” he spat. “Watch your back.”

Cori snorted derisively. “I won’t need to. If Moody finds out you tried the coward’s way again, he’ll present you to me as a winter stole. Well, you and about two dozen of your white-haired polecat friends.”

She twitched her nose, imitating his unanticipated transformation into a ferret earlier that year. Draco was positively pink with fury.

“I’ll make sure you regret this,” he promised with a jab of his finger. 

Draco swept away in a rather clumsy swish of his cloak. He stalked off toward his dorm room with Pansy following as far as the magical separation security would allow. 

Cori picked up her book once more and settled comfortably back into her chair as she called after Draco:

“Be sure to send me an owl with the place and time!”

[thereallygoodblogshow]

MA Fashion and Textile Practices Major Project Path - 5th September

Punk and Vivienne Westwood

The punk scene in both the UK and America was of course to continue long after the demise of the Sex Pistols, they were just the catalyst to project the punk sound into the mainstream. In the US bands such as; The Stimulators, Bad Brains - significant for being the first all black punk band, Black Flag - my brothers favourite band, Dead Kennedy’s, Agnostic Front, Minor Threat and more had all drawn inspiration from the like of Iggy Pop and The Stooges, the Ramones and the Sex Pistols and carried punk forward into the future. Bands like Nirvana, Rage Against the Machine and Green Day are bands we know today because they were inspired by those earlier punk pioneers. Billy Joe Armstrong (2010), lead singer of Green Day spoke to Rolling Stone magazine about the Sex Pistols impact on him as a writer:

“The Sex Pistols released just one album … but it punched a huge hole in everything that was bulls*** about rock music, and everything that was going wrong with the world, too, no one else has had that kind of impact with one album. Never Mind the Bollocks is the root of everything that goes on at modern-rock radio. It’s just an amazing thing that no one’s been able to live up to.”

In the UK The Clash and The Damned continued with chart success’s and other bands grew from punks influence such as; Joy Division, Siouxsie and the Banshees - who had been around for some years but were now getting noticed, The Cure, The Fall, Caberet Voltaire and many more. The sound was categorised as alternative and independent music. Johnny Rotten himself was soon to fall foul of Malcolm McLaren who left him stranded in San Francisco without money or a flight home, McLaren was off to forge his own career in pop and to manage other bands such as Adam and the Ants and Bow Wow Wow - both of which were dressed by Vivienne Westwood. Eventually finding his way home to London, Rotten formed his own band called Public Image Ltd, a sarcastic reference to the media machine that McLaren had so desperately pushed the Sex Pistols towards.       

Public Image Ltd [PiL Official, Public Image Ltd]. (2013, Oct 10). Public Image Limited - This Is Not A Love Song (Official Video) [Video file]. Retrieved from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Az_GCJnXAI0

Malcolm was to go on and achieve relative chart success with songs such as ‘Buffalo Gals’, ‘Double Dutch’ and ‘Madame Butterfly’ which is one of my favourite songs. Growing up in the 80′s I had no idea who Malcolm McLaren was but I liked the songs he produced. His sound had taken influences from hip hop culture and electronic sounds and mixed them together, much like his attitude towards collaboration amongst bands in his punk days. I get the impression from my research that he wasn’t well liked on the punk scene, The Damned lead vocalist Dave Vanian (2019) once described him as “a Fagin type character”, and we all know how Johnny Rotten felt about him before and after the end of the Sex Pistols. He doesn’t come across as overly likable, but you cannot deny his ability to see the potential in people and the way he utilised his instinct for business.      

Malcolm McLaren [Sherry Wallace]. (2012, Dec 22). "madam butterfly" malcolm mclaren [Video file]. Retrieved from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3JN8o8-ZK5s

After the breakup of the Sex Pistols in 1978, Vivienne Westwood had already renamed her and McLaren’s shop SEX on The Kings Road to Seditionaires, and had been selling clothing inspired by fetish and bondage clothing into wearable fashion, utilising zips, pins and straps within her designs. This of course was a huge hit with the punk youth and bands McLaren adorned. In 1980 Vivienne was left disenchanted with the collapse of punk in the UK and renamed the shop Worlds End, as that’s how it must have appeared to be. This name was to be the last incarnation of the shop and is still called Worlds End today.     

