#Moving Company from Boston to New York

[fairyrcts]

thinkin bout you, c.s.

by fairyrcts contents - angst, cursing, intended lowercase, use of y/n, 3rd person, mentions of depression

it was 2 am in new york and y/n was just getting home. her day was exhausting to say the least. the struggle of being a full time college student with a job and rent to pay in new york is something that was unimaginable.

she fiddled with her keys, eventually finding her apartment key. she unlocked her door to her roomate, aleah, sat on the couch watching some cheesy rom-com on her laptop. y/n dropped her bag and kicked off her shoes at the door.

y/n stopped in her tracks. "christopher sturniolo?" her voice was slightly shooken.

"hey hey." aleah waved.

"hey, girl. watcha watchin?" y/n's voice rang as she walked to the open kitchen, grabbing a cup and poaring ice water.

"27 dresses. literally never seen this dumb shit before but evangeline wants me to see it."

aleah was the definition of a stud. she was gorgeous, too. dark complexion, curly hair that hung in front of her face and piercings on her plump lips and nose.

evangeline was her girlfriend, who y/n's only met a few times. usually in the mornings after getting very little sleep from their noises filling the small apartment.

"man, that movie's so mid. did we get any mail?" y/n chuckled as she walked back in the living room, sitting in the opposing sofa.

"any mail?"

"uh, one from some credit card company and someone left a note in the crack of the door. said to y/n from chris sturnolo." she spoke, her eyes not leaving the computer.

christopher was her childhood bestfriend. they were in almost every class together since kindergarten. they were inseparable. they did sports together, went to prom together, went to get their drivers license together (guess who didn't pass). they were family, at this point.

after college, she never heard from him again. happy birthdays and merry christmases every year or likes on every post, but not a single text, call, email, anything. she talked to nick and matt regularly, but not chris.

she'd ask how he was and they'd give short, vague, one-word answers. it was unfair, really. because there wasn't another soul on earth that knew her better than chris did, and all that time was wasted.

it's been 3 years without a word. and just now he's contacting her. her mind rambled as to what might have gone wrong, otherwise, there wasn't a reason to speak to her. now, especially. she'd been such a mess after leaving for cornell, and she debated not going to stay with chris. but he convinced her, saying he'll stay in touch and talk to her every day.

so much for that promise.

"uh, yeah, chris sturniolo, sturnolo, stromboli, all the same to me." her roomate shook her out of her thoughts.

"aleah, where's the damn letter?" y/n's voice sounded scared almost, not understanding what's going on.

"over on the bookshelf." aleah pointed to the letter wrapped with a little bow and a stamp in the corner of the boston streets.

her hands hurried and undid the bow, ripping the envelope open and unfolding the letter.

Dear Y/n

There seriously isn't an explanation for my distance. After you left for college I fell into such a state of depression and I don't know why but I was scared to contact you. I mean, you're out doing great big things, NYU and detective criminal type stuff. Meanwhile, I'm still here in Massachusetts, I just moved out of my parents house a year and a half ago and my career is making videos on the internet. I guess it was the jealousy that stopped me from speaking to you or some kind of fear. But all I know is that I miss you, dearly. And I guess this is kind of me asking do you think about me still? Because I haven't stopped thinkin about you.

(p.s. i know i couldve sent this over text but i didnt know if you blocked me or not)

just his handwriting caused tears to stream down y/n's face. the note itself, the words and his explanation made her sob.

she made her way to her room, shutting the door behind her. she reached for her phone in her back pocket and called chris's contact.

it rang three times before he answered. there was silence on his end, soft sobs on hers.

"chris, where the hell are you and why did you answer so late?" she said through sniffles and cries.

"i'm uh, in syracuse right now. we're here with nate for his birthday. i asked matt for your address and uhm, i was waiting for you to call." chris's voice sounded nervous almost.

"so you're.. able to come see me?" she asked to which chris affirmed.

"give me the name of your hotel. i'm coming over." she spoke. her tone wasn't demanding, but chris knew it was a demand.

chris told her the name and room number, y/n writing down each letter. after he had explained the whole thing she hung up without warning. she walked out of her room, her movements were fast as she wiped tears off her cheeks.

"woah, what's up?" aleah asked, concerned.

"i'll tell you when i'm back." y/n brushed her off, grabbing her keys, leaving and shutting the door quite harshly.

she jogged down the stairs, her hand grazing the railings and the other jingling the keys with each step.

she pushed the door that so clearly said pull. the frustration just added to her unexplainable feelings.

"why the fuck won't this shit open!?" she shouted. the small, teenage boy at the front desk squeaked out a few words.

"it's uhm. it's pull. y-you're pushing it." y/n looked down at the sign.

"shut the fuck up, curtis!" she yelled once more, yanking the door and storming out of it.

"dumb ass name." y/n mumbled to herself. she walked hurriedly to her car, clicking the unlock button on her keeys and jumping in the drivers seat.

she turned it on, putting the ignition in reverse. she internally conflicted wether or not to put on music. of course, there was no need for it. buttt to make the whole event more dramatic, she turned on her playlist, thinkin bout you by frank ocean coming in through the speakers.

the music made tears swell up in her eyes. the whole situation was just fucked.

her car sped, running through red lights here and there, honking at any car that was slow or in front of her.

when she arrived at the hotel, she shut off her music and her car, locking it as she slammed the door of it behind her. she pulled the door to the entrance to the entrence of the large hotel, the door refusing to open.

"it's a push door!" the lady at the front desk yelled loud enough to be heard.

"oh, fuck me." y/n groaned, finally opening the door. she stormed inro the elevator, the front desk lady attempting to stop her by shouting 'miss'.

as if that was gonna stop her. y/n pressed the 4 button aggressively, multiple times.

"hurry the fuck up!" she was so out of it, she was yelling at an inanimate button.

when the door started opening, she squeezed herself through the space, looking at the numbers on each door until she found the 103 in a big font.

she knocked hard and loud continuously until the door opening interrupted her.

and now, she was faced with the man who made her, and broke her.

the two stared into one anothers eyes momentarily before y/n brought a hand up and smacked the side of his face.

a 'youch' came out of chris's mouth. he rubbed the side of his face that was now red while y/n began rambling.

"now, what the fuck is wrong with you! i mean, you know better! christopher, holy fuck, where do i even begin with you!?" her voice rang through the halls as she pushed herself into the room.

"i- i don't know." chris's tone was sorrowful, but that wasn't necessarily something she cared about right now.

"you are such a douchebag! i fucking can't believe you. ignoring my calls, texts, letters, everything! the only information i ever got about you was through 10 picture slideshows on instagram and your brothers, who werent much of a help! you can say whatever all you want, but chris, i was so mentally fucked up! i was so behind in my classes, that you know i put a humongous amount of effort into getting into, i was rude and emotional all the time and pushed away people i love and adore because i was so hung up on the thought that you stopped caring and you stopped loving me! you know how terrible of a feeling that is? to believe that the one person you love most in the world doesn't give two damn shits about what you're doing now? do you?!"

she yelled and yelled and yelled as her eyes didn't just shed tears, but boy, they poured.

"n-no, no i don't know how that feels." christopher mumbled as water welled up in his own eyes.

"yeah, and that's because you know i'm incapable of unloving you! you're aware of my love for you, because i reminded you every day. you know i wear my heart on my sleeve and you still pulled this dumb shit! i don't even know how you managed to do such thing! i was at such a terrible place, chris."

her words were less aggressive now as she cried tears of sadness rather than anger. she sat herself on one of the two hotel beds while chris sat beside her. he awkwardly pulled her into a hug, y/n leaning into it immediately.

her head laid in his lap as he rubbed her back, whispering small shushes every now and then while she kept bawling.

"y'know. i've been thinkin' bout you. i never stopped, really. i just- i don't even have an excuse. and you can keep yelling at me, and i'll keep listening, but i can't explain as to why i didn't. i just don't know, y/n." his voice was calm and gentle and his hands glided up and down her side.

once she finally stopped crying, she sat up and wiped her tears. "I'm sorry." chris stated, his eyes meaningful along with his voice.

that's all she wanted to hear.

he pulled her into an embrace once more, engulfing himself in the girl he missed so deeply.

"i was thinkin' bout you, too, y'know." she mumbled into his neck.

and that's all he wanted to hear.

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗠𝗘

　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x fem!oc (Elena)

SUMMARY: Where Elena and Matt grew up together, fell in love as kids but realized too late. Will there be any hope for them?

WARNING: A little angst and mentions of cheating.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

Part 2

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Elena was born and raised in Boston, in a two-story house, next door to one of the most beautiful houses in the city, but not because of its external beauty, but because of who lived inside.

Elena grew up being the next-door neighbor of the Sturniolo triplets, she also studied at the same school as the three of them, these two factors made her and the trio become almost a fantastic quartet.

The four of them grew up together, ran down the street every day together, got dirty with dirt and mud on rainy days together, played cooking together (they were forced by her) and, best of all, they made mini "vlogs" together throughout their childhood and pre-adolescence, becoming literally inseparable.

Nick was Elena's confidant, always there to listen to her and give faithful advice to the girl, giving her a shoulder to cry on and a company to laugh when needed. Nick trusted Elena with his eyes closed and loved her with all his heart, so much so that she was the first one he came out to.

Chris was her partner in crime, the two grew up playing pranks on their parents, brothers (on his side) and neighbors. Chris saw Elena as his anchor, losing count of how many times he entered the girl's room through the window in the early hours of the morning to vent or just to be able to sleep with her company, dispelling his biggest fears.

Matt was a different case. Matt was the boy who took her as his date to every school dance and accompanied her to every friend's party. Matt was the boy who bought Elena flowers every week and took her to the city's summer amusement parks, always making sure to get her a different teddy bear. Matt was the boy who made her heart flutter, but also stay in a sacred calm; that made her body freeze, but also warm with affection. He was the one who introduced the feeling of love to her...

But who said he did anything about it? Despite acting almost like her boyfriend, Matt was afraid of rejection, after all, his heart belonged 100% to Elena and he couldn't bear having it completely stolen from him if she denied it. And that's why, out of a silly but genuine fear, he lost her.

At the age of 17, Elena moved to New York with her parents after her mother received a job offer that she couldn't refuse and that would open doors for her career. Seeing her leave was one of the hardest things Matt has been through, but the most painful was seeing her post on Instagram, 6 months after she left. Elena was dating, and it wasn't him.

Over time, things changed, the triplets moved to Los Angeles and grew dramatically on social media, becoming extremely well-known and loved on the Internet.

And Elena... well, Elena finished school and started International Relations at NYU, working at a coffee shop near her house so she could save money, since she was engaged. That's right, her boyfriend, Jeremy, of almost 2 years had asked her to marry him. It was a big shock and Elena had to think a lot before accepting, but it was her dream, to have a successful career and raise a family. Right?

Elena and Jeremy were in the middle of a month of decisions for the wedding, decoration, food, cake, clothes, etc., so Elena was feeling overwhelmed, it was a lot on her mind, and she found herself wondering if that was really what she wanted. Therefore, the girl (now woman) decided to pay a visit to her grandparents, who still lived in Boston. Cooling down in a place more than familiar to her seemed ideal now.

Elena just didn't expect that her grandmother would tell Mary Lou, and that Mary would tell Nick, who would tell his brothers, generating a secret collective trip to Boston. The triplets were dying to see Elena, after all, it had been 2 years since they had seen her best friend, or, in Matt's case, crush.

It was a Saturday morning when Elena landed in Boston, quickly grabbing her small suitcase and hailing a taxi at the airport's main pedestrian entry and exit gate, giving as her destination address her grandparents' house, which coincidentally, was on the same street where she grew up.

Elena planned to stay in Boston only until the next day, Sunday, since Monday she had classes again and she was going back to work, besides she knew that if she stayed much longer away from home, from Jeremy, he would lose his mind.

It didn't take long for Elena to arrive at her destination. The girl got out of the car after paying the taxi driver and took her suitcase from the trunk, thanking him once again before she knocked on the front door, waiting.

It was a big surprise for her when her grandfather opened the door and behind him were her best friends, Nick was holding a sign that said "WELCOME BACK, ELENA! WE MISSED YOU ♡", while Chris was holding three packets of her favorite candy in his hands and Matt held a bouquet of flowers that almost hid his red face, Elena wondered if it was from embarrassment or the heat from the summer.

The girl dropped the suitcase, bringing her right hand to her mouth, covering half of her surprised expression. She felt her eyes fill with tears, God, how she missed the three boys.

Next to her were her grandparents, with big smiles on their faces and bright eyes, watching her with a mix of affection and pride.

"Oh my God, you guys are crazy! What are you doing in Boston? I thought you were in LA!" Elena exclaimed, her voice cracking mid-sentence with high emotions.

"We were, but Grandma told our mom that you were coming here today and I couldn't handle missing my best friend anymore." Nick said as he placed the poster on the couch. He turned quickly and ran to the girl, hugging her tightly. The action seemed to wake Matt and Chris, who quickly moved and formed a mini line behind the oldest.

"Damn, you look old" Chris joked when his brother got out of the hug, laughing loudly when Elena hit his forehead. "Here, to sweeten your life." He scoffed, handing the candy packets to her.

"I have to check if these aren't sour candies, coming from you I expect everything." Elena joked, taking the candies and placing them on top of her suitcase. She opened her arms and hugged Chris momentarily.

Chris pulled away as they separated and positioned himself next to Nick, the two exchanging glances before turning their gaze to Matt.

"They're pink tulips, I hope they're still your favorites" Matt stepped forward, showing the full bouquet before handing it to her.

"Oh Matt, they're beautiful! Thank you" Elena received the bouquet, smelling them quickly and mentally punishing herself for blushing.

Matt smiled widely and watched her for a few seconds, only breaking out of his trance when he heard Elena's grandfather make a fake cough. The boy shook his head and walked away, lowering his gaze to the ground.

Elena quickly placed the bouquet on the coffee table and finally greeted her grandparents, placing kisses on their age-marked cheeks.

"Let's take these things to your room and make plans for the weekend!" Nick spoke loudly, throwing the candies to Chris and taking the small suitcase in his hands, before starting to climb the stairs without waiting for anyone.

Elena laughed loudly as she heard Chris swear at Nick as he bent down to pick up the packages that fell at his feet. Matt shook his head, smiling as he saw the girl take the bouquet with extreme delicacy.

The three following the oldest up the stairs.

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Hours later, the quartet found themselves in the triplets parents car, parked at the Mc Donald's they grew up going to, while eating their favorite burguers and catching up on conversations. They spent the afternoon driving around the places they went when young, which made Elena's heart warm, she missed that, that feeling of calm, without any burden, without obligations or responsibilities, just the interest of being happy.

During that early morning, Elena woke up to the sound of rocks hitting her window, which she quickly recognized. What surprised her was that when she got up and approached the window it wasn't Chris there, but Matt.

"What are you doing here?" Elena asked in a whisper after opening her window, squinting her eyes as she tried to better see Matt's silhouette in the pitch black night.

"Let me in." Matt whispered back, ignoring her question as he looked down to check if he wasn't about to fall off the edge of the roof.

Elena sighed and walked to the side, giving Matt space to enter through the window, closing it shortly after to stop the night wind of entering the room.

"What are you doing here at this time?" Elena asked again, sitting on the edge of her bed and watching him.

"As if I didn't pay you visits in the early hours of the morning before." He responded smiling, sitting on the bed and dragging himself until his back was against the headboard and his legs were stretched out on the mattress. He slapped his hand on the space beside him, looking at Elena.

The girl sighed but smiled, following his silent request.

"I missed you" Matt commented. "It's strange to live life without you with us"

"I miss you too" Elena replied, looking at him. "It's strange to only keep in touch on the phone and find out about some things through social media" She continued, receiving a nod from the brunette.

"You still have them" Matt realized as he noticed all the teddy bears he got for Elena piled up on top of the dresser next to the closet.

"Of course I have them, why would I throw them away? They're cute and remind me that you're actually good at something" She scoffed, receiving a light push from the boy.

"As if you weren't rooting like crazy for me while I was trying to hit the game targets" He mocked back, seeing Elena roll her eyes with a big smile on her face.

"Obviously, getting teddy bears is better than buying them, have you seen the prices of these little things?" Elena gave a low laugh when she saw Matt open his mouth exaggeratedly, soon after the two burst into laughter together.

