#in a growing collection of “pathetic men in position of power” in my work

[rawliverandgoronspice]

one thing that I adore with the various retellings of the oot castle situation in this fandom is that basically everybody has managed to cook up their own flavor of "the unnamed king of hyrule is a little bitch", and I think that's beautiful

[minshookie]

High Ransom.

Pairing |Mafia!BTS x innocent!reader

Genre | smut, angst, dark themed, mafia AU.

Summary | “They all knew your mothers word was good for nothing, she’d never pay it back. So they settled for a painful compromise.”

!warnings! Please read this before reading the fic| 18+ mature language, perverse actions, virginity loss, violent sex, anal sex, oral fem and male receiving, financial struggle, parent death, strict and neglecting mother, cum eating, darcyphilia, urolagnia,slight hate-fuck,reader insert is of age, extremely naive & innocent insert. I do not agree or support any actions depicted in this fictional work,rape. !!NON-CON!! !!non-con!!

| this is not in anyway shape or form a true depiction or representation of BTS, this is a work of fiction and is not to be taken seriously. For entertainment purposes only.|

(this is my work, please don’t repost or steal)

Requested [open for request] words: 4k.

A/N: 200 Follwers?! Hi, I love y’all sm 🤧. But on a serious note, this is the filthiest thing I’ve ever written, I warned y’all. Also the longest one of written yet. I hope it isn’t too much :’) please excuse any mistakes or grammatical errors.

Could they be running late? Shivering you sat in the windowsill towel wrapped around you keeping a sharp eye for their large dark SUV you loved so dearly. They were supposed to be here today, right? Getting up you stretch your legs going to look at your heavily decorated calendar,‘Friends Day!!’ In bright pink informed you, yes indeed they were to be here today.

A smile crept on your face, the confirmation made you feel giddy, the thought of seeing them again made you excited beyond belief. “Y/n I just know you’re dressed and not dripping all over the carpet!” Your mother teased from the living room. You swore she had cameras on you, unraveling yourself you chose one of the few outfits she had put together for you for guest appearances. Closing the curtains, making them look as casual as you could. You then sat on the bed waiting for her to come inspect, counting her footsteps along the creaking wood floors. She crept into your room, a stern expression on her face, you could tell she was stressed with nothing positive to say she mumbled “Stop pulling that face you look exactly like your father.”

You stood from the drab mattress choosing not to respond, “wet spot on the floor?! What’d I tell you to do?!” You hung your head, why must she always scold you. “You told me to get dressed Momma.” She sighed, “and you chose to come in here and prance around, flood the floors and dilly dally instead!” You studied the minuscule dark spots on the carpet, “they’ll dry momma.” You whispered under your breath hoping she wouldn’t decipher your response.

“Excuse me?” She griped your cheek in a pinch making you pull your head up to face her. She took a step back releasing your face, she sucked her teeth in disapproval. “Y/n you’ll have stay in here, that dress has gotten too short on you.” She knew her words hurt you, seeing the boys was the only thing you looked forward to every month. Their attention sometimes felt like your only reason to go forward, to avoid conflict with your mother, their presence being a type of reward. She turned to go and your vision began to blur, tears warmly cascade your plumped cheek.

Leaving you alone in the room, you resume your position in the windowsill moving the curtains just enough to peak. Still no sign of them, maybe they’d given up on the money, left you for good and you couldn’t blame them. If you could leave you would too. At that moment all hopes were given up, no longer keeping an eye out you began to daydream... at least Momma would be happier no longer having to worry about the escalating debt.

Sulking in loneliness you barely noticed a white SUV pulling into their usual cut....whose this? You opened the curtains repositioning,hands in the glass knees on the jagged wood of the windowsill bench. Couldn’t be, oh but it was! You bounced like a hyperactive child, Hoseok climbed from the drivers seat handsomely waving directly at you. They all followed offering you waves and air kisses making both your stomach and heart do flips. Tumbling from the bench you run to your door eccentric to get your fix of attention, affection, friendship.

“Get back y/n, what did I say?” She was waiting for you to break her command, she knew you’d forget. “To stay in my ro-” ��so why don’t you do as told for once?” You fought the bitter tears as they knocked on the door, You shuffled back into your cage of room like a kicked puppy. Shutting the door you sat on the floor compressing your ear along the hard wood.

“Ah, welcome! Come in take a seat can I get you a drink or a meal? Anything really.” She spoke with a quiver, she had nothing to pay them back with absolute zilch. “Where’s y/n?” You smiled warmly, that voice had to be Taehyung. “She’s in bed sick.” “Sick, she looked alright from the window.” Hoseok you idiot. “I’m sorry... you saw her through the window?”

“Ah Ah, we didn’t come to talk about the build of y/n’s room you know what he want.” Jin was all serous business, the room was silent. “Next month for sure.” She lied right through her teeth and they all knew it. “You said that last month, and the month before, and the month before that.” You held your breath, you hated it when they bickered she honestly didn’t have the money you two only lived in this house because it was your father’s property, and everything you got just by luck and the skin of your teeth. She simply couldn’t afford to borrow anymore, as the boys began to add impossible interest.

“Listen, we’ve let you off the hook because of your circumstances,we had a soft spot, we held you at a respect for your strength...but now the well is drying up on patience and your debt is growing into a monstrosity.” Namjoon gave his spiel

“Your husband may be dead, but honey you’re next if this money doesn’t turn up...and the plans they have for y/n aren’t cute, if you had any decency you’d get your ass off that insurance money and pay up, don’t forget you pay for protection and soon you’re going to start getting what you pay for.” Yoongi was rude whenever he came to collect, almost never staying for the excuses once ‘no’ or ‘later’ was uttered he’d head for the door, but today he decided to do otherwise.

The room fell quiet, and though your mother was cold and not much of a mother at all to you it pained you to hear her sobs and sniffing. You could tell the words being thrown at her stung her deeply. Curious to what was going on behind your door you decided to have a peak, and apparently you weren’t too good at sneaking. Your door cracked ajar, as if he knew it would happen you made direct eye contact with Taehyung.

“Boys I-I don’t know what you want from me you know the money isn’t in my possession right n-” “y/n! Come out from hiding kitten!” Opening the door you stood reading the room, your mothers face glistening, you know better than to disobey on purpose. “It’s ok y/n c’mon we want to see you.” Joon’s smile is so captivating his voice so relaxing, but your mothers gaze killed its power. “C’mon tell her she can come out.” Jin orders and your mother complies by giving you a nod of permission, sniffing over her concealed cries. It ached your but you were too excited to comfort her as you quickly escaped your confines.

“Ohh look at your pretty dress, come sit.” Taehyung pulled you onto his lap, “isn’t it pretty boys?” He pulled the fringes that decorated the bottom, barely reaching you mid thigh. “Everything’s beautiful on our y/n.” Jimin agrees, greeting you with a flirtatious wink. Making you smile into Taehyung’s chest. “Bashful girl.” His large hand rubbed your back soothingly.

“This delicate little thing around all those men with no one to help her, tsk could you imagine.” He glided his hand along your exposed thigh “that tickles.” Whispering into him you feel you face warm up. He hums in response, “want me to stop?” “No, I’ve missed you, I’ve missed all of you!” You turned catching all of their gazes, “same to you princess.” Jin chuckled, giving you a cheek kiss.

“Please let her-r go ba-ck now.” Their smiles faded, and you’d hate to admit it but yours as well. You’d usually never go against your mother but she just didn’t want to see you happy, ever. And you hated it. “Momma...I don’t wanna go back right now, can I be with my friends?” Her eyes stretched in shock and anger, the boys found your rebellion comedic letting a chuckle escape. “Y/n get back to your room now you have no clue what you’re playing with!” Her tone made you wince, no longer feeling bold you were about to comply. Taehyung griped your waist holding you back on top of him.

“And who are you to order someone around when you can’t follow orders yourself?” She sat speechless, “Taehyung, Namjoon, Jin...next month.” Her pleads were pathetic, even you knew it wouldn’t work this time. “No. Pay up today, or we’ll be taking some sweet sweet collateral.”At the moment you didn’t fully understand or care what exactly Taehyung was threatening, the only thing your brain could focus on being his rough palm griping and rubbing your inner thigh. The sensation caused a tingle within you, you couldn’t help but fidget in his lap. “Still tickling baby?” You nodded, a bit too flustered to speak.

“I-I I have a hundred or two I can give.” His hand ceased its motions, making you whine for more of the foreign feeling. He lifted a brow in suspect “You take us as a joke don’t you?” She shook her head frantically. “You just offered us not even a fraction of a year's worth of debt...you think we’re idiots, you think we won’t do what we say we will do you?” The tension made you uncomfortable as everyone glared at your mother for her response, you gripped Taehyung’s dark suit. “Hmph, okay Y/n, show us your pretty room Love.”

A simple request made your mother stand in protests, “going to get the rest of the money?” Yoongi asked knowingly, your mother trembled. Why was she so afraid, they only asked to see your room...maybe she was still upset over the wet spots. “No? Well I suggest you sit the fuck down.” Everyone left from their seat, “go on show us Petal.” He smiled in encouragement. You pulled Taehyung by his hand showing all of them into your seemingly empty room, nothing to embellish the space besides your curtains, calendar and bed.

“Very cute, very cute, right boys?” They hummed nodding while looking at the four bland walls around them. “Jungkook won’t you close the door please.” He demands the youngest, and he does as told, letting your catch a two second glance if your sniveling mother before your fate was sealed. “Lock it will you?” “Uhm it doesn’t lock.” You confessed plopping down on your plush mattress kicking your feet over the edge. “Ahh, Jungkook...make it lock.” He went to work and you watched curiously until your attention was taken by Taehyung climbing in bed next to you. “Very comfy.” He complemented.

“Oh, oh please take your shoes off.” You recited rules that were practically engraved in your memory. He laughed complying, “you heard her, shoes off.” They did as told, making your laugh at their unison actions. You turned to him with a smile still on your face, “want to see my closet?” “No, but I do want you to lay down.” You gave him an inquisitive look, you weren’t sick and you definitely weren’t tired. “It’s ok, I just wanted to play a game, a friends game.”

Oh how excited you were! A game with your friends! You laid down beside him your head rested on your pillow. “Ready?” You nodded eagerly, the rest of them watched closely. “Ok beautiful, I’m going to ask you some things and all you have to do is tell me if you’ve done it before...” he looked around at his men, they looked back with anticipation. “We’ll all play.” You nodded, beyond excited for this new experience.

“We’ll start easy, have you ever kissed someone?” Your face grew a dopey grin, “don’t be shy.” You nodded quickly, “oh? Show me how.” Sitting up a bit, you took his jaw, turning him to the side pecking his warmed cheek quickly. He smiled widely, “innocent little thing, here let’s try this.” He took your jaw in his fingers, coming in and ravishing your lips. Unknowingly you lay motionless as he took over the kiss, maneuvering you as he pleased. Pulling your slack chin he parted your lips, his tongue intruded sharing his taste. A tingle ran through you, you’ve never seen something like this let alone feel it. Taehyung pulled back trailing slobber as he lifted, “m-more more kissing!” He shook his head, laughing at your greed. “No no, there’s more to the game.”

Smirking he snuck his hand under your quaint dress, “ever let Somebody like me see your cute little panties?” You shook your head no, “let us see?” You eagerly pulled your dress up, “pretty in pink...wet your panties hmm?” Sheepishly you shut your legs, “sorry.” He rubbed your exposed tummy, “no don’t be sorry kitten, that’s great, so good.” He dragged his fingers along your pelvic area. “Yoongi, your turn?” Taehyung continued to brush your skin.

Yoongi stood from his seat on the floor in speciation. He brought his finger between your legs using his other hand to push your legs apart. “Ever felt something like this?” He ran his fingers up and down your middle, pausing along the top giving you an oddly familiar feeling that you loved. “Mm.” You moved a bit closer to the pleasure. “Yoongi stop, answer him y/n.” Nodding you yearned for yoongi’s fingers. “Don’t lie...show us.”

Rolling over you pulled a pillow from behind you positioning it between your legs as you lay on your side. “Go on.” Yoongi nudged you and you began to rub yourself, pushing the pillow firmer into your core whimpering as the pressure increased, “it feels so good!” “Naughty naughty y/n.” You continued to pleasure yourself, “mm I know, please don’t tell anybody.” Taehyung took the pillow rubbing his finger along the wet spot you left behind. “You ever cum sweetheart?” You squeeze your legs together hoping for pleasureful friction. “What’s that?”

“You’ve been rubbing yourself raw with no release?” He had a glint of pitty in his tone. “ I-I guess.” Yoongi had began his adventurous handy work once again and you couldn’t get enough. He sat beside you, looking into your eyes intently. “How’s it feel?” “Good, please don’t stop!” Taehyung pulled his partners hand away, “don’t give her too much Hyung.”

You pout squirming, itching with pent up sexual frustrations. “You both play like she’s a doll, she’s a woman, you know what she wants even if she doesn’t.” Jin came from his spot leaned against the corner, he came close stalking over your figure, “take these off.” He pulled your panties roughly you could hear the weak fabric give way as he stripped you.

“Careful.” You felt self conscious as they eyed your nude private area, Jin took over where Yoongi was removed, the direct contact could make you scream in joy, “close your eyes.” Jin ordered, and who are you to say no to the pleasure. A strange warmth took over your core making your hips jump uncontrollably “mhhm please.” “Hold her down Hoseok.” Even that simple second of neglect made you upset. Your hips were restrained and Jin continued his work, “sorry.” You opened your eyes to meet Taehyung’s gaze and a smile was plastered on his features, looking down at Jin who  was kissing your privates, so strange but so amazing.

“Oh please!” You couldn’t control your moans, closing your eyes, “too good princess?” “Mm too good.” Jin removed his lips from you “you're a savage Kim.” Jungkook comments eyes glued to your core, as if he couldn’t resist the view. “Some hair shows she is healthy n’ pure , but you wouldn’t know anything about that, you like your women whorish” He comments lewdly wiping his plump lips. They stood in speculation as you pressed your thighs together desperately. “Oh please! Jin please more!” You earned a hand over your mouth. In attempts to shut your pathetic whines. “Please don’t hurt her!” Your mother beat the door with concern. “Does she sound hurt, don’t make us do something we don’t want to, now go away!” Taehyung growled, before leaving the bed, he undid his pants the respect in you made you look away. “Ever see this before?” He climbed over you, too cowardly to peak, you kept looking into his dark irises. “Your private?” He laughed in your face, “my cock?” He sat on your legs trapping you. He pulled your dress over your head, fully undressing you with ease.

Taken over my temptation, Jimin groped your clothed chest “don’t touch her.” His command was final, Taehyung had been taken by the monster of greed and lust. “Go on look y/n.” Your eyes slowly traveled down, he had himself in his clutches stroking squeezing at the tip collecting the strange ooze on the tips of his fingers. Reaching he glossed your lips with his juices, “never wear makeup, this is all you need pretty girl.” The smell was strong and musky, curious you took a taste, sweaty and sweet. “Greedy girl...you know where this belongs?” He tapped you with his erect cock.

“I don’t think so.” He nodded, reaching below himself without hesitation he penetrated you with his index. “Ouch Tae!” His eyes stretched in surprise, “that hurts? Oh what fun you’ll be.” His finger stretched you slightly as he explored, thrusting softly, curly at the knuckle. Pulling his finger back, and a thick stripe of cloudy grool connects the two of you. “Shit, would you look at that.” They came looking as you lay victim Yoongi had pulled himself from his pants stroking himself shamelessly. Hoseok unbuttoned his top, his fist buried in his pants, while Jimin palmed himself giving you a warm smile, while Jungkook sat timid away from the action and Jin’s face set stoney, seemingly uninterested. Namjoon being the false comfort he was, he stood close, his bulge in your face as he stroked your hair.

Out of breath, the best you could muster being, “I’m sorry if it’s gross.” Lustfully he used your nectar to stroke himself sensually making violent eye contact in the act.

“Stop apologizing, this is the best cunt I’ve ever seen.” Using his foreign vulgar vocabulary he moved back, using his hands to get a better view of your most personal area. “Oh honey, you’ve never had anything in this sweet pussy of yours huh?” You shook your head, “no never.” You whisper. “Let’s change that yeah? Will you be a big girl?” You nodded body full of utter curiosity, what was coming for you the last thing you could have fathomed.

“Mm, you’re the sweetest thing on Earth y/n” he gazed into you, looking your shivering body up and down as if you two were completely alone. He lowered himself distracting you with another one sided kiss, this time though you attempted to participate.

Little did you know his hidden agenda, he gripped his girthy member, massaging it along your slickening core in search of your small entrance. “Ah Ah Taehyungie!” You squealed against his lips. He’d barely pushed into you and the pain was prominent “shh shh wouldn’t want to make momma upset.” He paused and looked down at your slightly connecting bodies. “Hmm Let’s play another game.” He reached for the pillow you were pleasuring yourself on, he placed it over your face constricting your air in the process, muffling your pathetic whimpers and mewls.

In one violent action...“TEAHYUNG!” Your throat felt as if it would collapse,He forced himself into your constructing entrance ripping your walls you felt yourself struggle to become accustomed his size. His pace inhuman. You gasped for air,the pillow blocking any gasp you could get. “I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe Tae!” He kept his murderous stroke speed pulling the pillow from your face you heaved, sobbing, screaming begging for freedom. “Shut the fuck up!” It could’ve been the tears, or haze of pain, but this wasn’t your friend anymore.

Taehyung’s face as contorted in sick pleasure inconsiderate of your wellbeing he gripped your hips fucking into you aggression never seen before. “T-Tae please we’re friends don’t hurt me!” You cried out for his mercy. “Hold her fucking mouth Min.” He obliged, his hand slick from his own juices. He stood over you griping and jerking his member, keeping his eyes on yours. “Close your damn eyes, your crying is going to make me soft.” That only made you cry more, the treatment you were getting from Taehyung caused an ache you couldn’t help but sob from. “It i-it fucking hurts!” You let the filth spill from your mouth as you groaned with every thrust, your statement muffed by Yoongi’s palm.

“Close. Them. Now.” Stubbornly you kept staring, you won’t obey them, friends aren’t supposed to to hurt you, ever. “Ahh fuck.” Yoongi began to vandalize your face, removing his hand from your mouth pulling your hair to aim for your mouth. “Ah shit shit.” He continued to stroke grumbling heinous names under his breath. “My eyes please help me momma,it hurts momma!” He’d spurted right in your eye and he knew it. “I told you to close them idiotic bitch, you obey us you’ll be alright.” He took your discarded panties wiping your eye.

You didn’t listen to his angered grumblings...She didn’t respond, she left you to suffer, you were being naughty and she could hear and she left you to suffer. The pain in your eye became dull as you became numb to Taehyung’s assault. “She left you, that bitch left you in here to get fucked, and you’re going to take everything we give thanks to mommy dearest...no one is going to rescue you.” Yoongi growled I’m your ear, you turned from him. His seed still rests on your pained features.

Taehyung pushed his thumbs roughly into your abdomen making you cry out. “Your cunt is still so tight, mm fuck stop clenching like that- I’m gonna fucking- oh shit.” He sent his seed deep into you, the sensation was sickening you began to dry heave having nothing in you to throw up. “Throwing up sweetheart?” You ignored his false concern, he gripped your hair. “Think twice before you do, you’ll be cleaning it with that pretty mouth every drop.”

Your face drenched in tears, snot and slobber, and the seed of another, you lay in defeat. He pulled his member for your stinging and burning feeling settled between your legs. “Nice job, you’ve beat her bloody.” Jin grumbled coming near, your entrance oozed a mixture of his cum and blood from your lost innocents. His finger brushed against your puffy injured vulva, “please no no nooo!” You instinctively backed away from the contact.

“My turn princess.” Your eyes closed, you could tell it was Jimin planning his attack. “Please Jimin, you’re still my friend right?” You Sobbed to weakly to even look into his eyes, Jimin had to put an end to it or it wouldn’t end at all. “I treat all my girlfriends this way, hm don’t worry baby it won’t hurt-” you heard him wander closer, “just open up.” You refused, turning your head away from his voice, “Ah y/n don’t be that way.” He slightly scolded pulling you back his way by your jaw, “open your mouth y/n.” You opened your eyes, glaring at him, your right eye blurring and irritated. He rubbed his member along your pursed lips. “No?” He leaned over, his member in his over hand. “Open. The. Fuck! Up.” He slapped your pussy harshly with every word, already sore you cried out, begging for mercy.

He took the opportunity, plunging his cock down your throat, gagging you choked and cried. “Yah stupid Bitch watch your teeth!” He gripped the back of your head, another agonizing ordeal. Your throat was sore from the screaming and now your throat was being rubbed roughly by Jimin’s third leg. “I’m gonna c-cum, and you’re gonna swallow all of it and you’re gonna keep it down.”

You couldn’t protest, you got used just as before you closed your eyes and prayed for it to be over as quick as it started. Hoseok neared you like a predator, “careful she’s sore.” You opened your eyes quickly, he had his pants completely off, his member erect his shirt open his sculpted body on display. You sobbed around jimins member as he took his time fucking himself into you. “I’m not putting my prick I that mess.” He referred to your battered entrance, he placed his clock between your folds, rubbing himself their. Even the subtle pressure gave you discomfort, “hey! Watch those fucking teeth slut!” Jimin beat the back of your head, picking up his pace.

“She sounds so fucking nasty.” Namjoon pulled himself out of his trousers “choking and gagging, fucking whore I wouldn’t fuck you even if your mom offered all the money she owed.” Namjoon insulted, pulling closer, “what an asshole.” Jimin grunted in retaliation. “This is all you’ll get from me.” Namjoon leaned over you, assaulting you relieving himself on your quaking body. “You sick bastard!” They found Namjoon’s action sickly humorous. He moved to your face, you tried to stop breathing in fear of inhaling it. Warmly it dribbled over you. “I bet you fucking enjoyed it.”

Jimin pushed your damp head down on him as he exploded in your mouth, that scene being all he needed to find his high. His seed was salty and less sweet; he tasted repulsive. You gagged as he removed himself, you leaned over the bed in utter pain heaving. “AHT HEY!” Taehyung cupped your mouth, “swallow be a good girl.” He rolled you back, you tried but your body refused, you gagged against his musty palm. Jimin pinched your nose “take it, take it, take it!” Air became scarce, you gulped ingesting his warm seed, the taste blanketed your throat.

They let you breathe, Hoseok found his release on your tummy, scooping it with his agile fingers he force fed you. “Please...n-no...more.” “Shut up, your breath reeks.” Your stomach flipped, you were going to be sick soon. “Roll her over.” Jin instructed, and of course they followed you let them do as they please, not like you could stop them. “Your pussy is beautiful, but I love a nice ass.” He unbuckled his belt, letting his pants fall. Spitting vulgarly, stroking himself. “Bite the pillow.” He pulled you up by your waist. Using his thumb he rimmed you.

Getting positioned he spit on your hole. The room was quiet. “Bite it hard.” He pushed himself mercilessly barely breaking through, “tight little bitch.” Your screeching earsplitting You’d become unconscious soon the pain was excruciating, you knew you were bleeding. “Please! I’ll do anything!Please not this, no more of this!” Finally he bottomed you out, “this is what love feels like, hmph remember that.” Jin growled fucking into you barely able to keep a pace.