Westwood, V. (1977). Anarchist Punk Gang – The 1% ers shirt from Seditionaries,1977. [Clothing]. Retrieved from https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/185218.

In 1981 Westwood and McLaren showed their work for the first time on the major catwalks, this was The Pirate Collection based on a romanticised vision of the pirate. This look was to be seminal in the New Romantic aesthetic, showcased especially by bands such as Visage and Adam and the Ants. Vivienne pioneered her own cutting techniques based on rectangles and taking inspiration from historical cuts. She would make a toile of the garment in smaller scale on a reduced sized dummy, once the fit was correct it was then scaled it up to actual size. Throughout the 80′s Westwood continued to be inspired by different cultures and times, her collection in SS'82 was Buffalo Girls, in AW that year it was Peruvian women, SS’83 was Blade Runner and so on. It was to be what she called her Pagan years. By 1984 her collaboration with Malcolm McLaren had ceased. 

Westwood had been with McLaren since her break up from her first husband Derek in 1965. She already had son Ben, whom she’d had with Derek when they moved into a flat in Clapham. They then went on to have son Joseph together in 1967. Prior to meeting Derek she had been a primary school teacher and had made her own jewellery, which she sold on a stall on Portobello Road. Westwood has said that although he was a driving force behind her, she felt he was controlling. Westwood (2014) said of their meeting; 

“Malcolm chased me, I didn’t want him for my boyfriend. He didn’t look after himself. And I started trying to cook for him a bit and stuff like that. And, well, that’s how it started. The point is, I didn’t want Malcolm at first, but I did, in fact, end up getting pregnant by him, even then, I didn’t really want him."        

Westwood, V. (1977). The Pirate Collection. [Clothing]. Retrieved from https://blog.viviennewestwood.com/the-story-so-far/.

In the late 80′s Westwood’s style changed again, this time her girls were seen sporting fashion which parodied the upper classes. Westwood’s 1987 Harris Tweed collection was inspired by a young ballet dancer she had spotted on the tube wearing her hair up in a plaited bun, ballet shoes in bag and wearing a Harris Tweed jacket. For this collection she used fine wool tweeds and velvet’s -  fabrics that the aristocracy would have used. This air of luxury continued to be a feature throughout most of her collections in the 80′s, her signature corsets becoming pieces to aspire to. Her model muse at the time was Sara Stockbridge who had the perfect look to carry Vivienne’s signature aesthetic. I always remember the cover of I-D magazine Sara was on, she was just so quirky and different compared to other models at the time.    

I-D Magazine, n.d. (1987). Sara Stockbridge 50th Anniversary Issue. [Editorial]. Retrieved from https://www.brennan-and-burch.co.uk/blogs/b-and-b-blog/45795267-sara-stockbridge-iconic-muse-of-an-era.

Ryan, D. (1987). Harris Tweed Collection. [Photograph]. Retrieved from http://worldsendshop.co.uk/lips-print/.

The 90′s decade sees her Anglomania years, Westwood’s take on the connection in fashion between the UK and France. She said (1993) of the collection:

“On the English side we have tailoring and an easy charm, on the French side that solidity of design and proportion that comes from never being satisfied because something can always be done to make it better, more refined.”

She took inspiration from Gainsborough’s paintings, country charm and France’s obsession with English tailoring. And in the winter of that year she went all out for tartan - a look we probably most associate with Westwood’s post punk collections. The collection was created in conjunction with her new husband Andreas Kronthaler. They had met previously in 1988 when Westwood was teaching for Fashion Design at the Vienna School of Applied Art. He moved to London to work for her company in 1989, and their first joint collection was the Cut and Slash collection in SS’1991. They married in 1993 and have been married ever since. Whilst he is essentially a silent partner in her business she has since acknowledged him as a major contributor to her Gold Collection for the last 25 years.    