"So, are you really going to get married?" Matt asked suddenly after they calmed down, looking directly at her.

"Yeah, I will" She replied, lowering her gaze to her hands, specifically to the silver ring on her left ring finger.

"You don't look very excited" He commented, making the girl sigh.

"I just... I don't know, I'm so young, you know? I'm only 20, getting married seems a bit drastic right now, but Jeremy thinks it will be good for our future, us having the same last name will help in the office" She replied, furrowing his eyebrows.

"What does he do for a living again?" The brunette asked.

"He currently works at his father's office and studies law," Elena said, noticing the grimace he made at her response. "What?"

"He doesn't seem like your type. In fact, he seems like quite a daddy's boy." Matt commented, regretting it seconds later after seeing Elena's eyebrows raise in surprise.

"And what do you know about my type, Matthew?"

"I'm sorry, ignore what I said" Matt intervened quickly, the last thing he wanted was to fight with Elena now, knowing that after that Sunday, he didn't know when he would see her again. Maybe at her wedding, the boy felt himself shudder at the thought.

Elena sighed.

"You know that my dream has always been to be successful with my career and have my own family. Us getting married would give me both... Having his last name, I will be able to start my International Relations profession within the office that soon will be his, which will make me grow faster on the career, and I'll have my own family." Elena spoke while gesturing.

"Sounds like there's a lot of self-interest involved" Matt commented.

"Matthew!" The girl exclaimed, making him raise his arms in a sign of redemption.

"Sorry, sorry." He sighed. "I remember, you know."

"What?" Elena looked at him confused.

"How you always wanted a family, when we were kids me, Nick and Chris were always messing around and you were playing mommy with your barbies. You wouldn't let go of that damn Baby Alive even if you were paid to, always taking her everywhere." Matt let out a laugh as he remembered, making Elena laugh along as she saw her own smaller figure running after the triplets with her doll in hands.

"You can't say anything, you always took care of my Baby Alive when I asked you to" The girl replied with a wide smile, watching Matt roll his eyes exaggeratedly while she laughed as quietly as she could.

The brunette turned to her to rebut, but stopped in his action, reinforcing in his mind every detail of the face of the girl who had his heart in her hands, details that he had memorized a long time ago and still found himself remembering and tracing in his mind on sleepless nights.

The two stared deeply at each other for what seemed like an eternity, before Elena looked away and fake coughed.

"Just think about your decision Elena." Matt asked softly before getting up from the queen sized bed.

"Where are you going?" Elena looked at him again, her eyes pleading, as if she was afraid he would leave her there, alone and without him.

"I'm going back home, if my mother wakes up and doesn't see me in bed in the morning, I'm sure she'll freak out, and the situation won't turn out very well for us." He spoke with a sigh, going to the window and opening it, looking back one last time, before moving outside, closing it again before disappearing from the girl's vision.

Elena stood still for a few minutes, processing the conversation and that last moment, feeling her heart sink at the thought of not seeing the boy again for a long time after Sunday. It felt like a goodbye.

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On the next day, Elena woke up significantly early as she felt the sun's rays coming through her window. As she opened her eyes, ready to complain about why it was so bright in the room, she remembered Matt leaving and how she forgot to get up and close the curtains.

The girl sighed, before getting up and getting ready for the day. She felt excited to be able to see her friends again, but her heart ached at the thought that that very night she would leave again.

After getting ready, Elena took her cell phone and saw a message left by Jeremy.

"I hope you're having a good time there. I can't wait to have you here again today, I can't stop looking at the wedding catalogues. Do you prefer chocolate or vanilla cake? xx, jeremy"

Elena sighed again, it's obvious she preferred vanilla, how did he not know that? The girl shook her head, deciding to answer him another time.

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"What are we doing today?" Nick asked as they found themselves in front of the triplets' door, as they had done years before.

"I thought we'd go to the amusement park, the one that only opens in the summer, you know? Like old days." Matt suggested. Elena looked at him when she heard about the park, quickly looking away when she saw him already looking back at her. She needed to stop this.

"Let's go then!" Chris spoke loudly, running over to his parents' car again, fiddling with the passenger door handle impatiently, begging Matt to unlock it.

Elena laughed at the action, running to the car too and soon getting into the back seat, sitting behind Chris's group, having a view of the driver's seat.

A few minutes later the four arrived at the amusement park and started going on the basic rides, which the four liked, bumper cars, roller coasters and carousel.

"Can we go on the ferris wheel?" Elena asked, puting her hands in a sign of prayer and looking at the three of them with a pleading look.

"I'm not going, it's too boring. I want to go to the arcade area" Chris replied, ignoring the girl who was begging.

"I want to go to the arcade too!" Nick shouted, raising his hand like a child and approaching Chris, making Elena roll her eyes and cross her arms with a huff.

"I'll go with you." Matt said looking at Elena, who smiled big, taking his hand and dragging him through the park to the ferris wheel line, ignoring the taller man's protests.

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"Wow, I don't remember the last time I entered a cabin like that" Matt commented, closing the small door behind him and sitting on the single bench next to Elena, who smiled as she nodded and looked at the outside view through the cabin's glass window.

Matt found himself watching her, taking note of her profile, feeling himself falling in love with her all over again.

It didn't take long for the wheel to start moving, the cabin swayed a little making Elena let out a surprised sound, holding onto Matt's arm to steady herself.

"Sorry, I don't remember it moving that much" She commented, smiling awkwardly as she took her hand off the boy's arm, watching him wave his hand like it was nothing.

The two focused their eyes outside the cabin, taking note of the people who looked like little ants as the cabin rose higher, the blue sky with few clouds, the light breeze that blew and the birds that passed by in the distance. Elena looked at the cabin ahead and saw a couple cuddling each other, smiling big as they also watched the view, and she found herself trying to remember if she had ever been through that with Jeremy, but her mind came out was blank.

Her chest tightened as she realized that she had never even been to an amusement park with Jeremy, or a park, or a romantic walk. With Jeremy it was always all about work and having the perfect status.

Her gaze changed from the couple to Matt, noticing that he was also looking at the couple, but quickly his blue eyes focused on her as well.

"I love being able to look at you up close like this," Matt whispered, as if he was afraid of speaking too loudly and end what they were having.

Elena smiled, blushing, but forcing herself not to look away from him, she didn't want to miss that moment for anything. Her eyes took in all the little details of Matt's face, his sparkling blue eyes with dilated pupils, his nose perfectly shaped and the right size for his face, his cheekbones slightly reddened by the heat, his big, messy hair, his beard starting to appear again due to the time without shaving it... She felt like she could stay there forever.

Matt moved slightly closer, stopping with his mouth centimeters from hers, seeming to wait to see if she would pull away, which she didn't. Elena held herself in place, yearning to feel him.

Matt, realizing that there was no movement on her part, moved closer until their lips touched, and Elena felt that everything she read in romance books about the sensations of electricity through her body and the fireworks around her when kissing her right person was true.

Matt let out a sigh through his nose at the sensation, feeling instant relief and as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He never wanted to leave there again.

It was just a touch of lips, but it was enough for them at that moment. It was exactly what they needed.

Elena pulled away first, still with her eyes closed, trying to prolong the feeling and sensations in her body and mind. When she opened her eyes, she noticed Matt already looking at her, smiling broadly, and she returned the smile.

"I love you." Matt blurted out, making Elena's eyes widen. "Elena, I'm sorry for not having said or done anything before, but I've loved you for as long as I can remember, since the first flower I plucked from my mother's garden and gave to you, since the first time you gave me your Baby Alive for me to take care of as if it were the most precious thing in the world, since the first day you asked me to kiss your scraped knee to heal it. I've loved you for so long and I was an idiot for not saying it. And it's okay if you don't want me, you're engaged, you have a life in New York and... Asking you to leave all of this is impossible, but I needed to tell you."

Before Elena could process it, the bubble around the two seemed to burst as the ferris wheel stopped and their turn was over, the little cabin door opening again.

Matt cleared his throat, getting up and helping Elena out. When they both touched their feet on the floor, Elena felt her cell phone vibrate, picking it up only to see that Jeremy was sending her a new message about the wedding, and at that moment she fell to reality, she had cheated on her fiancé with her best friend. A bitter taste entered her mouth, her body froze and a horrible feeling took over her heart. God, what did she do?

Elena quickly pulled away from Matt, feeling her hands shake. She put her cell phone in her bag and turned to the taller man, seeing him looking at her with a worried look.

"Matt I cheated on him... I-I cheated on my fiancé with you." She stuttered. Matt looked at her with a weight on his eyes, feeling horrible for having contributed to that, blaming himself for kissing her, wanting to go back in time and not even agreeing to go on the ferris wheel with the girl.

He loved her, but she didn't love him back, not like he wanted her to.

"Elena look, it's going to be okay, you can talk to him, I swear I won't approach you again, I'm sorry-"

"I-I need to go."

"What?" Matt stopped walking completely.

"I need to go Matt." She looked into his eyes, feeling guilty as she saw immense pain in the blue pools. "Don't go after me, please. I'm sorry."

Elena turned and ran away, wiping the tears that fell from her eyes without stopping and feeling an emptiness and weight in her chest, as if part of her had stayed with Matt.

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The girl got out of the taxi in front of her grandparents house and walked to the door, taking the spare key that her grandfather had given her, trying to unlock the lock with her blurry vision.

"Elena?" The girl heard her grandmother call from the kitchen after closing the door behind her.

"Hi grandma." Elena responded, her voice cracking from the held back cry.

Her grandmother quickly appeared at the kitchen door after noticing the difference in her granddaughter's voice, approaching with quick steps when she saw the youngest's red eyes and wet cheeks.

"Oh Elena, what happened?" The older woman asked worriedly, taking Elena's shoulders and leading her to the sofa, sitting her on the soft surface and sitting next to her.

"Why does love hurt so much, grandma?" Elena asked, letting out a sob. Her grandmother sighed, pulling her into a tight hug.

"Oh Elena, love doesn't hurt dear. It took me many years to learn that, if love is right for you and your heart, and it's reciprocal, it doesn't hurt, it wasn't made to hurt. It was with your grandfather that I learned that love is free, it is generous, it is safe and it empowers you in a way that makes you feel stronger and like you can conquer the world." The oldest explained with a smile. "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

"I kissed Matt." Elena said, looking down at her hands, quickly looking away from the ring. "We went to the amusement park we went to as kids, I wanted to go on the ferris wheel and he accompanied me, we had a moment and we kissed."

"He always looked at you differently... And you at him, so much so that I swore you two would end up together. I remember all the times you came running here with a new flower in your hands and said it was from Matt, as If I didn't already know that." Elena smiled upon hearing her grandmother's words.

"But grandma, I'm engaged." She whispered regretfully.

"Do you love Jeremy?" The eldest asked, cupping her granddaughter's cheek and lifting her face so she could look her in the eyes.

"I-I... I don't know." Elena desperately tried to feel for Jeremy what she felt for Matt. "I don't feel about him what I feel when I think about Matt, or when I'm with him. Jeremy is an incredible man, with a planned and perfect life... I feel so pressured sometimes, like I have to be perfect all the time to fit in with him and his plans. It's not light, grandma."

Elena cried harder when she realized how heavy her days were with Jeremy, how she always had to have the most impeccable and perfect clothes, with the best posture, the most flawless makeup, the best-groomed hair and the best modes. How she felt about being looked at and evaluated by everyone all the time, especially at Jeremy's parenting conferences or in her father's office.

"Elena, pay close attention to me, what does your heart say if you spend more time worrying about perfection than kissing him? If you spend more time in the day thinking about a thousand things than living love lightly? Do you feel like to run away when with him? Honey, I'm sorry, but that's not love. Not the right one for you, at least."

Elena looked at her grandmother, surprised by her wisdom and how it all made sense.

Jeremy was a perfect man, but not for her. Matt was her perfect match.

God, what would she do now? She ran out of the park and left Matt all by himself after he declared his love for her. And she still had Jeremy...

"I already know what I gave to do."

[useless-catalanfacts]

Did you know that the Catalan vault can be found in many buildings of the United States of America?

Here's some examples:

Grand Central Terminal, New York City. Photo from Getty.

Boston Public Library. Photo by Michael Freeman/Boston Public Library.

Ellis Island Registry Room, New York. Photo by Mike Ward on Flickr.

City Hall station of the New York subway. Photo by Michael Freeman.

The Catalan vault is a brick arch that is widely used in traditional Catalan architecture. It's also present in other parts of the Mediterranean, but not as common. Its main characteristic is that it's built with the longest side of the brick facing down (usually, ceilings are made with the shortest side facing down) and with a very gentle curve, resulting in a strong self-supporting vault that allows covering a whole room without needing columns or pillars in a way that would be impossible with other kinds of masonry, and also makes it possible to build it quickly and without needing centering (the wooden structure used to support the vault or arch while it's being built, and which is removed once it's made).

So how did it make its way to the USA?

It was brought by the Valencian architect Rafael Guastavino i Moreno (1842-1908). He had already designed important industrial buildings in Catalonia, including the factory that later became the Industrial School in Barcelona and La Massa theatre in Vilassar de Dalt, among others. At the time, in Catalonia, the Catalan vault was being widely used to cover ceilings in factories.

In 1881, Guastavino moved to New York City (USA), where he used the Catalan vault to cover big ceilings, which made him gain some fame for it. He patented the vault in the USA with the name "Guastavino system".

At the time, Americans were very worried about buildings catching fire, because it often happened and had caused a huge destruction in the Chicago 1871 fire. As a response, in 1883 Guastavino bought a patch of land in Connecticut, built two houses in it using the Catalan vault, and set them on fire. He took photos of the whole process to document it and prove how this architecture style is efficient in the case of fire. He wrote about it in the magazine Decorator and Furnisher and soon won the contest to design the Progress Club's building in New York City, which made him famous among architects in the area.

He created his own company (Guastavino Fireproof Construction Company) which was focused on building the Catalan vault. He was hired for many buildings and this architectural element spread. Most churches with stone vaults built between 1890 and 1940 in the USA were designed by Guastavino's firm, as well as many other buildings across the country, particularly New York and Massachusetts.

He's buried in the St. Lawrence Basilica in Asheville (North Carolina, USA), a building he designed.

[gorgeousundertow]

@riddlersboyfriend Hi Luke, it's your summer exchange fic!! xoxoxoxo

Don't give it a hand, offer it a soul

Cross-posting on A03 since it's, ya know, long.

First Battalion

CO: Lt Col. Billy Turner. West Point. Demands fawning attention. Shouts. 3/10.

Charlie Company

Capt. Albert Hassenzahl. 

From Cincinnati, Ohio. Worked in steel mill.

27 years old

Sometimes brash or impetuous, leading to friction within the unit. 

Sufficient. 6/10

Sgt. Roy Speake Jr.

From Birmingham, Alabama. Foreman in cotton mill. 

30 years old, yet willing to take orders from younger men.

7/10

Sgt. Mariano Sanchez. 

From El Paso, Texas. Family owned a small grocery.

28 years old, difficulty conforming to protocol. Falls behind on runs.

5/10

T/5 John Davis. 

From Detroit, Michigan. Janitor.

20 years old, works hard but talks too much. 

6/10

Cpl. Harvey White. 

From a small town in rural Kansas, farmer. 

Age: 19. Inept and unreliable. Poor aim, shirks duties. But could improve if properly motivated.

4/10

Pfc. Paul Devoe. 

From New Orleans, Louisiana. Line cook. 

Age: 24. Charismatic and optimistic. Keeps spirits up, though impulsivity is an issue.

7/10

Schedule

0600 Reveille                                                                        

0610 Formation                                              

0630 Tidy barracks                                                    

0700 Calisthenics     

0800 Wash up                                                                      

0900 Barracks Inspection                                                   

0930 Currahee or obstacle course                       

1045 PT drills                              

1115 Outside lecture                                                           

​1200 Lunch                                  

1330 Mail Call                

1345 Lecture/Classroom 

1500 Parachute training                       

1700 Drill

1800 Supper

1900 Lecture/Classroom

2100 Return to barracks            

2300 TAPS

Notes September 1942

Dislike Lt. Col. Turner intensely.

Training is more difficult than anticipated.

Seems that what was true in Boston remains true here. Cannot seem to join conversations with the other men, continue to make them uncomfortable. Thought it would be different here than it was back home.

Notes October 1942

Lt. Col Turner is incompetent, stupid, and worthless.