Your vision blurred, slurring was your only form of speaking back, covered in piss and cum, tears and snot. Drooling all over yourself like an imbecile, bleeding. They’ve used you out, good for nothing you fell into the void of unconsciousness, sweet relief.

A dull jabbing welcomed you back into the real world, no way was this some sort of  twisted dream the disgusting smell registered back into your senses. The smell was you. “Fucking hell Jungkook finish already.” You’d been sick all over the mattress in your sleep, your mouth stale and stiff.

“I’m so sorry y/n I’m so sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry!” Blinking you looked over your shoulder, tears streamed his rounded face. “Ugh so sorry.” He gagged looking at your abused figure covered in bodily grime. “P-please turn around so it can be over.” Pitying you he held his head down shamefully thrusting to unwanted orgasm. He too filled you warmly pulling out quickly, scurrying to the corner losing his breakfast. “H-hy-'' he retched again. “Let’s go please, let’s leave.” He begged holding his stomach, Jungkook is still your friend, right? You could see he didn’t want to hurt you...

They put their clothes back on lazily.

“Be a peach and tell your mother we’ll be back next month on the dot, hopefully you won’t have to cover her tab two visits in a row huh sweetheart?”

“I hate you, all of you.”

“Ah, but we love you, and we always will.”

(Not my photo)

(Please interact like•reblog•reply it helps sm!)

@minshookie

[dazed--xx]

Sold Your Soul

Request: Ooh could I request Yandere!Sugar Daddy! Seokjin¿

Member: HARD Yandere!sadist Jin x Reader

Genre: angst, yandere, (implied smut)

Word Count: 1,590

Trigger Warning: Yandere, Abuse, manipulation, pressured sex, handcuffed to a bed, hair pulling, name calling, whatever else I forgot to put sorry guys  

A/N:  MY FIRST JIN FIC thank you to the beautifully dark and non-descriptive soul for sending in this request, I hope you enjoy it and this finds you, I DO NOT CONSENT TO THIS BEHAVIOR IF YOU ARE BEING ABUSED GET HELP, PLEASE. And with that being said send in more requests  

Summary: Kim Seokjin, V.P. of Kim industries, powerful, wealthy, and charming. The sweetest heir to the Kim enterprise according to the public. You believed it, his overwhelming charm and confidence the mask for the demon within. Jīn has gotten whatever he wanted, and he wants you. With your contract only days from ending, Jin declares you’ve violated the contract and now you belong to him. Permanently.  

(not my gif)

Month 5 day 22 10:42 pm

If anyone was to ask you how the past 5 months 22 days have been you’d say a secret nightmare, your provider was a ruthless and spoiled man. The onlookers would say you were lucky, the heir to Kim Enterprises was spoiling you with riches, paying your tuition, etc... The soft glow on his skin, his plump lips, his soft fragile image of the perfect son in the perfect family had shattered within 2 months. The abuse of his power and wealth over you, use of your safe word during sexual punishment would result in financial punishment. If you would have read the fine print in your contract with him you wouldn’t be handcuffed to his headboard as he released his anger, at his words “your betrayal”. Only hours ago, he was losing himself inside you, holding you in his arms fingers lightly tracing circles on your arms. How did you end up here?

*flashback*

Your hands curled around the bottom seam of your skirt griping it tightly. Your entire body shaking as the driver pulled to a stop in front of the large office building. Your mouth completely dries itself up. “Miss y/l/n Mr. Kim has requested you inform his assistant you have arrived from the front desk give them your name, then proceed to the 16th floor Mr. Kim's assistant will meet you right off the elevator she will give you further instructions. Have a nice day” his driver speaks soft and swiftly.  

You shakily eye the building. Taking a soft nervous step your breath hitches in your throat. As you step into the building you look around everything seems to happen in the blink of an eye and soon you were rushed into his office. You turned to close the door behind you and you stared at the closed door in front of you and your hand stayed frozen on the handle.  

“You can leave if you'd like but from what I know so far Miss Y/l/n you need me more than I need you” His velvety voice rang through your ears. “Come. Sit.” he said with a more commanding tone. As your eyes trailed over the luxurious office, I do not belong here you thought. Your legs acting on your own as you find your way in the chair placed in front of his desk eyes never once leaving the floor. “you're nervous” he states softly. You nod softly, a blush creeping on your face.  

You hear him lift himself off his chair and soon you can feel his hand on your shoulder, he lowers his body kneeling in front of you. “Do I make you uncomfortable y/n” his hand lifting my head to face him I shake my head “n-no sir” my meek voice barely over a whisper. “Have you read over the contract miss y/l/n?” you nod taking in his handsome features. The curve of his lips, the playful innocence in his voice. “All of it?” you nod lying to him, you dozed off reading the contract around the termination clauses. “And you're............experienced?”  

“yes, sir I'm here to please” you reached into your bag and handed him the contract. “Well miss y/l/n consider your student loans and your sisters medical expenses paid for, now that business is taken care of on your knees beautiful let's see how eager you are to please” He stated standing straight up unzipping his pants. You stared at him in shock, how did he know about your sister.

*present* -Month 5 day 22 10:23 pm

You weren't sure what you had said to set Jin off but he was livid. Your terrified state only encouraged his anger. He got off on your misery, he was enamored by the beauty of your face as tears streamed down it. The way you would shake like a chihuahua if he so much as looked at you a certain way. You had fallen into your submissive role the second you handed him the contract. He knew he loved you the moment he saw you that day walking home from work. A man in Jins position had wealth and anyone at his disposal to keep an eye on you and report back. He knew everything about you before he even presented you with the 6-month contract. Even though he had paid off all your expenses before you even knew he existed.  

He praised you when you did well, punished you when you acted out. He loved you and you loved him well he thought you loved him. As the days got closer to the 6-month mark Jin heard you making arraignments to leave his side and find another place to live. He thought it was just cold feet you were scared of your love and maybe he just needed to remind you who you belonged to and everything would be alright. Until you came to him with an apartment you had put a down payment on, wishing you could begin slowly moving your things in to adjust from the past 6 months as you put it.  

His anger only grew as you continued about the life you wished to lead after you leave him. He could only see red as his hand strikes you. He continuously shoves you back until your pressed against the wall. His hand finding its way to your throat, “who the fuck told you that you could use my own money to pay for some silly thing like an apartment, you aren't leaving y/n” he growled forcing his lips on yours “who put that stupid idea in your weak mind? Your sister? Your mother? Or are you a fucking whore y/n?” you wince as he adds pressure to your throat “that's it isn't it! Who is he? Ill fucking kill him” you look at him terrified words fighting their way out  

“NO-ONE! P-please get off me, I-I s-swear there's been no one b-but yo---’LYING BITCH WHY ELSE WOULD YOU BE SO DESPARATE TO GET AWAY FROM ME Y/N I LOVE YOU; YOU FUCKING KNOW THAT YOURE NOT LEAVING ME Y/N” He yanked your arm roughly, dragging you to your room. He grabs the handcuffs he keeps in the night stand beside the bed. Wrapping one of the cold cuffs around your wrist, he yanks it pulling you across the room. “N-no Jin please! I can be good I-I can b-be go-od p-please!” you scream as you grab onto the door.  

The pain in your wrist growing stronger. Jins face is now red “what did you call me” his voice is low the burning sensation in your wrist turning to throbbing as Jin stares at you. Your eyes widen as you force the door open, as your small figure makes it past the frame you can feel his hand in your hair, the burning sensation scratching its way through your head.  

The tears burning your eyes as you scream in pain “PLEASE HELP ME SOMEONE PLEASE!”

You fight back but its utterly useless and he handcuffs you to your headboard “I fucking help you, you piece of trash. I give you everything! Everything I have y/n, you want me you have that you want my money I’ll transfer it all to you every last cent. I've bought you clothes food trips for you and your waste of space sister, I've given you freedom and respect and all I get in return for my love and kindness is disrespect, infidelity, and used. You want to know why your other Doms got rid of you y/n?” your eyes travel from the ceiling to his face.

 The hurt evident, “it's because you’re a gold-digging whore y/n you want money and that’s it you don’t care about how people feel you don’t care about love or anything you fuck anyone that will give you a bigger pay check and leave a trail of broken hearts. But I'm not one of those men y/n I'd rather kill you than live without you” he states standing frozen in the middle of the room his hand pulling a gun out from behind his back, pointing it right at you. “so, y/n do you want to die?”  

Your heart raced as you shook your head rapidly the tears rapidly flowing down your cheeks. “N-no p-please s-sir, I-ill d-do anything” his small huffs turning into a hearty laugh as he points the gun to his head, slowly rubbing it against his temple  

“It doesn’t matter if you want to leave it doesn’t matter if you want your own apartment. You violated your part of the NDA, Y/n by exposing our relationship and arrangement to your pathetic little sister you CAN’T leave, I mean I could sue you but I already know you don’t have that kind of money. Didn’t know when to bring it up but I felt now was a good a time as any. So, you see Babygirl you belong to me and the only way you're leaving me is death either by my hand or your own” he places his body on top of yours “and I hope for your sake its by your own, you know how I like to see you cry and bleed baby” his lips capture yours as your tears mix with the taste of his tongue.  

You closed your eyes as his hard long member enters your core, erasing the misery from your mind as you breathlessly moan “sir”  

you’ve sold your soul to the devil and He’s here to collect.  

[jerisch]

The wrong catch

Another fantastic story by @writer-ofstuff​, featuring Derek from Teen Wolf.

——————————————————————————————————

Derek groaned as he came to. Rubbing his head as it ached. He remembers getting out of his car and then blacking out. He goes on the alert a few seconds later when he realizes that someone has taken him. Derek can see it in some sort of basement given the layout of the room and that makes him assume it must be the Argents. Given how they've been trying to hunt him down for weeks now. The man who steps out from the shadows however Derek doesn't recognize as one of the Argents. Unless this bastard is a hired lackey they paid to capture Derek.

 "Good, you're awake." The man says. He is dressed in a simple t-shirt with a jacket and jeans. He looks like he is around his mid thirties, his brown hair was trimmed short in a typical military fashion. Derek didn't say a word, realizing he's been handcuffed which he could easily break free of. He needs to wait though to see just who this guy is and why he has taken Derek.

 "I'm surprised it was easy to capture such a dangerous criminal such as yourself. You've evaded the police fkr a good while only to just show yourself out in public like you did."

 "I wish I was on duty when I spotted you, that being the reason why I had to take you like I did." The guy says.

 "So, you're a cop then?" Derek asks. 'Good, he isn't a hunter then.' Derek thought. It also explains the man's clean cut boring look that most law enforcement seem to wear.

 "Officer Daniels. The man who brought in the top suspect of a mass murder spree Derek Hale." Daniels sounds smug as he speaks.

 Derek can't help but let out a small laugh as he looks at Daniels with a smirk.

 "It seems you're out of the loop officers. I was cleared of those charges when they found the real murder." Derek says and enjoys the look on Daniels face when he tells him. 

 "You're lying." Daniels says. He turns his back to Derek and sees him on his phone. No doubt checking to make sure Derek was telling the truth.

 "Fuck!" He hears the older man say, and Derek laughs.

 "Seems you put yourself in an interesting position, officer. You thought you captured a criminal when you just kidnapped an innocent man. I'm guessing you wanted credit for bringing a dangerous criminal in for what, brownie points for a promotion? Surely when I get out of here and report you for what you did you'll be lucky to keep your job." Derek says. Taking pride in how the older man glares angrily at him.

 For a few moments Daniels just stands there visibly seething in anger. Nomdoubt he is thinking how he didn't boost his career but ruined it for what he did in taking Derek. 

 "You may be innocent, but I can still use you to get ahead in my career. I just need to make you into a criminal is all." Daniels says with a sinister grin.

 "How so?" Derek asked. Baffled by what Daniels said.

 "I told myself I would never use my family's gift. I wanted to separate myself from that world," he says with disdain. "But with desperate measures like this I can make an exception." Daniels says.

 Derek is confused by what the older man means. That is till he can sense the strong feeling of magic fill the room. Daniels eyes glow an inhuman orange and a bright aura emits from his hands. 

 "Your." Derek doesn't get to finish what he is saying before Daniels' magic envelops around him. Derek breaks the handcuffs and tries to make a run for it, but the magic is already flowing through him and makes him stagger on his feet. 

 "What are you?" Derek growls, his eyes flicker from his normal hazel eye color to beta blue before his glowing blue eyes disappear as his werewolf side hismstripped away from him. Derek fills hollow from losing such an important part of himself, all because of this pathetic officer trying to use Derek to get ahead in his career. 

 Rage bubbles within Derek and he turns to face the man who took a large part of who Derek was from him.

 "You bastard, you fucking worthless pig!" Derek snarls. He clenches his head as it throbs and pounds sending small tremors of pain through him.

 Moments tick by and Derek's body burns from his muscles expanding in size. Hard earned muscles bulging in a matter of moments. It being as if Derek spends so much time hitting the gym to work and maintain such an impressive physique. 

 "You think your tough shift huh? Cause you blindsided me the way you did and brought me here?" Derek goes on to say. His legs ached with newly formed muscle filling his legs out on top of his legs getting longer to make the former werewolf a few inches taller. 

 Derek's mind was in a haze from a mix of different thoughts and emotions filling his head that he didn't know what to do in the moment but kept talking as if he did.

 "You're just a pathetic pig, a dull lackey and nothing more. You can't bring me down, many have tried and every one of them failed." Derek's voice grew raspy and deeper in tone. His voice was foreign to his own ears but he didn't show any sort of reaction to it. 

 Derek's hair trimmed shorter, becoming a simple buzzed over style while his stubble shaved away to leave just a dusting shadow of facial hair along his altering jawline. His jaw which took a more defined and chiseled look. His cheeks filled out, hismnose growing a little wider, his eyebrows trim down to not be as thick as they once were. 

 Standing there now no one would ever have thought this scowling man was once Derek Hale. The man the former werewolf had became sneers at Daniels with a menacing look as handcuffs reappear around his wrists while his mind is flooded with a new persona.

His clothes rapidly changed on his new body. The old tattered rags that ripped and tore at the seams during his growth became something new to fit his new self.

Damon Harris stared at the officer with a cold calculated gaze. How foolish, he thought. It was humorous that that pathetic excuse for a man thought he could bring in a criminal mastermind like Damon in. Damon was not only good looking with an impressive body, but he was also a genius with a seductive charm which he shamelessly used to get out of being arrested.

By sleeping with the officers who tried to arrest him Damon often used it as blackmail to get the men to drop the charges and thus making him walk out a free man each time.

This buffoon would be no different, just another bitch for Damon to seduce and fuck till the weak man's dick his dry of any cum. Damon puts on his signature charming look. Before he could even utter a single word to the officer however Damon feels suddenly drowsy. He stumbles on his feet, sputtering over his words before he falls to his knees and then falls to the ground fast asleep thanks to the sleep spell Daniels just casted on him.

"I no doubt made you into a more dangerous criminal than what you were excused for, so best to not take any chances with you till I get you to the station." Daniels says to Damon's sleeping form.

It was a paint in the ass to get the hulking man into his car, but he thinks how this, everything he did tonight will make it all worth it when he gets the promotion for bringing in one of their most sought after and elusive criminals.

"I'd say sorry for doing this, but that would be a lie." Daniels says smugly while he lifts Damon's sleeping body up and struggles to carry him up the stairs and out to his car. Once he has Damon in the back seat of his cruiser, Daniels takes a moment to collect himself. He is due to start his shift soon, he still needs to get dressed in his uniform so he quickly heads inside to do that.

He isn't aware of his magic being absorbed by Damon. The void that was left from when Damon was Derek and a werewolf takes in the lingering magic from Daniels' spells clung to the criminal. Giving him his own type of hidden power that would grow within him.

Damon wakes up when Daniels returns. The criminal thrashes in his handcuffs and demands to be set free, but Daniels ignores him and drives them to the station. He is already picturing the praise he will receive when he walks in with a handcuffed Damon.

———————————————————————————————————

"You may bring me in but I won't get charged. You can believe I will track you down once I'm out and make you sorry you every crossed paths with me." Damon tells Daniels in a low threatening voice as he gets escorted into the police station.

"With what we have you charged with I doubt you get out from behind bars anytime soon." Daniels laughed.

Damon clenches his jaw and sneers at the whispering officers who look at him. He won't stand for this. He refuses to be taken down so easily by a chump you used cheap tricks to capture him. Damon was a criminal mastermind, a genius Adonis. He refuses to be carted off like some common criminal like this.

"Now sit here while I get started on your processing paperwork." Daniels says smugly after he secures Damon in a holding cell.

"This isn't over! You haven't seen the last of me!" Damon calls out to Daniels retreating back. He curses and paces in his cell, thinking of how he can get out of this one. His interrupted by the door opening, he turns around and sees Sheriff Stilinski walk in. Damon rolls his eyes, the older man has been a thorn in his side for a while now and Damon is sure the Sheriff has come here to gloat about him finally being caught.

He notices how tired the older man looks, a mischievous idea forms in Damon's head while he watches Stilinski approach his cell.

"I'd like to see how you weasel your way out of this one Damon." Stilinski says.

"I'm sure you would, old man." Damon says. Loving the way Stilinski bristles at that.

"You look tired Sheriff, working long shifts again? Surely the pristine Sheriff of our beloved town knows when not to push himself too much in his work. After all, you're older now so you should be taking it easy." Damon chuckles.

"Watch Damon, I'm not that old." Stilinski says.

"Oh of course Sir." Damon says in a low raspy voice. He starts working his charm on the older man, flashing him a smile and leans close to the bars as he speaks to Stilinski.

"You do so much work for this town and do you get any recognition, any reward?" He asked.

"It's my job, I don't need a reward for doing what is right." Stilinski says.

"Yes, but surely with all you do you should get a reward." Damon says. "If a small one." He winks.

"Are you flirting with me?" Stilinski asked, taken aback.

"Depends Sheriff." Damon purrs. "If you can handle a young stud like me." He goes on to say and then rubs his impressive sized bulge. Stilinski's eyes follow Damon's movements and the criminal knows he has the Sheriff eating out of the palm of his hands now.

Men like Sheriff Stilinski who are overworked and tired are so much easier to seduce Damon's learned.

"I don't know what you're trying to accomplish here Damon but I won't be like those other officers you seduced and made lose their jobs." Sheriff Stilinski says.

"This is different this time Sheriff. No one is around to see us. With you being in charge you can easily erase the security footage that shows us having a little fun." Damon persuades.

"If it makes you feel better you won't even have to let me out of the cell." Damon added. The criminal then frees his fat cock from his pants. Gripping his palm around the base of his shaft. Damon's eyes lock onto the older officer's and he can see the turmoil Sheriff Stilinski is in from the look on his face as he mulls over what to do.

"Don't keep me waiting Noah. Who knows if you'll ever get another chance to have a taste of this." Damon teases. He grins widely when Sheriff Stilinski hesitates and then gets on his knees. Damon gets closer to the bars and sticks his cock through the opening towards the Sheriff.

"Go on Noah, don't keep me waiting." Damon insists. With another moment of hesitation Noah leans forward and tentatively takes Damon's cock into his mouth.

"See? Not so hard was it?" Damon asked. He gently thrusts his hips forward into Noah's mouth, pushing his dick further into the older man's mouth. His hands stick out through the bars and cradles Noah's head in his hands. Rubbing the older man's head soothingly while Noah continues to suck him off.

Damon would tease the older officer for being such a good cock slut, only he feels a strange sensation coming over him. He remains silent, a frown on his face while his body starts to get itchy. Damon doesn't know the residual magic from Daniels' spells is flowing through him and into Noah now. The magic making the two men become intertwined with each other filling their heads with a false reality of the two of them together.

Fueling Noah's loneliness while also granting Damon's desire to be free from his incoming imprisonment. Thus triggering Damon to undergo a second transformation. This one happens more rapidly than the first, making Damon fall into a dazed trance state so he doesn't even get to react to his metamorphosis into a new man.

Damon's hair starts to cascade down from his head as the Criminal begins to lose his hair. His hairline thinning out while more of his dark colored hair recedes into his scalp till he is left bald.

Damon's hard earned physique loses some definition and tone so he isn't as muscular anymore but still remains in good shape. Dark bristles of body hair sprout and grow along his torso, stopping just along his abdomen. Damon groans, his eyes glazed over, he thrusts his hips forward. His body moving on it sown to fuck Noah's mouth to plunge his cock deeper into the Sheriff's mouth. Damon can feel how full his balls are, desperate to release his thick load.

Damon's handsome face matures while it shifts into the face of an older man with rugged looks. Damon's dusting of stubble thickening into a fuller beard. His clothing rapidly alters on him to match the similar beige uniform as Noah Stilinski wears.

Damon no longer recalls his life as a criminal mastermind. Instead his head is full of new memories of being an upstanding officer of the law. Damon's own name is fleeting from his mind. His new persona taking root to complete his transformation.

Officer Darren Stilinski's eyes refocused as he awakened. An orange hue flashes over his eyes before that fades to his normal green color. Darren rubs his hand through his husband's hair as the room shifts around them. Placing them in Noah's office rather than the holding cell.

"After all these years together and you're still the needy cockslut you were when we met at the academy." Darren chuckles.

Noah looks up and is startled for a brief moment when he sees the new man, but his mind quickly catches up and he relaxes. Now he recalls this man as his partner, on the force and at home. Two wedding bands materialize on the two men's fingers while Darren fucks Noah's mouth with a few more thrusts before finally unloading his thick load of come into his lover's mouth. He pulls out a little bit after that, letting Noah lick any left over come from his thick dick head before Darren fixes his pants.

"That was fun." Noah says as he gets to his feet.

"Is it a surprise when you have such a stud for a husband?" Darren teases.

"You're so full of yourself." Noah chuckles.

"I know, it's why you love me so much." Darren grins and kisses Noah. His hands coming around to knead Noah's ass. The two officers stand there in Noah's office kissing when the door opens and Daniels walks in looking frazzled.

"Sir we have an issue. I brought in a dangerous criminal and now he." Daniels trails off when he notices the other officer with the Sheriff. He freezes for a moment as realization hits him and he sputters over his words.

"Yes?" Noah asked.

"You were saying something son?" Darren adds.

"N-nothing, sorry to trouble you both." Daniels settles on saying before he quickly leaves.

"That was odd." Noah says and turns to Darren.

"We can worry about him later. Right now I believe we are still on break so why don't we use it to have a little more fun." Darren suggests, pulling Noah closer to him for another kiss. Before they can continue Noah's phone buzzes, and with a heavy sigh the Sheriff answers it.

"Stiles is here to see you. Do I let him back?" The receptionist says.

"Yeah, send him back." Noah answers and hangs up.

"Our son is here." Noah says.

"Of course he is. I love him, but he has the worst timing." Darren chuckles.

"Yeah, but at least we can continue this when we get home." Noah says.

"Oh I intend to, and do a lot more to you." Darren promises. He has a flash of forigen thoughts in his head for a brief moment. He recalls what feels like two separate sets of memories in his head, but before he could focus on what they mean he quickly forgets them. He then just feels affection for his husband and their son just as Stiles opens the door.