Westwood, V. (1993). Andreas Kronthaler for Vivienne Westwood. [Photograph]. Retrieved from https://www.vogue.com/fashion-shows/fall-1993-ready-to-wear/andreas-kronthaler-for-vivienne-westwood.

From 2000 to present Westwood has concentrated on what she calls her Exploration years. She has been fascinated by the properties of different fabrics and what they can bring to her designs, one has fed the other, she has been treating fabric like a living entity. Since her early days on The Kings Road she has been incredibly successful as a designer. She has 12 Vivienne Westwood stores in the UK and another 63 outlets worldwide, as well as a comprehensive e commerce website. 

Of late Vivienne has become concerned about the sustainability of her fashion business and ‘fast fashion’ within the fashion industry as a whole. Her new mantra is ‘quality not quantity’ and has no qualms about using her name as leverage to get ethical fashion into the mainstream. In 2014 she put a halt on expanding her business further - despite her business in China doing so well - to concentrate on seeing how her own business was effecting the environment and to work hard to ensure that her own standards of sustainability were met. Westwood (2014) said of this decision:

“Do I feel guilty about all the consumption that the fashion world promotes? Well, I can answer that by saying that I am now trying to make my own business more efficient and self-sustaining. This also means trying to make everybody who works in it happy, if I can."     

That same year she launched her ‘Save The Arctic Campaign’ which featured no less than 60 celebrities sporting a specially designed T-Shirt with all proceeds of the sale going towards the charity and climate activists Greenpeace. The campaign featured celebrities such as George Clooney, Chris Martin, Grayson Perry, Kate Moss to name but a few, who were photographed by award-winning celebrity photographer Andy Gotts. Vivienne, along with some of the celebrities traveled the London underground to promote the campaign, and were pictured on the long escalators - lined with the remaining celebrity photographs - which lead up to the main head quarters of Shell Oil.

Gotts, A. (2014). Paloma Faith Save The Arctic. [Photograph]. Retrieved from https://www.viviennewestwood.com/en/westwood-world/save-the-artic-campaign/.

Zimbio, n.d. (2015). Vivienne Westwood, Sadie Frost, Leebo Freeman and Andy Gotts attend the Save The Arctic Collection launch at Waterloo Station on July 13, 2015 in London, England.. [Photograph]. Retrieved from http://www.zimbio.com/photos/Vivienne+Westwood/Andy+Gotts/Save+Arctic+Collection+Launch+Photocall/57Ugwti3R73.

The T-Shirt design featured a heart shaped globe with a flag marking the Arctic region. Vivienne (2014) felt the help of celebrities was beneficial to the campaign:

“Andy is popular with celebrities because he makes it all a pleasant experience. I also really relied on the help of Jerry Hall and Georgia May to do this. Celebrities are often the key to getting a message across, public opinion is very responsive to celebrity.” 

The logo for Save The Arctic was also used to launch her SS’14 Gold Label collection show. The campaign has gone part way in ending Shell Oil’s interest on the area. After three years of constant campaigning by Greenpeace and with the support of over 7 million people, Shell Oil have quit drilling in the Arctic. There is still has a long way to go before the pressure is off this magnificent region, which supports human life and animal life not found anywhere else on Earth. 