Perhaps other companies have it better; consider orchestrating a change? Investigate.

Notes November 1942

Chose E Company, 2nd Platoon at random, for observation.

Capt. Herbert Sobel

From Chicago, Illinois. Attending University of Illinois.

30 years old

Would be a close friend of Lt. Col. Turner.

2/10

1/Lt. Richard Winters

From Lancaster, Pennsylvania

26 years old, effective. Has the respect of his men. Commands from the front.

8/10

Sgt. Carwood Lipton

From Huntington, West Virginia. Worked in mother’s boarding house.

22 years old, quiet. And yet the men listen.

8/10

Cpl. Donald Hoobler

From Manchester, Ohio, three siblings, joined National Guard.

Age: 20. Young, but works hard.

6/10

Pfc. Joseph Liebgott

Born in Michigan, moved to San Francisco

Age: 27. Cab driver. Speaks German. Easily angered, needs focus.

7/10

Pvt. David Webster

From New York City. Harvard grad. Writer

Age: 20. Lazy, whiny, as bad at talking to others as I am, in a different way.

5/10

Will continue to observe

Notes December 1942

Col. Sink insisted we march 118 miles, from Toccoa to Atlanta. It snowed. It served no function but to boost the egos of men who did not march alongside us.

Companies became disorderly, and by the end we were not marching in our own battalions. As such, I was marching mostly with E Company.

I spoke with Winters, as he was willing to speak with me. For some reason, he does not seem put off by me as others are–perhaps that is because, apart from Lt. Lewis Nixon III of Nixon, NJ, of HQ Company, no one wants to talk to him, either. Nixon certainly does; he made his way all the way over to E Company from the very beginning of the march, and stayed there, right at Winters’ side. By that token, I spoke with Nixon, as well. The march was miserable, but I believe I enjoyed it more than I have enjoyed any other time here.

We did not talk about much of anything of consequence–Nixon ensured that. I think the man is incapable of serious conversation. You would think someone as thoughtful as Winters would dislike him for that, but clearly he does not. It is odd. They are odd.

I observed the other members of E Company as we marched. They are a tight-knit group, more so than C Company by far. It is not because of their CO, that’s certain; he does everything he can to drive them apart, and clearly loathes Winters. 

Winters does what he can, but his resources are limited serving under a tyrant, an experience I can sympathize with. In truth, it is the NCOs that hold the Company together. To a man, they work tirelessly to keep spirits up, assisting those who are exhausted, making sure they eat and drink and sleep when they can.

Sgt. Lipton in particular has an interesting way about him. He doesn’t lead like the others, shouting at them to haul ass like Sgts. Guarnere and Martin do, in the time-honored tradition of NCOs. He gives orders, but he does so in a way that is almost friendly. I can’t wrap my head around it.

Notes January 1943

Continuing to observe Sgt. Lipton. 

Pvt. Webster is improving, partly because of Sgt. Lipton. (It seems that Pfc. Liebgott has an influence as well, though I can’t fully understand it. To a casual observer–which I do not believe I am–Liebgott bullies him, but in such a way that it almost seems affectionate. It is puzzling). Sgt. Lipton’s approach is different. He encourages Webster (and others, I do not mean to suggest that his efforts are limited to one man–he supports the entire Platoon. Hell, the entire Company) in subtle ways, walking with him to help him keep the pace up, but letting Webster think it’s because he really wants to hear him talk about Impressionist painters or Romantic poets. Perhaps he does. It is difficult to tell; he seems so genuinely engaged.

Capt. Sobel chewed him out for an imaginary offense (a not unusual occurrence in Easy Company) and Sgt. Lipton accepted it with stoicism. But when Sobel turned his back, Sgt. Lipton smirked. He rolled his eyes. There is steel in him.

Notes February 1943

Went for a run with Winters this morning, came across Sgt. Lipton. Winters invited him to join us. Winters runs like a maniac; running with him allows me to push myself, now that we are now longer running Currahee. I expected Sgt. Lipton to decline, particularly given my presence–no NCO has ever wanted to socialize with me–but he did not. He kept pace with Winters easily. He runs very well.

When we finished, we headed for the showers before Reveille, and Sgt. Lipton grabbed towels for each of us, even though it was unnecessary.

Notes March 1943

Have continued to run with Winters every morning. We have not encountered Sgt. Lipton again.

Notes June 1943

Have ceased running with Winters, as it’s too hot and I have concluded that Winters is a lunatic. We have plenty of PT; there’s no need to add on more. I don’t know why I bothered.

Notes August 1943

Couldn’t sleep, as usual. Went out walking through Fort Benning, found myself by the NCO barracks. Stood and smoked for a while. Went back to bed.

Notes September 1943

The S.S. Samaria is miserable. Am crammed into a cabin with Winters, Nixon, Lt. Harry Welsh, Lt. Heyliger, Lt. Roush, and Lt. Meehan from Baker Company. We have to wear life jackets at all times, and Nixon won’t stop talking about how the Titanic didn’t have enough lifeboats, and the Samaria definitely doesn’t.

Sleep is impossible, so have taken to walking the deck at night. Came across Sgt. Lipton, offered him a cigarette even though I know he doesn’t smoke. He described the racks the enlisted men have, and I decided to shut up about my sleeping situation. 

He was there the next night, and the next. He didn’t seem to mind my smoking. If he wasn’t on deck in the same place, I would have left him alone–I wouldn’t have gone looking for him. But he was always there, as if he was waiting for me. He didn’t say much, though neither did I, I suppose. We just looked out at the black sea.

Notes November 1943

Sgt. Lipton–and the other Sgts from Easy Company, I suppose–have mutinied on Winters’ behalf. It was brave. It was the right thing to do. It could force Sink’s hand, push him to realize how incompetent Sobel is. (We should try it in First Battalion). 

But I don’t know what’s going to happen to them. To him.

Notes December 1943

It’s all right. Two Sgts. were punished, neither of them were him.

It is clear that my interest in Easy Company is not beneficial, and no longer necessary. I am not gaining anything. I should not be more informed on the goings on in a Company that isn’t my own–that isn’t even in my Battalion. I’m going to stop taking notes altogether, anyway–loose lips and all.

Notes May 1944

Have been transferred to Dog Company. If I see Lt. Col. Turner in combat, I’ll kill him.

This is all pointless, anyway. In all likelihood, I am going to die. We are all going to die. Even…even he is going to die.

Notes June 1944

Sgt. Lipton was injured at Carentan, I do not know how badly.

I was also injured. I will recover. 

There were some incidents at Normandy. I shot an NCO; he was drunk and endangering the men. I shot six POWs. They were my first kills. I have killed more, since.

The looks men gave me, before we came, as if they weren’t sure what I was capable of. 

They know, now. I know, too.

Notes July 1944

Sgt. Lipton was wounded in the groin and on the face. He is in the hospital here in Aldbourne, recovering. He is several beds down from me. He receives visitors throughout the day.

Now that he is up and about, he comes to say hello sometimes, as I am not yet able to walk. He does not avoid me, as the other men do. 

He ought to; it would be better if he did. It’s useful that they fear me. It will make me a better leader.

Notes August 1944

Have been transferred to HQ Company, working alongside Nixon. It’s for the best.

Notes December 1944

Have been transferred back to Dog Company, as they are short on officers. We will be needed, I am told, for what’s coming in Belgium.

Notes January 1945

I couldn’t stop watching 1st Sgt. Lipton. With Winters leading the battalion and Lt. Dike as the empty shirt they’ve put in his place, Lipton has been the Company together. He is exhausted–we all are, of course, but it hurts somehow to see it on him. His eyes are shadowed, I could see it even from a distance. I patrolled the lines of Dog Company often, to catch a glimpse of him. I insisted that our medics share supplies, food. I wanted him to eat. To be safe. I was at the edge of the line when German artillery rained down, and I swear I heard him laughing. It was beautiful.

I would have gone across that field at Foy even if Winters hadn’t sent me. Someone had to go, and I was glad it was me. It was the easiest decision I ever made–it wasn’t even a decision, my feet were going before I even had the thought, as soon as they had Winters’ permission to do so. 

And now, I’m in command of Easy Company. It feels…right. Like I should have been with them all along. I know these men. I know what they need.

I knew what 1st Sgt. Lipton needed–he needed to know that someone had watched him, had seen what he had done. Had seen the man he is. And so I told him, in a church, while a choir of girls sang in golden light. It was…a risk, because letting him know that allowed him to see me, as well. To an extent. 

He still does not seem frightened of me. If anything, he seems a little amused. I don’t know what to make of it, exactly. But I don’t dislike it.

Notes February 1945

I’ve been promoted to Captain. One would think this would be welcome, but it is not. I couldn’t stop thinking of the men who have died, while I’m still here. I tried getting drunk–it’s what everyone else does, Nixon, Welsh, all of them. I’ve never really seen the point, but last night I thought, what the hell, it’s worth a shot.

I’m sharing quarters with 1st. Sgt. Lipton (he should be Lt. Lipton, but it hasn’t come through yet. Promotion won’t ruin him as it has me). I stumbled there, and I was…I couldn’t…I wasn’t as in control of myself as I would have liked to be. 

In truth, I wasn’t anything close to control. I came into the tent so drunk I couldn’t see straight, and I was crying. I hadn’t cried before, not once in the entire war. Not with all the deaths. Not for the men who died or the men I killed. But I cried when I got my fucking captaincy. 

Lipton was in bed, and I sat down on his cot. Aren’t you supposed to forget things that happen when you’re drunk? Why do I remember all of this? 

I remember I tried to kiss him. At least, I think that’s what happened. It is a little fuzzy. All I know is that I was sitting there on his cot and he was in bed, lying down and listening to me, and then I was half on top of him. I think I remember my mouth on his…fuck, you’d think if I’d gone and done something so colossally stupid I would have the decency to be sure about it. You’d think it would be seared into my brain, something I could go back to sometimes, in the privacy of my own thoughts. But there’s nothing, really. Just a vague sense of closeness, of Lipton, right there.

I got to my own bed, somehow. He must have put me there–by that point, I was too drunk to know my own name. And in the morning he greeted me with his usual smile and a cup of extra strong coffee. As though nothing at all had happened. So I guess nothing did.

Notes February 1945

Lipton is sick. He’s been sick for a week or so, but he’s getting worse. It won’t stop. He won’t stop–just keeps acting like he’s fine, even though his fever is running so hot Doc Roe keeps trying to get him off the line. It’s pneumonia, and we’re out here in the cold, and he still won’t go. I’m so furious with him I don’t know what to do. 

I can’t watch over him every minute, so I’ve put Luz on him. Luz has the right approach–firm, but with a smile. Lipton doesn’t respond to direct orders; I’ve tried that.

He remains infuriatingly competent, even when he coughs so hard I worry he’s going to drop a lung on my jump boots. Easy is running on fumes, and yet Lipton has it as organized as can be. And I can’t help coming to him for advice, to discuss options, even when he should be resting–because his advice is invaluable to me.

This town, Hagenau, has been blown to pieces. Is still being blown to pieces. We barely have roofs over our heads, though of course that’s practically a luxury, considering some of the places we’ve been. Easy CP is in a building with only one bed, and I’ve put Lipton there. It took some doing–I thought I was going to have to carry him there, and frankly he’s bigger and stronger than I am. Well, maybe not stronger, with pneumonia. 

I could sleep in another room, of course, but I’ll be sleeping on the floor, in the same room. I want to be able to hear him if he needs anything, if he takes a turn for the worse. 

Notes February 1945

Something happened last night. I don’t…I’m going to write it down, to see if that way I’ll understand it.

At 0230 I went to bed. The patrol did not go well. Two prisoners is not a fair exchange for Jackson. I was…upset. But I still moved quietly, so as not to disturb Lipton–only he was awake. He called me over, asked how the patrol went. I told him. 

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“It should never have happened,” I said.

He shrugged, his muscled shoulders moving in the low light from the fire I’d had Luz light in the hearth, and the cooler light from the moon.The room was warm, and he wore only his undershirt. “Lots of things have happened in this war that shouldn’t have, sir.”

I couldn’t argue with that. He slid to the side, gesturing for me to sit down on his bed, as I’d sat a couple of weeks ago, drunk off my head. I obeyed, but I frowned at him, unsure. “What are you doing awake? Can’t sleep? Should I get Roe?”

Lipton shook his head, a little smile on his face. “No. I’m feeling much better, sir. I wanted to see how you are.” 

I wasn’t quite sure how to respond. “I…I’m fine?” It sounded like I was asking him for the right answer, but how I was wasn’t something I’d considered in…well, in years, I suppose. Since well before Normandy. 

“Good,” Lipton said, taking me at my word. “Would you like some of this?” He held up a bottle and I blinked at it. It was schnapps–I’d taken it from a German couple next door, along with some kind of pastry. Apfelstrudel, they’d called it. 

“I don’t really drink,” I said warily, thinking of that other night. 

Lipton grinned. “Neither do I, but I figure you got this for me for a reason, right, sir?”

“The woman said it would cure you.” 

Lipton held out the bottle to me expectantly, so I took a small sip. It burned going down, too sweet. I handed it back to him, and he took a sip himself, placing his mouth where mine had been. I watched his throat as he swallowed. I was so close to him, I could hear the sound his lips made as they left the bottle. “Another?” he asked.

I shook my head. I didn’t understand what was happening–maybe nothing was happening, maybe this was all perfectly ordinary–but I sure as hell wanted to remember it clearly tomorrow. Lipton took another sip, made a face, and closed the bottle, setting it down on the floor. “Have you had a lot of that?” I asked.

Lipton shrugged, loose. “Some.”

“Enough to cure you then,” I said, and he laughed. 

“I guess so.”

I could feel his hip against my leg, and the room got a little brighter with the light of an explosion from a couple of blocks away, and I could only hope it hadn’t done any more damage than we’d already sustained tonight. His eyes are so soft. “I should let you sleep.”

I didn’t stand up, though. I meant to, I meant to get up and go sleep on the floor like I’d insisted I would. I was going to, any second, but I hadn’t yet when Lipton said, “You could sleep here with me.”

I try not to let my emotions show on my face, but I must have looked surprised (I was more than surprised), because Lipton added, “We’ve all slept in tighter quarters than this, in Bastogne. There’s no need for you to sleep on the floor, sir.”

And it’s true. I slept as close as I could to other men in foxholes, because otherwise we would have frozen to death. But this room had a warm fire. There was no reason to. And yet, Lipton slid to the side, making a little more room for me–there wasn’t a lot, it was a small bed–and so I…lay down. 

I didn’t take off my boots, or my jacket or anything. I didn’t want to risk taking the time, in case he changed his mind. I lay on my back, but that didn’t quite work, it was too close, so I turned onto my side. I should probably have faced away from him. I didn’t.

His face was right there. I could have kissed him again (did I even kiss him, before? I’ve never been certain). He blinked at me in the darkness, but I didn’t move. Eventually, his eyes closed, but I lay there for a long time, long enough to feel him relax and curl into me. I pressed my lips to his shoulder, and I thought I felt his breath against my hair, but I couldn’t be sure. 

When I woke up in the morning, he was gone.

Notes February 1945

I haven’t known what to do with myself all day. Lipton has been hard to pin down–now that he is feeling better, he is working harder than ever. Winters canceled the second patrol, but we still need to act as though it is going forward, which means the same amount of work, plus I needed to make sure Lt. Jones is squared away. 

I had Liebgott and the others firing across the river, while Webster and Sgt. Martin hid in the house. By the time I got back to the CP, it was 0300.

Lipton wasn’t in the bedroom waiting for me. He was awake and working with Luz, sorting through the supply delivery. I stopped in to say goodnight and when he said goodnight back, he…well, he smiled at me. But Lipton smiles at everyone. 

I don’t like this. I don’t like being uncertain. 

Notes February 1945

It’s Lieutenant Lipton now, at long last. Welsh caught up with us, and he had Lipton’s bars with him. I was there when Winters pinned them on, when Lipton shook his hand. There were so many of us there–Nixon, along with Luz and Webster in the other room. Hell, even Lt. Jones was standing there. What felt like it ought to have been a close moment, something for just me and him, wasn’t, couldn’t have been, with so many men around. But of course it wasn’t just for him and me–why would it have been? I’ve only been his CO for a month. Of course he would want to share this with men he’s known for years. He’s earned that and more.