Stiles pauses when he sees his dad and another officer around his dad's age holding hands and looking like they're close to kissing. The scene throws Stiles off and the young man is baffled over what the hell he just walked in on before reality catches up to him.

He recalls the new officer as his dad. Remembering growing up with two fathers and how much he loves his dads.

"Jeez, can't you two wait to get home to do this?" Stiles teases.

"So you can interrupt us there too?" Darren jokes, walking up and pulling his son in for a hug. Neither of them recalling who Darren was once before his transformations.

[nationalharryleague]

Portfolio; Part 2

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, CEO!Harry

Word count: 3.2k!

A/N: Hi everyone!! I am back with part 2 of “Portfolio”!! The first part had such great reception and a few people have asked for a part two. As always, I would looooove some feedback and I hope you enjoy!! More of my writing can be found in my masterlist!

Part 1

“Nice work, Miss Y/L/N,” Harry told you, walking briskly through the office, holding up the binder that contained the proposal you had been working on recently. You watched as his long legs gracefully carried him down a row of cubicles, both of you doing your best to conceal the smiles threatening to break onto your faces.

“Thank you, Mr. Styles,” you chimed as he passed you and your secretary. He muttered something along the lines of ‘now get back to work,’ before he turned around and shot a million dollar smile in your direction. You quickly winked at him, hoping no one noticed, and hid your cheeky grin in your cup of coffee.

“I think Mr. Styles likes you,” giggled your secretary, Charlotte, taking a sip of her tea as you took a gossip break outside your office.

“We’re just friends now,” you lied through your teeth. “We work better when we’re getting along than when we’re at each other’s throats.” Oh, how you loved his throat, and his neck, and his jaw, and his smile. He was a never ending piece of art and you could stare at him all day long.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you two carpooling to work in the morning,” Charlotte playfully pried.

“We just figured out we live close by each other,” lie, “and it gives us more time to talk about work,” lie, “and we just think it’s better for the environment,” semi-lie.

“Whatever you say boss,” she said amused and moved to answer the phone that had begun ringing on her desk.

It had been four months since that night when you ended up in his arms with his pouty lips pressed up against yours for the first time. It was the first of many, many more kisses you shared.

You had spent these last four months peeling back his hard exterior and getting to know the mushy center. You knew the way he took his tea in the morning, the songs he sang (surprisingly well) in the shower, and the way he always slept on his stomach, sheets pooled around his waist. While you hadn’t said it, the two of you knew that you were quickly falling in love with each other.

Harry had become a huge part of your life and you two rarely were apart. Work was a series of knowing glances and stolen kisses any time you and Harry were alone. While you two had become an incredible professional team, your productivity when working together had slowed, unable to get much work done when he was constantly trying to convince you to hook up in his office. Outside of work, you spent nearly all your time in his penthouse dressed only in one of his expensive dress shirts that he insisted looked better on you than ever did on him.

Your phone buzzed on your desk, bringing you out of your Harry-induced daze. Meet me in the copy room ;), your phone read. You let out a laugh and playfully rolled your eyes before making your way across the office to your intended destination.

Opening the door, you only got a glimpse of your gorgeous boyfriend before he pulled your body to him, your lips falling into a well practiced dance against one another. You kept your hands rested against his chest, learning from your mistakes of previously messing up his hair during a particularly passionate trip to a storage closet. While you remained careful to leave no clues of what you two were doing in the copy room, Harry buried his hands in your hair and moved to leave kisses down your neck, sure to leave some type of bruise. You pulled away from him, breathless, gently scolding him for being so careless.

“Harry, I will not fuck you in this copy room,” you told him, smoothing your pencil skirt and straightening out your blazer. You were met with a needy and pathetic pout that made the large man look like a small child who was denied a piece of candy.

“What makes the copy room off limits?” he smirked down at you. “We’ve had sex in most of the rooms of this office.”

“No lock on this door,” you smiled, moving to your tippy toes to kiss him lightly on the nose and turning to leave the room. He reached out and grabbed a hold of your wrist, pulling you back into him.

“I don’t care who sees,” he spoke against your lips as he connected you once again. “I’m sure my girl and I put on quite the show.”

“You are an arrogant son of a bitch, aren’t you?” you giggled in between soft kisses, arms hooked around his neck. “And I care, Harry,” you confessed, pulling away from him and looking seriously into his bright green eyes. “I worked hard to get to this position and I will not let people attribute my success to me sleeping with my boss.”

“But you are sleeping with your boss,” he called after you as you separated yourself from him and moved towards the door again. “Quite a bit actually.”

“But it didn’t get me to the top, did it?” you winked, exiting your hiding spot.

“I quite like it when you’re on top.”

***

This was definitely not sustainable.

The “good working relationship” cover could only work for so long and the way you acted could give it away any moment. You were so comfortable and happy with each other now, a rare and impossible feat before, and it was hard not to notice. You two had done a complete 180 and you could only pray the office was turning a blind eye. It was hard to pretend that you weren’t falling head over heels in love with this man.

There was a reason this was forbidden. Harry was in a position to manipulate and take advantage of his professional power above you and you understood why it was absolutely not allowed. There was a laundry list of powerful men who had taken advantage of their female subordinates and hurt them and their careers beyond repair. While you both were very consenting, it was a power dynamic that could quickly turn sour.

You both had plenty at risk. While you were desperate to stay secret for the sake of your professional reputation and career aspirations, Harry had a Fortune 500 company to worry about. SPR was growing at a rapid speed and was quickly becoming the most sought after public relations firm in the country.  You anxiously held your breath whenever at work, praying both of you could be on your best behavior, refusing to be the reason Harry fell from his golden boy position in the business world.

Harry had briefly suggested you quitting and just letting him take care of you. That idea made you feel like a sugar baby in your own relationship and you were not okay with that. He also brought up the idea of quitting your formal position and working as a freelance consultant so the HR policy would no longer apply, but you were quick to shut that down as well. While you would do anything to be with him and stop worrying, your career came first. There was no guarantee that you two would work out and you refused to give up your career for any man.

There was a brief period of time that Harry had considered a publicity beard. Hiring some model to pretend to be Harry’s girlfriend for the paparazzi would take some of the heat off the both of you and probably advance both of their careers. But you knew you were far too jealous to watch him with someone else, even if they were being paid to be there. You tried to be cool, calm, and collected at all times, but when it came to Harry, something ignited in you that you just couldn’t turn off.

Watching from across the office when his new, and irritatingly attractive, assistant began was torture. Cami was smart and beautiful and way overqualified to be running to get his dry cleaning and scheduling his rides to the airport. She was a tall, stick thin, blonde bombshell and you couldn’t understand why she was working in an office and not walking a runway. You watched the bedroom eyes she gave him every time they made eye contact, annoyed at how similar they were to your own, constantly looking up at him and batting her eyelashes. You always got a kick out of watching him shut her down when she started on her breathy ‘Mr. Styles’ voice which resembled Marilyn Monroe’s rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ for JFK.

“Mr. Styles,” she sing-songed, “would you like me to get you something for lunch today?”

“No. I’m going out for lunch,” he dead-panned harshly. It made you feel good that he was meeting you at home for lunch, and the strong possibility that you were lunch made you feel even better. You watched from the doorway of his office as he didn’t even look up at her from his computer, a smirk threatening to break out onto your lips.

“Hi Mr. Styles,” you alerted him to your presence. His eyes shot up to make contact with yours, fighting a smile off his own lips. “I have a proposal for you to review.”

“Have a seat,” he said, motining for you to sit across from him at his large mahogany desk. Cami hung in the corner, waiting for some sort of command when Harry told her to leave and shut the door behind her. Leaning back in your chair, you took in the man sitting across from you. He wore a light blue suit that was perfectly tailored, paired with a white dress shirt, and navy tie. His hair was pushed back, just long enough for some of his natural curl to show. His eyes shined in the light from the floor to ceiling windows of his office that framed him and as soon as the assistant left the room, a huge smile rested on his face.

“So, what proposal do you have for me?”

“I can see it now,” you began, putting on your best proposal voice. “Dinner, a bottle (or a few) of wine, and movies at your place tonight.”

“My love, you could sell wood to a forest.”

***

That night started out calm enough. You had ordered in your favorite Italian place, the same one that you had shared your first real conversation over, and ate it over a bottle of wine. You two sat at his kitchen island, both dressed in Harry’s comfiest clothes, and talked about your days. It was a long day in the office and you were exhausted and the few glasses of wine running through your system were not helping. You leaned over on your barstool, resting your head on his shoulder, receiving a light kiss to your forehead in between bites of his dinner.

“Just so you know, Marcus was a bit of a dick to me today,” you slid into conversation in between bites of a garlic knot, always one to stir the pot.

“I’m sorry, honey. I don’t like him very much either but I can’t just fire someone because I don’t like them,” he explained softly.

“You can fire Cami,” you said before fully thinking. You watched from his shoulder as he questioningly raised his eyebrows, mouth still stuffed full of food. “I just don’t like the way she acts around you. She looks at you like she’s ready to mount you at any second.”

“I can’t fire my assistant because you’re jealous,” he said with a light chuckle.

“Harry, I’m not jealous,” you asserted while lifting your head off his shoulder to look him in the eye, not sure if what you were saying was fully true. “I just don’t like the way she acts around you.”

“You’re jealous!” he pushed, poking and teasing you into anger. He wore his famous smirk across his lips and while you usually thought it was adorable, tonight it was pushing every one of your buttons. Your cheeks began to heat with a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment, intensified by the wine you both had been drinking.

“I would have been more jealous if you you went through with that stupid beard idea,” you spat. It was Harry’s turn to get offended now. His eyebrows shot up his forehead in surprise at your comment, before they settled in a frustrated scowl.

“I was just trying to help,” he countered, his voice low and gravely. “You’re the one who’s so uncomfortable at work.”

“I can’t be comfortable at work knowing that if we were to get caught, both of our careers are finished!” You slid off the barstool, unable to be so close to him right now, and began pacing the immaculate kitchen. “Knowing that you just want me to quit so you can keep me up in this penthouse barefoot and pregnant doesn’t help either.”

“Y/N, come on. You know I don’t want that.”

“You’ve asked me to quit for you more than once, H.” You were both standing now, circling around the kitchen island. You walked away from him everytime he got close, the thought of him touching you right now made your blood boil.

“I wanted you to quit so that we can be together!” he raised his voice as he defended himself.  

Your career was everything to you. Your work was what gave you the opportunity to escape New York and get a fresh start in London. You had to put an ocean between you and your ex to feel safe again, and your hard work and talent was how you did it. You would not give it up for a man.

You and Harry had never fought like this before and you were worried how similar it felt to when you and your ex would fight. You had promised yourself that you would never be in a situation like that again.

“You’re the fucking CEO!” You were both yelling now. “ You’re in charge of everyone there. You can change the HR policy if you want.”

“No, I can’t. Were both in PR; you know how that would look for the company and both of us.” He argued from across the island. “My employee can’t be my girlfriend.”

“Okay,” you said after a pause, suddenly calm.

“‘Okay’ what?” Harry asked, chest still heaving for yelling.

“I don’t want to be either anymore.”

You marched your way to his couch, grabbing your briefcase and work clothes. You heard his calls for you to stay and pleads for you to take it back, but you ignored them. You made your way to his front door, slamming it behind you as you left.

***

Four Years Later

You sat in the conference room of SPR for the first time in over four years. The table and chairs had changed, no longer the heavy wood conference table you had known. It had been swapped out for a long black oval table that was flanked with chairs that were now filled with lawyers.

Harry sat directly across from you, in the same spot he sat the first night you began to fall in love with him. He looked a little different now; his hair had gotten longer, he had grown out a bit of a beard, and he had a couple more tattoos. You couldn’t help but think about all the nights you had spent together in his bed, your fingertips tracing the designs on his skin. Your eyes bore into each other, scanning each other’s face for emotion and desperately trying to get a read on the other.

It was easy to fall back into your distanced body language. While you were connected through intense eye contact, both of your arms were crossed, shielding yourself from the others’ stare. You had been competitors these last few years after all. Today, that was all changing.

After you left that night in a storm of jealousy and hurt, you made good on your threats to quit and started your own firm. You began to climb your way up the PR ladder and four years later, you were Harry’s biggest competitor. When the idea of a merger came about, you were hesitant but understood it was what was best for both of your businesses.

A thick contract was passed across the table between the both of you, both CEO’s silently signing on the dotted line. “The merger is complete!” your lawyers cheered excitedly, only small smiles finding their way onto your faces. “You are now Co CEOs of Styles-Y/L/N Public Relations.”

“Congratulations Chief Executive Officer Styles,” you spoke as you lifted yourself out of your chair, reaching out a hand to offer a handshake. You offered him a cold smile you had practiced to perfection in the mirror in preparation for today’s events.

“Congratulations Chief Executive Officer Y/L/N,” he repeated after you. When your hands met, the familiar sparks shot their way up into your arm, your heart beginning to flutter. You knew that feeling in the pit of your stomach that he caused so well. You got it whenever he was around, like he continued to have some sort of magic over you after all this time.

You left as the small celebration died down, opting to meet with Harry in his office to devise a plan moving forward concerning office space and upcoming projects. Strictly business, you constantly reminded yourself. Soon, the sun began to set and you decided it was best for both of you to head home.

Walking out of the building, it felt strangely familiar to the night you had first shared together. Your footsteps fell insync as you silently walked into the parking garage and towards your own cars. You looked over at his hand and realized he had already put his ring on.

“Hey, I thought we said we were going to put our rings on together after the merger,” you smiled as you fished around your blazer pocket for your engagement ring and wedding band.

“Honey, I thought you saw me put it on,” he laughed, flashing you his bright smile and the golden band that sat on his left hand. You carefully slid the rings onto your ring finger, covering the slight tan line you got when you wore them outside of work. You intertwined your hands, walking the rest of the way to your cars as a couple. You giggled as you always did at the sight of a baby’s car seat in the back of Harry’s sports car.

“I’ll pick the baby up from my mum’s if you grab dinner on the way home,” he offered.

“Sounds like a deal,” you agreed and pressed your body up against him, pecking his lips as he ran his hands up and down your back. “It feels good not to hide at work anymore.”

“No one can take advantage of the other if we are both in charge, right?” he smirked.

“Not according to HR,” you chuckled softly, resting your head on his chest before pulling away and getting in the car next to his.

“I love you, Mrs. Y/L/N-Styles!” he called into your car when you both rolled your windows down.

“I love you more, Mr. Styles!” you called back. “I’ll see you at home for our business meeting!”

Thank you so much for reading!! Please let me know what you think in my ask! Requests are also open :) 

[jacksonroseroth]

Tales Of The XX Chapter 1

A/N: Aaaaaaaaaaand I’m back with another Colson fic. I’ve been working on these two(Waste Love) for about a month now? Maybe two. Anyway, this is an Italian Mafia AU based off the lyrics ‘young, blond Don and the Double-X Mob got a gang out in Sicily’ from MGK’s Floor 13. Hope you guys like it!

Warnings: Weed usage I tried to limit the amount of Italian I used, so if anything seems to be wrong, please let me know!...I didn’t get a great grade in Italian in college XD

Words: 4,248

Moodboard made by me, none of the pictures are mine

~

The sun scorched down on the black SUV as it drove along the Sicilian roads. Colson sipped his Scotch and gave a sigh, annoyed with how long the supposed 4-hour drive was taking. He would have rather taken the coast route, but the driver had other instructions. Shifting in his 3-piece suit, Colson pulled a hand through his bleached blonde hair, making a mental note to speak with his assistant to make him a hair appointment; Spying the natural dark hair that began to grow again when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

Any further thoughts flew from his mind as they, finally, pulled up to the iron gate, the driver speaking to the intercom. A piercing screech sounded as the gates squeaked open allowing the car to pull in and around the fountain in the courtyard, to park. The back doors opened and Colson, along with his crew, filed out and up the stairs where the double doors opened for them.

“Mr. Romano.” An older man said, dressed in a black suit with graying brown hair. Colson glanced at him as they entered, not really focusing on him. His high was wearing off as his anxiety kicked into overdrive. Rubbing his hands together as the man led them through the foyer to a side room, he said, “Luca. How is everyone feeling today?”

“As they do at every meeting, Signore. Old, miserable, bitter, and upset.” Luca said. A brief smirk tugged at Colson’s lips as Luca held open the door to let Colson and his men in. Colson hated bringing his personal crew with him to meet with the Dons and the family. Most of his organization and general security were the Italian-born and bred sons, but his most loyal were three gangsters he picked up from the States and happened to consist of two black men. Colson despised their initial reaction, seeing color before loyalty, and struggled to keep his feelings about it under wraps, especially at meetings. Every time there was a threat and there was a meeting, Colson only trusted those three men to escort him and no one else.

Through all the years of his life that he gave to the Mafia, he’d learned to savor loyalty, having seen the use in it. While visiting family in New York, he was put under the protection of the three men that stood behind him now. After an attempt on his life, those men proved their value and Colson refused to have any other security to join his inner circle. While the Dons and the family disagreed, the only reason Colson’s request was allowed was because of his best friend; JP ‘Rook’ Cappelletti, the son and heir apparent of the XX Mob. However Rook wasn't the sole reason it was allowed, but the reason it was still allowed. It was Colson’s father and uncle, along with Rook’s father, who helped Colson’s grandfather form and create what the XX Mob was to this day. When Colson’s uncle, Aureliano, died, it was his last remaining ally among the elders and the Dons, leaving Rook as his sole lifeline to his birthright.

From his teenage years, it was a long believed secret rumor that Colson would be excommunicated when his kin died, as he had caused an enormous amount of trouble for the mob. But once Colson and Rook formed a closer friendship, Colson was given a second chance as the Dons and the family saw he had begun to change.

When a second door opened to reveal the elders on their usual pedestals, Colson sighed and walked in, up to their seats and bowed as his men filed into their box. Rook smirked at Colson, both him and his father sitting below the elders, trying to ease his anxiety, while his father gave Colson an acknowledged nod, silently telling him to take his seat. Colson turned and took the foremost seat, sitting back and, crossing a leg over his knee, resisted the urge to punch out the Don next to them, who was eyeing Slim and AJ with a semi look of disgust. His blue eyes burned with the urge, but once John Sr. began to speak, his anxiety spiked, high, and his hand twitched.

“Is everyone here? Good.” John started. Colson watched Rook lean back, looking around his father to the empty seat on his left, and smirked. Colson wasn’t sure who was meant to be sitting there, as it was always Rook and John. As he sat wondering, his question was soon answered as John continued speaking, “I would like to thank the Dons for coming on such short notice. The reason I’ve called you here today is-”

John was interrupted as the doors burst open and everyone turned to look as a dark, curly-haired, young woman blew in, two flunkies by her side. With a chipper smile on her lips and a mischievous twinkle sparkling in the two emeralds that sat on her face, she made her way before John and dipped into a brief curtsy, as did the flunkies. Rook smirked and watched her, as did Colson. John, however, was less than amused.

“Atta,” John said. The woman, Atta, looked up at him, still smiling despite the man’s tone, and replied, “Father.”

Leaving her spot, she climbed the short stairs to take the vacant seat on his left. After leaning over to place a quick kiss on John’s cheek, Atta said, “I’m sorry I’m late, Father. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything?”

Murmurs rippled among the Dons, as her gaze swept around the room, of ‘No. Not at all’s, while they looked away from her, with respect. Atta smirked and sat back, crossing her jean-clad legs and folding her hands in her lap.

While John gave a soft grunt of disapproval, he still continued speaking, brushing past the interruption. As John spoke, Colson studied the second Cappelletti sibling. Though her and Rook were twins, it made sense that they would both be present, but in the same token, Colson couldn’t recall her being at other meetings he attended and was intrigued to see her there. Atta froze her face and emotions to a pleased yet neutral look. She despised being called into meetings, though it didn’t happen often. JP was the heir apparent and would take their father’s place once he died, and John never seemed too keen to involve his only daughter in the family affairs, not that Atta minded.

She was in charge of running the Cappelletti General Store, taking over a few years back when their mother got sick. It was a position she took to like a duck to water and was involved enough in the family affairs. Relations and affiliates of the Dons, sometimes the Dons themselves on occasion, visited the shop on a semi-frequent as a way to throw the cops off their trail. Atta’s mother did everything in her power to prove her store was a legitimate business and the only reason these mobsters came to her store was because of her husband. While it seemed like a shaky story, as the police kept surveillance on the shop for a month, John was adamant that none of the mob’s business be taken near the store, wanting to give his wife something of her own. Once it was well established the store had no real involvement with the mob, it was left to those same deceivers, though they protected it with their lives. They would come in with a message or an order that Atta passed to the elders and her father. As the daughter of John Sr., by rights, she was the Princess of the XX. She was more well known on her small island of Sicily, still known well enough on the mainland, and that was enough for her.

“-Cannot sit idly by while these Germans push in on our territory. I put it to this council, in the hands of the Dons; Someone must remove this German threat before they bring the AISE down on us all.” John’s speech brought her back and she started listening again.

“Not to split hairs, Don Cappelletti. But wasn’t Don Romano the cause for this rivalry?” One of the Dons stated. All eyes turned to Colson’s box, while Colson glared at the old man. “With his pathetic attempt to charm Mr. Muller’s daughter, before his father’s death, was the start, was it not?”

Colson opened his mouth to respond, but someone spoke before he could. “A shrewd observation, Don Moretti. But if you remember correctly, other things were put into motion that affected the Germans, well before Don Romano made his appearance. Mr. Muller saw Colson’s showing as the last straw, even though Colson had not taken Vittorio’s role as Don Romano.” Colson’s head whipped around at the first sound of her voice and continued to stare in shock as Atta came to his defense.

Many of the boxes began to buzz with upset. While Atta was respected as the family’s only daughter, many of the old men believed there was no place for women in Mafia business, save for being arm and eye candy, housewives, and mothers. This being one of the first times that Atta spoke up in a meeting, there was a bigger upheaval for the simple fact that they disliked Colson and had plans for their own sons to take over his territory.

Rook smirked and looked down as he attempted to suppress a snicker. Atta heard the faint snort and her lips twitched upward in a smirk of her own. John glanced at her and smiled, turning to Don Moretti and held up his hands to calm the Dons as he said, “Do not be upset by my daughter’s words. Especially when she speaks the truth. As I recall, it was your grandson, Adriano, who was sent to America to take out a hit and botched it. That was when Mr. Muller put us on his radar. Having taken out one of his men by mistake.”

Don Moretti grumbled and mumbled as he looked away in shame of the truth. John cast a glance to Colson, with a small smile, and said, “That is why I said this task is in your collective hands instead of singling Don Romano out; As it was not his fault.”

The grumbles of old men soon died down and John spoke again, “Discuss this matter with your families and each other. I want to hear names at our next meeting at the end of the week. Now, the other reason for this meeting and the reason for my daughter’s presence…”

Atta flinched and Colson saw her face twitch. Rook glanced at his sister and watched as she gripped her own hands so tightly, she white-knuckled. John reached over to place a gentle hand on hers and said, “Atta turns 26 this next week, on the 13th. I believe it is high time she was married and settled down. Many of you have expressed interest in my daughter’s hand. Each family will produce a suitor for my daughter at her party. From there, she will choose her husband.”