Westwood wasn’t content to leave campaign there however, and in 2019 at London fashion week John Sauven, executive director of Greenpeace UK, along with Vivienne herself took to the catwalk to conduct a climate protest catwalk spectacular. London fashion week was the ideal platform for Westwood, already a seasoned fashion aficionado and Greenpeace to push the need for large fashion brands to start taking sustainability and climate change into consideration, before it’s too late. John Sauven referenced Greta Thunberg - the school girl who made a stand against climate change by sitting outside the parliament building in Sweden, but then had the incredible support of 1.5 million school children around the world when on the 15th March came out of their schools in support of her. Sauven (2019) said of her actions:

"Greta is that shy girl sitting at the back of the classroom, she’s not a leader, she doesn’t see herself in that way. She sees herself as a very shy, quiet girl who doesn’t usually say very much. And you think, wow, that’s immense power, and it gives you immense hope. You need all these different types of people to create change. The people that shout the loudest, they maybe aren’t the people you’re going to see coming forward in the next generation.”    

In the last few years Vivienne Westwood has concentrated more on using her fashion and status for campaigning and activism. She has gone on to look at how businesses can reform their policies, looking at climate ecology, looking at the effect of fracking and supporting to anti-fracking campaigns, and giving support to Cool Earth - a charity which helps indigenous communities to halt deforestation. She has her own Climate Revolution website which she fills with information on her campaigning and current fashion related items. She often designs T-Shirt graphics and donates the designs to be used by charities, her latest T-Shirt is for the charity magazine Big Issue. Here Vivienne (2019) explains her reasoning why her new Tao T-Shirt is priced at £120:

Vivienne Westwood [Vivienne Westwood]. (2019, Aug 19). IoU - Cotton and the Fashion Industry [Video file]. Retrieved from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=evSoIaootlE

I totally support Vivienne’s attitude on why we should be paying more for our fashion - paying more and buying less. I had to think about the last time I actually bought something new, most of my purchases are from eBay or charity shops, being poor certainly helps you budget for fashion! I also love her mantra of ‘Buy well, choose well and make it last’, which applies to us as the consumer and also to fashion industry brands who need to look at the materials they are using and the way they are manufacturing their products. £120 is a lot for a T-Shirt but I can see the reasoning behind the price tag, you are paying for a more sustainable product which should have the longevity to be worn for many years, and the skilled workers who are paid fair wages to make it. As well as the proceeds going towards the Big Issue -  a charity which has helped homeless people in the UK for many years.  

The Big Issue, n.d. (2019). Vivienne Westwood's exclusive design just for The Big Issue is available from her store for £120 with all proceeds going to The Big Issue. [Fashion]. Retrieved from https://www.bigissue.com/latest/why-vivienne-westwood-collaborated-with-the-big-issue-on-a-limited-edition-t-shirt/.

The T-Shirt is really nice actually, it’s a call to the younger generation to build their characters, because it’s their characters which shape them as human beings, they are the ones who are going to create the future. I based my practice work on Vivienne’s Climate Revolution T-Shirt because I liked the simple sleeveless shape and raw edges, clearly based around the use of the rectangle that she has used in many of her collections. 

Vivienne Westwood has always used the T-Shirt as the affordable and accessible way of buying her fashion, as with many high fashion designers, it is the one product which enables the consumer to purchase a piece of them. It’s the one product which is wearable by so many, it’s a unisex item which appeals to a broad range of people - and the more the merrier if it’s promoting a good cause.     

https://www.viviennewestwood.com/en/women/clothing/t-shirts/square-t-shirt-climate-revolution-white-nat-white-CLA305AW550168.html?cgid=women-clothing-tshirts#page=1&start=5

Vivienne Westwood became a Dame in 1992 when she received her OBE from Queen Elizabeth II. Always the one to make a statement, she went commando to the awards ceremony and apparently forgot her lack of underwear when twirling in her skirt for the photographers! Making a statement has been a way of life for Vivienne Westwood, from her early designs in her shop Let It Rock and then SEX to showing her support for numerous campaigns as a charity activist - she is the ultimate fashion queen of punk and long may she reign!   

The Big Issue, n.d. (2019). Vivienne Westwood is making a fashion statement with the Big Issue. [Editorial]. Retrieved from http://climaterevolution.co.uk/wp/hero-post/vivienne-westwood-is-making-a-fashion-statement-with-the-big-issue/.