But I was impatient. I couldn’t…after spending yesterday so uncertain, I didn’t want to spend another moment that way. And we were equals now, or almost. We were both officers, at least.

So I took him by the arm and brought him into the other room. It wasn’t private, by any means–they were all still right there, Harry and Nixon drinking from Nixon’s flask, Winters watching them in that amused way he has. And we were going to be heading out soon–I’m writing this in the back of a jeep as Winters drives, in fact. But I couldn’t wait.

“Yes, sir?” he said, expectantly.

I had absolutely no idea what to say. “Um. Yes. Congratulations, Lieutenant.”

He smiled, wide and sincere, that smile that spreads so far across his face that it lifts the downturned corners of his eyes. “Thank you, sir.”

I had to think of something else, some reason to keep him here away from everyone else while I thought of a way to ask what I needed to ask him. “And you’re sure you’re feeling better? Because we could go to an aid station.”

He reached out and squeezed my arm, just below the elbow. It was a little thing, something I’d seen the men do all the time. Hell, Winters and Nixon were never not touching, it seemed. “I promise, I’m fine, sir.”

Just a little thing, but it seemed like I could feel his hand on my skin, even through my coat. No one ever really touches me. “I…” I cleared my throat. “I’m glad to hear that.” His hand slid down, so that his fingers touched the bare skin of my wrist, just resting there. From the other room, it wouldn’t have looked like anything, but it felt like everything. “Lieutenant Lipton…”

“You can call me Lip, you know, sir,” he said. “Everyone else does.”

“Lip,” I repeated, quietly. It probably came out as a whisper. I don’t think I will call him Lip, in front of other people. I think I’ll keep that close.

“Sparky!” Nixon called from the other room. “We’re moving out in an hour, think you can manage that?” 

Lipton’s fingers tightened on my wrist before letting go. “Yes,” I said, without looking away from him. I heard the sounds of the other men leaving, of Winters talking to Jones, of Luz giving Webster a hard time, of Welsh and Nixon bantering back and forth. Lipton stepped back, and I felt the moment slipping away, as if this was my only chance, and if I didn’t say something right then–though I still didn’t know what I should say–I would never get another try.

So I reached out and grabbed the back of his neck. His mouth was warm and soft, tasting of coffee and stale bread. He kissed me back, and the relief in that was enough to make me dizzy.

We broke away to catch our breath, and he smiled against my mouth. “Ron,” he whispered. 

We had to leave that room, then, and that house full of broken walls and rubble, to gather the men and move on to another house in another town. But he’ll call me Ron again, I believe, when we’re alone. And I’ll call him Lip. And maybe there isn’t anything else that needs to be said, for now.

[yelenabelovasbxtch]

Crush On An Archer PT.1

a/n: Hey! Omg long time no see! I kinda maybe lost interest in writing for a bit there but tbh I think I'm back. No promises because I don't want to promise and then break your hearts but also I realllyyyy enjoyed writing this and I hope you all enjoy reading it! Will def be making a part two in coming days so stay tuned. LMK if you want to be added to the taglist, I am going to put some tags of past taglists below just in case they are interested in reading :) ALSO! Special shout out to @scmg11 because their writing is honestly what made me wanna get back into it. So,,I hope you enjoy!

Kate X Fem!Reader

Concept: Reader has a crush on Kate (school/Uni setting) and she doesn't know how to tell her.

Warning: Cussing, mentions of smut, IM TRYING TO WRITE SLOW BURN BUT BEAR WITH ME ITS NEW!

Word Count: 2.7k

You’re a month into your summer vacation and things couldn’t be more…boring. You love and appreciate your parents dearly for putting out the money so that you could attend a prestigious school in New York with a kick ass archery team but does it ever suck to be this far from all your friends for four months. To make the situation work, your dad had to transfer jobs to another state that pulls in a little more money annually with slightly more affordable housing but that means you aren’t even near the people you grew up around. Rural Mississippi is a fairly big step from living in Boston. Boston at least had people, out here it’s like you’re lucky if you get to meet a neighbour because the land has us all so far apart. In all honesty, although it’s boring, you really have one specific reason for being so bummed out. Towards the end of your last semester, you got started getting closer with one of the girls a year younger on your team, Kate. Typically the older girls competed and practised together and the younger girls did the same. Although you two were only a year apart it’s just how things worked out, so you didn’t cross paths very often. However, one day you were walking home from class, stopped to get coffee and basically bumped into her. The meeting was really brief but it was enough to make you catch feelings almost instantly. 

Your interest in her grew as you followed her on Instagram and she followed back. Obviously you took a peak at her page and scrolled to the bottom laughing at the really cringey posts from 2015 she had still up. All you wanted to do was talk to her again but you didn’t know how, although she was a year younger than you she intimidated you so much. Her deep blue eyes were honestly enough to make you stutter whenever you had the chance to talk to her. A month had gone by already and you could not wait to get back to school so you could see her again. Luckily, coach has yearly “team-building” days before the season starts and they’re about half way through the summer so hopefully you can talk to her before then and maybe convince her to hang out when you come back to school. 

Over the next week or so you liked a few story posts that she’d upload every now and again but the day finally came where you felt like you could swipe up and respond to it…y’know…maybe spark a little conversation. 

“Damn Bishop, is this a new bow?” In response to a story post of her showing off some of her off season training. 

“Haha yeah it is, flips out and everything…it's really freakin’ cool.” She replied almost instantly and that made a giant warm smile come across your face. 

Shit– what do you say back? Your main goal was honestly to keep the convo going so you could subtly mention down the line hanging out with her. 

“Yeah that’s sick, wow I’d kill to try something like that out.”

“Well next time I see you, please by all means give it a shot” She replies back.

“Might just have to take you up on that. How’s your summer going anyways?”

“It’s alright, kind of boring though. All my friends from school move back home and I am working for my mom’s company over the summer so it all is just kind of dull. I miss going out and having fun. Wbu?”

“Yeah, I hear that. I am SO bored here. I would kill to fast forward to the fall, I miss being at school honestly. There’s only so much I can do by myself here during the summer.”

“Ugh right! I want it to be school again too but don’t get me wrong, I love the summer, the weather is great here recently and the nightlife is amazing too. I just have nobody to go with, you know.”

“Yeah I get it. Trust me, if I could be there to go out with you I would, there is definitely no nightlife here haha.”

Shit. That wasn’t too forward was it? She is taking a while to respond to you. She hasn’t even opened the message yet. 

*4 minutes later*

“Well, you’re going to be around for that team-building thing coach has us doing in a couple of weeks right?”

“Yeah, I should be.”

“Well, we can go out then if you want? Me and a few friends had plans but they’re all on the team and I’m sure they’d love to have you there too.”

“Yeah, that sounds great I’d love to!”

The conversation pretty much ended there and your contact with her was fairly limited, just a small comment here or there until you finally got to fly back to school for summer training. You settle back into the apartment you left a couple months ago, everything is still a mess where you left it but the kitchen and living room are even filthier since you are not around to clean up much after your roommates. You decided to wait until your team practice to talk to Kate about hanging out again. You didn’t want to come on too strong but also a small part of you feels like she forgot what she said months ago and you won’t end up seeing her, not outside of team stuff at least. 

You grabbed your gear and headed to the field where practice was being held. You saw some of your friends from last year and decided to catch up with them before coach pulled you all in to start practice. You were trying your best not to make it obvious but your eyes were tracking all around you looking for Kate but she was nowhere to be seen. 

*Whistle* “Okay team! Let’s bring it in. First, I just want to say thank you to everyone for making the effort to come back to campus for this, meeting I–”

“SORRY SORRY SORRY!” You hear the coach interrupted as footsteps are fast approaching the circle of archers. 

“Hi Kate.” Says coach.

“I am SO sorry. My driver was running late and then there was traffic because of a giant accident, I think there was some battle in the streets again, I don’t know, either way, my bad coach, won’t happen again…I promise.” She says with the most adorable grin that is absolutely saying she will be late again. 

“It’s alright Kate, it happens, I was just telling the team how thankful I am that everyone could make the trip back to campus for this.” Coach went on to talk about the drills you were doing for the day and man was it hard to not be in awe watching her. You tried your best not to stare all day because the last thing you wanted to do was make it obvious but fuck it felt impossible. The day came to an end and you packed up your gear, Kate was talking with the other seniors on the team as they were gathering their things and started to head out. You could feel your window closing to talk to her but interrupting her conversation with her friends and “inviting” yourself out with them just felt too weird and uncomfortable. If it wasn’t meant to be then it wasn’t meant to be but you would kill to be able to just spend an hour with her. 

You watched as she started to walk away towards the parking lot with her friends when all of a sudden she motioned for them to hold on a minute and she turned around and jogged over to you. 

“Hey y/n! Sorry we didn’t get to catch up much during practice, I saw your shooting though it’s looking good.” 

Yeah…your face is bright red. Control your shit. 

“Anyways, me and a couple friends are going out later tonight to a party that one of their friends is hosting. It’s like a Hawaiian beach summer nights themed type of party so if you have something like that to wear, that would be great.”

“Yeah, I might have something, I’ll take a look when I get home.” 

“Cool! I’ll text you the address once I get it off my friend and I’ll see you there?”

“Yeah, sounds good!” 

“Here, why don’t you put your number into my phone, I don’t like using DM’s that much.”

You take Kate’s phone out of her hand and fill out a contact for yourself, praying that she can’t hear your heart beating out of your chest. 

“Cool, thanks, I’ll send you a text in a bit.” She says with a smile and then runs off to re-join her friends. 

It seems silly sitting by your phone and literally watching the minutes tick by waiting for her to text you but that’s all  you could do. The anticipation felt like it was killing you. 

Your phone finally buzzed with a mystery number attached, “Hey y/n! It’s Kate. So…slight change of plans.”

Fuck. Is she bailing? Your eyes were glued on the three dots as she typed and you watched as they disappeared and reappeared. 

“Turns out the party is actually around the corner from my place so if you wanted to just come here first, we could pre-game and shit and then walk over together? My friends said they were going out to get their hair done so they’ll be running late.”

“Hey Kate, yeah no problem that works for me just send me your address and lmk what time you want me there.”

Kate dropped a pin of her location to you with the text attached telling you to come over at 7pm. 

7pm rolled around and you were already there outside but you kind of felt like you should wait another minute or two so you weren’t RIGHT on time. Or is it weird to be a minute late? But wouldn’t being on time be weirder? Whatever, you decided to just wait a minute and then knock on her door. 

Knocking on her door was the most nerve wracking thing you ever did, you were genuinely shitting bricks. 

“HEY! Come in come in!” Kate eagerly yells at you as she swings the door open. She’s wearing shorts with a bright purple bikini top and a button down Hawaiian shirt over top that doesn’t have a single button done up. Are you starring? Yes. Probably? Absolutely you are. 

“Make yourself at home, feel free to grab a drink from the fridge, my roommates are out of town and left all their alcohol so help yourself.” She said with a laugh. 

You heard that right? Her roommates are out of town. Just the two of you…you never know. 

You grabbed a drink from the fridge and took a seat on the couch next to her and yeah…the drink started going down faster than usual because of all the nerves in your stomach. The two of you made small talk for awhile but the conversation started flowing a little more naturally about 2 drinks in. Were you still kind of awkward as hell? Yeah…a little. But at least you warmed up to her a bit and weren’t acting so weird. About an hour later, her friends showed up and grabbed you guys to head over to the party. Honestly, things were going so well with just the two of you that you didn’t even want to go to this party but if it meant you got to spend more time with her then there you were. You got to the party and you honestly knew practically nobody. You weren’t exactly a social butterfly but Kate clearly was. She was talking to EVERYBODY. The boys at the party especially loved her. There was lots of laughing and flirting going on, you could feel the jealousy building but acting out was definitely not an option. You ended up socialising with a few of the other people at the party but for most of the night you stuck by Kate’s side, the two of you got pretty drunk together, pouring shots for one another and dancing in the pit of people to extremely loud music. There was a point where it felt like it was just you and her and nobody else was there while the music was blasting into your ears and the two of you were jumping together to the beat and singing out the lyrics to whatever song was on at the time. Kate got really close to you until some guy would come and pull her away in an attempt to make a move on her. Although, it never actually happened. Kate always ended up finding her way back to you. At one point she grabbed your hand and pulled you into the middle of the crowd as the two of you sang (screamed) the lyrics to “love story” into each other's faces. The party, as all do, started to simmer down. You guys actually ended up being some of the last people at the party, you stuck around to the point where the music was gone and most people were just sitting around chatting halfway sober. 

“Hey, I think I’m going to go home, I am super tired right now.” Kate says to you. 

“Okay, I’ll walk with you, I left my bag at your place anyways so I have to grab it.” 

“Right, sounds good.” 

Although the two of you had been singing and dancing for hours, she looked just as perfect as when you left and you were trying your hardest not to stare at her while the two of you were walking side-by-side. 

The walk back to her place was pretty quick, when the two of you got inside you went to grab your bag and get your things together. You were desperately trying to figure out what to say to her while you were organising your stuff. You didn’t want to come on too strong but you also want to make sure that she knows you had a good time…I guess just tell her exactly that?

“I had a really good time tonight, thanks again for inviting me.” You say as you’re leaning against the wall in her hallway. 

“Of course, anytime. And I did too. We should really hang out more when we come back to school.” She replies. 

Kate walks towards you and stops about a foot away leaning up against the doorframe to her bedroom. The hallway is super narrow and all you can think about is pinning her against the wall while you kiss down her neck and pull her tight by her waist. 

“Yeah I think so too. I guess I should probably head out.” You say as she looks at you with the softest eyes that you swore said “please stay”. You lingered for a second longer as the two of you were looking at each other, tired, kind of tipsy and on the verge of ripping each other's clothing off. All you wanted was for her to actually ask you to stay a little longer but before she had the chance you were already walking towards the door. 

“Have a good night y/n.” She says. “Text me when you get home safe.”

“I will. Sleep well Kate.” You reply as you turn to look at her with a smile and step out the front door. 

That goodbye felt different. It felt like there were still feelings in the air and lots that wanted to be said that wasn't. It felt like the perfect opportunity with nobody around after an amazing night together has passed but you regret none of it. Although you weren’t able to get a confirmation on whether or not Kate even likes women like you do, you knew there was definitely a type of tension between the two of you that she definitely noticed.

-- END OF PT 1 --

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[billthedrake]

NO PROFILE PIC

I wasn't sure I wanted to move to Chicago, but the company that was flying me there for the interview was one of the better places to work for and even as a holder of a newly minted Harvard MBA, I knew this would be an incredible job to land. Executive leadership track, and high-paying in a medium cost of living city.

It wasn't like I was eager to leave Boston, either. I'd had a good bit of luck as a younger man into topping older, exec types. Between the middle-aged professional gay men and the straightish dudes looking to play with a guy, I had achieved a nice mix of regular fuckbuddies and new conquests over two years. Some provided oral service only, and that was great, while some let me fuck them. I didn't think of myself as a shallow asshole, but maybe with sex I was, getting off on the fact these older, successful men would drop things for me to take care of my needs.

Maybe the only drawback was that New England reserve. During my college years at Clemson, I'd gotten very used to a needy, hungry type of Southern daddy. I wouldn't say those years turned me onto older bottoms, but they cemented my love of a 40- or 50-something masculine man with a submissive side. I found my share of bottom dads in Boston, but few really wanted to embrace or indulge the kind of submissiveness that really got me going.

When I started my MBA program, I had my sights set on New York, of course. Even if less than 1% of those hot Wall Street types were bottoms, that was still a lot to have fun with. About once every couple of months, I'd take the train down and line up a couple of hot hookups that put those Boston execs to shame.

But I was starting be realistic. I sent some applications to a number of New York companies and had some initial interviews, but I wasn't going to land an opportunity like William Blair.

So I bought a new interview suit, on the conservative side of conservative business dress, and a new, equally conservative, tie, and I flew out to Chicago. They were putting me up for two nights in a hotel in the Loop, and I decided to tack on a third night to enjoy the city and do a little reconnoissance.

After a delayed flight, I thought maybe I'd just keep that first afternoon and evening low key. Walk around downtown a little, grab a bite somewhere, that kind of thing. As a Southern boy, I'll admit I wasn't keen on the idea of Chicago weather, but spring had sprung in the best way for my arrival. I checked in to my hotel and freshened up. When I stepped out again, the city's energy gave me a second wind. Best of all there were a fuck ton of hot guys walking around, some in business casual, some in suits. A lot with that cornfed Midwestern look that I decided I liked.