“You are letting her choose, John Paul? She could draw it out and never choose!” One of the elders called in a gravelly voice. “We’ve never given daughters free choice. You shall choose her husband.”

“Don Greco. We all value your input as the elders. But our children were born into a much different age. They have seen much in their young lives. My daughter will make her own choice. By her next birthday, she will be married.” John said, announcing the last bit to the room in a firm and final tone. Atta glanced at her father and gritted her teeth before standing and walking out in a deafening silence.

~

As the meeting went on without her, Atta hung around the gardens, finishing one of her last joints. As the smoke trailed from the burnt orange end, she placed a delivery order to restock as she made her way back to the manor. When she reached the porch, she set up shop on the swing bench to finish the roach.

Just as she snubbed it out with the toe of her boot, the doors flew open, causing her to look up. Colson walked out, rubbing his hands over his face and muttering. With a muffled groan, he dropped his hands and sighed, still muttering. Once he finally turned to begin pacing, he noticed Atta off to the side and gave her nothing more than a cursory glance as he paced, evenly, trying to quell his anxiety and his anger.

Atta watched him for a moment as she patted herself down to find her lighter and last joint. Giving it a few good puffs to get it nice and lit, Atta stood and went to Colson, offering it to him once he paced back to her. He accepted it and took a large hit, trying to allow as much of it to soak in as he could before he let it go, blowing out a slow line of smoke. Colson closed his eyes with a sigh as he took another hit. It made Atta giggle.

“You seem a lot jumpier than you used to be.” She teased gently. Colson opened his eyes and gave her a look. The look only made Atta smirk as she leaned on the hands against the brick wall. Colson took another hit before handing it back as he said, “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Atta said, softly, taking the joint. As Colson passed to walk back inside, Atta turned, quickly, and caught his hand. Colson turned and his expression softened as he saw a small, flirtatious smirk spread across her face while she stepped closer and looked up at him. “You should come by the shop sometime. I’m closing all this week. Could use the company.”

Her fingers played with his in the sweet, innocent way she did when they were younger. There had always been a mutual attraction between them, but Atta had to be seen with someone who was favorable to the family and Colson was a very far cry from that. So, they kept their friendship as a way to still at least be able to be around each other.

With a chuckle, Colson said, “Yeah. And what happens if John or one of the Dons walks in? Sees us alone together. They’re already gunning for me.”

“Gunning for the Gunner? They must have a death wish.” Atta teased with a chuckle as she took a small step closer to close the already small gap between them. She brought her joint to her lips and inhaled slowly. Colson smirked and plucked the joint from her lips and said, ��You’re cute.”

Atta blew out the smoke as he took a hit and held it in for a moment as he said, “You must have a death wish for me. John would kill me if he found out. Damaging his precious princess’s reputation.”

Atta laughed as Colson finally let out the smoke, then she said, “Please. I damage it on my own. 25, living alone. No husband, no fiance. The family already treats me like I’m living in sin.” Atta scoffed and rolled her eyes as she took the joint back. She looked up at Colson and asked, “So, will you come see me tomorrow night?”

Waiting for his response, Atta took another drag as Colson took a step back, taking the joint from her as she offered it. After taking a final drag and handing it back, Colson said, “Sure.”

Atta’s face began to light up, but skidded to a halt and dropped as Colson, who seemed to take her smile, said, “If Rook is there.” He snickered as Atta sucker-punched his shoulder and said, “Not funny.”

“I thought it was.” He said with a small shrug and a smirk. Colson chuckled and took a step closer to bend down and kiss her cheek. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Atta watched him walk back inside and down the hall with a sigh. She kicked a chip of brink before finishing the joint and stamping it out before going in as well to find her friends. Colson approached his gang and smiled when he saw Rook turn. The men chuckled and clapped hands before Rook said, “Hey, Colson, my dad was asking for you. He wants to see you before you leave.”

Scrunching up his face, slightly confused, Colson asked, “Did he say why?” Rook smirked and said, “It’s nothing bad, bro. Promise. But don’t keep him waiting.

Colson sighed, sightly, calling to his men to hang tight, he then turned to find his way through the mess of halls to get to John’s office, no doubt that’s where he would be waiting. Two knocks on the door, Colson prayed that his high set in soon, as he felt the pricklings of anxiety form again.

“Entra.” The command came, slightly muffled behind the heavy oak door. Colson pushed the door open and walked in, closing the door behind him. When Colson turned, he saw John’s back facing him as John flipped through folders and papers, standing in front of a filing cabinet.

“You wanted to see me, John?” Colson said, taking a few steps to the center of the room and clasping his hands behind his back. John turned, folders still in hand, and smiled at him before closing the drawers.

“Colson. Sí, Sí, come in.” John said, waving the young man over. Colson approached John’s desk but didn’t move to sit down until invited. John set his papers and folders down on his desk and grabbed two crystal glasses and a decanter of scotch. Filling the glasses, he held one out to Colson, inquiring, “You still drink scotch?”

Colson smirked and nodded, accepting the drink. “Yes, sir. I do.” Colson said. Both men chuckled and clinked glasses in a cheers. John quickly downed the amber liquid and refilled his glass before indicating the chair in front of Colson, saying, “Please. Sit.”

Colson sipped the scotch as he sat down. Taking another sip, Colson began to choke and sputter on it, caught off guard when John said, “About the wedding…”

Colson coughed and set the glass down, wiping his face as John looked up in confusion and watched him. Once Colson was able to pull himself together, he looked at John and said “Uhm the wedding? Atta’s?”

John chuckled and said, “Not to you, dear boy. That’s why I’ve called you here.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t understand,” Colson said. John gave a heavy sigh as he continued to speak and look over papers.

“Colson, our families are very close. Aureliano and Vittorio were like brothers to me. It pained me when the elders asked that I step in as head of this family instead of you. I think of you as my own son.” John finally looked up at him and continued, “When I asked that each family produce a son as a suitor for my daughter...Whom did you expect to name? Yourself?”

“Well, I-Yes?” Colson answered, still confused as to why he had been called there. John smiled and nodded, looking back down at his papers.

“As I expected. You are the only Romano son left. It is the logical choice and I understand that.” John said. “But you must understand when I say, that you cannot present yourself, nor any of your men, as a prospect for Atta. The Romano family will not have a suitor.”

Colson blinked in surprise and questioned, “Sir?”

John looked up, watching Colson for a moment then sighed and said, “You know as well as I do; The Dons are not overly fond of you or your choice of men. If I were even to entertain the notion that I would allow Atta to consider you, there would be an uproar. You have your seat on this council because your grandfather made XX what it is today.”

“I’m aware of my lineage and birthright,” Colson said, with blatant disdain as obvious by his lip curling in a sneer. John smirked and said, “I have no intention of removing you from your position, Colson. But one I am gone, if JP cannot keep the Dons and elders happy...He will have no choice but to remove you once they call a vote.”

Colson sighed and sat back, refusing to admit defeat, but also at a loss. “Then, what the fuck am I supposed to do here, John?” He asked, throwing a hand up. John stood, as did Colson. He went to the young, blonde Don and clapped a hand on his back, steering him to the door.

“Nothing. Right now, at least. The Dons know of your friendship with my children. They will expect you to offer yourself for Atta’s hand. Surprise them all, Richard.” John said. Colson couldn’t help the twitch that took over his face at the use of his first name, but he knew John only used it to drive home a point. As the door opened, Colson sighed and nodded, turning to John and shaking his hand.

“Yes, Sir.” He said. “Was there anything else?”

John chuckled and said, “Don’t start a fight at her party. We both know it won’t be me or the Dons that will punish you for it.”

Colson smirked, recalling the day when a very young Colson and Rook started a fight at Atta’s 13th birthday. Both boys left with black eyes and scars from Atta’s ring. He nodded and walked out, making his way back through the maze of halls to the foyer where only Rook and Colson’s men were left.

He said his goodbyes to Rook and the group walked out the front doors and made their way down the stairs. Light, lyrical laughter met his ears and he looked up to see Atta and her friends getting into their car. Colson watched as her curls bounced and shone in the sun as she turned to talk to one of the girls; Carina was her name if Colson remembered correctly. Atta’s eyes flickered up to Colson and her smile widened a touch before the car door opened and she looked away, thanking the valet that held her door open. She slipped him a few bills before climbing into the SUV.

As Atta’s car drove off, Colson made his way down the stairs, a few steps before his car, when a young man stepped in front of him, a smug look on his face and dressed to kill. Colson repressed the urge to sneer at him. Or punch him out. He showed an extreme amount of self-control as the man began to speak.

“Young Romano. Good to see you again.” He said, briefly touching Colson’s shoulder.

“Enzio d’Este...Good to see you as well.” Colson said, half a second away from rolling his eyes at the smug bastard. Enzio chuckled and continued, “I hope you haven’t gotten too many hopes up?”

Raising an eyebrow, lazily, Colson offered, “About what, exactly?”

“Atta choosing you,” Enzio said. “I know you, her, and Rook are i tre moschettieri, but I’m a d’Este. No woman can resist a d’Este. Everyone knows that.”

Colson chuckled and shifted. “d’Este...If she chooses you? I respect her and her choices...Enough to shoot you after everyone is gone. No woman needs to see that mess.” He said. His smile dropped as he added, “Even if she does choose you, Enzio...If I find out you’ve hurt her, or you’re the reason she cries, you’ll find yourself at the bottom of the Tyrrhenian wearing a pair of cement Mary Janes with a matching hat...Am I in any way unclear, d’Este?”

Enzio chuckled and stuck a cigarette between his lips and lit it before he said, with a gesture to Colson, “You have a good night, Don Romano.” With almost an even bigger ego than before and even more smug, Enzio walked away, back to his own family as they piled in their cars and left. Colson groaned softly and got into the backseat of his own SUV, his buddy, Slim, had waited for him to get in before sliding in next to him as the door closed.

“The fuck did that smug asshole want?” Another man from the back asked, scratching at his beard as he sat forward. Colson glanced at him and chuckled.

“Eazy, Baze.” He said to the man. Baze had a run-in or two with the d’Estes and wasn’t fond of the eldest son, Enzio, at all. “He’s just trying to rattle us so we fuck up and I lose my power.”

Baze scoffed and sat back, unconvinced. The other man beside him, AJ, nudged Colson and said, “What’d John want?”

Colson glanced at him and sighed. “He told me I’m not to name myself or any of you for Atta. He basically forbade me from marrying her.” He said. The car suddenly went silent as the rest of them were in shock. While they knew Colson would offer himself as he was the only Romano left, save his daughter, they all thought it would be a sure thing and John would be overjoyed to welcome him to the family. But as Colson explained the nature of their conversation, they understood and dropped the subject.

~

Next Chapter

Hope you guys liked it. If you want to be added to my taglist for this and/or future MGK/Colson stories, let me know! If you have any comments, feel free!

@badwolf-in-the-impala​​ @lovemythsworld​​ @kellsfanficalltogether​​ @mgkobsessed​

[stormbornbastard]

Daenerys Targaryen Rant

Look, I'm new to the GOT fandom and being on Tumblr overloads with you a lot of information at once. This fandom, is like the definition of toxic and for what? Ships? I have to laugh.

I'm only gonna address one thing but believe me, I've got a list so let's do this shit.

One thing I've noticed is the overwhelming hate against Daenerys Targaryen, for her cruelty and impulsiveness in some of her actions. In no way do I agree with all of them but I refuse to reduce her complex character and story buildup to that of a villain or a mad queen.

Daenerys has simultaneously figured out to be loved and feared all at once by her people which is fucking amazing. She was not born with the same training to rule as other highborns. She was not given some handbook on how to be the perfect fucking queen for the people and herself. She makes mistakes and acts impulsively but not at all times and the times she has, she's paid for them greatly and if she hasn't learned from them now, she will. Its trial and error with her, it's the only path of ruling and conqueror she has.

By no means do her mistakes outweigh her good deeds. Daenerys has done questionable things for her claim to the throne but honestly at this point, who hasn't? (Jon isn't aware of his claim so just don't)

She's not just some benevolent and perfect ruler who shows mercy to all and does nothing wrong. You wanna know why? Because that ruler doesn't exist. No real person is capable enough to do that because real people are flawed and since GOT tries to reflect real people in their characters, Daenerys is flawed too.

Those flaws do not make her incompetent enough to rule nor do they take away all that she fought to overcome and gain (screw anyone who thinks that shit was just handed to her, her name didn't mean shit. The Targaryens had been discarded before her and the name and entitlement can only get one so far, look at Viserys for example if you need to)

A lot of people want her to be more compassionate and empathetic with her enemies and people who pose a threat but why should she? Her enemies have never been compassionate and empathetic with her. Daenerys was raised with cruelty, she was only shown cruelty by all those who were supposed to love her which is why I believe she has no problem being cruel to those who pose a threat. It's all she's knew, the cruelty others for a very long time. As much as you wanna discard her backstory, its integral to shaping the person she is.

We have seen her ability to grow as a character and show more than the death and destruction that Targaryens have left behind. She cannot learn all the capabilities of a kind and good queen when she has rarely known kindness and goodness herself. But she is growing, her sacrificing a dragon who she considered a child of her own in an effort to help defend the north against the white walkers (without Jon bending the knee first) shows her ability to put people before her own political even fucking personal interest. (Another impulsive action that she paid/ will pay for and fucking learned/will learn from. Also can we acknowledge the fact that instead of holding animosity towards Jon for the death of her dragon like she could've, she empathizes with him and instead wants to help him destroy the night king BEFORE he bends the knee all while grieving her fucking child! Dany had no indication that he would bend the knee if she helped him, none. Yet she still wanted to help him destroy the night king and protect the north and it's people regardless!)

A lot of people have ridiculously high expectations of her even though when she started the show, she had no political experience, no good social experience, no military experience, no experiences one needs to rule. Yet she gained them (she wasn't given some wise person along her entire path to help her do it either) and she gained a council of people to advise her and that she trusts with her life to become a better fucking queen and to give her knowledge when she lacks it because she knows she doesn't know everything about ruling. She's aware of almost all of her flaws and she's worked to improve on them. She's not the second coming of Robb Stark (we all wish he was still here) but she is Daenerys motherfucking Targaryen and that means something and not because of her ancestry.

Do I want her to receive the iron throne? Fuck no. I hope its destroyed along with the wheel.

Do I think she doesn't deserve to be a queen? Fuck no, she's earned it.

So stop discrediting her and fixating on her bad qualities when there is so much more of her to see.

And for fucks sakes, stop pitting her and Sansa Stark against one another. They both are remarkable fucking women who have coped with terrible shit to become who they are and they're situations as rulers are rarely the same. Most of y'all are hating on one of them because she gets in the way of a ship and its pathetic.

Sansa helps protect and maintain the north as ruler and was born a Stark which means something there and gives her some kind of respect. Dany is a fucking ruler and conqueror and the Targaryen name held nothing but negative connotations of destruction, failure and death in GOT society before her, she is consistently judged by the sins of her family. She's not familiar with every land she plans to control but she wants to be, wants to be a voice for the people and those who are oppressed just as she was. Conquering and ruling a new kingdom and ruling a well established one that you grew up in (therefore she's familiar with customs, the people and ways of life in the north) is nowhere near the same thing.

I'm not discrediting Sansa, I love her and she's an amazing ruler but she had some aspects afforded to her that Daenerys doesn't.

I know she's got an ego but shit, if I had done the things she did and overcome the things she has, my head would either be too fucking big to fit through my front door or I would've offed myself before Dany gained her first dragons (I honestly don't know if I would've had the strength to get past that point).There is no question about her strength and resilience because she's got a fuck ton of it.

One more thing, after Jon bends the knee and she says "I hope I deserve it!" THAT SHIT! THAT NEEDS TO BE FUCKING TALKED ABOUT! Dany isn't as collected as she paints herself to be, she doubts her actions just as everyone does theirs but she does it in secret. She's just not in a position to be open about her insecurities and doubts which is why she doesn't show them to anyone. She's never really been. Dany has never had family who genuinely and unconditionally loved her like the Starks have their entire lives. She has never had the comfort of confiding in someone like they have or trusting someone the way they do. Even now, the people who love her mostly love her for what she can offer them and what she represents, not who she is. She's always relied on herself for that which is probably why she's not as open and vulnerable as people would like her to be. It could even be said without all she represents or her dragons or her power, no one would love her.

She's grown up without it. Abuse taking its place, she would have no one without her claim. The starks would have each others which is why I think she holds onto it and enforces so much. Her claim has given her people who love her, the things she can offer have given her the people that love her. That sucks but it what it is.

Her questioning her ability to rule, her insecurity shows that she will not let her pride and ego get in the way of being a good queen if she gains the seven kingdom. Just because she exerts confidence does not mean she is overconfident or stuck in the belief of her entitlement to the throne. She worries she will not be the queen the seven kingdoms need which is exactly why she could be. Because those thoughts will keep her vigilant and attentive to all the shit she's needs to get done once she's no longer prioritized with conquering.

And to address her motives, or what I believe are her motives, Dany likes power. Why is that a bad thing? For a long period in life, she was considered weak and powerless, a pawn for those with power. She knows what it means to suffer (the death of her family, her husband [Stockholm syndrome but let me not start because she did love him], her only child Rhaego, and her dragon who she loves like a child, being raped, etc.) She knows it and she will never allow herself to be powerless again, she will never allow herself to be weak (I'm pretty sure she associates vulnerability with weakness at this point) in the face of threats, potential allies and the suffering of her, her people or both.

Why is that a bad thing? For her to be powerful, because that's what she equates it with strength. Power keeps her from weakness and I think it's why she strives for as much as possible so that she will never know that feeling of powerlessness again and so that her people who depend on her will never know suffering at the hands of the powerful again. It's not because of her "selfish belief that she deserves it." She wants it and forced herself to belief she's entitled and deserves it because while on the throne, she can secure protection from those who would do the horrific things she's endured and seen with that power to those without it.

She may result to cruelty when needed but that does not make her an evil person/ruler (yes I know about the Tarlys who refused to bend the knee for her. She made a power move, seeing as there were witnesses and the men who witnessed could see her not delivering on her threat of death as a weakness and eventually try and move against her, and she killed them. Now they all know she means fucking business. Also the Tarlys betrayed House Targaryen and Tyrell and were responsible for the death of thousands of Tyrell men. This is all Daenerys know of them, why do ya'll just ignore that. You act like Dany killed an innocent or someone she had a strong emotional attachment to but that's not the case. Her action was a strategic, political move and they chose to defy her when she gave them a choice) It wasn't right but it instilled fear, she cannot rule with just love. You can love someone and still plot against them, if people fear the consequences of what could happen if they fail, it'll hold them back. She needs both fear and love to rule. Loved enough to fight for her, feared enough to not move against her.

It's one a.m. but I had to get this off my chest, so yeah, I'm done.

[luxusnoname]

Studies of the Heart (Even x Braig)

Summary: Even had never been in love before. Maybe there was some irony in the fact that one who was researching the heart hadn't experienced one of its most powerful emotions. That is, until Braig showed up. The first fic in a collection of drabbles ranging from pre-BBS to post-KH3.

Characters/Pairings: Even/Braig, mentions of the other Apprentices

Rating: T (for like one swear word)

Word Count: 2.3k

Author’s Note: *slides onto home plate at the last second* It’s only 11pm in my time zone so t e c h n i c a l l y still Xigvex day! Not that anyone else really ships these two, but I’m hoping to change that eventually. This is set in an AU of sorts that disregards the revelations in KH3′s epilogue, and this particular bit takes place before BBS so no spoilers here! Enjoy ^^

~~~

Studies of the Heart

When Even walked into the lab in the morning, there were a great many things he expected to find.

He expected the comforting hum of machinery that served as the background noise to his research. He expected an organized stack of notes atop his workspace, exactly where he left them the night before. He expected the coffee pot to have a fresh brew ready and waiting for him.

The one thing he didn't expect was a certain marksman waiting to prank him, standing upside down in the air and paying no mind whatsoever to the laws of gravity. It shouldn't have come as a surprise really, since the man wasn't the sort to obey rules. Nor was he the sort of man to think things like this through. This last piece is especially important, because he wasn't expecting his victim to be preoccupied with reading a textbook that morning as he entered the lab.

So, it came as a great shock to both men when Even turned the corner and, not two steps into the room, collided with the unexpected obstacle that was Braig's dense skull.

Even flailed and dropped his book, the tome hitting the floor with a dull thud. However, it was not quite as spectacular as the thud made by Braig, who had lost concentration and dropped to the ground like a particularly bothersome sack of potatoes. Said potato sack was grumbling curses under his breath as he clutched his newfound bloody nose.

Even was faring no better, a hiss of pain accompanying his usual shrill tone as he massaged his forehead. "What on earth were you doing there?"

Braig gave a halfhearted chuckle from his position on the ground, voice muffled beneath his glove. "Well, was tryin' to spook ya but obviously that didn't work out."

"Don't you have duties you should be performing elsewhere?"

"As if. ‘Sides, who's to say my first duty of the day wasn't to test your alertness?"

Even narrowed his eyes at the man who was still laying on the ground - it was really quite a pathetic scene. "I highly doubt that." And with that, he picked up his book and stepped over Braig.

"C'mon, I don't even get a hand up?" He stretched his arm out toward the scientist but dropped it with a sigh when it was pointedly ignored.

Instead, Even began digging through his supply cabinet and mumbling to himself. Honestly, what a child. Able to wield space and gravity magic and he uses it to prank people. Surely that power could be put to much better use. And his bitterness over this was not in any way related to him being Braig's primary target, thank you very much.

But as much as he liked to complain, the pranks were never actively harmful. He suspected they were the man’s way of socializing in some twisted sense. At any rate, Even had grown accustomed to his presence over the years and his grumbling was really done out of habit than any actual contempt for the man. Braig was a fool, but he was an apprentice to Lord Ansem the same as the rest of them, so he was their fool.

“Got any gauze in there?”

Even startled as the sharpshooter warped next to him, causing him to nearly knock over a stack of glassware. “Heavens Braig, would you give me a moment? That’s what I’m looking for.”

“Anticipating my needs? My hero.” He brought the back of his free hand up to his forehead as if he were a damsel in distress, but his shit-eating grin was far from innocent.

Even didn’t grace this with a response. Instead, when he found the gauze, he shoved it into Braig’s hand and stalked back toward his workspace.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down to review his notes from the previous day, elbow propped up on the desk and fist under his chin. One particular subject had responded to the stimuli while another had not, and careful testing was necessary to determine if it any external variables had snuck their way into the experiment. He absently chewed the tip of his pen.

As he pondered the matter, the surface beneath him shifted with a groan and he nearly faceplanted as his elbow slipped. Looking up, he saw that Braig had hoisted himself up onto the desk, nursing his own cup of coffee.

Pray though he might that the interruptions would end there, he knew he couldn’t be so lucky.

“So, Lord Ansem did actually send me to check up on you this morning, believe it or not. Something about some science mumbo jumbo you’re working on?”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes returning to his notes. “Yes, that is what we do around here, for lack of better words I suppose.”

Braig waved his hand. “Eh, you know I don’t care for the finer details. He just wants a brief report written up so I can deliver it to him asap. He’ll be joining you this evening.”

“And I suppose you’re going to wait here while I compose it?”

“Of course. But don’t you worry about me,” he said with a glint in his eye as he jumped down. “I can find some way to entertain myself in the meantime.”

“Yes, and that’s exactly what I was afraid of,” Even grumbled as he pulled a fresh sheet of paper out of a supply drawer to transcribe his notes onto.

Just as he was about to shut the drawer, he caught his reflection in a small mirror. His attention was immediately drawn to his forehead, which now bore a small but slowly growing reddish mark. Curses. No doubt he’d be sporting a lovely bruise for a week or more thanks to his companion.

As if on cue, there was a crash of metal on tile from deeper in the lab and the marksman threw his hands up in a gesture that was supposed to imply innocence. Even didn’t buy it. But at least Braig had the good sense to look sheepish about it.