Websites:

Pavarini, M.C. (2014). Vivienne Westwood designs logo for Greenpeace. Retrieved from https://www.sportswear-international.com/news/stories/Vivienne-Westwood-designs-logo-for-Greenpeace-7945.

Thorpe, V. (2014). Vivienne Westwood: climate change, not fashion, is now my priority. Retrieved from https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2014/feb/08/vivienne-westwood-arctic-campaign.

Alexander, E. (2014). Vivienne Westwood 'didn’t want' to have a relationship with Malcolm McLaren: 'I thought that maybe he’d got the wrong idea and it was my fault. Retrieved from https://www.independent.co.uk/news/people/vivienne-westwood-didn-t-want-to-have-a-relationship-with-malcolm-mclaren-i-thought-that-maybe-he-d-9746980.html.

Westwood, V. (n.d). The story so far. Retrieved from https://blog.viviennewestwood.com/the-story-so-far/.

Westwood, V. (n.d). Climate Revolution. Retrieved from http://climaterevolution.co.uk/wp/hero-post/vivienne-westwood-is-making-a-fashion-statement-with-the-big-issue/.

Hall, H. (2014). Vivienne Westwood launches star-studded Save the Arctic Campaign. Retrieved from https://www.stylist.co.uk/life/vivienne-westwood-launches-star-studded-save-the-arctic-campaign-featuring-kate-moss-naomi-campbell-and-david-gandy/60901.

Whitehouse, M. (2019). vivienne westwood and greenpeace talk staying angry and finding hope. Retrieved from https://i-d.vice.com/en_uk/article/ywy4gg/vivienne-westwood-greenpeace-john-sauven-climate-crisis.

Whitmore, G. (2013). Vivienne Westwood: Her life and career so far - in pictures. Retrieved from Whitmore, G. (2013). Vivienne Westwood: Her life and career so far - in pictures. Retrieved from https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/gallery/2013/nov/30/vivienne-westwood-sexpistols.

Petrusich, A. (2016). Where Punk Rock Begins. Retrieved from https://www.newyorker.com/culture/cultural-comment/where-punk-rock-begins.

Chick, S. (2017). MC5 – 10 of the best. Retrieved from https://www.theguardian.com/music/2017/aug/17/mc5-10-of-the-best.

Uhelszki, J. (2018). MC5 on ‘Kick Out The Jams’: “We weren’t on a meth power trip… just a power trip”. Retrieved from https://www.uncut.co.uk/features/the-making-of-mc5-s-kick-out-the-jams-33061.

Gibson, C. (2016). What happened in Chicago in 1968, and why is everyone talking about it now?. Retrieved from https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/arts-and-entertainment/wp/2016/07/18/what-happened-in-chicago-in-1968-and-why-is-everyone-talking-about-it-now/?noredirect=on.

BBC News. (2018). 1968 Democratic National Convention: A 'week of hate'. Retrieved from https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-us-canada-45226132.

Ramone, M. (n.d). Marky Ramone. Retrieved from http://www.markyramone.com/biography/.

Rowley, S. (2017). The Damned: an epic tale of fast living and faster music. Retrieved from https://www.loudersound.com/features/the-damned-an-epic-tale-of-fast-living-and-faster-music. 

Phillips, S. (2013). Robert Golden's best photograph: the 1976 Notting Hill carnival riots. Retrieved from https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2013/mar/13/robert-golden-best-photograph.

Song Facts. (n.d). White Riot by The Clash. Retrieved from https://www.songfacts.com/facts/the-clash/white-riot. 

Ward, O. (2019). British politics is (Johnny) rotten—no wonder punk music is making a comeback. Retrieved from https://www.prospectmagazine.co.uk/arts-and-books/british-politics-is-johnny-rotten-no-wonder-punk-music-is-making-a-comeback. 

Lauderdale, B. (2015). A Brief Political History Of The United Kingdom. Retrieved from https://fivethirtyeight.com/features/a-brief-political-history-of-the-united-kingdom/. 