That's why I pulled up the apps. I knew I'd love have a hot older guy sucking me or bending over for me that evening. Perfect way to see what Chicago was about, I figured.

Of course, there's often that disconnect between the hotness you see walking around and the guys available on the apps. Don't get me wrong: some other dude would have been happy enough with what I saw. But there was a sea of regular "jocky" gay men that didn't push my buttons, and a good majority of the older guys who did listed total top or top vers. I had a profile that was specific in who I was and what I wanted: total top, very verbal, into fit/regular professional/executive men 40+, love submissive guys, but newbies/DL guys OK. In reality, if the guy was hot enough, I'd ease back on the dom talk, and in Boston that seemed to happen a lot, but that was on a case-by-case basis.

I checked out Sniffies for a few prospects. But either I didn't hear back from them or nothing clicked. I got a few hits myself. Two were not my type at all, one was more a "not now but maybe later" groundwork chat.

I grabbed some dinner in a restaurant bar. The happy crowd was still lingering and I had a good sightline to a couple of middle aged businessmen at the other end of the bar. Blond, beefy, tall... Chicago certainly gave me some welcome eye candy.

I enjoyed the surreptitious bone I was forming sitting at the bar. Maybe I had a libido that could spill over into sex addiction, but it had been a solid week since I'd had a business daddy suck me, and the number of hot business guys in the airport and walking around downtown Chicago had my imagination running wild.

I opened Grindr again. Nothing caught my eye, but as I browsed Sniffies I got a message. The profile was a shell that had no picture, showing up about 4 blocks away, but the stats listed sounded up my alley: 58, 6'2" 195# bottom, corporate/clean cut married looking for corporate/bro/jock/son. Not hosting.

His tone was perfect, too: "Hi man. Fucking hot profile. Long day in meetings and I need to let off some steam..."

I didn't have pictures of him to go by, but was willing to engage. "How would you do that?" I asked.

The response was immediate. "It's been too long since I sucked a cock."

OK, I wanted pictures. "Pics?"

He sent me a few. No face, but there was one framing a chin/mouth shot and the top of a shirt/tie combo, all drenched in dripping cum. Very nice jawline and, I dunno, he had a hot mouth. The other was a mirror selfie of his body. He might be 58 but had that fit-daddy look, like a man who lifts and runs and plays racquetball regularly. He had my attention a big way.

"Hot profile yourself," I typed back. The man was about two blocks away. "I can send you more pics if you want," I typed.

"Feel free," he wrote. "But your cock is enough man. I wanna take care of that."

OK, I was rockhard beneath the bar ledge. I'd have to think of something unsexy to be less obscene when I left. I had more than a prospect, I had a pretty sure thing.

"I don't recripocate," I clarified. As much as I put on my preferences and expectations on the profile, some dudes had reading comprehension problems, or liked to play cute by pushing their luck.

"I just like being on my knees for a guy like you." Goddam. "I just can't host."

"I'm staying at a hotel," I typed back. "When can we make this happen?"

"Give me 45 minutes? I still have some work bullshit to tend to."

"Sounds great," I typed him my hotel and room number, then flagged the bartender to pay my check.

I was getting so turned on by the time I got back to my room. Maybe I shouldn't let it go a week between blowjobs, but even with the apps and overall having the goods that attracted men, it wasn't always feasible to get the service I wanted. I'll be honest: the more luck I had, the pickier I got about the kind of older men I wanted.

I told myself not to get too excited for this hookup. Maybe the guy was a bullshitter, or maybe he wouldn't be as hot as the corporate daddy in my mind. Still, I was feeding off his submissive vibe and wanted to set the tone for the encounter. Once in my room, I stripped down naked.

I took a look in the mirror to check my appearance. I had an athletic build, from years of playing tennis, including on the Clemson men's tennis team, and in my last couple of years I'd kept up my game and a regular gym routine. Maybe it helped being into older men, but that's just how I was wired. My first time with another guy was with my high school tennis coach, and I hadn't looked back.

A knock came at the door. I went and peeked through the peephole to make sure it wasn't housekeeping or anyone else. Indeed, a suited handsome daddy stood outside. I didn't get a great view of him that way, but I opened the door, and let him in.

Up close, he was just incredible. Executive cut brown hair showing some wisps of gray at the temples, upright posture, a trim but muscular body that filled out a clearly expensive and well tailored suit.

His eyes widened and he laughed a little when he saw I was completely naked.

I took the initiative though. "You said you were here to take care of me, right?"

He nodded, looking down at my erection. "Definitely," he said. Then without fanfare the exec got onto his knees and started to kiss and nuzzle my dong, while letting out a soft, deep grunt.

I actually loved this give and take. When an older man so clearly is there to service me. But I also loved for a cocksucker to enjoy my dick in the way that turns him on. Exec Daddy liked the slow approach, working me to steel hardness with his tongue and fingers before actually taking me in between his lips.

I was curious how long it had been for the guy, he was just attacking my bone like an addict getting a needed fix. Deep descent onto my cock with each bob, and getting deeper. He gagged a little before settling into the pace. That was hot as fuck.

He took the liberty of running his hands along my hairy thighs and curling around the hamstrings for leverage and balance as he really got into it. It was starting to feel real good. This was gonna be a blowjob to make me forget my last five. There was just no comparison.

Exec Daddy spit out my dick. He swallowed the spit and cleared his throat. "I forgot to ask," he said. "You like to get off fast? Or you prefer me to take my time?"

Both sounded great. But I knew my answer. "Fuck... take your time."

He smiled and muttered, "thanks," before going down on me again. I could tell he was excited to blow me. Maybe excited to blow any guy, but I was the right dude at the right place and time. And though I didn't have his full story, I seemed to fit his type or what he was looking for. Young, bro-jock type in spades.

His sucking now was exquisite torture. Glacial-slow down my hardon, taking in my girth and running his tongue along the tube of the underside. Maybe he was showing off for me, maybe he was just enjoying the opportunity to worship a cock. He neared the base of my prick, then pulled up just as slowly. The third time down he was kissing my pubes.

From there, Exec Daddy worked me up with precision. Even if this guy's technique was lousy, he would have pushed my buttons big time. I ran my fingers through his hair as he picked up speed, keeping the deep throating with each swallow.

The man spit out my dick again, licking up the spit to make sure none got onto his tie. "God, this is a big cock,"" he muttered, not even taking his eyes off it.

"You know how to take it," I hissed. My dick twitched in front of him.

That made the executive smile as he looked up at me. "It takes a good bit to trip my gag reflex, actually."

"Yeah?" I asked, excitedly.

He nodded, reaching forth to gently stroke my hardon. "I mean, I definitely have one and this bad boy would be enough to do it.... fuck...!"

He took the initiative now in sucking me back in. All in one go. I'd never get sick of this view, his expensive suit framing that fit-dad body. I don't know Executive Daddy's story, but he was the real deal all right. And he was giving me some primo head.

I got greedy though. I head onto his skull and started thrusting. It had been too long since I'd used a mouth. I might be putting Exec Daddy's skills to waste but this is what I craved at the moment. My dick can do some damage if I'm not careful, and I heard some choked grunts, then Exec Daddy pushed against my hips to signal a break. I gave it to him.

He swallowed his spit and caught his breath. "If you're gonna do that, let's try on the bed. The angle's better that way," he hissed.

"Fuck yes," I said. I watched excitedly as the man got onto the bed crosswise and lay back with his head over the edge. I gave him a second to get settled then I stepped up. His tongue darted against my cock head, then I felt the warm wetness of his mouth enclose my dick.

I wasn't rough but my entry was direct and insistent. Pushing in to bottom out in one go. Exec Daddy moaned around my cock, but in a good way. I tapped his cheek as a signal I was about to start.

Then I did it. I looked down on this suited middle aged stud and just began fucking his throat. I had restraint in keeping from shoving in too hard but I was deep and steady in my thrusts. It had been too long since I'd found a man who'd let me do this, who was capable of letting me do this.

My height meant I wasn't at the perfect level so I leaned forward to allow me to fuck his mouth like a fleshjack. The noises were obscene, with wet slick moans and a little light gags, but mostly Exec Daddy took it. The angle meant I was penetrating his gullet more deeply, and the wet snugness was gonna milk me off, quick.

The trigger though was his reaction. He was throwing hard in his suit trousers, his spike forming a tent in the wool. Exec Daddy arched his back to accommodate my thrusting. That action made me blast. Six, maybe eight, hard spurts of cum right into his stomach. The man was only going to taste the dribbles on the withdrawal.

His face was red from the blood rushing to his head and he had some spit on his face. The man caught his breath and kissed my wet dong as I slipped out. I let him enjoy this, but it was clear he wasn't going to get off in this session, so I stepped back and gently patted his face.

"Fuck, thanks," I hissed. After a good cum, I generally become more easy going, even after more dominating sex.

He got up and washed his face at the sink. He was still hard as he stepped back, adjusting his shirt in his suit to look presentable. I was naked still, and enjoying his eyes on me. "Glad I logged in today," he said. "It's been a long time since I've played."

I still had to square the words and easygoingness about sex with his boardroom-ready looks. Maybe he was fibbing to assure me he wasn't a slut, but given the quality of the suit, I could very much picture him as the kind of man who indulged his need to suck cock only occasionally.

"Glad you did, too," I said. "You're an incredible cocksucker," I added. Friendly in tone but also asserting his submission to me. "I don't know if you ever do repeats but I'm in town for a few days...."

I could his battling thoughts. But he hadn't gotten off just now and maybe was letting his dick think for him. "I gotta be careful, man," he said. Which was basically a yes.

"Absolutely," I assured him. "I'm totally discreet. I just want your mouth on my dick again, before I head back home."

He asked if I used a certain message app, and I did. We swapped contact info. Part of me wanted to kiss him but felt it wasn't his thing. So we bumped fists at the door as I showed him out.

Fifteen minutes later I got a message. "Thank you for that," he wrote. "You pleased and all drained?"

I felt my dick chub up. "Pleased. Probably could go again to be honest."

"I wanna suck you again. Maybe first thing tomorrow?"

"I have a meeting to go to 8:30," I wrote. "But if before 8 that works.

"Yeah, I'm an early riser." Then, "want your cum to start my work day."

"Well hit me up first thing. I'll be up early to hit the gym." Chicago was only one hour behind, but that meant I'd easily be up before 6.

"I will man. You're so fucking hot."

***

I didn't fuck Exec Daddy's face the next morning. Instead, I let him show off his skills on me. I'm a morning guy when it comes to sex, so it took maybe 3 minutes from the time he came in till the time he left, my cum as his breakfast.

I felt happy and relaxed and I wondered if the experience had tipped the scales in favor of moving to Chicago. I mean, there were hot men everywhere, but Exec Daddy was my type to a frickin T. Even if he was just an occasional thing, I'd be very into establishing something regular with him.

But that was putting the cart before the horse. I hadn't been offered a job, and hell I had no idea if the middle aged corporate guy was up for anything more than a couple of times.

Still, the experience had me ready to do my best for the interview. I made sure everything was perfect for my suit and tie combo and that my black dress shoes were polished, then made my way across the river to William Blair. I met with HR then had a round of VP interviews. I think I did pretty well, but you never really know. I'd been overconfident in one job interview already. I learned and adapted.

They took me to lunch. Even if I didn't end up landing the job, it was nice to be courted.

At 1:30, they took me to meet the new director of global wealth management, who'd basically be my boss's boss and someone I'd be working with as a member of the leadership mentor program.

It was a nice office with a great view of the river and the Chicago high rises. But as the man stood up, I saw the fear and shock and embarrassment on his face. It was Exec Daddy, who'd blown me just six hours earlier. Robert Lyman was the only member of the leadership team whose photo I hadn't seen; his hire was very recent and his profile page on William Blair's website still lacked a photo.

I knew my own face betrayed a million emotions, too, but I played it cool. "Cole Edwards," I said, extending my hand to shake his. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Lyman."

"You can call me Robert," he said, recovering without too much slipping. "Nice to meet you." He turned to the HR specialist who was my guide for the afternoon. "Give us 30 minutes, Dan?" he asked. The HR guy nodded and backed out, shutting the office door behind him.

I was wrapping my head around the fact that I'd blown my chances at the job. No way would this guy hire me now. At least I'd gotten some hot sex out of it.

"Of all the cocks in Chicago to suck," he laughed, face blushing some.

I leaned back in my seat. Even now, I was getting hard, looking at the man and remembering him going down on me. "Don't worry Robert," I said. "I meant what I said about being discreet."

I wasn't fishing for anything, but after seeming to think things over he said softly. "You texted earlier you'd be up for another blowjob at the end of the day."

I was incredulous. "You still offering?" The man must really be cock crazy. Or Robert realized he'd already cross the line, so why stop?

He grinned. "I have plans I can't get out of," he replied. "But if you want one now..."

My cock made it all the way to erect in my new suit. "God yes," I hissed. Reaching down to undo my belt.

"Let me lock the door," he said as he bounded up. I liked his suit yesterday better, but this one was equally expensive and perfectly tailored. I unzipped and hauled out my cock and watched him walk back, a naughty grin on his face.

Right there, in his own office, he got down on his knees on the carpet and scooted in between my spread legs. This was just about the best sex I'd ever had. The emotional power of having this subservient exec going down on me, the fucked up situation, and the amazing cocksucking technique. Blowjob #1 had been about me fucking his face, #2 about him doing all the work. Blowjob #3 was a mix, him bobbing and me assertively pressing his head down on each downstroke. He was probably getting some spit on my trousers, and I hoped to hell I'd be able to pat it dry before my next appointment.

"Shit!" I growled in a whisper as I fed him his second meal of cum in a day. He slurped and suckled and licked my dick as I rode the aftershocks.

He finally pulled back, a proud smile on his face. I still couldn't believe a man that powerful and handsome had made me cum three times in less than 24 hours. He got up and walked back to his desk as I did my best to tuck in.

"You need a napkin?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said. Then tried blotting the spit wetness from the charcoal gray fabric.

"We have about 20 minutes," he finally said. "Let's talk about why you think you'd be leadership material at William Blair."

***

I still didn't know where I stood. Robert Lyman could kill my application with the lift of his finger, I knew. If I were him, that's what I'd do. I was an HR nightmare waiting for him to step on if I joined the firm.

So as I got to my hotel room that night, I was a little moody. But I still replayed those blowjobs in my head. Especially #3. Feeling I'd already done the best - and worse - that I could for the interview, I typed Robert a message.

"My only regret was that I couldn't fuck you." I normally felt a guy out longer or waited for him to bring it up. At least if he was a married with kids type like Robert. With gay daddies you didn't have to be so coy. I was now feeling like I had nothing more to lose.

I expected radio silence, actually, but got a reply within ten minutes. "It's been a long time since I've done that."

I was hard again. "I'd go easy on you. Scout's honor."

"LOL. I think I prefer cocksucking, but you would be the kind of man to persuade me otherwise."

"What kind of man is that?"

"Jock next door type. Hung. Horny," he wrote. Then, "Your accent drives me wild, too."

I smirked. "I look forward to the chance to let you hear it again."

He took a minute to reply. I wondered if he was with his family, maybe having a late dinner, or watching TV. "You still trying to interview for the job?"

"I'm more interested in interviewing you for a good sub dad," I answered truthfully.

He didn't reply.

***

"May I speak to Cole Edwards?" the woman said. I had gotten so used to not answering phone calls, because of the spam robocalls, but the area code was a Chicago one.

"Speaking," I said. I'd just gotten back from the courts where I'd played a game of tennis one of the finance professors. He wasn't a sub daddy, and was even on the younger side of what I normally went for at 38. But he was extremely handsome and extremely open to giving me head. He sucked me off in the seat of his SUV before dropping me off at my apartment building.

"I am calling with good news, Mr. Edwards. William Blair was very impressed with your interview and would like to offer you the position."

The rest of the conversation was short but sweet. She gave me the basics of the offer - compensation, expected hire date, and the next steps. I'd have a week to give my decision. I thanked her and hung up. I was thrilled. I'd been going over the pros and the cons of the job and of Chicago, and I'd practically talked myself into thinking I didn't even want it. But now the offer was there, I realized how amazing this opportunity would be.