~~~

Contrary to popular belief, Even did make it out of the lab on occasion, rare though it might be. His walks usually took him to the fountains in the courtyard. They were a sight to behold and one of the many wonders of Radiant Garden. If he ever hit a stumbling block in his research, spending time pondering there usually managed to provide some solution or new angle to look at a problem from.

Today happened to be one of those frustrating days, and the weather was pleasant enough for a stroll. So he found himself at the fountain, mulling over various disproven hypothesis and how they could be improved. He was on the verge of a breakthrough when a foreign object was thrust in front of his face. A bar of sea salt ice cream, to be exact.

He turned to the owner and of course it was none other than Braig, who shook it playfully in his face. “Apology ice cream?”

“Apology? What for?”

“For this morning.”

Ah, of course. Even eyed the proffered gift warily. The treat itself didn’t pose any threat, but a genuine gesture from Braig was rare, so forgive him for being skeptical.

Gloved hand wiggled the bar yet again. “C’mon, I know you aren’t just eating them for the kid’s benefit.”

A rare smile graced Even’s features at the mention of Ienzo, Lord Ansem’s brilliant young protégé. Once he deemed it safe, he accepted the ice cream with a small nod and sat on the nearby bench. Braig followed suit, wasting no time in eating his. And proceeding to talk with a mouthful, as expected.

“Speaking of Ienzo, I don’t know what you and Ansem have done to that kid, but he has absolutely no concept of fun,” Braig said as he jabbed his ice cream in an accusatory fashion. “I asked him if he’d wanna try sniping an apple that was dangling in a tree just above Dilan and y’know what he said?”

“He said no,” Even deadpanned.

“He said no! Can you imagine? Passing up an opportunity like that?”

Even took a bite of his ice cream as he mulled over his response. “I don’t know Braig, can I imagine being a mature individual with a healthy respect for my peers? It is rather difficult.”

Braig grinned and raised an eyebrow. “Was that sarcasm? And here this whole time I thought you were just a stick in the mud, Ev.”

He opened his mouth to respond but the words died on his lips. Ev. In all the years that Braig had been at the castle, he had never called him that before. And Even wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it. On one hand, it was infuriatingly informal. But on the other, it suggested that the man thought highly enough of him to consider him a friend. Maybe it even held a degree of affection.

Not that it mattered to him, of course. He just wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Speechless? Man, I really did give you a good knock on the noggin, didn’t I?”

Before Even could process what was happening, Braig brought a hand up to his forehead, thumb gently swiping over the blossoming bruise. He studied it for a moment before his dark eyes met Even’s, his expression unreadable but unusually sincere. Had he ever truly looked at the man’s eyes like this before, close enough to notice how the irises were a chestnut brown in the sunlight?

Despite himself, Even felt a blush beginning to work its way up his neck at the surprisingly vulnerable eye contact. He turned away and cleared his throat. “If I remember correctly, you got a bloody nose out of the affair, so I’d say we’re about even.”

“Huh. S’pose we are.”

Both men fell silent at that, content to finish their ice cream in amicable peace. His mind went back to the day that Braig was discovered lurking on the grounds. Dilan and Aeleus were patrolling the gardens that morning when the former spotted him. Even had only heard stories of the event, but they brought him great joy regardless.

Apparently when Dilan moved to apprehend him, Braig had warped away, sticking his leg through a portal to trip the larger man from a safe distance. Doubled over with laughter at his own cleverness, he didn’t notice Aeleus behind him. One swift pommel to the back of his head and he was down for the count.

They took him to Lord Ansem, who was intrigued by his spatial powers and invited him to stay at the castle. His unique control over gravity, coupled with excellent marksmanship, made him an excellent candidate for a guard. Soon after, he became an apprentice much like Dilan and Aeleus had.

Returning to the present, he stole a glance at Braig out of the corner of his eye. The man appeared to be deep in contemplation himself, brow furrowed and empty ice cream stick balanced between his teeth. Even may mock his intelligence, but he suspected he was far more thoughtful and observant than one might assume.

After a few moments, a hand clapped his shoulder and squeezed. “Welp, I better get going now. Some of us have work to do,” Braig added with an infuriating wink before he withdrew his hand and meandered off.

Even stammered as he felt heat rise to his cheeks. Where had that reaction come from?

Surely it was because the man had the nerve to suggest he was slacking off. Surely. It wasn't anything else. It wasn’t because of that wink or that lazy, crooked smirk. Or the way his fingertips had lingered on his shoulder, leaving ghost sensations in the path they had traced over. He just had to get his mind on something else, anything else.