BBC News. (2011). Smashed Hits: Is London Calling the best anthem for a city?. Retrieved from https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-14324385.

Welch, J. (2016). Sex Pistols: Anarchy in the UK and the tour they tried to ban. Retrieved from https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-norfolk-38165091. 

Serena, K. (2018). The Short, Tragic Romance Of Sid Vicious And Nancy Spungen. Retrieved from https://allthatsinteresting.com/nancy-spungen.

Alt Press. (2018). WAS THE SEX PISTOLS’ FIRST US TOUR AS DESTRUCTIVE AS REPORTS SAY?. Retrieved from https://www.altpress.com/features/sex_pistols_first_u-s-_tour_destructive_1978/.

Wawzenek, B. (2017). Influence and Infamy: How the Sex Pistols Impacted the Future of Music. Retrieved from https://diffuser.fm/sex-pistols-influence/.

Perry, A. (2018). The end of the Sex Pistols: how punk died 40 years ago today, and John Lydon rose from its ashes. Retrieved from https://www.telegraph.co.uk/music/what-to-listen-to/end-sex-pistols-punk-died-40-years-ago-today-john-lydon-rose/. 

Documentaries:

Miller, J.J. , MacDonald, E. , Barbisan, J. , Tabata, S. (Writers) & Miller, J.J. (Director). (2019). Punk: Part 1 [Television series episode]. In D. Murray (Producer), Punk. Canada, North America: Sky Arts. 

Miller, J.J. , MacDonald, E. , Barbisan, J. , Tabata, S. (Writers) & Miller, J.J. (Director). (2019). Punk: Part 2 [Television series episode]. In D. Murray (Producer), Punk. Canada, North America: Sky Arts.

Miller, J.J. , MacDonald, E. , Barbisan, J. , Tabata, S. (Writers) & Miller, J.J. (Director). (2019). Punk: Part 3 [Television series episode]. In D. Murray (Producer), Punk. Canada, North America: Sky Arts.

Miller, J.J. , MacDonald, E. , Barbisan, J. , Tabata, S. (Writers) & Miller, J.J. (Director). (2019). Punk: Part 4 [Television series episode]. In D. Murray (Producer), Punk. Canada, North America: Sky Arts.        

[trabzonto]

Local Card Shop of the Week: Sports Cards Plus San Antonio

Charlie DiPietro began collecting trading cards in 1957. Sixty years later, he is the owner of Sports Cards Plus, a card shop in San Antonio, TX. He works at the store with his son, Jeff, sharing all the responsibilities while his wife and daughter help when needed. Sports Cards Plus is the true definition of a family business. I recently caught up with the owner of “San Antonio’s Largest Selection of Singles, Packs & Boxes” to get his thoughts on The Hobby and find out how he has been so successful for the last 25 years.

JS – Can you tell me a little about when your shop opened and what led you to become a shop owner?

Charlie – We opened Sports Cards Plus in March of 1992. I was a full-time Civil Service Lead Management Analyst. My wife had just retired from the United States Air Force and encouraged me to start a business with her. I retired from my Civil Service career in 2007 and now work full-time doing what I love to do; share my love for collecting with everyone who walks into our store.

I started collecting baseball cards in 1957, at the age of nine, but never could afford to spend much money collecting. In 1982, my oldest son (age 11 at the time) got interested in collecting baseball cards and renewed my love for collecting. Over the next three years, I grew a nice collection of tobacco cards, pre-war and post war cards. n 1985, I started selling at card shows. At that time there were as many as three card shows every weekend in San Antonio. I quickly learned that the vast majority of collectors wanted new hot stars, so I started buying new products to sell at the shows. When we opened our card shop in 1992, there were over 50 card shops in San Antonio with 18 within 3 miles of Sports Cards Plus.