I wondered if Robert had pulled some strings, or if I'd gotten the position on my own merits. I thought of texting him, but figured now that I would actually be working at the company, I'd have to play it safe.

But within an hour I got a message from him. "Did I pass the interview?" was his message.

I smirked and typed back. "It's a start." I set down my phone and stripped down to shower up.

Fuck, I was gonna love Chicago.

[an-otterly-adorable-being]

Hey there! This is a Rocky Rickaby x fem! Or gn! Reader hc req so i hope you don't mind the specifications for the reader i have lol. This is gonna be similar to the Rocky Rickaby hc with the socialite but its more independent.

Reader probably grew up in poverty but then like, moved to america to start and worked there. Basically a fresh start, things were rocky at first but they got the hang of it. But then somehow, for some reason, reader managed to be the most successful kitty cat in america. But despite being very rich and very successful, that doesn't mean they won't have envious people or rivalries. (Or admirers, bcus y not?).

But since this is fiction, reader is girlboss and managed themselves and is still financially stable, mentally? Probably not. But that's why reader LOVES Rocky right? Even if Rocky is this poor, stupidly deranged and insane, sad cat living in his (well, the lackadaisy funded it) own car. He still treats reader as he would to anyone. Even more so if reader is an artist like him.

I also feel like reader would secretly fund the lackadaisy and be best friends with Wick or sumn (i can hear Rocky's maniacal laughing rn). Btw, sorry if this was a lot for you to take in. When i see a fanfic writer saying they're alr with specifications yk damn well im jumpin on that req button. Hands n everythin. And since this was very long you can do this later or delete it if you wanna. Oki- BYEEE <33333

Ooooo, first request. And don't worry about the length, I've got you. Anyways I present to you...

Rocky x Fem!Successful!Reader Headcanons

For context, reader is a fashion designer. Hope this is good enough. Enjoy!

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

• You grew up as a poor girl living in the streets of a small town in Italy, and it shaped a lot of your life.

• Your mother was a low paid seamstress, your father a soldier.

• When the Great War broke out, it left your family shattered.

• No deaths, but your father was never the same, and your mother followed suit after seeing how terrible he was doing.

• Throughout your life, there had only been one constant, one tiny thing that kept you afloat in the sea of misery that was your life.

• Fashion.

• You took after your mother, however you wanted to create your own designs, your own outfits.

• And so, that's exactly what you did.

• When your parents shut down, you took a needle, some thread, and whatever fabric you could scrounge up and got to work.

• Though you didn't receive much notoriety yet, you did manage to get enough money to go somewhere else.

• America was your decision.

• You moved from place to place for a while, setting up shop in Boston, New York City, Buffalo, and even Savanah, Georgia.

• All the while you kept at it.

• Your English wasn't great at first, and neither was the money you were making, but you could see it start to snowball as America's prosperity continued to ramp up.

• You moved around more, Los Angeles, Salt Lake City, Chicago, Houston, Philadelphia, all these places you called home once.

• And while you moved your designs spread. Once seen only on the back pages of a local paper, your designs were beginning to feature on the fronts of national news.

• Catalogues and catwalks galore, you built a fashion empire on your blood, sweat, and tears, and the American people loved it.

• Eventually, after a few years of back breaking work, getting citizenship, getting a company started, etc etc, you became one of, if not the most, successful cat in America.

• Sure, you didn't have as much money as the heirs of old monopolies and tycoons, but damn were you close.

• You had your admirers across the nation, as well as your enemies.

• There were more than a few men who thought they could get one over on you, and while they still despise you and your work, you got the last laugh.

• After so many years of moving from place to place, it became second nature. And that's when you made it to St. Louis, Missouri. The plan was to only stay for a year, maybe more, if it was a decent place.

• You even managed to land yourself an invitation to a local speakeasy from an admirer.

• One night, you finally made your way down to the Lackadaisy, and you got to talking with a businessman, Sedgwick Sable.

• The two of you had a pretty good conversation, becoming fast friends over a mixture of success and hating most rich guys.

• And then a cat ran through the door, panting as he tried to carry about a dozen bottles of booze.

• After getting a bit of assistance, he made his way to the bar and sat at the stool next to you.

• It looked like he had been running for most of the night, and you could swear you smelt something burnt.

• Naturally, you talked to him. If his entrance was one thing, his normal conversations were about ten times that level of chaos.

• He didn't recognize you, too, or atleast pretended not too.

• You ended up finding out his name was Rocky Rickaby, and when you told him who you were, he was rather indifferent.

• That was certainly something new, and it intrigued you further.

• You asked him why he was being so...casual.

• "Well, maybe I don't know you, and maybe I do. Either way, artists like us are still people too."

• The rhyme was an unexpected, but not unwelcome response.

• Honestly, you wish more people had his attitude.

• From then on, you became friends. But eventually things changed.

• You ended up continuing your stay in St. Louis, partly because you grew to love the place, and mostly for Rocky.

• You ended up falling for him, and you know what, you had every right to.

• When you were younger you wished for attention, especially as your family crumpled around you.

• However the love and even hate you got from your work never truly satisfied that.

• Rocky did, though. He was sweet, a little insane, sure, but overall he was amazing.

• So, you crafted the ultimate plan.

• You made sure Rocky got a good amount of sleep the night before, offering up your bed for the night.

• It was way better than the car.

• Then, you spent the day together. You got him new clothes, took him out on a joyride around the city, and ended the night on a bridge over the Mississippi River.

• There, as the moonlight shone overhead, and Rocky played the night away.

• You heard him play many times before, but you loved hearing every new improvised song he came up with.

• You told him how you felt, and he happily returned your feelings, a massive grin on his face.

• The two of you have been happy together since then, and still are now.

[uwmspeccoll]

Milestone Monday

Today, November 27th, we recognize the birthday of American journalist and writer James Agee (1909-1955). Agee moved to New York after college where he was promptly hired by Time Inc to write for Fortune magazine from 1932-1937. In 1939, he took a position as a book reviewer at Time, transitioned to film critic for The Nation from 1942-1948, and after quitting his job in 1948 spent his remaining years as a freelance writer.  

It was during Agee’s time at Fortune that he partnered with photographer Walker Evans (1903-1975) to document the lives of Alabamian sharecroppers during the Great Depression. Evans had already made a name for himself photographing resettlement communities for the Resettlement Administration (RA), and while this expedition with Agee followed suit in the work he was doing with the RA, it was Fortune magazine that initiated the project. Fortune ultimately found Agee's and Evans's account of the sharecropper families too radical to publish in the magazine but gave permission to Agee to publish his research as a book the following year resulting in Let us now Praise Famous Men.  

In the Summer of 1936 over the course of eight weeks, Agee and Evans collected their research while living among three families of cotton tenants. Their intent was to produce a “photographic and verbal record of the daily living and environment" of the tenantry and has been historically seen as a rejection of traditional reporting. The book contains Evans’ memorable black and white photographs of the families and their homes accompanied by Agee’s written account of their lives. Let us now Praise Famous Men only sold half its press run following its first publishing but has since become a notably studied record about the Depression era. 

Let us now Praise Famous Men was published by the Houghton Mifflin Company of Boston in 1941, Special Collections holds a first edition copy. 

– Jenna, Special Collections Graduate Intern 

[darkmagyk]

Ask game: 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21

choose violence ask game (send me more pls!)

the character everyone gets wrong

Annabeth, Annabeth, Annabeth. In SO MANY ways. Right down to her name, where people decide randomly that Annabeth is a nickname for Anna Elizabeth.

But mostly it's the school thing. Annabeth is always going to be the smartest person in the room, but she would (literally) rather die then demean herself to prove it. She also has ADHD, Dyslexia, and missed grades 2-6. I don't know how you can read about her being unwilling to play the Sphinxes game and then think that she'd be a good sport about school? I don't necessarily think she'd do badly. She is 100% in the "smart enough to coast" category. But she's not going to study, she's not going to apply herself. And I suspect when she finds herself disagreeing, she's not going to be open to listening to most teachers. She'll talk back, she'll argue, she'll get detention. She reads books in greek, she probably doesn't have special affection for her school libraries full of books she can't read. Free yourself from the Hermione Industrial Complex and embrace smart girl characters who's only life goal isn't getting As on tests.

Other things, Annabeth did live in Virginia some as a child. But given that it was in Richmond, her father is from Boston, and they moved at least a little (in TLT her family lives in New York State), the idea that her upbringing would be particularly southern, or that she'd have a southern accent is silly.

Also, she thinks Percy is funny. She enjoys his company. They have a lot of similarities. And she knows he's not as smart at she is (no one is) but she doesn't think he's the dumbest person alive. She doesn't hate him. About 80% of all PJO Incorrect quotes can be summed up as Percy: says something dumb, Annabeth: You're an idiot, and I hate you. And that's just...not what's going on with them.

2. a compelling argument for why your fave would never top or bottom

It's a sexual position they don't enjoy? Let us not confuse sexual positions with gender or rolls in power dynamics.

Now, if you want to discuss power dynamics, Annabeth is a sub and Percy is a dom. Because Annabeth has a long history of feeling unloved, unwanted, and abandoned and wants to feel desired. And Percy has been dismissed and untrusted and wants to feel competent and trustworthy.

3. screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr

Recently saw a post that said Frederick had fucked Athena. You know, Athena, the famously virgin goddess.

(The funniest part was that it was part of a very anti-Frederick post, and yet...by saying Athena, the goddess of wisdom, broke her millennia long, life defining desire to not sleep with men, to sleep with Frederick Chase, they were saying he was a giant Chad and extra extra special. And that Athena saw so much in him, loved him so much, she developed sexual feelings for him and was willing to throw away one of her defining characteristics for him. And that...that was kind of hilarious)

5. worst discord server and why

Um, the Taylor Swift one I joined to trade tips for my show is really pretty bad. Everyone is so mean and bitchy and, I say this as someone who is weird about how much I love Taylor Swift, Swifties are the worst.

Otherwise, I can't keep up with servers, or really any chat with more then like 3 people them. So I can't really tell if they are good or bad.

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

See previous comments about Annabeth. But, also, Jesus Christ Frederick Chase. Who is super interesting, and also dealt a bad hand he then played badly. Dude is a Norse Legacy who fell in love with a Hellenic Goddess. He went out of town and his wife ran off his daughter while he was gone. He can see through the mist. He dive bombed a Titan to save said daughter. He's a Red Sox fan and has a daughter who's a Yankees fan. He managed to enchant Athena. Favorite minor character.

Also, everyone is wrong about Poseidon. He's an ass, he's a bad dad (Hades is the best big three dad. And possibly the best godly parents. And that's being graded on the scale that calculates that time he told Nico he wished he'd died and bianca hadn't. That's how bad everyone else is.) And Sally has moved on to bigger and better things.

Combining those two things: Fredthena > PoSally. Fredthena is more interesting, and during the canon of the stories, it's actually still interesting instead of Poseidon just being Sally's loser ex.

Other things: in fic, Luke is Annabeth's looser older brother, not abusive ex. Annabeth is the punk and Percy is the good boy, Jercy wants what Frankercy has.

13. worst blorboficiation

Connor Stoll. He's literally just half a character. And that's fine.

Also Octavian. Who is allowed to just be power mad.

Also...I love Nico a lot, but the way fandom acts about him is...so much.

21. part of canon you think is overhyped

Nico. I love Nico, I think he's an awesome character and have written multiple fics about him. But people are so weird about him. And there is an extent to which I get it. He's one of the first incidentally queer characters in middle grade literature (as opposed to a character who is gay in a book all about being gay). He's got the emo vibes we love. And he definitely went through it.

But everyone is kind of going through it. And yet, people will unironically make posts about how Percy promised to protect Bianca and then let her die when...When Bianca set off a monster and Percy literally was like "I have a plan to get rid of it" and then Bianca said "I'll do it" and Percy was like "No, I will" and then Bianca just did it anyway. That isn't on Percy. Similarly "Percy choked Nico, its inexcusable." You know, that time that Nico helped his father trap Percy in a room in the underworld with no ways out or windows or anything. Nico didn't know, and he felt bad and tried to make it right, but it wasn't unreasonable for Percy to be pissed and attack the dude who behaved like an enemy.

[emailsfromanactor]

The Hamlet cast's arrival in Boston was a nightmare, especially for Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor. Hume Cronyn wasn't on the plane so his account is secondhand, but here he also recounts an incident he experienced personally:

Representative Michael Feighan of Ohio had called the Burton-Taylor relationship “a public outrage” and urged the revocation of Richard’s visa on the grounds of moral turpi­tude. Now that they were Mr. and Mrs. Burton it might have been expected that all the furor would fade away. Not a bit of it. If anything, it grew worse. The Hamlet company’s move from Toronto to Boston by chartered jet ended with a nightmare reception at Logan Airport. Crowds broke through the police barriers and surrounded the aircraft. The company couldn’t disembark. The combined forces of police and airport person­nel were inadequate to control the mob—and a mob it had become. After a considerable delay, the plane was towed from the runway into an empty hangar, but even there the most persistent and manic of the fans and a good number of press managed to get inside. Two limousines were brought into the hangar. The first to leave was a decoy. The second carried Dickenliz off to the Copley Plaza Hotel. There the crowd was even bigger and more unruly. Press photographs taken in the lobby show a shoulder-to-shoulder mass of people with a grim-looking Burton (he kept saying, “I told them—I told them”) with his arm around an uncharacteristically terrified Elizabeth, attempting to make their way to the elevators. It was bedlam. Once they were safely in their suite, a doctor was summoned, and he ordered a se­dated Elizabeth to bed. Weeks later, long after the play had opened in New York, Richard asked Jess and me to join him and Elizabeth for something to eat between the matinee and evening perfor­mances. I’ve never forgotten that limousine ride. It was the only time in my life that I remember being frightened by a crowd. We walked down the theater alley out onto 45th Street to be faced by about two thousand people. Vehicular traffic was at a standstill. A great roar went up when Elizabeth and Richard appeared. Mounted police kept a passage open across the sidewalk between the alley and the open door of the limo. But it was still a gauntlet of snatching hands, cheers, jeers (“Liz is a baaad girl”) and waving autograph books. To have paused to sign one would have been fatal. Elizabeth, Jessica and Rich­ard climbed into the back of the car, I got in front with the driver. Suddenly, on the opposite side of the windshield ap­peared two grinning gargoyle faces—upside down. A couple of teenagers had managed to get onto the roof of the limou­sine and were hanging there, not three feet from me, peering inside between the windshield wipers. Doors locked and windows tightly dosed, we moved at snail’s pace out from the curb into a sardine can of humanity. Even with mounted police clearing the way, it wasn’t easy, and God forbid that anyone should get bumped, let alone run over. Jess’s memory of that ride—as vivid as my own—is of a sweet, smiling Elizabeth, waving like royalty while silently mouthing, “Fuck you—and you—and you, dear.” This was not Elizabeth’s usual style with her public. But in this instance she’d simply had it. Usually, she was charming, patient and polite to a degree I thought remarkable, but the Hamlet episodes were as bad as anything she’d endured during the making of Cleo­patra—and there, paparazzi had literally been chased out of the trees surrounding her house, from where they had a clear view of bedrooms and bathrooms upstairs.

[every-marveler-ever]

Dangling Our Legs

Fluffuly 2023 | 🌝 @fluffuly2023 | Day 1: Sunshine

Marvel Rare Pair Bingo Round 2 | 📪 @marvelrarepairbingo | Making Someone Smile

2023 masterlist :: (ao3 link)

RATING: Teen WARNING: Ineundo's, Harley Keener is Harley Stark, Tony Stark is Harley Keener's Dad, Hanging on the side of a roof

They are both smiling, happy to just be and sit. “You would soak up the sun like a cat, and you could watch me surf down at the beach while you try to focus on the book you’re reading,” Harley tells Peter, coming up with all the reasons Peter would love Malibu. If they weren’t sitting on the edge of a building Peter would have hit Harley for the surfing comment, but they are and so he doesn’t. | Peter Parker/Harley Keener

fluffuly 🌝 2023 | rpb 📪 round 2

“You would love Malibu,” Harley sighs into Peter’s shoulder, legs dangling off of the top of their apartment building in Boston. It is sunny out for once and despite living in the penthouse, thanks to his dad’s expense, Harley can’t help but want to always feel higher, luckily Peter shares the same sentiment. 