The empty ice cream stick in his hands suddenly became of great interest to him.

~~~

It was shortly after that when Even began noticing little things about Braig, details that had somehow escaped him over the years. Like how the guard uniform’s square shoulders sloped on his thin frame. How his lopsided grin caused the corner of one eye to crinkle. The way he restlessly swung his legs when he was sitting on the lab table that had to be disinfected every time he visited without fail.

And while Braig’s interruptions were almost always pointless and asking him to refrain from visiting the lab would certainly increase his productivity, he never brought himself to ask. He had spent more time pondering this than he cared to admit.

Even had never been in love before. Maybe there was some irony in the fact that one who was researching the heart hadn't experienced one of its most powerful emotions. He liked to believe it was because of the high standards he held not only for himself, but also those he chose to share his company with.

Braig fell short of these standards by a laughably large margin. He was loud, obnoxious, impulsive, childish, and not nearly as clever as he thought himself to be. None of these traits were even remotely close to ideal. But at the same time, there was some sort of affection there, wasn't there?

So maybe he wasn't in love with him. Developing a crush, possibly. He discarded that thought quickly, however, as the word ‘crush’ made him cringe. Crushes were for juveniles, teenagers acting on their physical attraction. Braig might be somewhat handsome, he supposed, with his sharp cheekbones and lean figure. But that was irrelevant. All of this terminology and categorization of his feelings was irrelevant in Even’s mind.

In the end, it didn’t matter what he called it. It was there, and much like the man himself, he just had to deal with it.

And surprisingly, this didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would.

[vcg73]

Witch!Kurt Ch 39: In Search of Finn

This piece is shorter than intended because I decided to break it in two - the setup and the search.  

~*~*~*~*~

"I think Finn would approve even if he got a little weird about it. And he might not. He'd come a long way by the time we became brothers."

 "What are you two talking about?" Carole asked, ears pricking up at the mention of her son.

 She gave Kurt a smile as he and Adam emerged from their bedroom hand in hand, the privacy spell having been banished with a spell-word from Adam. Kurt's vast collection of hygiene and grooming products had been put to good use, so that outside of the satisfied glow they both carried the two young men did not give any obvious signs of a couple who had just taken a quick roll in the hay. 

 Kurt smiled back at her, his cheeks pinking as he said, "I was just telling Adam that Finn would have approved of the honeymoon requirement for a Joining. He was disappointed when he found out that all gay couples didn't go directly from first kiss to, um, more than kissing. Apparently he had assumed that two guys would always go from zero to sixty without a second thought. Weirdly enough, when I told him that didn’t happen, it seemed to dispel the last of his latent homophobia. In the days before you and Dad made us brothers, I think he was afraid I would be overcome by his virile masculine pheromones one day and just pounce."

 The sarcastic statement drew a laugh, including a rueful one from Burt, who admitted, "I’m sorry to say that a lot of straight guys have that misconception, son. I know I did.”

 “Well a lot of guys do go directly from handshake to handjob without worrying about anything but fun,” Sebastian cut in, nudging Elliott in the ribs with a wicked grin as he added, “Thank God.”

 “Hey!” Kurt objected, glancing over at Mercedes and Sam, who were sitting on a sofa together listening with big grins on their faces. “Watch it. Parents, children, and straights present.”

 Another chorus of laughter and derisive noises met the warning. Adam’s little brother threw a popcorn kernel at Kurt’s head for the ‘children’ comment, and Kurt telekinetically flicked it back without a moment’s hesitation, bringing a startled look and then a beaming thumbs-up from Donnie, who had clearly not expected the quick defense.

 Adam grinned at their playfulness. “I think you and Finn could both be forgiven for your youthful misunderstandings, darling. We all have at least one embarrassing incident in our past that was necessary for growth and development. Dad and Gran certainly helped me over a couple of bumps that aren’t fun to look back on now.”

 Before he could go on, all three of his siblings exchanged a glance and crooned, “Katelynn!”

 “Who?” Kurt said with a laugh, astonished to see Adam’s face turn beet red.

 Bethany jumped in. “A school chum of mine when we were kids. Adam used to lurk in doorways whenever I had her over, mooning like a pathetic little puppy dog.”

 Celeste giggled. “Kate was in the class year between Adam and Bethy and she used to earn a few quid babysitting for Donnie and me after school. Not that I needed a minder by then, but we always had good times and it was a scream watching Adam lurk about with that lovesick expression on his face.”

 “See, he was a bit confused in those days,” Donnie added, giving his brother a condescending pat on the arm, followed by a cheeky grin when Adam made a half-hearted swipe at his curly blond head.

 Adam sighed and admitted, “She was very good about it when I finally declared myself, turned me down gently and whatnot, but it should come as no great shock to learn that my first and only girl-crush grew up to be the butchest woman in Chelmsford.”

 “I ran into her the other week,” Bethany said helpfully. “She has a bright blue crew-cut, sleeve tattoos, and biceps bigger than your head. Still a complete sweetheart, too.  She told me to pass along congratulations on your wedding.”

 Amidst the laughter of their group, and Dani slyly suggesting that they pass the Crawfords’ old friend her phone number, Adam held up his hands in surrender. “Thank her for me, but I think that proves my point. Fortunately for us all we grow up and, if we’re lucky, gain some perspective. And in this case, things happily seem to have turned out exactly the way they were meant to do."

 “I’ll drink to that,” Kurt said, helping himself to a large mug of coffee from the pot some blessed soul had freshly brewed and gulping down a large, slightly too hot sip. Ahhhh, bliss. They hadn’t been allowed to drink anything but water over the preceding 24 hours and he was dying for a good shot of caffeine. Especially since . . . “Speaking of things turning out the way they’re meant to, I’m ready to get started if the rest of you are. I’m just about jumping out of my skin with excess energy. If I don’t focus it soon, I’m afraid I might accidentally blow up the loft.”

 “Then let’s not waste any time,” Adam agreed. This intensity would not last for much longer, he knew. He could already feel the giddy charge of carrying some of Kurt’s shared power beginning to ebb.  The rituals, the surrounding aura of High magic, and the passion of their recent bout of lovemaking made him feel upbeat and wide-awake, but it would act on Kurt’s deeper magical sensitivity like an intense high, and he would feel a driving need to use it.  

 It was the entire reason they had chosen this day to attempt the rescue.  Kurt’s heightened power and sensitivity to magic was what made Kurt a coven leader and the rest of them ordinary witches. He might not even require the boost; Adam’s own rescue from the Void argued to that point, but Adam still wanted him to have every advantage.  

 “As we form the power circles, I’d like Adam to trade places with Sam,” Kurt said, unconsciously making the words an order. He looked at Adam with apologetic eyes. “I know you wanted to anchor me, but neither of us knows how you’ll react to being so near an open Void, and I’d rather not risk it. I want you to be protected no matter what happens, and I hope this doesn’t sound harsh, but I remember how badly it knocked me off stride when I shared your panic attack in Lima. Considering how much concentration it took all of us to search the Void for you, I don’t think I can risk being pulled in two directions if this experience triggers you.”

 His tone was regretful but his reasoning was sound. The coven belonged to them both, just as it belonged to Tubbington, Santana, Dani, Monica, Elliott, Brittany, and Johnny, but Kurt was the captain of this particular ship, as well as the one who would be risking himself.  So Adam simply nodded, kissed him for good luck, and moved to the back of the room, gently pushing Sam towards the center.  

 “Don’t worry, son,” Henry said to Kurt, who was looking at Adam as if he was already being pulled in two directions. The older man put an arm around his boy’s shoulders and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll look after Adam, the cats will look after Sam, and your mates will look after you. You just go in and concentrate on doing what you need to do.”

 “Thanks, Henry,” Kurt replied gratefully.  One distinct advantage to having such a large group of witches here today, family by both blood and choice, was that it freed up Kurt to do what he needed to do without worry. “I must admit I’m kind of nervous. The first time I did this, I had the advantage of not being afraid because I didn’t actually know what I was doing.”

 The rest of their coven-mates exchanged satisfied glances as Kurt, in spite of his admission, moved to his place in the center of the ward and began quietly conferring with the Familiars. There were glad to see him so confident and strong as he began his preparations. A little fear would keep him grounded, whereas overconfidence in this situation might prove dangerous.

 Whispering a word in his grandmother’s ear, Adam, with his father to one side, and his brother, and sisters next to Dad, deliberately took the empty space next to Carole, while June moved to take her other hand. June and her grandson had agreed at a glance that this experience would, in some respects, be harder on Carole than anyone else in the room. They all wanted Finn back, but she was his mother and she would be on tenterhooks the entire time Kurt was ‘gone’.  

 Because no matter what happened today, there would be an amount of heartbreak at the outcome. Either Kurt would fail to find Finn and Carole would have to face her son’s death once again, possibly even more agonized by the addition of dashed hopes, or she would get him back in spirit but not in body. Regardless of the outcome today, the tall young man with the innocent brown eyes and his father’s crooked grin, the physical form of the little boy Carole had borne and raised, hugged, kissed, and comforted throughout his life, would never return. Finn would be sharing space with Sam Evans now, wearing Sam’s face and form, and that would be hard, no matter how much of a blessing it would be to know that his mind and heart lived on.

 The group rearranged itself for maximum usefulness, the three Familiars resuming their protective triangle and setting themselves a bit farther back to allow Kurt and Sam enough room to sit cross-legged on the floor.  The remainder of the coven, sans Adam, positioned themselves in a pentagon around the cats, leaving the rest to stand in a rough circle on the outside where they could lend power if necessary.

 Burt and Mercedes, the only people here with no magic to contribute, reluctantly moved to the breakfast bar where they could see everything without being in the way. They last thing either of them wanted was to distract, or worse, compromise the safety of those working. Mercedes was not a witch herself, but she came from a magical family and was familiar enough with the principles of a Major Working to allow her to quietly commentate the event for a bemused but grateful Burt.

 As Kurt closed his eyes and centered himself, the three Familiars, once more in their feline form, began a low synchronized yowling that made the hair on every human’s neck stand on end. The sound was picked up in a harmonic hum that spread through each layer of the circle, as though they were chanting without words and the special wards they had set earlier snapped back into place with a surge of energy so powerful that the ward actually became visible for a split-second.

 Burt stared wide-eyed, whispering to the young woman by his side, “Did I just see what I thought I saw? Was that . . .?” 

He had no words, but Mercedes nodded and whispered back, “Magic. They’re shielded like layers of a cocoon, protecting Kurt and Sam, but also protecting us and everyone else in the building in case anything goes wrong.”

 “Do I want to know what would happen if they didn’t do that and something went wrong?”

 She thought for a moment and then patted his hand. “No.”

 Burt grimaced and scrubbed his other hand over his scalp, trying to push away the impossible sensation that his hair was standing on end.

 In the center of the warded shapes, Kurt took a deep breath through his nose and let it go slowly as he lowered his personal shields. He felt strange and uncomfortable without them, as if he was suddenly naked to every eye, but he would have to allow himself this vulnerability to reach the in-between spaces. He would need to hold himself fully open to the magic and trust his family to keep him safe.

 He reached a thread of power out to Sam, needing to re-familiarize himself with Sam’s aura. Every living being, regardless of magical status, carried a unique signature. It was what made them visible to a witch with Sight or allowed those with psychic Sensitivity to identify a particular person in a crowd.

 He steeled himself not to flinch when he touched that poor corroded soul. Sam would never know, but it felt like a betrayal of their friendship to react to any part of him with revulsion. And it was difficult not to. Kurt had not realized it before when he had only glanced briefly at Sam with his Sight, but there was a slimy feeling to the damaged aura that carried with it a distinct signature. Touching it, Kurt could almost smell the peculiar mixed odor of light sweat, spicy cologne, and too-sweet raspberry hair gel that was so uniquely Blaine.

 Kurt wanted to pull away, but if he was lucky enough to find Finn, he would need to open another link to his brother and to hold both men in place, using himself as a go-between until Monica and Johnny completed whatever means they had devised to bind the damaged souls together.  

 Finally, he felt as if he had a lock on Sam and he pulled back the thread with intense relief to no longer be directly touching that spiritual rot.

 Opening his eyes, Kurt looked at Elliott. Tubbington was the leader of the feline trio, but Elliott was his Familiar, his guide and truest friend. “How do I begin? When I went searching for Adam, I had his physical body here in the form of that Apples poster. I need something of Finn to concentrate on.”

 From the outer circle, Carole called out a reply before Elliott could think of anything. “Use your pendant. The one your dad gave you at Christmas. It’s like mine, isn’t it? It has a little piece of Finn’s memory. His soul.”

 Kurt smiled at her. “That’s perfect.”  

 “It’s brilliant,” Adam agreed, giving Carole’s clammy hand a warm squeeze. “I never would have thought of that.”

 Elliott and Tubbington were both nodding in approval, and Sebastian looked as smug at his charge’s wise suggestion as if he had come up with the idea himself. Unable to project words in his feline form, Elliott looked at his mentor who said, “Good idea, Carole. Kurt, you never take that necklace off so it should be deeply imbued with your own magical signature by now, which will also have strengthened the traces of both Finn and Adam that were spell-cast into it.”

 Kurt beamed. His necklace also carried the trace of its giver, and of the witches who had so lovingly woven their own magic into the casting of the charm. Plus Adam wore the matching pendant, infused with the same spells. If Kurt used the jewelry as his focus, he could remain psychically anchored to the people who loved him best.

 “Perfect,” he said again. Wrapping one hand around the little silver knot-work pendant, he pulled the braided chain off overhead and held it out in front of him, concentrating on the tiny green stone in its center.  It took a moment, but as he concentrated on memories of his brother, Kurt found the trace of Finn that had been woven into the metallurgical magic.  

Following that feeling, he closed his eyes, centered himself and let go of the physical world as he gave himself over to the search.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Ashton Applewhite: Let's end ageism

What's one thing that every person in this room is going to become? Older. And most of us are scared stiff at the prospect. How does that word make you feel? I used to feel the same way. What was I most worried about? Ending up drooling in some grim institutional hallway. And then I learned that only four percent of older Americans are living in nursing homes, and the percentage is dropping.What else was I worried about? Dementia. Turns out that most of us can think just fine to the end. Dementia rates are dropping, too.The real epidemic is anxiety over memory loss.

00:49

(Laughter)

00:51

I also figured that old people were depressed because they were old and they were going to die soon.

00:57

(Laughter)

00:59

It turns out that the longer people live, the less they fear dying, and that people are happiest at the beginnings and the end of their lives. It's called the U-curve of happiness, and it's been borne out by dozens of studies around the world. You don't have to be a Buddhist or a billionaire. The curve is a function of the way aging itself affects the brain.

01:18

So I started feeling a lot better about getting older, and I started obsessing about why so few people know these things. The reason is ageism: discrimination and stereotyping on the basis of age. We experience it anytime someone assumes we're too old for something,instead of finding out who we are and what we're capable of, or too young. Ageism cuts both ways. All -isms are socially constructed ideas -- racism, sexism, homophobia -- and that means we make them up, and they can change over time. All these prejudices pit us against each other to maintain the status quo, like auto workers in the US competing against auto workers in Mexico instead of organizing for better wages.

02:05

(Applause)

02:07

We know it's not OK to allocate resources by race or by sex. Why should it be OK to weigh the needs of the young against the old? All prejudice relies on "othering" -- seeing a group of people as other than ourselves: other race, other religion, other nationality. The strange thing about ageism: that other is us. Ageism feeds on denial -- our reluctance to acknowledge that we are going to become that older person. It's denial when we try to pass for younger or when we believe in anti-aging products, or when we feel like our bodies are betraying us, simply because they are changing. Why on earth do we stop celebrating the ability to adapt and grow as we move through life? Why should aging well mean struggling to look and move like younger versions of ourselves? It's embarrassing to be called out as older until we quit being embarrassed about it, and it's not healthy to go through life dreading our futures. The sooner we get off this hamster wheel of age denial, the better off we are.

03:13

Stereotypes are always a mistake, of course, but especially when it comes to age, because the longer we live, the more different from one another we become. Right? Think about it. And yet, we tend to think of everyone in a retirement home as the same age: old --

03:26

(Laughter)

03:28

when they can span four decades. Can you imagine thinking that way about a group of people between the ages of 20 and 60?

03:36

When you get to a party, do you head for people your own age? Have you ever grumbled about entitled millennials? Have you ever rejected a haircut or a relationship or an outing because it's not age-appropriate? For adults, there's no such thing. All these behaviors are ageist. We all do them, and we can't challenge bias unless we're aware of it. Nobody's born ageist, but it starts at early childhood,around the same time attitudes towards race and gender start to form, because negative messages about late life bombard us from the media and popular culture at every turn. Right? Wrinkles are ugly. Old people are pathetic. It's sad to be old.

04:16

Look at Hollywood. A survey of recent Best Picture nominations found that only 12 percent of speaking or named characters were age 60 and up, and many of them were portrayed as impaired. Older people can be the most ageist of all, because we've had a lifetime to internalize these messages and we've never thought to challenge them. I had to acknowledge it and stop colluding. "Senior moment" quips, for example: I stopped making them when it dawned on me that when I lost the car keys in high school, I didn't call it a "junior moment."

04:48

(Laughter)

04:50

I stopped blaming my sore knee on being 64. My other knee doesn't hurt, and it's just as old.

04:56

(Laughter)

04:58

(Applause)

05:00

We are all worried about some aspect of getting older, whether running out of money, getting sick, ending up alone, and those fears are legitimate and real. But what never dawns on most of us is that the experience of reaching old age can be better or worse depending on the culture in which it takes place. It is not having a vagina that makes life harder for women. It's sexism.

05:23

(Applause)

05:25

It's not loving a man that makes life harder for gay guys. It's homophobia. And it is not the passage of time that makes getting olderso much harder than it has to be. It is ageism. When labels are hard to read or there's no handrail or we can't open the damn jar, we blame ourselves, our failure to age successfully, instead of the ageism that makes those natural transitions shameful and the discrimination that makes those barriers acceptable. You can't make money off satisfaction, but shame and fear create markets, and capitalism always needs new markets. Who says wrinkles are ugly? The multi-billion-dollar skin care industry. Who says perimenopause and low T and mild cognitive impairment are medical conditions? The trillion-dollar pharmaceutical industry.

06:12

(Cheers)

06:13

The more clearly we see these forces at work, the easier it is to come up with alternative, more positive and more accurate narratives.Aging is not a problem to be fixed or a disease to be cured. It is a natural, powerful, lifelong process that unites us all.

06:32

Changing the culture is a tall order, I know that, but culture is fluid. Look at how much the position of women has changed in my lifetime or the incredible strides that the gay rights movement has made in just a few decades, right?

06:44

(Applause)

06:45

Look at gender. We used to think of it as a binary, male or female, and now we understand it's a spectrum. It is high time to ditch the old-young binary, too. There is no line in the sand between old and young, after which it's all downhill. And the longer we wait to challenge that idea, the more damage it does to ourselves and our place in the world, like in the workforce, where age discrimination is rampant. In Silicon Valley, engineers are getting Botoxed and hair-plugged before key interviews -- and these are skilled white men in their 30s, so imagine the effects further down the food chain.

07:20

(Laughter)

07:22

The personal and economic consequences are devastating. Not one stereotype about older workers holds up under scrutiny.Companies aren't adaptable and creative because their employees are young; they're adaptable and creative despite it. Companies --

07:38

(Laughter)

07:39

(Applause)

07:41

We know that diverse companies aren't just better places to work; they work better. And just like race and sex, age is a criterion for diversity.

07:50

A growing body of fascinating research shows that attitudes towards aging affect how our minds and bodies function at the cellular level. When we talk to older people like this (Speaks more loudly) or call them "sweetie" or "young lady" -- it's called elderspeak --they appear to instantly age, walking and talking less competently. People with more positive feelings towards aging walk faster, they do better on memory tests, they heal quicker, and they live longer. Even with brains full of plaques and tangles, some people stayed sharp to the end. What did they have in common? A sense of purpose. And what's the biggest obstacle to having a sense of purpose in late life? A culture that tells us that getting older means shuffling offstage. That's why the World Health Organization is developing a global anti-ageism initiative to extend not just life span but health span.

08:41

Women experience the double whammy of ageism and sexism, so we experience aging differently. There's a double standard at work here -- shocker --

08:50

(Laughter)

08:52

the notion that aging enhances men and devalues women. Women reinforce this double standard when we compete to stay young,another punishing and losing proposition. Does any woman in this room really believe that she is a lesser version -- less interesting, less fun in bed, less valuable -- than the woman she once was? This discrimination affects our health, our well-being and our income,and the effects add up over time. They are further compounded by race and by class, which is why, everywhere in the world, the poorest of the poor are old women of color.

09:29

What's the takeaway from that map? By 2050, one out of five of us, almost two billion people, will be age 60 and up. Longevity is a fundamental hallmark of human progress. All these older people represent a vast unprecedented and untapped market. And yet, capitalism and urbanization have propelled age bias into every corner of the globe, from Switzerland, where elders fare the best, to Afghanistan, which sits at the bottom of the Global AgeWatch Index. Half of the world's countries aren't mentioned on that listbecause we don't bother to collect data on millions of people because they're no longer young. Almost two-thirds of people over 60 around the world say they have trouble accessing healthcare. Almost three-quarters say their income doesn't cover basic services like food, water, electricity, and decent housing. Is this the world we want our children, who may well live to be a hundred, to inherit?Everyone -- all ages, all genders, all nationalities -- is old or future-old, and unless we put an end to it, ageism will oppress us all. And that makes it a perfect target for collective advocacy.

10:43

Why add another -ism to the list when so many, racism in particular, call out for action? Here's the thing: we don't have to choose.When we make the world a better place to grow old in, we make it a better place in which to be from somewhere else, to have a disability, to be queer, to be non-rich, to be non-white. And when we show up at all ages for whatever cause matters most to us --save the whales, save the democracy -- we not only make that effort more effective, we dismantle ageism in the process.

11:15

Longevity is here to stay. A movement to end ageism is underway. I'm in it, and I hope you will join me.

11:24

(Applause and cheers)

11:28

Thank you. Let's do it! Let's do it!

https://www.ted.com/talks/ashton_applewhite_let_s_end_ageism

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Wyatt questions an answer (Part 11)

Wyatt @SayWhenLA... "This would also lend itself to the theory of elites wanting one world race, umbrella government, one world currency, etc. The truth is every race and ethnicity has its pros and cons,  South Koreans tend to score much higher on intel tests than say, Cubans, but Cubans are also dominating the olympics in wrestling and judo while Koreans are not. Each group of people have their pros and cons and I’m not sure what the result would be of all of us being the same. Israel- We working on ethno state. And you don't get to say a thing about it. Europe and North America- get the Kalergi Plan. Hm. When is Africa, Israel, or , etc.. getting diversity? It is literally only the white countries that need "diversity" Weird. The only real war is the war of the people with power/money/control over society vs the rest of us. All these things are designed to keep the masses pitted against each other instead of against the real controllers who really just want to keep and grow their ridiculous power. These topics will be more thoroughly discussed down road. I just have to laugh because these subjects usually get lowest RT traction even if you make decent arguments but the tweet views up WAYYY up there. So clearly many are reading but afraid to retweet lol. Understandable.  von Coudenhove plan. If ˈmäz-ləm countries like so great why leave ˈmäz-ləm countries and get mass trafficked to non ˈmäz-ləm countries and !slamophy those countries? We shouldn't be giving anything and let people hate us for free and use money to actually fix our communities. Pathetically, America's government is littered with dual citizenship dummies that call for Israel first, America distant second. We're infiltrated in many directions ofc. American Legion even called for full investigation into Israel's attack and cover-up on the USS Liberty that killed and injured 200+ US soldiers.  I literally have never heard about the USS Liberty until just last year. That is seriously some grade-a American bigotry right there. Did citizens of Israel do that? Of course not. The controllers did. See how easy this is. Vet Associations president Gallo famous for saying: “We must not forget the holocaust, however, in concert, it is equally important for the future of the United States to never forget the USS Liberty.” A cover-up that is sustained by Media spin and or failure to seek and report the facts. In a historic move, the American Legion, at its national convention in Reno on Thursday, August 24, 2017, approved Resolution 40 calling for the first full U.S. government investigation of Israel's attack on the USS Liberty. Gunnery Sergeant Lockwood (USMC, ret.) was on hand during the entire convention working for passage of the resolution. Lockwood was awarded the Silver Star for "conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity in action in connection with the unprovoked and unexpected armed attack on U.S.S. LIBERTY (AGTR-5), in the Eastern Mediterranean, on 8 June." Lockwood said there were a lot of "hand shakes, hugs, and some tears" after the vote. Wow, so many claim to "support the troops." What's going on? The American Legion's resolution brings the nation's largest veterans organization back on the side of the USS Liberty survivors, family, and supporter in calling upon the "115th United States Congress to publicly, impartially, and thoroughly investigate the attack on the USS Liberty and its aftermath." The resolution also aligns the Legion with the Veterans of Foreign Wars, which, in 2013, adopted Resolution 423 at their national convention calling for the attack to be investigated. The Liberty was a U.S. Navy electronics ship operating in international waters in the eastern Mediterranean when it was attacked by Israeli forces. The ship's commander received the Congressional Medal of Honor and the crew is one of the most decorated for a single engagement in U.S. Navy history. The brave survivors deserve to see this happen before they die. When you don't have legitimate factual defense, and you are without shame and want your position to be accepted at any cost, the only thing left is lying. There have been no US investigations at all into the conduct of the Israeli forces when they attacked USS Liberty.  The Israelis have never been asked to produce evidence, nor have they been interviewed about the attack. You figure that one out. US governmental entity has never undertaken an investigation into the culpability for the attack. Also figure that one out. No agency or other institution has ever conducted a fact finding investigation into the question of why the Israeli State launched the attack and their prior knowledge that USS Liberty was a US Navy ship. No evidence Congress ever held hearings or launched an investigation. I learned about the cover-up, but I had absolutely zero idea how heavily the McCain's were involved. I hope the American public finds out the full truth about this treasonous pos. This is one war story that will never ever never get the Hollywood treatment.. So if Egypt attacked us, we would nuke them. But it was Israel, so nothing is done except to cover it up. How long has Israel been pimp slapping America? These cocksuckers have been bleeding America since 1913. This cabal been running bank of England since battle of Waterloo. Israel gives citizens a bad name. The citizens are not to blame, it is the zionist cabal that use citizens. These secret society cucks from hell created the fraudulent federal reserve...a central speculating bank that extorts usury from US citizens by taxing ever dollar printed. In other words, they print our money with zero accountability. They sell it back to us. HUH? WHAT? And to collect the extortion they created IRS. An extortion agency. Debt slavery. It was pretty brilliant. And evil. Really, really evil. For decades the traitors in the israel lobby covered up this war crime. We have let ourselves be conned. They seem to only give a damn when they need some dirty work done, no? Seems like it. Your Congress, the UK, Israel, Europe are infiltrated with this network's influence. If American machine gunned a life raft with American survivors, what do you think would happen to him/her? Israeli Pilot Jim Ennes has said "we had been surveilled all morning and part of afternoon by Israeli forces. They knew who we were. We heard them reporting over radio  And how we were sailing and where we were sailing. They saw the Flag and everything else. We were in international waters." There is no question that this attack on a U.S. Navy ship was deliberate False Flag. This was a coordinated effort involving air, sea, headquarters and commando forces attacking over a long period. It was not the "few rounds of misdirected fire" that Israel would have you believe. Worse, the Israeli excuse is a gross and detailed fabrication that disagrees entirely with the eyewitness recollections of the actual survivors who were actually there. Key American leaders call the attack deliberate. More important, eyewitness participants from the Israeli side have told survivors that they knew they were attacking an American ship. Fifteen years after the attack, an Israeli pilot approached Liberty survivors and then held extensive interviews about his role. According to this senior Israeli lead pilot, he recognized the Liberty as American immediately, so he informed his headquarters,  and was told to ignore the American flag and continue his attack. He refused to do so and returned to base, where he was arrested. Unfortunately, no one in the U.S. government had any interest in hearing these first-person accounts of Israeli treachery. Key members have long agreed that this attack was no accident. Perhaps most outspoken is former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Admiral Thomas Moorer. "I can never accept the claim that this was a mistaken attack," he insists. Yet Israel and its blind defenders continue to stand by their claim that the attack was a "tragic accident" in which Israel mistook the most modern electronic surveillance vessel in the world for a rusted-out 40-year-old Egyptian horse transport. Why lie if innocent? Despite the evidence, no U.S. administration has ever found the courage to ever found the courage to defy the Israeli lobby by publicly demanding a proper accounting from Israel. Instead of determining whether the attack was deliberate, the Navy blocked all testimony No survivor was permitted to describe the close in machine-gun fire that continued for 40 minutes after Israel straight up claims all firing stopped. No survivor was allowed to talk about the life rafts the Israeli torpedo men machine-gunned in the water. No survivor was permitted to challenge defects and fabrications. Eyewitness testimony as officer-of-the deck was withheld from record. No evidence of Israeli culpability "found" because no such testimony was allowed. To survivors, this was not an investigation. It was a cover-up. Such a disgrace the way our Servicemen have been treated. My heart goes out to all of the Servicemen and their families which continue to be betrayed by the US Government for the benefit of the cabal. The Liberty sent out a Mayday when they could, as their communications were jammed before the missiles started flying in, then the jamming ceased as the missiles were launched and was the only time their communications could go out. An American aircraft carrier a good distance away picked up the Mayday signal and launched some of their planes. When LBJ heard of the planes being launched, he got on the radio or phone to the Admiral of the carrier and told him to recall those planes back to the carrier. So the false flag was between Israel and LBJ (who was also sleeping with Mossad Spy) for the Israelis to sink the Liberty, as the Israeli planes didn't have markings, so Egypt would be blamed and America would come into the war and, Israel and America would share spoils of war. Evil has no boundaries, makes no difference whether it's a Democrat or Republican administration. Or what they identify as. Our country totally infiltrated and the people we voted to run it are bigger crooks than the ones they blame everything on and are allies are not so. USS Liberty Commander David Ed Lewis spoke during the USS LIBERTY’s 50th reunion regarding “idiots in Washington” and the president who set the precedent of failing to support the crew of the USS LIBERTY: “Not only did they die, their families also paid a price. One widow went over the edge and the state took her kids away. Some of my men were threatened with being put in a mental institution if they spoke out. None of us had any contact with the other until the first reunion of the LIBERTY twenty years after the attack. Everybody was assigned to different duty stations to keep us apart… “That morning I saw a couple of the Israeli over flights, we waved at each other. We all felt safe, as they were friends. I was back in my general quarter’s station two levels down when I heard the thud-thud-thud of the rockets overhead, but they never penetrated the bowels of the ship. “It was such a well planned accident. They took out just about every antenna we had. All of them were knocked out except for one that never worked right. It was also the first satellite communications in the U.S.A. It leaked hydrolic fluid but when it worked right, it bounced off the moon. “The torpedo explosion happened less than ten feet from where I stood and blew out the bulkhead and covered me with twenty years of navy paint. All the troops within twenty feet of me were killed instantly. The bulkhead protected me as a shield from the blast. “I shouldn’t have even survived. I was on the second level down and the compartment was sealed. Seamen Shnell broke regulations and saved my life. It’s against regulations to break watertight integrity, but he took the risk of sinking the ship to check for survivors. I really cant believe I just learned about this last year. Unbelievable. It wasn't a mistake. It was very deliberate and strategic planned attack. Extremely relevant today. It was a false flag operation to get US to do Israels bidding in the Middle East.   