JS – Collecting has changed quite a bit since 1992, when we were in the thick of the “junk wax era”. The peaks and valleys we’ve experienced in the hobby have made people modify how they collect over the years. What do you see different with today’s hobby and collector vs. in 1992?

Charlie – Back in the 1980’s and early 1990’s, collectors made sets. They wanted one of every card. Investors would pick rookies and stars and buy “bricks (as many as 100 of one card)” of their investment favorites. Soon, new card collectors were demanding something different; something truly rare and worth more money. The manufacturers came out with more and more products. They came out with “premium products.” In the 1990’s, a card numbered to 10,000 was considered rare. Autographs and memorabilia cards didn’t commonly hit the hobby until 1998. Now, it is predominately about low numbered autographs and premium memorabilia cards. Everyone wants to pull a “One of One” of their favorite star or rookie.

Back in 1988, I was set up at a card show in Dallas when I was approached by Richard McWilliam with some samples of his upcoming 1989 Upper Deck Baseball. Not being able to see into the future, when Mr. McWilliam told me Upper Deck Baseball would retail for $1.00 per pack, I told him “I don’t know if collectors are willing to pay $1.00 per pack.” Today, we have Flawless, National Treasures, Exquisite, The Cup, The Mint and Definite.

JS– Since you opened in 1992, the arrival of the internet has also had a major effect on the industry. How have you been able to adapt to online competition and keep your brick and mortar store popular?

Charlie – We are in the entertainment business. We have to make sure our customers feel like they are getting their money’s worth for their entertainment dollar. And, no one wants to pay “too much.”

Our prices are about as low as anyone on the internet. Overall, our gross profit margin is less than 10 percent. We constantly have events and contests. (**These include contests where the first collector to pull “X” wins $100, a quarterly drawing for $500, participation in all of the “Free Pack” Manufacturer Promotions and drawings for autographed memorabilia. On Labor Day, a customer won a Deshaun Watson signed Clemson Jersey with Beckett COA.) We introduce customers to each other. We allow them to trade with each other any time, any day. This builds a collecting community that can’t quite be duplicated over the internet. We offer our store as a meeting place where fellow collectors can share in the excitement of “The Big Hit.” We call these big hits a “Super Hit.” We have so many Super Hits pulled in our store, we call it the “The Super Hit Factory.” We encourage customers to open their boxes and packs in our store by offering free top loaders for their hits (autos and memorabilia). This allows other customers to see what comes out of product boxes and encourages customers to follow one good box with another. It also encourages customers on the fence with a purchase to go ahead and take the plunge. For expensive products, we offer in-store box group breaks. We participate in Panini Sneak Peeks, where we are given access to products a few days before release. We buy back cards from products opened in our store.

JS – Over the years, you must have seen some amazing pulls by your customers. Can you give us some of the most memorable pulls from “The Super Hit Factory” over the last 25 years?

Charlie – We take pictures of “Big Pulls” in our store for posting on our Blog, Facebook and Twitter. Our customers are our biggest asset. When they do good, we do good. I am sure I am missing something but to name a few:

Lebron James National Treasures Logoman Larry Bird National Treasures Autographed Logoman Babe Ruth National Treasures Jumbo Swatch Jersey Booklet #d/3 2014-15 Eminence Ty Cobb Autographed Cut 1/1 Leaf Best of Basketball Michael Jordan 1986 Fleer RC BGS 9.5 Leaf Rookie Retro 2000 Bowman Tom Brady RC PSA 10 Leaf Rookie Retro 1952 Topps Willie Mays Autographed RC PSA Authentic Upper Deck Exquisite Michael Jordan, Larry Bird, Magic Johnson and Dr. J Quad Auto 1/1 Topps Dynasty Roberto Clemente Autographed Cut 1/1 Topps Dynasty Ty Cobb Autographed Cut 1/1 Topps Dynasty Ted Williams Autographed Cut

JS – All of those fit the definition of “Super Hit!” At your store, do you find that the hobby ebbs and flows with the various seasons or do you have a specific sport that stands out? I would imagine that basketball is hard to beat in San Antonio.