Peter lays back in the sun, basking in the warm glaze it gives on a Friday afternoon, the semester almost over with only two more exams to go between them. Harley’s final is in Unified Engineering: Thermodynamics and Propulsion, a bore of a class to be in when your whole life you’ve been working out the aerodynamics of a potato gun and Peter’s is in Just Code: The Ethical Lifecycle of Machine Learning, the last subject in his political science major before being able to focus solely on his chemical engineering course. 

They are both smiling, happy to just be and sit. “You would soak up the sun like a cat, and you could watch me surf down at the beach while you try to focus on the book you’re reading,” Harley tells Peter, coming up with the best and snarkiest reasons he can think of for why his boyfriend would love Malibu. 

If they weren’t sitting on the edge of a building Peter would have hit Harley for the surfing comment, but they are and so he doesn’t. He does have to admit that Harley often makes it hard for him to concentrate on things, but Harley is his boyfriend if Peter wishes to watch and preen he has all the right to. 

The will set soon and so Harkye just keeps rattling off reasons before it does, “And you would love dad’s lab, and I have my own small section but I was too young when we lived there permanently to have my own like in New York.” He smiles thinking of both homes, the move to New York, meeting Peter because of the move, and all the other great things New York has offered, “there’s the boardwalk we could go to and ride all the rides, go shopping, just enjoy each others company in a king size bed.” For that Peter does really hit Harley, once he knows it is safe, and Halrey is prepared for it. 

Moving further into the roof so they aren’t as dangerously dangling off from it Peter sighs, “Too bad we are stuck here for summer break,” he shrugs off the possibility of going to Malibu rather happy just to soak up the small amount of sun Boston will give them this summer. They should really be focusing on the upcoming exams they have but Peter just couldn’t resist the slither of sun. 

“We don’t have to,” Harley takes Peter’s hand maneuvering him to fit into his lap, leaning back onto his chest, “I’m sure Dad wouldn’t mind us crashing, he, Steve and Morgan are all staying at the lakehouse permanently, nobody uses it but I know it’s clean and available.” Harley had already asked his dad about the possibility and while Tony was suspicious Steve thought it was a great idea, letting it slip that it is always prepared for visitors.  

Peter smiles at the idea, that it actually might be feasible before he comes back to the reality of Peter Parker, not Harley Stark. Frowning thinking about the bill and the cost, Peter shakes his head in Harley’s chest “There is no way I can afford the flights Harls.” He sighs not moving to face Harley, because he really feels quite bad about ruining the fun of the summer and all the imaginary plans created in their heads. 

Harley just laughs, holding on to Peter and kissing his cheek, “But I do, I mean well, Dad does and I know he would love to spend it on you, I would love to spend it on you.” They really care about each other and Harley appreciates Peter’s absence of using Stark money, but Harley doesn’t care, not when it comes to Peter. 

“It is all worth it if it makes you smile,” Harley says, turning Peter to face him once again, leaning, matching their foreheads together, “I love you,” he finishes. 

And Peter just smiles thinking of all the possibilities, the life ahead of them, the world for them to conquer as they sit up on the highest building, above everyone and everything. They love each other and the summer sun will be nice and they can watch the sunset and sunrises, bright and beautiful, sunshine. Harley makes Peter happy, and he’s in love. 

“I know.” 

Every-Marveler-Ever Navigation | Bingo Masterpost

Cards: (🌝 3/31) (📪 4/25)

[empresstheresa-guide]

Theresa and Steve, a love story for the ages.. part 2

Part 2: A little ditty about Jack and Theresa. This will be short. 

In chapter 3, Theresa goes to Boston College. Before she even has time to settle down, guys are already staring at her in the cafeteria. 

”There was a group of kids at a nearby table looking at me.  A girl learns to read expressions. ”

Every time Norman describes how girls/women think, I lose a brain cell. 

”One boy was intently looking at me.  I called him Mr. Intense.  He was very handsome, with short hair as black as my own, and he was around six feet which was a good match for my five feet four inches.  I liked taller guys and apparently he liked smaller girls. He wasn’t gawking at a pretty girl, or lusting for her body.  He looked interested.  And that’s ok.  A girl gets used to being looked at.”

This is Steve. She’s basically in love with him already. What’s the difference between lusting for her body and being ”interested”? 

My experience is that most women don’t enjoy being stared at, but men think we do. Norman reminds me of those insufferable guys who think women’s main task on Earth is to attract men. He probably is one of those guys.

In Theresa’s case, of course, she’s already being watched by 400 government agents, so she should be used to it. But I don’t think Norman considered that here. She doesn’t even question whether Steve is a watcher, and that’s why he’s so intently staring at her. This chapter has zero HAL and discusses Theresa like she was an ordinary college student. There’s just one brief interlude - which I will skip here - about her watchers being caught by campus cops. 

One of Norman’s issues as a writer is that he doesn’t even try to fit different parts of the book together. This chapter is about Jack and Steve, so HAL is not relevant here. You’d think if Theresa gives off heat and has super strength, that would be mentioned at least in passing. The boys would notice she gives off heat, right? Or she could slip up and use her powers by mistake. That would have made the book much more interesting. Theresa’s career as a baseball player is also completely dropped, she has no interest in joining college level teams, and no one is pressuring her to do so. 

”   But it wasn’t Mr. Intense who made the first move.  A boy next to him, Mr. Fastmove,  brought his food tray over to my table.”

Mr. Intense is organic, if unoriginal, but Mr. Fastmove… There is a moving company called Fastmove, but apart from that, I didn’t find much on google. Maybe Norman coined this phrase. 

”Hi,” said Mr. Fastmove.  “Can I sit here?”

      “Sure,” I said with a smile.  I had been advised to be friendly from day one or be labeled a tease for the rest of our four years.”

Oh no Norman. No no no. No. 

”I’m Jack Koster,” said Mr. Fastmove.  “Aren’t you Theresa Sullivan, the baseball player?”

      I had been on television a lot.”

Gotta work in those brags at every opportunity. Once you mention his real name, you can drop the nickname, but I think Norman is just proud of what he did here. Also note there is NO description whatsoever of Jack’s looks or manner, just that he came to her table. Norman isn’t even trying. 

“I am,” I said, and we were off and running.  I noticed that Mr. Intense looked disappointed.  It made me think of someone whose neighbor won the lottery.”

Being with Theresa is like winning the lottery. Our humble girl. 

I genuinely don’t understand why she hooks up with Jack at all. All she had to do was say ”nice to meet you” and walk away. She shouldn’t feel obligated to date the boy who happens to talk to her first. 

Next, Theresa looks up both boys on BC’s computer system where, in 2017, ”BC provided free disk space and all the students were urged to set up a webpage about themselves before they got to school.” Norman probably wrote this part in 2001 and forgot to change it.

This is all she says about Jack: 

” Jack was a boy from close to New York City but not in it.  His father was owner of a specialty food store.  Jack was going to be a history major, a guarantee of a job in his father‘s store.”

Is Norman negging history majors? This reminds me of a skit show that advertised college degrees, including a 13-year degree for really dumb students who are just killing time before they get a job in their father’s business. Maybe Norman thinks history is equally pointless. (With the exception of Joan of Arc.) 

But enough about Jack, who cares about the boy she’s actually going to date. Let’s talk about Steve. 

”  Mr. Intense was Steve Hartley.  His father was a physicist for Intel and Steve was majoring in physics too.  That was interesting.  He mentioned he was Catholic.  Also interesting. ”

Wow, a Catholic boy in a Catholic college? How interesting. 

”Steve’s page showed the kid of a research physicist, precise, succinct, and somewhat lacking in spontaneity.  Something like myself, actually.  It wasn’t a bad thing, except in reality TV shows where they have to keep the gab going all the time.”

Just date him already. You can’t fully know someone’s personality just based on whatever ”webpage” they set up, either. He’s still a complete stranger. The mention of reality shows really ruins this paragraph, too. If people in reality shows just sat silently, it wouldn’t be very good TV. Norman has to work in every single pet peeve of his. This is a typical problem for people writing their first story. 

” Jack knew I was not the kind of girl who had to put up with foul language or crude jokes, and he carefully avoided them.  He was one smooth operator.”

*headdesk* Being a ”smooth operator” isn’t necessarily a good thing, and is in fact associated with manipulating others. I don’t even know what Norman means here.

” One Sunday Steve saw me at Mass.  He looked embarrassed, like somebody who had missed his chance, not somebody who did something bad.  Well, four years is a long time and the campus had a lot of women.   ”

Why are you even looking at him when you’re dating someone else? 

”Steve seemed nice in person.  He always gave me a little smile like he was glad to see me.  He and Jack were casual friends and apparently didn’t  talk about me.  But I’d seen the looks.  Steve was genuinely interested. ”

Yes, you already made this point. She’s going on about Steve and his interest, while dating Jack. Wouldn’t that be a sin, dating a boy you don’t care about and spending all your time admiring another boy? It doesn’t seem like something a good Catholic girl would do.

”There was nothing wrong with dating Jack for a while.  It was already clear that we were not compatible enough for a lifetime of commitment.  He was a little careless about schoolwork and had no passion for his major.  I was fanatical about mine.  But Jack was fun to be around for the time being.”

She’s fanatical about her major, which she doesn’t even name here. Spoiler alert: it’s math, which she picked because it was meant to help with HAL? I’m not sure how that would have worked. Later on, she says that all she ever wanted was to be a high school math teacher, something she never mentions before that moment. 

After Jack comes to her table, there is not a single scene where Theresa and Jack talk to each other alone, or go on a date. Not a single one. Jack is never fleshed out. What does he look like? Is Theresa attracted to him at all? What’s his personality like? If he has many stories to tell, you could give an example and have him tell a compelling story. That would have been interesting. 

One of the more famous triangle dramas was on ”The Office”. Roy was initially established as a jerk, but he was kind to Pam at least sometimes, and he truly tried to better himself. We knew she would end up with Jim, but Roy was not a complete monster, and he seemed human. Jack has no personality, no description, nothing. I believe KrimsonRogue said that the characters are somehow less than two-dimensional, and Jack definitely fits that description. He’s like a cardboard cutout of a boy. 

”Come October it was Homecoming week, always a big weekend on any college campus.  There were many special activities going on and we had to choose a list.”

Remember this later when she claims BC has no entertainment or parties at all. 

”Friday nights, the kids would ‘hang‘ around,  meaning drift up and down the dormitory hall talking and joking with anybody there. ”

How do you do, fellow kids?

”Jack’s door was open and I walked in.  There were six boys visiting Jack including Steve Hartley, and one girl.”

I guess it’s relevant for later that Steve is there, but it still sounds like she only has eyes for him.  

As Theresa walks into the room, an awkward silence falls. 

”Hi, Theresa” said Jack with not a lot of enthusiasm.  “This is Ginny.”

“Hi” I said.  There was not much else to say until I found out something.

“Ginny dropped in by surprise” Jack said.

”Yeah!  I could see that!  I couldn’t remember seeing her around campus, or at least not in our complex.  She might be somebody from outside.”

This would be a lot more powerful if Theresa actually gave a damn about Jack. 

Also names. Ginny is short for Virginia. There is another character called Virginia later in the book, just like there’s another character called Jack. I doubt Norman has read ”Harry Potter”; he probably knew young girls called Virginia when he was growing up. What’s wrong with age appropriate names for 2017? Emily, Sophia, Madison? 

”The embarrassing silence continued.  Ginny looked very uncomfortable.  She had known no more about me than the other way around.  Ginny’s position near Jack made it clear she considered herself his girlfriend.”

Jack has to be discarded so Theresa can be with Steve. For some reason, Theresa can’t just tell him they’re incompatible and she’s not interested in pursuing the relationship in the long term. He has to cheat on her, because this gives Theresa the moral high ground to dump Jack and move straight onto Steve.  

Norman probably thinks this is a great twist and the readers will be aghast at Jack’s behavior, but it just comes off as flat. He’s shitty, but there’s no stakes, because they hardly have a relationship at all. 

Jack promises to come up to Theresa’s room to talk. 

”I went back upstairs.  This was the most humiliating experience I ever had.  All those boys were watching.”

This at least is a normal human reaction to the events, I’ll give Norman that. But Theresa isn’t truly sad, she’s just embarrassed. It’s not her heart, but her ego that is wounded. 

And this is where the different editions begin. Buckle up for a wild ride through Norman’s weird imagination in part 3: roads diverged in the Kindle, and that made all the difference. 

[mattnben-bennmatt]

Casey Affleck in New York in May. Photo: Alexia Barroso.

Casey Affleck interview w/ The Wall Street Journal (30 July 2024)

Casey Affleck on Living With Matt Damon and Ben Affleck—and Feeling Like an Outsider

Co-star of ‘The Instigators’ talks about his alcoholic father, what kids’ AA meetings taught him about role-playing and his ‘Price Is Right’ hot tub.

By Marc Myers

-

Casey Affleck, 48, is an Oscar-winning actor best known for his roles in “Manchester by the Sea,” “Gone Baby Gone” and “Oppenheimer.” He co-wrote and co-stars in the heist film “The Instigators,” which will stream on Apple TV+ starting Aug. 9. He spoke with Marc Myers.

Early home life was a wild and unmonitored experience. I grew up in the late ’70s and ’80s on a slightly rundown street in a sweet neighborhood in Cambridge, Mass. Our area off Central Square was ethnically diverse and blue collar.

My father was many wonderful things, but his alcoholism took him from us for many years. As a result, my mother was a single mom for much of my childhood.

Affleck with his mother, Chris, in Westwood, Calif., in 2000. Photo: Ron Galella Collection/Getty Images

My family lived in a two-story clapboard house. My mother rented out the space above us. Many houses had three generations living at home, and families survived from paycheck to paycheck. Everyone was in the same situation.

My mom was an elementary school teacher. She worked long hours, so my older brother, Ben, and I saw her mostly before and after dinner, when she’d grade papers and we’d do homework. My dad was a janitor, a mechanic and a bartender. Before I was born, he was a stage manager at the Theater Company of Boston. 

In my early years, I attended AA meetings for kids who had a parent who was an addict. The goal was to help me understand what was happening and to cope. We’d re-enact at-home scenarios—behaving like your addicted parent to better grasp the problem and express your feelings. This role-playing was my first unintended exposure to acting.

Eventually, my dad’s drinking and erratic behavior led to my parents’ divorce when I was 9. Mom, Ben and I remained in our house while my dad moved to various places.

My mother placed an emphasis on education, so Ben and I had to maintain some level of academic standards. As a kid, I was a class-clown extrovert and got into lots of trouble because of it. 

When I was 10, my mom was a tutor for child actors on PBS educational programs. We went to Mexico for nearly a year and traveled throughout the country and the Yucatán Peninsula with a PBS TV series. My horizons broadened.

After we returned to Cambridge, my mom’s best friend, Patty Collinge, took an interest in me. She was a casting director with two daughters my age who became two of my best friends. Patty would take us to film sets to be extras so she could keep an eye on us. 

Affleck, left, at age 11, and at age 4. Casey Affleck (Family Photo)

I never had plans to become an actor, but in high school, I had a great drama teacher, Gerry Speca. He gave me most of the tools I use now.

He’d arrive at 7:30 a.m. and stayed most nights until 8 or 9. He was brilliant, selfless and could be hard on us. I think he initially saw me as a mediocre performer who was a bit of a wiseass. I didn’t get good parts until I was a senior. 

Gerry also encouraged us to write our own plays. We did months of skits and improv scenes. Then he put all that stuff together, and we competed in the New England Drama Festival. Everything I’ve been able to do I can attribute to the process that Gerry taught me.

Acting just happened. As soon as I graduated from high school, my best friend and I drove to California and saw everything in between. In L.A., we lived with a bunch of people from Cambridge, including Ben and Matt Damon, but I still felt like an outsider.

From left, Ben Affleck, Matt Damon and Casey Affleck at Damon’s birthday party in the late 1980s. Photo: Casey Affleck (Family Photo)

I spent 1994 in L.A. auditioning for roles that I didn’t get and working as a busboy in a brewery. I decided to go to college. I did two years, total, at Columbia University. I also auditioned for acting jobs to earn enough to pay the next semester’s tuition. But as acting work picked up, I faded on college. Now I wish I hadn’t. 

The turning point in my acting career was the 2007 film “The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford,” in which I played Ford. I began that role by trying to understand the person who had killed James. To do so, I had to understand the darkness in myself.