Unarmed ship. They were defenseless. Israel jammed their radio transmissions so they couldn't call for help. They jammed both their tactical frequencies and their distress frequencies, which is against international law. After raining down several machine gun runs, destroying antennas and such, they bombed it with napalm. Two Israeli ships approached and communicated with the pilots discussing who was going to finish her off. Oh yes, they did. And oh did they. When our boys tried to escape the burning ship on life boats, Israeli Navy opened hell-fire on the lifeboats with .50 machine guns.  Next, the Navy moved in and circled the wounded ship and hammered it with torpedos. Wow. The ship was finally able to get a distress signal out to american ship after a crew member was able to wire a makeshift antenna in hopes to signal help. Israel intercepted the calls, listened in, then immediately stopped bombing in fear of retaliation. They THEN claimed it was all just a terrible mistake. Despite the massive cover-up and lies.  Word must have traveled quick. President Johnson personally demanded that the retaliation fighters immediately cease and called them off. President Johnson said he didn't give a damn if the ship sunk, he would not embarrass muh greatest allies. The mockingbird media barely mentioned it, calling it a "friendly fire incident". The Johnson Administration discussed sinking the ship so it couldn't be photographed. Why? The survivors were told to never tell anyone about it, including family. NSA kept eye on the crew to make sure they didn't tell anyone. Israel planted stories in the media and threatened anyone that leaked it with cries of anti-semetism. Completely meaningless term. They've turned it into a joke. If I hear someone get called antisemite, I automatically assume they were just speaking truth and the other person is hysterical idiot. Inquiries were shut down, testimonies were erased. For decades those involved in the coverup lied about what happened. Israel used unmarked jets and tried to ensure their were no survivors on a ship they were CERTAIN was an American ship. Had the USS Liberty not had been able to get that one SOS call out, they would have sunk the ship and blamed it on Egypt, forcing us to bomb their enemies in the Middle East. Hm. With allies like Israel, who needs enemies? USS Liberty, Lavon Affair, Apollo Affair, celebrating 9/11 and saying would be good and benefit the state of Israel. Yeah not the company I would be wanting to keep. It is literally mind control slavery. Blind conservs so damn cringey. Seriously smd. This is all new to me and I'm trying to make sense of it all. I actually care about this stuff and take it seriously, unlike you. Our brave men got hung out to dry. Anyone in US military should understand that nothing really has changed. Israel literally almost got US puppet to set off WW3 by nuking Egypt. I think that's pretty f'n important.There were bombers ready to nuke Cairo. They don't mention Israel was machine gunning 850 Egyptian P.O.W.s right near where attack on Liberty took place. JFK blocked Israel from getting nukes. LBJ let them get nukes. Sad truth is LBJ conspired with Israel to attack and sink the Liberty. When it wouldn't sink, the cover-up began. I believe Johnson stated: "I want that sucker on the bottom"! (Speaking of sinking The Liberty) U.S.S. Liberty is just the start , Israel's list of crimes are long. And U.S. taxpayer funded. One thing went terribly wrong for Johnson's plan that day. The Liberty refused to sink. Some of men on U.S.S. Liberty believe it was the hand of God which saved the ship that day. It's historical blind spot. the internet is the only place it exists. Our history books aren't worth the paper they are written on! Israel did its absolute best to kill all US personal on board and sink this ship and blame a country that had nothing to do with it. Disgusting. To this day Israel is egging on the USA to fight their wars.  Constantly trying to provoke and get us into a war with Iran so more American kids can die for them.  And USA give billions, one of prosperous nations in ME, every year in name of foreign aid? What is wrong with y'all. Israel is evil country that kill their own allies. Saudi Arabia is same level and right next to Israel. What's even more obscene is that some high ups wanted to sink the Liberty so that the public wouldn't "turn against" israel. Smfh. We really are just numbers to them. The USA seems to care more about their 'relations' to Israel than they care about their OWN soldiers and citizens. Fact!! Most politicians are blackmailed. "Do my bidding until you die" type scenarios. Maniupulators of Israel, & their AIPAC power lobby influence America. but the American citizen thinks they have independent country and love to talk about sovereignty all the time. Too funny. American politicians sold off their country and its citizens. If this attack would have been done by any other country. think about Russians if they have had did in the same way directly to any US Ship. There would have been a third world war. That was the idea, chief.  The mayday they got out spoiled the plan. Just imagine. Good lord. How could this be covered up so well? This is all very new to me and I know it is new for many of you because I see your messages. And I'm a curious muthafucka. I guess when you dominate media it’s easy to cover things up and therefore shape the perceptions of the entire nation. You are gross. Very dense, intellectually dishonest or patent liar. And I would tell that to your face. Chairman of Joint CoS/generals., admirals and high ranking military officers came to one conclusion, IT Israel keeps America on a leash. Poor Americans!  It'll be a great day when the Israeli and American citizens wake up to all this disgusting propaganda and manipulation.Don't forget, 'the lavon affair' was an earlier operation by america's ally 13 years before. Nothing new. This is such bull Sh.. just like the Gulf-war and weapons of mass destruction. All NWO Puppets need to be imprisoned. Our own President L.B. Johnson was living, infiltrating traitor. He called back the fighters that would have saved countless lives. When will America wake up?? Israel paid $3.3M to families. LOL.  $97k each.  Utterly shameful. Still have gall to lie about it.  Blood money.  Israel was actually paying victim's families with money taken from American Taxpayers.  US aid to Israel TRIPLED in year following the FFattack on the USS Liberty. Low RT's on this very well needed discussion but 260k views on single tweet within 3 hours and climbing lmao. Hmm. Almost like people are getting it and getting mega curious but still afraid to hit that RT button. Please, take your time. Research. Think for yourself. To truly make sense of it, you need to see the historical pattern and realize that the same elite mafia forces are behind numerous false flag attacks. With that in mind, Let's look at these 5 historical false flags attacks: Quick side note: after explaining the obvious multiple times and separating the satanic manipulators from regular, normal citizens - it seems there are still grade-a imbeciles in my mentions. Let's make one thing very clear. Yes, just as NOT all whites are members of the KKK, NOT all Jews are Zionists. It's too bad we need to always say this. When we say that the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, no one says - well not all Japanese are responsible for bombing Pearl Harbor! Like no shit you absolute idiot But if you talk about Zionist crimes, people have been systemically programmed to think, oh no this subject is only talked about by Jew haters. Defense! Defense! So of course, we need to clearly say that the crimes of Zionists have nothing to do with the good Jews as a whole. Some people are asking, what's a Zionist? Good question. Different people have different definitions. It's OKAY to disagree. Ain't a crime. (Yet!) > Baptists, Congregationalists, Pentecostals, Mormons, etc  Another thing to note is that they usually don't like to call themselves "Christian Zionists". They often call themselves "Dispensationalist" To tell if Christian Zionist, ask them..."Do you believe that the modern state of Israel is the fulfillment of biblical prophecy?"  If they say yes, then they are Christian Zionists. Christian Zionists are the stupidest of all (no offense, really), total embarrassment. Traditional Christians believe that Jesus is the fulfillment of biblical prophecy. and the Euphrates river (in Iraq) to the Jews.  And they believe that God blesses anyone who helps Jews and punishes anyone who opposes Jews for any reason yada yada. Christian Zionism was started with creation of a special version of the bible called the Scofield Bible. Since Christian Zionist believe in a version of religion that basically makes them servants to Jews (total idiots), there's a lot of speculation as to who would have funded the creation of the Scofield Bible and who funded the development of Christian Zionist Churches. Another definition might be that a Zionist is anyone who believes that Jews are superior to gentiles. Lots of Jews these days are not religious believers, so most Zionists are believers in Jewish racial supremacy. But of course, there are Zionist who are religious as well. For those Zionists, they are both racial supremacist and religious supremacist. Then there's the generic definition of Zionist which is simply someone who supports the idea that the state of Israel should continue to exist as a racist ethno-state that exist solely for the purpose of serving the Jewish people. Recently Israel passed a law stating just that, that . There was very little notice in the mass media. Of course, if any other country had done the same thing the media would have gone crazy. Some people think passing this law may be prelude to more Israel ethnically cleaning. they are cleansing Palestinians little by little; murdering their women and children every day and boxing them in more and more. This issue with Zionism and Israel, not regular Jewish people. If you are unable to objectively discuss the racial supremacist behavior of a particular racial group without starting to draw childish hate, then that's your problem.  You should probably seek therapy to try to get to the source of your issue. Meanwhile the adults will discuss, without fear, the potential racial supremacist behavior of any racial group, and what, if anything, can be done to counteract it.  

Wyatt @SayWhenLA    

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[mrandmrswilliams]

Tears are such a betrayal and a rebirth.

I  have survived homicidal thoughts, suicidal thoughts and everything in between. I have accepted you for the narcissist that you are and finally had the breakthrough needed to push my own self past the infamous borderline.

I feel solid enough. But solid enough to cry? The problem now is not society conditioning boys and men and every masculine creature on this earth not to cry. No, we have flowers and feminism and photo shoots that show the softer side and an entire generation of people saying, it’s okay to show emotion.

The dark side is that the women who are hurt by said men are conditioned to be strong and bold and beautiful and remember your worth and f*ck that n*gga because he didn’t deserve you anyway. Crying is still a form of weakness. It is admitting that you loved someone and you lost them all while trying to warn them not to lose you and it hurts. It hurts being the good girl all the time, the empath, the patient one, the positive one, the ball of sunshine who can survive everything and anyone and every devil and Satanic attack and weapon formed against her. I get it. I’m strong. I’m every woman. It’s all in me.

Right now, I want to cry but the tears won’t come out. They refuse.  They are peering through the windows of my soul like that meme and rolling their eyes like “really? a dis waste man you want fi bawl out fa? a no sah. a man eediat dat? a nuh my style dat.” and they are absolutely right. You don’t deserve my tears anymore than you deserve my love and maybe that is the hardest pill to swallow, and it’s not exactly an aspirin or a cetamol or even ecstasy.

Not all surrender leads to that. Ecstasy that is. Pain relief. Freedom. I wanted the type of surrender that ended with passionate love making and submission to a man who will always protect you and freedom from doubts and insecurity and trying to control everything.

What do you do when you discover that the driver of the car is intentionally trying to crash? To hear the opinions of the people inside? Is that so? Can you hear them once they are dead, and you are dead too? Is this a triple double? And what would they matter anyway after you have wasted so much of people’s time and money and done damage that now needs to be repaired.

You drive that little red car with the white patch on front which is funny because even if I want to think it’s not your car, that white patch always gives it away. So symbolic. The day you crashed and seemed almost proud to have a real tragedy, an actual reason and a valid excuse to not be there for me for the simplest things yet again. “Go look” you said. I didn’t want to, but I did.

We faked so much. i knew from the day I caught you flaking once again, faking sick and forcing yourself to show up anyway to save face. We made eye contact and the vibe was so forced, so fake, so false that I just knew that whatever was there was gone or at least struggling to prove itself as anything other than two people wanting to see how much of their blanks can be filled or voids patched with whatever it was we were searching for in the first place.

I still long to expose you. It’s like I haven’t stripped you naked enough. It’s like you really thought you could hide all that shit from me, all the emotion and darkness and manipulation and character flaws - and most importantly, the truth. I may not be openly or even privately bisexual anymore but I have danced between honesty and fuckery way more than I dipped between genders.

I know one when I see one. Whether you, too, were sexually ambiguous and hiding it, that’s another story. But morally ambiguous? Not even closet-like. You were out in the open with your hypocrisy and contradictions all while trying to poke holes in my theory not realising your own balloon was deflating.

Mine was made of a thicker plastic, not so easily punctured as much as made to hold too much hot air and expected to rescue both myself and our dreams from Oz. You were no wizard. I’m not sure what power you felt you held over me besides love and my own disobedience to God which is overridden by the former every time. I cannot be separated from God’s love, not even by you. Not even by pain. Not even by narcissistic abuse. Not even my tumblr posts.

I could cry  now. It would feel like as much of a relief as masturbation or marijuana, both of which I have used compulsively and abused. Neither of which I need. At least know when I touch myself I heal myself by calling out my own name instead of yours. Fantasising about myself and even getting off by my own voice. I worked hard to replace all of you with all of me, and it was God alone who pulled that off. Yet and still, you are not naked enough. You’re still hiding behind silence and discards and new supply and your growing collection of masks. You accused me of running while on your own marathon. It’s just my road map has more foot prints in more countries and states and cities, while you choose to run back to home base every time, but in the opposite direction. Not making the full round to score the point, and using your bat for everything but hitting the ball. I wanted out of this park, you wanted in. You dropped the bat without realising the pitcher is dedicated to his job even when you aren’t, and that same ball will hit you in the head if you aren’t careful.

Be  careful with me. Always a warning and never a threat and as I untwist this fuckery I realise that honesty is what saved me in the end. Or was it the beginning? The end of you and the beginning of me.

To set a prisoner free and realise that prisoner is you. And yes, it was me, and yes, I forgive you, and yes I mean it and yes, it hurt and yes I went crazy for half a second until I realised it would not only cost me my sanity but my dreams.

You were never worth it, even though you did an outstanding and often times pathetic job of letting me know you weren’t.

I promise you the next time a guy calls himself a wasteman I’ll believe it Especially when he says it twice, lies more than once and shows it.

I don’t wanna cry so more as much as scream. Into the ear of the next man who loves me, as I come to my sense and my climax. Not bitter revenge, just sweet revelation. A different Mr. & Mrs Smith. More holy. More genuine. More loving. True. Black. Bold. Brilliant. Facts. Not fiction. By the way, this is my last post.

To hell with you. Heaven knows. God bless. Oh, and I still love you.

[capstagenether]

Victorianism

From the New Dictionary of the History of Ideas: 

VICTORIANISM.

Even seemingly unshakeable axioms are prone to reassessment by historians, and Victorianism is no exception. Even the very period of Victorianism itself stands challenged: historians no longer refer unquestioningly to the "Victorian Age" as the precise years associated with the monarch but instead concentrate on a shorter period—a "high age"—from about 1830 to 1880....Moralizing, prudish, repressed (and repressive), and old-fashioned (rather than traditional)—each of these notions captures what Victorianism has meant to later generations.

Early Victorianism

The early Victorian years witnessed the emergence of a cluster of values and beliefs that represented the central ideas of Victorianism. These years are associated with developments in governance, economic and social life, science, and learning that capture the essential features of Victorianism. In governance, one can look to the reforms which, if not immediately democratic, changed the structure of parliament, ushering in a tradition of evolutionary change (with major Reforms Acts in 1832, 1867, 1884) and the expansion of local, middle-class political power with the Municipal Corporations Act (1835). In economic life, the hard-nosed essentials of political economy and utilitarianism reached a high point prior to the 1850s. Associated with such notable names as Jeremy Bentham (1748–1832), James Mill (1773–1836), and David Ricardo (1772–1823), and later refined and developed by luminaries such as John Stuart Mill (1806–1873), political economy helped to shape the policy conditions for the reform of the Elizabethan Poor Law (in the form of the Poor Law Amendment Act, 1834), and the ideology of self-help which, for a while, attained the status of mantra. By the time Samuel Smiles (1812–1904) penned the popularized guide to the joys of this creed (Self Help, 1859), the concept had already begun to be pushed to one side by a creeping state and the tendency of the working class to collectivize in the face of demands for Smilesian individualism: hence, the staggering rise of friendly societies, trade unions, the co-operative movement, and countless other examples of collective identification by the people.

Values and Beliefs

In religion, Victorianism balanced the ancient regime Anglicanism of the Church of England with a growing pluralism through alternative Christianities, new faiths, and the toleration of unbelief. The backdrop to this was a crisis of faith for Anglicans, dating to the early Victorian years, when the Church of England was rocked by fierce debates about Tractarianism, "Romish" rituals, and the intellectual contribution of the Oxford movement. At a more prosaic level, the Religious Census of 1851 revealed a general weakening of popular interest in the established church and many dissenting faiths, whilst Roman Catholicism prospered through Irish migration. Victorianism may be equated with spiritual piety and Christian morality, but alternative and opposite forces also had some importance. Agnosticism, advocated most notably by Thomas H. Huxley (1825–1895), offered, by the 1870s, an alternative to faith in the attempt to answer profound questions about the nature of being.

Victorianism came to be associated with patriarchical social values, stressing the importance of family and an image of motherhood captured well in Alfred Lord Tennyson's (1809–1892) poem, The Princess(1847):

Man for the field and woman for the hearth; for the sword, and for the needle she; Man with the head, and women with the heart; Man to command, and woman to obey; All else is confusion.

Thus, poetry, as well as prose, painting, and music, reflected hegemonic notions. Yet, the stereotype of the Victorian family perhaps assumed its importance precisely because there were so many challenges to it. In the cities, drink and crime denied many children the full influence of parental guidance, and the critics of industrialism saw in female and child labor a collection of evils that had to be addressed. But economic conditions placed women and children in this position. Poverty, drunkenness, and alcoholism were sometimes causes of prostitution. Charles Dickens's (1812–1870) portrayal of Nancy, the pathetic, doomed heroine of Oliver Twist (1837–1839), obliquely, and somewhat coyly, suggested how easy it was for a woman to fall prey to professional gangs. In Mary Barton (1848), Elizabeth Gaskell (1810–1901) captured the horror that Victorian society felt at the sight of a "fallen women" in her portrayal of the stunted relationship of the widower John Barton and his sister-in-law, the fallen woman. Social reportage also emphasized this aspect of Victorianism: Bracebridge Hemyng's (1809–1898) study of prostitution suggested that, in 1857, London had 8,600 who plied this trade.

Anti-Victorianism

Behind the facade of staidness there was another sort of Victorianism—a kind of anti-Victorianism. Here, stifling mores were replaced by more adventurous and plural sexualities. Liaisons outside marriage, such as Dickens's longstanding affair with the actress Nelly Ternan, were common. William Gladstone's (1809–1898) self-flagellation—a habit the four-time prime minister shared with the bohemian Algernon Swinburne (1837–1909)—was his punishment for the sexual feelings (though there are no known sexual acts) aroused by his attempts to rescue London's prostitutes. Pornographic pictures and texts were readily available in the nineteenth century. Peep shows were commonplace and provided titillation to a broad spectrum of male society. As Simon Winchester's The Surgeon of Crowthorne (1999) demonstrates, William Chester Minor (1834–1920), the American military doctor, murderer, and prolific contributor to the Oxford English Dictionary, aggressively pursued a sex life that utterly contradicted the conventional image of his age. Obsessed with sex and a regular user of prostitutes—prior to his incarceration in 1872 in the new Broadmoor Criminal Lunatic Asylum for murdering a man in London—Minor harbored such a strong sense of self-loathing that he cut off his own penis. Homosexuality may have scandalized Victorian sensibilities, but it was not invisible. Literary works with a homosexual theme, such as Teleny (1883), were produced; Oscar Wilde's (1854–1900) trial and imprisonment reminded Victorians that homosexuality and pedophilia were part of their worlds; while the artist and aesthete Aubrey Beardsley (1872–1898) helped to create a self-image of sexual radicalism, including an unfinished pornographic novel, Under the Hill (1894). Not long after, in 1899, Lord Longford was recorded for posterity in Hansard with a telling contribution to a parliamentary debate: "Of course I have seen people recover from homosexualism. A boy at Eton assaulted my elder brother in the bath there and was later expelled for repeating the offence on another boy. Later he became a pillar of society and captained the county cricket team" (Sweet, p. 190).

Victorianism and Progress

No other age was quite so strongly associated with a faith in the progress of technologies. Victorianism is correctly and inextricably intertwined with inventions and the rise of the machine. Steam locomotion, iron, and then steel ships, telegraphy, and many other developments receive attention from historians, for the Victorians triumphed over so many challenges of distance and power that had held up such progress in earlier times. Justifiably, Victorianism remains associated with industrialism, urbanization, transport, technologies, travel, and communication. The essential character of Victorian technological determinism was that science and the practical men could change the world through invention and implementation.

Leaps in technology were matched by developments in social thought. Prophets of progress and the enemies of industrial modernity competed for space, and both groups contributed to the sense of what Victorianism was about. From the 1830s, the critics of Victorianism grew. Modernity was feared by many and loathed by some. Tories, such as the "Young England" group (which included Benjamin Disraeli [1804–1881]) looked back to a bygone age of preindustrial harmony, where deference, social equilibrium, and a more agreeable life was once thought to exist. Disraeli's classic, Sybil; or the Two Nations (1845), captured these sentiments brilliantly. Another stern early critic, the Scot Thomas Carlyle (1795–1881), shared the "Young England" aversion to modernity but looked forward, not back. He abhorred the Victorian tendency to seek mechanical solutions to human problems and sought, instead, a reinvention of an earlier morality, but in a future setting. This style of criticism connected many early nineteenth-century thinkers, such as Carlyle and Robert Owen (1771–1858), to later socialists, such as William Morris (1834–1896). By the 1880s the critique of Victorianism was powerful indeed. Unlike on the continent, where Marxism was much more influential and where anarchism and communism posed a seemingly greater challenge, most British socialism sought accommodation with capitalism and was reformist in character. The Fabian, Sidney Webb (1859–1947), represented an administrative type of socialism, based upon efficiency and organization. William Morris's utopian socialism was characterized by a more fundamental attack upon capitalism and a pursuit of an alternative moral and spiritual way of life. Socialist criticism of modernity also had echoes in the growing feminist challenge to Victorianism. Although suffragism achieved its ends beyond the Victorian period, its seeds were sprouting long before Victoria's end.

Traditional interpretations of society as a static entity were undermined as the period progressed. Charles Darwin's (1809–1882) theories of evolution and Herbert Spencer's (1820–1903) considerations upon human development were to have a startling impact, radically altering classic Victorian notions of society and how to manage it. A social science, borrowed from evolutionary theory, that downplayed contractual in favor of organic ideas of society emerged. Social Darwinism and other evolutionary theories played some part in the development of a philosophy of state interventionism, which marked later Victorian, and particularly twentieth-century, thought (though recent studies, for example, H. S. Jones's Victorian Political Thought [2000], sound more cautious and complicated notes). The search for perfectibility in society, which echoed nature's selection of the fittest, could be set up for or against the collectivization of social welfare.

Victorianism Beyond Britain

Victorianism—in architecture, science, governance, and culture—impacted heavily upon the wider world. Britain's short-lived preeminence as an imperial power bequeathed a rather hardier cultural imprint on the world. After the globalization of the English language, the most striking effect was in the character of civic culture in the English-speaking colonies and dominions: Canada, Australia, and New Zealand. In these places, political systems, bureaucracies, and education took on a clearly Victorian character. Victorianism also affected street design and civic building programs—in India, parts of Africa, and the Far East, as well as in the Dominions. Urbanism marked the Victorian world outside of Britain, as well as within. So great was the growth in Sydney, for example, that in 1901 that city (not Liverpool or Glasgow) boasted "it now stands as the second city of the British Empire, as estimated by the annual value of its rateable property" (Briggs, p. 310).

Even when it stood at the leading edge of world culture, exercising a hegemonic power over large swaths of the globe, Victorianism had its critics. In politics, social thought, and economics, interventionism and a demand for action pushed classical laissez-faire ideologies to one side. Sexual repressiveness was challenged; many on the left of politics rejected capitalism; and an imperial rot set in after the arduous struggles of the Boer War (1899–1902). The challenge to Victorianism often came in the shape of a wholesale anti-Victorianism from a disparate array of groups: workers, women, socialists, bohemians, and from anticolonialists beyond the metropolitan stage.

[robbiemeadow]

Erring in the Direction of Kindness: An Interview with George Saunders

In 2013, bestselling author George Saunders delivered the commencement address at Syracuse University, in which he encouraged graduates to “err in the direction of kindness.” The speech was soon published in the New York Times, which spurred a national discussion on the virtue of kindness, and it became a short book titled “Congratulations, by the way: Some Thoughts on Kindness.” The speech itself complements The Gottman Institute’s belief that “all individuals are capable of and deserve compassion” and that “compassion must begin with ourselves.”

When you gave your speech, did you anticipate the amount of attention it received, and do you hope that by engaging in small acts of kindness toward one another, we can foster a greater capacity for empathy within “the human family”?

The response that day was, to say the least, muted. I found myself pathetically wandering the reception crowd, fishing for compliments. The best I got was, “Hey, aren’t you the guy who gave that speech?” And then I said yes, and he sort of nodded in this noncommittal way and walked off to the snack table. Then the speech went on The New York Times website and seemed to really hit a nerve.

My belief is that, actually, this whole mess down here on earth only holds together via small acts of decency and kindness. We tend to overlook or minimize the effect of the small things, but that is really what a culture is – that collection of thousands of small, habitual, decent moves that collectively make life somewhat predictable and “normal.”

The small acts of kindness can be a sort of ritual self-reminding of what we are and what we’re meant to do down here. Although, of course, like any moral belief, this approach can also evolve into something automatic and irritating and reductive. I think “kindness,” properly understood, might, at times, be quite fierce. It would be “whatever produces positive results.”

Do you view kindness as an intentional behavior, and do you believe that it could similarly counteract negative interactions (which you term as “failures of kindness” in your speech) between not just romantic partners, but also between individuals and communities?

I think “kindness” can be understood in all sorts of ways. For me, the most useful thing is to try to remember to start each day saying: “The whole point of this gift of time I’ve been given is to try to be more loving and then act accordingly.” Of course, most days I forget to even have that thought and just get up and start running around servicing my ego and my anxiety and knocking things over and getting all irritated about how damn easy things are to knock over these days because of the big faceless corporations.

But I’ve found that if I can remember to have that intention, everything is more interesting. Because kindness is really a sort of “gateway virtue” – you start out with that intention, but then find yourself running into problems. It’s all well and good to say “be kind” but what is the kind choice if, say, you encounter a barista who, it seems, has been weeping? Comfort her? Inquire as to why? Just be quiet and leave her alone? Hard to know, in the abstract.

So, right away, we are into a different moral/ethical question, that might have to do with, say, awareness – being maximally data-receptive, so we know the right thing to do, for this person, at this moment. And that’s not something one could “phone in,” or prep for, by just saying to oneself, “Be kind.”

Your speech mentions that “your life is going to be a gradual process of becoming kinder and more loving,” which implies that once an individual commits to being kinder and more loving, that will result in even more kindness as they age. Do you believe that, when kindness “snowballs” and begins to envelop a romantic relationship, that such kindness could transcend that relationship and radiate into non-romantic relationships?

Well, that’s a bit beyond my area of expertise, but I do think that trying to increase one’s loving nature can have a beautifully simplifying effect on one’s life. Again, I’m only rarely able to get there, but on the few occasions on which I’ve blundered into this state, it felt like I’d acquired a kind of superpower: all questions answered more easily, the world a simpler place.

I’ve also noticed that when a person is in a genuine, happy, confident, kindness-enabled place, people feel it, and react to him in a different and more open way – which, in turn, expands the range of outcomes possible from that interaction.

Toward the end of your speech, you offer a prediction for the audience in the form of a “heartfelt wish:” “[A]s you get older, your self will diminish and you will grow in love. YOU will gradually be replaced by LOVE. If you have kids, that will be a huge moment in your process of self-diminishment. You really won’t care what happens to YOU, as long as they benefit.” Could you explain this process of “self-diminishment” from your experience as a father?

This is the one part of the speech about which I often catch grief: “If you think people get kinder as they get older, you should meet my father-in-law, ha ha!” I suppose this was a bit of wishful thinking on my part. It seems, actually, that people get to a crossroads of sorts. As age begins to take its toll, some people get bitter and others…not. And I suppose that has to do with both disposition and luck.