Charlie – It is all about the rookies. In 1998, with Peyton Manning and Tim Duncan, both Football and basketball were equally strong. In 2001, with Pujols and Ichiro, baseball was hot. In 2007, with Adrian Peterson & Calvin Johnson, it was football. And 2017 has been all about Aaron Judge and Cody Bellinger. The coming months looks to be the strongest NBA year ever.

JS – As it relates to NBA Cards, you were the winner of the 2015 Panini America NBA $75,000 Hobby Shop Makeover. Can you tell us about how you accomplished that feat? How did the makeover go?

Charlie – I decided to go all out. I held contests for people who opened in our store and left the wrappers for us. I held a drawing; for every $100 in wrappers (price of box purchased) customers got one Drawing Ticket. Third Prize was a factory sealed box of Panini Paramount Basketball, 2nd Prize was a factory sealed box of 2014-15 National Treasures Basketball, and 1st Prize was a factory sealed box of 2014-15 Flawless Basketball.

The makeover was amazing. Panini America and The NBA did an outstanding job. It couldn’t have gone better. Panini America and The NBA also ran our Grand Reopening with a David Robinson Autograph Signing.

JS – That sounds really awesome! I’m sure the Admiral was a huge draw! Since that 2015 Hobby Shop Makeover, we have experienced a couple of healthy years for the hobby thanks to big name rookies like Dak Prescott, Ezekiel Elliott, Aaron Judge, Cody Bellinger and others. With products being heavily sought after, what have been the top 5 hottest products in the store over the last 12 months?

Charlie – National Treasures Football, Prizm Football, Select Football, Donruss Optics Baseball, Topps Inception Baseball and Topps Finest Baseball (sorry, had to name six).

JS – What products are you most looking forward to being released that are on the calendar now?

Charlie – Everything basketball. It is going to be a great year for basketball; all National Treasures, Immaculate and Flawless products. Prizm Football and Select Football are going to be great. We are also looking forward to 2017 Bowman Chrome Baseball, 2017 Bowman High Tek, 2017 Topps High Tek and 2017 Archives Signature Edition.

JS – Because the hobby is so hot right now, we have the perfect opportunity to introduce young collectors, or even re-introduce former collectors that left during the 90’s, to our current hobby world. What advice would you give to those collectors to help them get the most from the hobby?

Charlie – We advise new and former collectors to read Beckett, read the internet and feel free to ask us questions. My son has been working by my side for six years and he is very patient with new collectors. They always leave our store thanking my son, Jeff, for his time and information.

JS – Along those same lines, what steps would you like to see taken within the industry to keep the hobby fresh and appealing to the masses?

Charlie – The Hobby needs more good hobby shops that are a physical meeting place for collectors to form a community. This community will insure all collectors enjoy collecting and feel good about spending their entertainment dollars. Sports Cards Plus is lucky. We won the Panini America NBA $75,000 Hobby Shop Makeover and have a great looking store. We have many great customers who allow us to get by on a 10% profit margin. Unfortunately, not many card shops can afford to operate a first class store on a 10% profit margin. I would like to see better profit margins for card shops so that it would attract more good businessmen to open first-class card shops. Making it clear that our hobby is professional and entertaining is the best way to grow the hobby.

JS – Lastly, are there any upcoming in-store events you would like to make collectors aware of?

Charlie – Our $500.00 Drawing is October 31st – Get a Free Entry matching your every purchase. And always look for contests and Sneak Peeks listed on our website, Facebook and Twitter.

Sports Cards Plus

2251 Lockhill-Selma Rd

San Antonio, TX 78230

Owner – Charlie DiPietro

Phone – 210-524-2337

SportsCardsPlus2239@yahoo.com

eBay – TomorrowsTreasures2003

http://www.sportscardsplussa.com/

Hours:

Monday-Saturday: 11:00 am – 7:00 pm

Sunday: CLOSED

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