Clockwise from top left: Casey Affleck in ‘The Assassination of Jesse James’ (2007); in ‘Gone Baby Gone’ (2007); in ‘The Instigators’ (2024), right, with Matt Damon; and in his Oscar-winning role in ‘Manchester by the Sea’ (2016), leaning on Kyle Chandler’s shoulder. Everett Collection (3); Apple

Today, I live in the same four-bedroom French Norman house in East L.A. that I bought in 2005.

My dad eventually went into rehab and became sober. Over the years I’ve come to appreciate and love him more and more. He is incredibly strong, of great character, extremely funny and very smart. I owe him and my mom a lot.

Their chief concern is whether I’m happy. On the acting side, the answer is never easy for me. As for my family, I love being a parent more than anything. 

Casey’s Hot Tub

“The Instigators”? I play Cobby, who, with a group of Boston thieves, attempts to pull off an election-night heist as a therapist tags along.

Downtime? I love being on my two kids’ schedules when they stay over.

Meaning? I make them lunch, take them to school, pick them up, do stuff after school, make dinner and hear about their day.

Pastime? I play on a baseball team and write a lot.  

Splurge? I bought a hot tub from a “Price Is Right” contestant who didn’t want it. It’s big and ugly, but I am kind of star struck by it. I even added a cold plunge.

Appeared in the August 2, 2024, print edition as 'From a Boston Pack To an L.A. Outsider'.

[fredseibertdotcom]

Next New Networks, Part 3

I’m going to try, in as few posts as possible, to create a coherent timeline of the short, eventful life of Next New Networks, an early, consequential moment in streaming video history. 

From Part 1: Emil Rensing and I, with a huge assist from future Tumblr creator David Karp, stumbled into the brave new world of online video without much of a plan. 

From Part 2: Our friend –my former partner at Hanna-Barbera Cartoons, and our future Next New Networks partner– Jed Simmons introduced us to Spark Capital in Boston, who wanted to partner and fund Next New. 

Part 3: Late 2006 

What do we do now? 

Once Spark signaled their interest, we needed to get serious. I still had Frederator Studios, my successful and increasingly busy independent cartoon production company, but the excitement of this opportunity was overwhelming. Even if I was significantly older than the typical internet entrepreneur, I felt that my background in media and production could be meaningful. The first phase of the consumer internet required deep engineering skills because the infrastructure was still somewhat nascent. Web 2.0 had developed enough tools that even someone with my limited skills could participate. Besides, I had Emil on my side, someone who had a unique understanding of the state of the tech world. 

By summertime, after a variety of conversations and meetings, Emil and I settled on a co-founding team. Jed Simmons, of course. Emil had a start up friend –Tim Shey– who’d sold his DC based, interactive agency and moved to New York where he was consulting with some early stage video companies. I was stretched to thin to have an operating role in the joint, so we all agreed that my childhood friend and adult colleague Herb Scannell –former Vice Chairman of MTV Networks and CEO of Nickelodeon– would be a perfect CEO. Luckily, he agreed, and our management line up was in place. (David Karp would be our founding developer, until he launched Tumblr several months later, of course). 

We can leave the machinations of filling out the A-round of investment aside. Suffice to say, many venture capitalists were uninterested in any idea that didn’t have unique software attached –we didn’t– but we put together an investor group and board of directors that were excited with our vision. 

Next New Networks posters designed and illustrated by Frank Olinsky

Our vision? ah. yes. By the time we were on the road pitching our wares, we had taken the basics of VOD Cars and Channel Frederator and put together a plan that was based on “communities of interest,” which we felt would be the engines of viewership and growth. As Tim Shey later wrote: 

Next New Networks popularized the ideas of videoblogging and advertiser-supported online video, and pioneered the multi-channel network (MCN) business model and the concept of audience development, assembling a diverse and successful portfolio of original programming including hit channels Barely Political, VSauce, and ThreadBanger, and a network of independent creators such as The Gregory Brothers—racking up over 2 billion video views and thirteen Webby Awards, more than any online media company at the time.

Virginia Heffernan of the New York Times was probably the writer that caught onto what we had accomplished better than most.

By March 2007, we were fully funded with our first round, expanded past the Frederator/NY office into a larger space in the same building on Park Avenue South, and started to put together an amazing start up staff that could actually execute. At least, what we’d morphed our vision into.  Super distribution! 

(More to come.) 

[hay1ock]

Sure just rip my heart out and stomp all over it. Only Friends Episode 10.

It only took 10 episodes but they’ve finally done it and made me feel sympathetic to Top’s situation lol. I’ve clearly gone through my character arc 😝, that or they just made me more annoyed at other characters involved in their part of the story than I am at Top. Boeing, I am looking at you. Mew, you are pushing it. But in all seriousness, I had said I was trying to look at Top more positively, as I have seen him change from Mr Smugface Top Tier to a Mew simp.

I get why Mew would be annoyed to find Boeing at Top’s place and how it maybe set things back in his mind after deciding to give Top a second chance. Boeing was happy to stir the pot and I’m not really sure what he’s hoping to achieve other than annoy me and Top, and probably Ray and Sand too based on the preview. Is it just revenge at being dumped? Does he want Top? Mew? Sand? Is he Boston 2.0 so if he can’t be happy then no one can? Him pushing up his glasses at the end of the scene in Top’s apartment gave me full on anime villain vibes lol.

And then there’s Mew. Omg accidentally liking one of Boeing’s insta posts💀Like I said I get Boeing’s appearance probably upset him all over again. But I had thought revenge era was kind of over after everything that happened with Ray. The talk at the hostel and pushing Top in the pool felt like things were settled about Mew giving him that second chance. But then suddenly inviting Boeing to the wakeboarding… Now, maybe he’s got some trick up his sleeve and is somehow playing Boeing in some way, or maybe he is testing Top, because trust is a hard thing to win back and there’s no way he would want to be taken for a fool all over again (Though from a viewer POV we have seen how Top interacts with Boeing and there’s nothing between them). I don’t know what he’s up to. Also, I feel like he let Boeing’s lips touch his for way too long lol. I just feel it ignited my sympathy for Top in wanting Mew to make a choice. Either commit to the two of them and give Top that chance properly with no games or tests, or let it go, call time on him and Top and find a (healthy) way to move on.

And so onto Boston and Nick. Boston certainly had a tough time while Nick was exploring things with Daddy Dan. I knew Atom was a little scary but to straight up lie and imply Boston took advantage of him… Ugh. I’m not Cheum’s biggest fan but I can’t blame her for believing her brother over Boston, especially considering the whole pursuing and manipulating Top thing that just happened recently. I didn’t like everything she said, and Mew seemed to enjoy the moment a bit too much with his little pat on Boston’s shoulder, but as Ray brought up, and Cheum later focussed on, regardless of anything else, Atom is her little brother. And though it really isn’t anyone’s business if they’re both consenting adults, it isn’t really the done thing to shag your bestie’s siblings. I know Boston tried to dissuade Atom a bit, but considering how strained the friendships already were, he probably should have took a hard pass on sleeping with Atom. Kicking him out the project too was a bit rough. It seemed as if Ray wasn’t quite down with everything that was happening, and I certainly felt bad for Boston. He did something shitty to Mew, but he doesn’t deserve this bullshit scenario Atom has created. But we’ll have to see where things go, if the truth comes out, or if Boston is left abandoned and without a way to graduate, and so goes with his back up plan of moving to New York.

Boston had already seemed to be having ‘feelings’ about Nick. First, looking at his picture and then last episode after seeing him with Dan. Whether it’s love or just fondness/familiarity, missing his company, after all he does say he missed him, it’ll be interesting to see where, if anywhere, he and Nick goes. I do at least feel as if he’s being genuine this time rather than dangling hope-shaped relationship carrots in front of Nick. Their scenes in the store and on the roof were really good and I did feel like I could get on board with them again. I mean, it’ll come down to if they can be honest with each other about what they really want their relationship to be as to whether anything between them is going to work. I don’t know if Boston can, wants to or even should change his sex life. Obviously, there were a couple of people he should have definitely not had sex with, but in general having multiple partners and enjoying sex isn’t anything bad or wrong. I don’t know what he can actually offer Nick in the end. I mean, their sex scene certainly showed a hell of a lot more care than anything we’d seen before. Hopefully, Boston can figure out what he wants and what degree of a relationship he is able to commit to. I would prefer him to be honest about what he can offer Nick, be it an attempt at being boyfriends or just their old agreement of friends with benefits, and then it’ll be down to Nick to make an informed decision. And whether he needs to have a little chat with Dan as to where exactly everybody stands.

And finally, Ray and Sand. Argh, it hurts. First punch to the gut - I just don’t want to sing at your funeral. Second punch - how fucking cute Ray and his donut was lol. I’m glad Ray didn’t force Sand to reveal himself to his father and gave him an out even if it was at the last moment. Who knows how the guy might have taken the news. Sand had been going to the bar on a number of occasions so deep down he probably does want to tell him, but it was right of Ray to not pressure him by making it a condition of him going to rehab in the end. Rehab/therapy, I’m glad Ray went that first time, even if he was doing it purely because Sand asked him to. I can understand his reluctance to talk at that point. He’s kept everything buried beneath alcohol for years. There’s that fear of if you start talking, be vulnerable for even a moment then everything will come tumbling out and you’ll have to face what you’ve been forcing down. The same goes for stopping drinking. Ray has numbed himself to his trauma for a long time, without alcohol there’s going to be a hell of a lot of feelings coming to the surface as well as withdrawal and shifts in mood.

I think Ray’s father having asked Sand for help in getting Ray into rehab had been the most likely end to that conversation from episode 7, and of course, Ray overheard them. I’d been so proud of him for putting the bottles of alcohol in the bin. If only he’d had a bigger bin he might not have gone downstairs maybe in search of garbage bags (also I’ll assume the maid would empty the bin and recycle those bottles lol). The scene at Sand’s place though. God damn, it was so good and hurt like a bitch. As soon as money was involved, Ray couldn’t believe Sand had ever cared for him. Threw back some of what Sand had said about ‘doing anything for money’, ‘liking jobs that pay big’. The way he broke down, feeling betrayed and used, and thinking all the times he’d been happy were nothing but lies. My heart. And of course Sand. He could have easily screamed and shouted right back and yet he did his best to treat Ray gently and calmly, despite being emotional. Ack, and the frustrated cry after he broke down once Ray left, the realisation that he was asking Ray to quit alcohol but could just as easily enable him by having alcohol in his home and him throwing that jar of plum wine. I wonder if we’ll see an on screen reconciliation or skip forward? There’s also Boeing to possibly cause more problems, though I want to say I have faith Sand wouldn’t go back there, though if it’s at a time when he and Ray aren’t back on good terms… I know Sand seems to have it out for Top, but I’d assume he wouldn’t be all that impressed with the ex that cheated either.

And then another impressive performance from Khaotung as Ray. I’m glad Ray’s father cleared things up, though the way he speaks to Ray at the start, honestly, I get why Ray wouldn’t want to listen and gets defensive. I wonder if he’s always spoken so harshly or if their communication broke down over time as Ray spiralled lower? Ray looked tired and done with everything after the situation with Sand was revealed and I’m kind of happy we see him going straight back to the therapist. If he wants a relationship with Sand, it’s in his best interests to start facing his demons. I’m sure Sand will do what he can to support him, but he needs to do it for himself not just because Sand told him to. This time he has attended rehab, yes still for Sand, but this time because he wants to, he chose to go, he chose to take the steps to stop hurting the person he loves. It’s a step on the road to recovery.

Being with me requires patience - as soon as he said that all I could think about were the comments from people who were so against Ray these last few episodes. His character indeed needs patience and understanding. Because of drink and drugs he’s not always in control of his actions, because of his past he doesn’t always behave appropriately or as you want him to. He’s emotional and he’s a mess. But he can also be adorable and kind and loving and make Sand smile. For those moments, Sand has put up with a lot. Like I said last episode, if Sand is strong enough and indeed has the patience, then I want for him to support Ray in getting better and continue to love him. Because yes, Ray deserves to be loved and happy.

Overall, this was a fantastic episode. I’m confused over Top and Mew, hopeful for Sand and Ray, and willing to support Boston and Nick in figuring out what they want to be to one another. I would like for the truth to come out about Atom, and for Boeing to get lost and just do one lol.

I’m really excited for the next episode. I can’t believe we’re so close to the end.

[ancestorsalive]

“On February 22, 1876, Thaté Iyóhiwiŋ, a Yankton Dakota woman living on the Yankton Indiana Reservation in South Dakota, and her European American mate, Felker Simmons, brought their daughter, Zitkála-Šá, into the world. Simmons would abandon mother and child, yet Zitkála-Šá describes the first 8 years of her life on the reservation as happy and safe. All that changed in 1884 when missionaries came to “save” the children.

Even though White's Indiana Manual Labor Institute was a Quaker project, it still forced the children who attended to adapt to the Quaker way of doing things, including taking new names. Zitkála-Šá was renamed Gertrude Simmons. In her biographies, Zitkála-Šá describes deep conflict between her native identity and the dominant white culture, the sorrow of being separated from her mother, and her joy in learning to read, write, and play the violin.

Zitkála-Šá returned to the reservation in 1887, but after 3 years she decided she wanted to further her education and returned to the Institute again. She taught music while attending school from 1891 to 1895, when she earned her first diploma. Her speech at graduation tackled the issue of women’s inequality and was praised in local newspapers. She had a gift of public speaking and music, and put both to good use during her life.

In 1895 Zitkála-Šá earned a scholarship to attend Earlham College in Richmond, Indiana. While in college she gave public speeches and even translated Native American legends into Latin and English for children. In 1887, mere weeks from graduation, her health took a turn for the worse; her scholarship did not cover all expenses, so she had to drop out.

After college Zitkála-Šá used her musical talents to make a living. From 1897-1899, she played violin with the New England Conservatory of Music in Boston. She then took a job teaching music at the Carlisle Indian Industrial School in Pennsylvania, where she also hosted debates on the issue of Native American treatment. The school used her to recruit students and impress the world, but her speaking out against their rigid indoctrination of native children into white culture resulted in her dismissal in 1901.

Concerned about her mother’s health, Zitkála-Šá returned to the reservation. While there she began to collect the stories of her people and translate them into English. She found a publisher in Ginn and Company, and they put out her collection of these stories as Old Indian Legends in 1901. Like most authors, she took another job at the Bureau of Indian Affairs as her principal support. It was at this job in 1902 that she met and married Captain Raymond Bonnin, a mixed-race Nakota man.

The couple moved to work on the Uintah-Ouray Reservation in Utah for the next 14 years. They had one son, named Ohiya. Zitkála-Šá met and began to collaborate with William F. Hanson, a composer at Brigham Young University. Together they created The Sun Dance, the first opera co-written by a Native American. The opera used the backdrop of the Ute Sun Dance to explore Ute and Yankton Dakota cultures. It premiered in 1913 and was originally performed by Ute actors and singers. Choosing such a topic for the opera would have been a way to strike back at forced enculturation, because the ritual itself had been outlawed by the Federal Government in 1883 and remained so until 1933. Much later, in 1938, The Sun Dance came to The Broadway Theatre in New York City.

From 1902-1916, Zitkála-Šá published several articles about her life and native legends for English readers. Her works appeared in Atlantic Monthly and Harper’s Monthly, magazines with primarily a white readership. Her essays also appeared in American Indian Magazine. While these pieces were often autobiographical, they were still political and social commentary that showed her increased frustration with the Bureau of Indian Affairs, which fired the couple in 1916.

In 1916, the couple moved to Washington D.C., where Zitkála-Šá served as the secretary of the Society of the American Indian. In 1926, she founded the National Council of American Indians, an organization that worked to improve the treatment and lives of Native Americans. By 1928, she was an advisor to the Meriam Commission, which would lead to several improvements in how the Federal Government treated native peoples.

Zitkála-Šá continued writing, and her books and essays became more political in such works as American Indian Stories (1921) and “Oklahoma’s Poor Rich Indians,” published in 1923 by the Indian Rights Association. She spoke out for Indian’s rights and women’s rights up until her death in 1938 at the age of 61"

📷: Gertrude Kasebier's photos of Zitkala-Ša, AKA Red Bird, from BUFFALO BILL'S WILD WEST WARRIORS. You can read about her in the book INDIGENOUS INTELLECTUALS by Kiara M. Vigil.