My observation about myself has been that, as a person gets older and the body starts to fall apart/slow down/get less wonderful, it starts to sink in: “Ah, even I am not permanent.” And that gives a person a different and (potentially) fonder view of the whole thing. We’re just very briefly passing through, despite what our ego believes.

Likewise, having kids: once you’re entrusted with another life, you become newly aware of your usual self-absorption. You might start to see self-absorption as the freakish, Darwinian, appendage that it is. And you feel your fondness for this little kid trump your self-fondness – and what a liberation that can be. You vanish a little. Or, as we used to say in a Catholic hymn: “We must diminish, and Christ increase.”

We also encourage parents to prioritize maintaining their relationship, as Drs. John and Julie Gottman claim that “the greatest gift you can give your baby is a happy and strong relationship between the two of you.” Do you think that the process of “self-diminishment” also includes expressing more kindness and empathy for your spouse, which will model a healthy relationship for children?

Yes, for sure. Although kindness toward the people closest to us can be the biggest challenge. They know us, and we might have habits together that are hard to break free of. Easy to be kind in the abstract, but harder in the midst of a familiar fight, when you are completely sure of your rightness and good intentions, whereas that other person, etc., etc.

But: if a kid sees someone behaving lovingly towards someone they love, that gets into their bodies and they will emulate that behavior without even knowing they are doing it. I’ve noticed that in myself – my parents have some very good habits of mutual support, that I found myself trying to enact in my own marriage. And I also have seen how my wife’s patience with, and equanimity towards, me, has informed the way our daughters handle their relationships, with men and with friends and at work, etc.

In the title story of your recent short story collection, Tenth of December, the protagonist, after a near-death experience, finds himself deeply appreciating his relationship with his wife as he remembers a moment from whey they were newlyweds:

“Somehow: Molly.

He heard her in the entryway. Mol, Molly, oh, boy. When they were first married they used to fight. Say the most insane things. Afterward, sometimes there would be tears. Tears in bed? Somewhere. And then they would—Molly pressing her hot wet face against his hot wet face. They were sorry, they were saying with their bodies, they were accepting each other back, and that feeling, that feeling of being accepted back again and again, of someone’s affection for you always expanding to encompass whatever new flawed thing had just manifested in you, that was the deepest, dearest thing he’d ever—”

You once told me that this may be the most truthful thing you’ve written about love. Where specifically do you find the deep truth of love within this passage, and how did you come to realize its power and accuracy in describing a crucial moment within a marriage?

This was a big moment for me as a writer, simply because, at a moment when I needed this man to have a deep and sincere feeling about his wife of many years, instead of inventing something, I just turned to my own experience.

My wife and I have been married thirty years and have been through so many things together, and I know she has seen me at my worst – petulant, defensive, broken, pissy, etc. – and yet she’s always had my back, which is an incredibly powerful thing. Easy enough to have a good relationship when you partner is an attractive, in-control, nice guy, but what about those (more numerous) other times? The person on the receiving end of that sort of love gets quite a gift.

We always carry around an ideal vision of ourselves (the US we like) but we are also bothered by the existence and periodic appearance of that other US (the one we see as an unlikeable aberration). That sort of love basically says: “No, those are both you and both are acceptable.” Which, in turn, empowers you to really see and understand and improve the parts of yourself you’re not crazy about.

According to Dr. Gottman’s research, married couples who are happy can easily recall positive stories from their past, such as how and when they first met, while unhappy couples tend to remember more negative memories. In your speech, you ask the audience, “Who, in your life, do you remember most fondly, with the most undeniable feelings of warmth? Those who were kindest to you, I bet.” Why do you think that kindness has such a powerful capacity to help us form and recall meaningful memories?

That’s really interesting. And makes perfect sense. Someone who feels, “This relationship is awful” will tend to interpret past events in that light. It makes me think that we are always “novelizing” – narrating the past to inform the present moment and enable the future.

So, I think we have to walk a fine line there. To tell a happy story about an unhappy incident in the past might be to falsify /propagandize. For me the most productive thing is to try and tell a true story about the past – one that doesn’t deny or cloak any negative or complicated elements, but allows them in…makes them part of the actual, and hopefully positive, present moment. I suppose the trick is to be bitterness-free, if possible. That is, to see any negativity from the past to have been, ultimately, instructive of useful to the present, positive, state of things.

In your speech, you encourage us to “[do] those things that incline you toward the big questions.” Recently, Dr. Julie Schwartz Gottman raise some “big questions” in her TEDx talk that focused on how we can create world peace by beginning at home with creating positive and empathetic familial relationships, which could then push us to be more empathetic with others in the world. Do you see kindness as a potential force for good in the world, a force that could push humanity toward being more peaceful and cooperative?

I know that, in Buddhist practice, this focusing of intention is very important – to say, essentially, “I pray that whatever I accomplish here goes out to benefit all beings, and not just me.”

Small acts of sanity ensure that the world in one’s immediate area is…sane. I once heard the writer Tom McGuane say something along these lines – that a system of interconnected small sanity zones builds out and makes a sane world. And that has the benefit of being a workable approach – one knows how to start, at least. If nothing else, working towards sanity and kindness in one’s own world (one’s own mind) means that, when insanity occurs “out there,” we will have a sane outlook on it – might be able to avoid making things worse, via our agitated reaction.

But having said that (and believing all of that), I also like to remind myself to be a little cautious about the need to justify kindness by claiming it could have some big overarching effect on the world. I mean, I think it does – I know it does – but I also feel that, for me, sometimes those grand intentions can serve as a sort of place on which to solidify ego, as I mentioned above. (I recall that quote from Charles Schulz’s “Peanuts:” “I love mankind, it’s people I can’t stand.”) When I was touring for the book, I found that a lot of people were all for Kindness but not that always that great at kindness, if you see what I mean. (One guy on a radio interview sort of snarled, “I’ve always believed in kindness! But people don’t GET it!”).

I guess that’s the trick of any sort of moral stance toward the world – we have to stay off of autopilot.

For those who are having difficulties within their marriages and may feel lonely or disconnected, what sort of advice could you offer to them based on your experiences as a writer and reader of fiction, as a teacher, as a father, and as a husband?

The one analogy that comes to mind from writing is simply that, at this point in my career, it’s more interesting to assume that every story is workable, and send renewed energy at a story when it hits a snag – assume the best of it, in a sense. And often, with patience, that story will come alive again and rise to the (expanded) occasion. Which is always a happy outcome.

If you want to build a deeply meaningful relationship full of trust and intimacy, then subscribe below to receive our blog posts directly to your inbox:

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Erring in the Direction of Kindness: An Interview with George Saunders

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Erring in the Direction of Kindness: An Interview with George Saunders

In 2013, bestselling author George Saunders delivered the commencement address at Syracuse University, in which he encouraged graduates to “err in the direction of kindness.” The speech was soon published in the New York Times, which spurred a national discussion on the virtue of kindness, and it became a short book titled “Congratulations, by the way: Some Thoughts on Kindness.” The speech itself complements The Gottman Institute’s belief that “all individuals are capable of and deserve compassion” and that “compassion must begin with ourselves.”

When you gave your speech, did you anticipate the amount of attention it received, and do you hope that by engaging in small acts of kindness toward one another, we can foster a greater capacity for empathy within “the human family”?

The response that day was, to say the least, muted. I found myself pathetically wandering the reception crowd, fishing for compliments. The best I got was, “Hey, aren’t you the guy who gave that speech?” And then I said yes, and he sort of nodded in this noncommittal way and walked off to the snack table. Then the speech went on The New York Times website and seemed to really hit a nerve.

My belief is that, actually, this whole mess down here on earth only holds together via small acts of decency and kindness. We tend to overlook or minimize the effect of the small things, but that is really what a culture is – that collection of thousands of small, habitual, decent moves that collectively make life somewhat predictable and “normal.”

The small acts of kindness can be a sort of ritual self-reminding of what we are and what we’re meant to do down here. Although, of course, like any moral belief, this approach can also evolve into something automatic and irritating and reductive. I think “kindness,” properly understood, might, at times, be quite fierce. It would be “whatever produces positive results.”

Do you view kindness as an intentional behavior, and do you believe that it could similarly counteract negative interactions (which you term as “failures of kindness” in your speech) between not just romantic partners, but also between individuals and communities?

I think “kindness” can be understood in all sorts of ways. For me, the most useful thing is to try to remember to start each day saying: “The whole point of this gift of time I’ve been given is to try to be more loving and then act accordingly.” Of course, most days I forget to even have that thought and just get up and start running around servicing my ego and my anxiety and knocking things over and getting all irritated about how damn easy things are to knock over these days because of the big faceless corporations.

But I’ve found that if I can remember to have that intention, everything is more interesting. Because kindness is really a sort of “gateway virtue” – you start out with that intention, but then find yourself running into problems. It’s all well and good to say “be kind” but what is the kind choice if, say, you encounter a barista who, it seems, has been weeping? Comfort her? Inquire as to why? Just be quiet and leave her alone? Hard to know, in the abstract.

So, right away, we are into a different moral/ethical question, that might have to do with, say, awareness – being maximally data-receptive, so we know the right thing to do, for this person, at this moment. And that’s not something one could “phone in,” or prep for, by just saying to oneself, “Be kind.”

Your speech mentions that “your life is going to be a gradual process of becoming kinder and more loving,” which implies that once an individual commits to being kinder and more loving, that will result in even more kindness as they age. Do you believe that, when kindness “snowballs” and begins to envelop a romantic relationship, that such kindness could transcend that relationship and radiate into non-romantic relationships?

Well, that’s a bit beyond my area of expertise, but I do think that trying to increase one’s loving nature can have a beautifully simplifying effect on one’s life. Again, I’m only rarely able to get there, but on the few occasions on which I’ve blundered into this state, it felt like I’d acquired a kind of superpower: all questions answered more easily, the world a simpler place.

I’ve also noticed that when a person is in a genuine, happy, confident, kindness-enabled place, people feel it, and react to him in a different and more open way – which, in turn, expands the range of outcomes possible from that interaction.

Toward the end of your speech, you offer a prediction for the audience in the form of a “heartfelt wish:” “[A]s you get older, your self will diminish and you will grow in love. YOU will gradually be replaced by LOVE. If you have kids, that will be a huge moment in your process of self-diminishment. You really won’t care what happens to YOU, as long as they benefit.” Could you explain this process of “self-diminishment” from your experience as a father?

This is the one part of the speech about which I often catch grief: “If you think people get kinder as they get older, you should meet my father-in-law, ha ha!” I suppose this was a bit of wishful thinking on my part. It seems, actually, that people get to a crossroads of sorts. As age begins to take its toll, some people get bitter and others…not. And I suppose that has to do with both disposition and luck.

My observation about myself has been that, as a person gets older and the body starts to fall apart/slow down/get less wonderful, it starts to sink in: “Ah, even I am not permanent.” And that gives a person a different and (potentially) fonder view of the whole thing. We’re just very briefly passing through, despite what our ego believes.

Likewise, having kids: once you’re entrusted with another life, you become newly aware of your usual self-absorption. You might start to see self-absorption as the freakish, Darwinian, appendage that it is. And you feel your fondness for this little kid trump your self-fondness – and what a liberation that can be. You vanish a little. Or, as we used to say in a Catholic hymn: “We must diminish, and Christ increase.”

We also encourage parents to prioritize maintaining their relationship, as Drs. John and Julie Gottman claim that “the greatest gift you can give your baby is a happy and strong relationship between the two of you.” Do you think that the process of “self-diminishment” also includes expressing more kindness and empathy for your spouse, which will model a healthy relationship for children?

Yes, for sure. Although kindness toward the people closest to us can be the biggest challenge. They know us, and we might have habits together that are hard to break free of. Easy to be kind in the abstract, but harder in the midst of a familiar fight, when you are completely sure of your rightness and good intentions, whereas that other person, etc., etc.

But: if a kid sees someone behaving lovingly towards someone they love, that gets into their bodies and they will emulate that behavior without even knowing they are doing it. I’ve noticed that in myself – my parents have some very good habits of mutual support, that I found myself trying to enact in my own marriage. And I also have seen how my wife’s patience with, and equanimity towards, me, has informed the way our daughters handle their relationships, with men and with friends and at work, etc.

In the title story of your recent short story collection, Tenth of December, the protagonist, after a near-death experience, finds himself deeply appreciating his relationship with his wife as he remembers a moment from whey they were newlyweds:

“Somehow: Molly.

He heard her in the entryway. Mol, Molly, oh, boy. When they were first married they used to fight. Say the most insane things. Afterward, sometimes there would be tears. Tears in bed? Somewhere. And then they would—Molly pressing her hot wet face against his hot wet face. They were sorry, they were saying with their bodies, they were accepting each other back, and that feeling, that feeling of being accepted back again and again, of someone’s affection for you always expanding to encompass whatever new flawed thing had just manifested in you, that was the deepest, dearest thing he’d ever—”

You once told me that this may be the most truthful thing you’ve written about love. Where specifically do you find the deep truth of love within this passage, and how did you come to realize its power and accuracy in describing a crucial moment within a marriage?

This was a big moment for me as a writer, simply because, at a moment when I needed this man to have a deep and sincere feeling about his wife of many years, instead of inventing something, I just turned to my own experience.

My wife and I have been married thirty years and have been through so many things together, and I know she has seen me at my worst – petulant, defensive, broken, pissy, etc. – and yet she’s always had my back, which is an incredibly powerful thing. Easy enough to have a good relationship when you partner is an attractive, in-control, nice guy, but what about those (more numerous) other times? The person on the receiving end of that sort of love gets quite a gift.

We always carry around an ideal vision of ourselves (the US we like) but we are also bothered by the existence and periodic appearance of that other US (the one we see as an unlikeable aberration). That sort of love basically says: “No, those are both you and both are acceptable.” Which, in turn, empowers you to really see and understand and improve the parts of yourself you’re not crazy about.

According to Dr. Gottman’s research, married couples who are happy can easily recall positive stories from their past, such as how and when they first met, while unhappy couples tend to remember more negative memories. In your speech, you ask the audience, “Who, in your life, do you remember most fondly, with the most undeniable feelings of warmth? Those who were kindest to you, I bet.” Why do you think that kindness has such a powerful capacity to help us form and recall meaningful memories?

That’s really interesting. And makes perfect sense. Someone who feels, “This relationship is awful” will tend to interpret past events in that light. It makes me think that we are always “novelizing” – narrating the past to inform the present moment and enable the future.

So, I think we have to walk a fine line there. To tell a happy story about an unhappy incident in the past might be to falsify /propagandize. For me the most productive thing is to try and tell a true story about the past – one that doesn’t deny or cloak any negative or complicated elements, but allows them in…makes them part of the actual, and hopefully positive, present moment. I suppose the trick is to be bitterness-free, if possible. That is, to see any negativity from the past to have been, ultimately, instructive of useful to the present, positive, state of things.

In your speech, you encourage us to “[do] those things that incline you toward the big questions.” Recently, Dr. Julie Schwartz Gottman raise some “big questions” in her TEDx talk that focused on how we can create world peace by beginning at home with creating positive and empathetic familial relationships, which could then push us to be more empathetic with others in the world. Do you see kindness as a potential force for good in the world, a force that could push humanity toward being more peaceful and cooperative?

I know that, in Buddhist practice, this focusing of intention is very important – to say, essentially, “I pray that whatever I accomplish here goes out to benefit all beings, and not just me.”

Small acts of sanity ensure that the world in one’s immediate area is…sane. I once heard the writer Tom McGuane say something along these lines – that a system of interconnected small sanity zones builds out and makes a sane world. And that has the benefit of being a workable approach – one knows how to start, at least. If nothing else, working towards sanity and kindness in one’s own world (one’s own mind) means that, when insanity occurs “out there,” we will have a sane outlook on it – might be able to avoid making things worse, via our agitated reaction.

But having said that (and believing all of that), I also like to remind myself to be a little cautious about the need to justify kindness by claiming it could have some big overarching effect on the world. I mean, I think it does – I know it does – but I also feel that, for me, sometimes those grand intentions can serve as a sort of place on which to solidify ego, as I mentioned above. (I recall that quote from Charles Schulz’s “Peanuts:” “I love mankind, it’s people I can’t stand.”) When I was touring for the book, I found that a lot of people were all for Kindness but not that always that great at kindness, if you see what I mean. (One guy on a radio interview sort of snarled, “I’ve always believed in kindness! But people don’t GET it!”).

I guess that’s the trick of any sort of moral stance toward the world – we have to stay off of autopilot.

For those who are having difficulties within their marriages and may feel lonely or disconnected, what sort of advice could you offer to them based on your experiences as a writer and reader of fiction, as a teacher, as a father, and as a husband?

The one analogy that comes to mind from writing is simply that, at this point in my career, it’s more interesting to assume that every story is workable, and send renewed energy at a story when it hits a snag – assume the best of it, in a sense. And often, with patience, that story will come alive again and rise to the (expanded) occasion. Which is always a happy outcome.

If you want to build a deeply meaningful relationship full of trust and intimacy, then subscribe below to receive our blog posts directly to your inbox:

Email*

Email

This field is for validation purposes and should be left unchanged.

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Erring in the Direction of Kindness: An Interview with George Saunders

New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/love/erring-in-the-direction-of-kindness-an-interview-with-george-saunders/

Erring in the Direction of Kindness: An Interview with George Saunders

In 2013, bestselling author George Saunders delivered the commencement address at Syracuse University, in which he encouraged graduates to “err in the direction of kindness.” The speech was soon published in the New York Times, which spurred a national discussion on the virtue of kindness, and it became a short book titled “Congratulations, by the way: Some Thoughts on Kindness.” The speech itself complements The Gottman Institute’s belief that “all individuals are capable of and deserve compassion” and that “compassion must begin with ourselves.”

When you gave your speech, did you anticipate the amount of attention it received, and do you hope that by engaging in small acts of kindness toward one another, we can foster a greater capacity for empathy within “the human family”?

The response that day was, to say the least, muted. I found myself pathetically wandering the reception crowd, fishing for compliments. The best I got was, “Hey, aren’t you the guy who gave that speech?” And then I said yes, and he sort of nodded in this noncommittal way and walked off to the snack table. Then the speech went on The New York Times website and seemed to really hit a nerve.

My belief is that, actually, this whole mess down here on earth only holds together via small acts of decency and kindness. We tend to overlook or minimize the effect of the small things, but that is really what a culture is – that collection of thousands of small, habitual, decent moves that collectively make life somewhat predictable and “normal.”

The small acts of kindness can be a sort of ritual self-reminding of what we are and what we’re meant to do down here. Although, of course, like any moral belief, this approach can also evolve into something automatic and irritating and reductive. I think “kindness,” properly understood, might, at times, be quite fierce. It would be “whatever produces positive results.”

Do you view kindness as an intentional behavior, and do you believe that it could similarly counteract negative interactions (which you term as “failures of kindness” in your speech) between not just romantic partners, but also between individuals and communities?

I think “kindness” can be understood in all sorts of ways. For me, the most useful thing is to try to remember to start each day saying: “The whole point of this gift of time I’ve been given is to try to be more loving and then act accordingly.” Of course, most days I forget to even have that thought and just get up and start running around servicing my ego and my anxiety and knocking things over and getting all irritated about how damn easy things are to knock over these days because of the big faceless corporations.

But I’ve found that if I can remember to have that intention, everything is more interesting. Because kindness is really a sort of “gateway virtue” – you start out with that intention, but then find yourself running into problems. It’s all well and good to say “be kind” but what is the kind choice if, say, you encounter a barista who, it seems, has been weeping? Comfort her? Inquire as to why? Just be quiet and leave her alone? Hard to know, in the abstract.

So, right away, we are into a different moral/ethical question, that might have to do with, say, awareness – being maximally data-receptive, so we know the right thing to do, for this person, at this moment. And that’s not something one could “phone in,” or prep for, by just saying to oneself, “Be kind.”

Your speech mentions that “your life is going to be a gradual process of becoming kinder and more loving,” which implies that once an individual commits to being kinder and more loving, that will result in even more kindness as they age. Do you believe that, when kindness “snowballs” and begins to envelop a romantic relationship, that such kindness could transcend that relationship and radiate into non-romantic relationships?

Well, that’s a bit beyond my area of expertise, but I do think that trying to increase one’s loving nature can have a beautifully simplifying effect on one’s life. Again, I’m only rarely able to get there, but on the few occasions on which I’ve blundered into this state, it felt like I’d acquired a kind of superpower: all questions answered more easily, the world a simpler place.

I’ve also noticed that when a person is in a genuine, happy, confident, kindness-enabled place, people feel it, and react to him in a different and more open way – which, in turn, expands the range of outcomes possible from that interaction.

Toward the end of your speech, you offer a prediction for the audience in the form of a “heartfelt wish:” “[A]s you get older, your self will diminish and you will grow in love. YOU will gradually be replaced by LOVE. If you have kids, that will be a huge moment in your process of self-diminishment. You really won’t care what happens to YOU, as long as they benefit.” Could you explain this process of “self-diminishment” from your experience as a father?

This is the one part of the speech about which I often catch grief: “If you think people get kinder as they get older, you should meet my father-in-law, ha ha!” I suppose this was a bit of wishful thinking on my part. It seems, actually, that people get to a crossroads of sorts. As age begins to take its toll, some people get bitter and others…not. And I suppose that has to do with both disposition and luck.

My observation about myself has been that, as a person gets older and the body starts to fall apart/slow down/get less wonderful, it starts to sink in: “Ah, even I am not permanent.” And that gives a person a different and (potentially) fonder view of the whole thing. We’re just very briefly passing through, despite what our ego believes.

Likewise, having kids: once you’re entrusted with another life, you become newly aware of your usual self-absorption. You might start to see self-absorption as the freakish, Darwinian, appendage that it is. And you feel your fondness for this little kid trump your self-fondness – and what a liberation that can be. You vanish a little. Or, as we used to say in a Catholic hymn: “We must diminish, and Christ increase.”

We also encourage parents to prioritize maintaining their relationship, as Drs. John and Julie Gottman claim that “the greatest gift you can give your baby is a happy and strong relationship between the two of you.” Do you think that the process of “self-diminishment” also includes expressing more kindness and empathy for your spouse, which will model a healthy relationship for children?

Yes, for sure. Although kindness toward the people closest to us can be the biggest challenge. They know us, and we might have habits together that are hard to break free of. Easy to be kind in the abstract, but harder in the midst of a familiar fight, when you are completely sure of your rightness and good intentions, whereas that other person, etc., etc.

But: if a kid sees someone behaving lovingly towards someone they love, that gets into their bodies and they will emulate that behavior without even knowing they are doing it. I’ve noticed that in myself – my parents have some very good habits of mutual support, that I found myself trying to enact in my own marriage. And I also have seen how my wife’s patience with, and equanimity towards, me, has informed the way our daughters handle their relationships, with men and with friends and at work, etc.

In the title story of your recent short story collection, Tenth of December, the protagonist, after a near-death experience, finds himself deeply appreciating his relationship with his wife as he remembers a moment from whey they were newlyweds:

“Somehow: Molly.

He heard her in the entryway. Mol, Molly, oh, boy. When they were first married they used to fight. Say the most insane things. Afterward, sometimes there would be tears. Tears in bed? Somewhere. And then they would—Molly pressing her hot wet face against his hot wet face. They were sorry, they were saying with their bodies, they were accepting each other back, and that feeling, that feeling of being accepted back again and again, of someone’s affection for you always expanding to encompass whatever new flawed thing had just manifested in you, that was the deepest, dearest thing he’d ever—”

You once told me that this may be the most truthful thing you’ve written about love. Where specifically do you find the deep truth of love within this passage, and how did you come to realize its power and accuracy in describing a crucial moment within a marriage?

This was a big moment for me as a writer, simply because, at a moment when I needed this man to have a deep and sincere feeling about his wife of many years, instead of inventing something, I just turned to my own experience.

My wife and I have been married thirty years and have been through so many things together, and I know she has seen me at my worst – petulant, defensive, broken, pissy, etc. – and yet she’s always had my back, which is an incredibly powerful thing. Easy enough to have a good relationship when you partner is an attractive, in-control, nice guy, but what about those (more numerous) other times? The person on the receiving end of that sort of love gets quite a gift.

We always carry around an ideal vision of ourselves (the US we like) but we are also bothered by the existence and periodic appearance of that other US (the one we see as an unlikeable aberration). That sort of love basically says: “No, those are both you and both are acceptable.” Which, in turn, empowers you to really see and understand and improve the parts of yourself you’re not crazy about.

According to Dr. Gottman’s research, married couples who are happy can easily recall positive stories from their past, such as how and when they first met, while unhappy couples tend to remember more negative memories. In your speech, you ask the audience, “Who, in your life, do you remember most fondly, with the most undeniable feelings of warmth? Those who were kindest to you, I bet.” Why do you think that kindness has such a powerful capacity to help us form and recall meaningful memories?

That’s really interesting. And makes perfect sense. Someone who feels, “This relationship is awful” will tend to interpret past events in that light. It makes me think that we are always “novelizing” – narrating the past to inform the present moment and enable the future.

So, I think we have to walk a fine line there. To tell a happy story about an unhappy incident in the past might be to falsify /propagandize. For me the most productive thing is to try and tell a true story about the past – one that doesn’t deny or cloak any negative or complicated elements, but allows them in…makes them part of the actual, and hopefully positive, present moment. I suppose the trick is to be bitterness-free, if possible. That is, to see any negativity from the past to have been, ultimately, instructive of useful to the present, positive, state of things.

In your speech, you encourage us to “[do] those things that incline you toward the big questions.” Recently, Dr. Julie Schwartz Gottman raise some “big questions” in her TEDx talk that focused on how we can create world peace by beginning at home with creating positive and empathetic familial relationships, which could then push us to be more empathetic with others in the world. Do you see kindness as a potential force for good in the world, a force that could push humanity toward being more peaceful and cooperative?

I know that, in Buddhist practice, this focusing of intention is very important – to say, essentially, “I pray that whatever I accomplish here goes out to benefit all beings, and not just me.”

Small acts of sanity ensure that the world in one’s immediate area is…sane. I once heard the writer Tom McGuane say something along these lines – that a system of interconnected small sanity zones builds out and makes a sane world. And that has the benefit of being a workable approach – one knows how to start, at least. If nothing else, working towards sanity and kindness in one’s own world (one’s own mind) means that, when insanity occurs “out there,” we will have a sane outlook on it – might be able to avoid making things worse, via our agitated reaction.

But having said that (and believing all of that), I also like to remind myself to be a little cautious about the need to justify kindness by claiming it could have some big overarching effect on the world. I mean, I think it does – I know it does – but I also feel that, for me, sometimes those grand intentions can serve as a sort of place on which to solidify ego, as I mentioned above. (I recall that quote from Charles Schulz’s “Peanuts:” “I love mankind, it’s people I can’t stand.”) When I was touring for the book, I found that a lot of people were all for Kindness but not that always that great at kindness, if you see what I mean. (One guy on a radio interview sort of snarled, “I’ve always believed in kindness! But people don’t GET it!”).

I guess that’s the trick of any sort of moral stance toward the world – we have to stay off of autopilot.

For those who are having difficulties within their marriages and may feel lonely or disconnected, what sort of advice could you offer to them based on your experiences as a writer and reader of fiction, as a teacher, as a father, and as a husband?

The one analogy that comes to mind from writing is simply that, at this point in my career, it’s more interesting to assume that every story is workable, and send renewed energy at a story when it hits a snag – assume the best of it, in a sense. And often, with patience, that story will come alive again and rise to the (expanded) occasion. Which is always a happy outcome.

If you want to build a deeply meaningful relationship full of trust and intimacy, then subscribe below to receive our blog posts directly to your inbox:

Email*

Email

This field is for validation purposes and should be left unchanged.

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The post Erring in the Direction of Kindness: An Interview with George Saunders appeared first on The Gottman Institute.